A streak of lightning coiled in Ji Yanqing’s palm, tearing through the air with a sound like spring thunder, jarring to the ears.
Born into a vassal king’s family, he had been sent as a child to study under a silver-haired Dragon-Tiger Taoist priest.
In the Yanxia Dynasty, the Heavenly Master’s Way of Dragon-Tiger Mountain held supreme reverence, regarded as the state religion. Even marquises and nobles would bow and address the four Heavenly Masters as “True Ones.”
The Taoist priest had initially planned to teach Ji Yanqing only the Lesser Five Thunder Method. After all, a vassal king’s heir wasn’t expected to charge into battle. Learning some techniques for warding off evil, healing, and strengthening the body was enough to pass muster with the brutish Ji Yang.
But after surviving an assassination attempt that saw his head dunked into a well, His Highness the Heir relentlessly pestered his Taoist master, pleading and cajoling to learn self-defense techniques.
To convince the priest to teach him the Greater Five Thunder True Method, Ji Yanqing went all out. He sent a pair of alluring young women to knock on the priest’s door at night, claiming it was cold and offering to warm his bed.
They even thoughtfully tucked recording stones on the women, hoping to leave the priest with some “memories.”
If refused again, His Highness planned to bribe teahouse storytellers to spin tales of the Dragon-Tiger priest’s exploits with pleasure house girls for three days and nights.
Alas, things didn’t go as planned. The priest’s profound cultivation and unshakable resolve left him unmoved by temptation. He lectured the women on the Tao Te Ching all night, never once glancing their way.
But after that night, the priest stopped rejecting Ji Yanqing’s requests, casually teaching him the basics of the Five Thunder Method.
Remaining unswayed once was one thing, but if His Highness kept setting traps daily, life would become unlivable.
Though Ji Yanqing’s talent was pitifully poor, he had some self-awareness. Knowing he couldn’t handle too much, he focused on two beginner Dragon-Tiger Mountain techniques: Full Yang Breathing and Palm Thunder.
Over nearly a decade, he achieved modest success.
The electric glow around Ji Yanqing’s fingers converged, like a silver snake baring its venomous fangs, striking Liu Hu’s cheek with a heavy blow, making even his finger joints tremble with pain.
Boom!
Caught off guard, the Censorate’s Thousand Household took the punch head-on. The blade-like current scraped his skin, leaving bloody gashes.
“Heroine Ji, now’s the time!”
Before his words faded, a sword aura erupted. Nightmare’s edge descended like a goose diving from the heavens, piercing Liu Hu’s chest.
Pfft—
Blood stained his black-and-red robe as the razor-sharp blade passed through, blood gushing from the grooves.
Shock filled Liu Hu’s eyes. His hands gripped Nightmare’s blade, blood foaming at his mouth as the sword pushed him back until his body gave out, collapsing.
Ji Qingyan yanked the sword free, splattering crimson blood like winter plum blossoms, painting the reeds with streaks of red.
After the fierce battle, her spiritual energy was depleted. With pursuers behind, she dared not linger.
Retrieving Shadow Bearer, she extended her crystalline, pale arm, gently lifting Ji Yanqing’s legs to carry him in her arms, racing toward the river valley.
Had Young Master Ji not acted, she might have died under the Censorate hound’s blade. Though they’d just met, this strikingly handsome youth had risked his life to save her…
Feeling the warmth of the man in her arms and his faint, lingering breath, his captivating face lingered in her mind.
Her jade-like face flushed, dimples blooming with shy sweetness. Unconsciously, her heartbeat quickened.
This martial world… perhaps wasn’t as vile as her master had described.
…
In the silent river valley, not a sound stirred, save for the faint rustle of wind through the reeds and a barely audible breath mixed within.
As a former elder of the Holy Cult, Liu Hu hadn’t been killed by the sword through his chest. His eerie blood technique was steadily repairing his near-dead body.
The Fire Worship Demon Cult, originating from the Western Regions, had infiltrated during the chaos of the Central Plains’ wars. With over ten thousand disciples, it was a colossal force. Even the Yanxia Dynasty’s “Mysterious Armor Fox Hunt” to suppress martial sects couldn’t shake its roots.
Today, the Fire Worship Cult had six divisions: Holy Flame, Heavenly Punishment, Myriad Spirits, Blood Demon, Reincarnation, and Harmony… Their shadows loomed over both the martial world and Yanxia’s court.
“Lord Zhang Yong, I’m afraid I’ve let you down this time,” Liu Hu murmured bitterly. Even though Ji Qingyan hadn’t unleashed a tenth of Nightmare’s power, it was, after all, a weapon nearing Origin Path-tier.
Forget pursuing them—he was lucky to survive.
In such a sorry state, he felt like he’d violated the Holy Cult’s iron laws, hunted by the mad dogs of Heavenly Punishment.
Betraying the Fire Worship Cult, Liu Hu had no regrets.
Whether in the Censorate or the Holy Cult, he lived on the edge. But serving under a figure like Lord Zhang Yong was far more satisfying.
Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen his daughter in ages. This time, back in the capital, he should bring her a small gift and spend some time with her.
As Liu Hu mused, a faint cough broke the silence: “Ahem.”
The gravely injured Thousand Household forced his eyes open, struggling to see the figure before him as his blurry vision cleared.
The air carried a heavy stench of blood. The newcomer wore a bronze night-owl mask, clad in black iron armor and an ink-black robe, with indigo official boots. He stood barely over five feet tall.
In his hands hung two standard-issue barrier sabers, their edges nearly curled, drenched in blood, chilling to behold.
Liu Hu’s pupils dilated, swallowing hard, his voice trembling: “You’re…”
Before he finished, the two sabers crossed and plunged into his throat without hesitation, drawing a blood-red arc.
Thud. His head hit the ground.
“Thousand Household Liu, I didn’t lie. This is the necessary price,” the figure said coldly, his dark eyes devoid of guilt.
Some things, left unclean, would always be trouble.
The assassination of the Wei King’s Heir had been settled with the Emperor’s vermilion seal.
Former Censorate Thousand Household Liu Hu was a mole for the Fire Worship Demon Cult, colluding with the six Western nations, secretly building a private force, and attempting to assassinate the Wei King’s Heir. He failed and has been executed.
His task was to make that verdict “reality.”
After swiftly stabbing the vital points, he silently dragged Liu Hu’s corpse toward the secret passage of Heart-Devouring Temple, leaving a long trail of blood.
There were still over thirty bodies to burn clean.
Premium Chapter
Login to buy access to this Chapter.