No one would have expected such a secluded manor to exist in this remote place, hidden deep within the mountain's belly. Had Feng Yunwuji not already suspected something was amiss, he would have passed by without a second thought.
Above the arched mountain gate hung a weathered wooden plaque, the faded characters reading: Mingye Manor. The moment Feng Yunwuji stepped through the gate, a sudden roar split the silence: "Your life is mine!"
A gleaming longsword flashed from the shadows, aiming straight for his face. Infuriated, Feng Yunwuji instantly unleashed his Sword Sovereign intent. The blade froze mid-air, just inches from his forehead, before its wielder was flung backward by an unseen force, crashing against a boulder. The attacker—a silver-bearded old man—slumped to the ground, lifeless.
Moving forward a few paces, the path suddenly opened up. What met his eyes was a vision of pure carnage. Feng Yunwuji sucked in a cold breath—"slaughterhouse" didn't even begin to describe the horror inside Mingye Manor.
The signs of violent explosions were everywhere. The manor, once built in the elegant style of old, now lay in complete ruin. Only a warrior of Ascension-level strength could have wrought such devastation. Amid the rubble, a single red lantern still hung askew from the eaves—its soft glow was the light he had seen from outside.
The dim red light cast eerie shadows, staining the wreckage with a blood-tinged gloom. Feng Yunwuji surveyed the destruction, but had no interest in going further—all he saw were mangled corpses in twisted poses of agony. The old man he'd struck down earlier had already been on the verge of death. Judging by the sword aura he'd unleashed, he too had likely been on the cusp of Ascension, but his body was riddled with fatal wounds. Even without interference, he wouldn't have survived.
Feng Yunwuji had no intention of flying over the place, and instead walked calmly back across the iron suspension chain. While Ascension-level cultivators could fly for short bursts, he had no desire to draw unnecessary attention now that he had returned to this plane.
Suddenly, a sharp whistle sliced through the mist from beneath the chain. Feng Yunwuji's heart stirred—his divine sense had not detected any presence below.
A masked figure in black burst from the thick fog, spinning midair, a broadsword in hand slashing upward in a sweeping arc. The strike carried the unmistakable ferocity of a high-tier Broken Sword Style.
Feng Yunwuji snorted coldly, unfazed. It didn't matter if this world held someone strong enough to challenge him—if they used a sword, they would fall before him.
He flicked his sleeve, channeling sword intent into the fabric. The emerald blade-light, thick as a barrel, was immediately caught and stopped dead. The black-clad attacker could advance no further.
Then, from behind the veil of their mask, the figure exuded a killing aura. Releasing the sword hilt, they twisted midair, pulling a blue dagger laced with poison from their boot. Like a venomous viper, the blade lunged toward Feng Yunwuji's eyes.
"Petty tricks," he sneered. Even if such a poisoned weapon struck him, a cultivator of his level—one who could bend the laws of nature—could easily purge it from his body.
With just two fingers, he caught the dagger faster than the eye could see. A slight squeeze—and the blade shattered into glittering shards.
Panic finally flickered in the black-clad assassin's eyes. With a kick, they tried to spring away, but Feng Yunwuji wasn't about to let them escape. His right hand slid down their arm, then pressed against their waist—sword intent bursting forth from his palm.
In this plane, Feng Yunwuji's strength was nothing short of godlike. Even with minimal effort, his touch sliced through the assassin's robes from arm to waist. The fabric fluttered down like butterflies, revealing smooth, pale skin beneath.
A soft, muffled gasp reached his ears—it was a woman. Her body, slippery as an eel, had likely been conditioned through some obscure force-manipulating technique, but even so, Feng Yunwuji could tell she had suffered serious internal injuries.
Skilled as she was, the woman still couldn't hold up. Blood trickled from her lips before she fell back into the mist below. Feng Yunwuji was about to pursue—but then sensed a group of people approaching from the base of the mountain. Remembering his true purpose for coming here, he chose not to get entangled in this skirmish.
He rose into the sky and vanished into the clouds. Faintly, he thought he heard a startled cry from below.
He landed on a deserted stretch of official road. A winding pine twisted out from the side of a hill, beyond which lay a road leading directly to the city gates. Adjusting his clothes, he assumed the appearance of a traveling wanderer and made his way toward the city.
Qingsong City.
Named for the dense pine forests surrounding it, the city was ringed by aged stone walls. Soldiers in full armor patrolled the parapets, while below, massive city gates stood wide open. Two lines of guards flanked the entrance, spears upright, silent and unmoving. Along the walls, old wanted posters curled yellow with age.
As Feng Yunwuji approached the gate, a group of constables were inspecting travelers, comparing faces with the arrest warrants.
"You there! Stop!" one of them shouted, gesturing for Feng Yunwuji to come forward.
After rifling through a stack of warrants, comparing each one closely with Feng Yunwuji's face, the constable finally waved him through with a sigh of frustration. "Go on."
Feng Yunwuji smiled faintly and walked past him. Inside Qingsong City, the streets bustled with life. Teahouses and inns lined both sides of the road, stretching from one end of the avenue to the other.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the crowd. A fierce-looking man dressed in rough martial garb galloped through the street on horseback, lashing at pedestrians with his whip as he cursed. People screamed and scattered; those in his path were sent flying.
"Stop him! He's a wanted criminal—killed the entire Qin family! Over three hundred lives!" a group of young constables gave chase on horseback, a warrant fluttering in one of their hands.
The man yanked the reins, making his horse rear up with a shrill cry. Turning it around, he sneered, "You greenhorns must be new at this. You don't even recognize me, the Wandering Bandit!"
"Cut the nonsense! Murderers pay with their lives. I don't care who you are!" one of the constables shouted. "Captain Lin, this one's skilled—help me take him down!"
They drew their blades, forming a circle around the bandit. Five-Tiger Broadswords gleamed under the sun. Yet even as they braced for battle, the gate guards stood motionless—some even slipped away with excuses.
The bandit laughed darkly. "See that? This is how the world works. You've chased me this far, and I was ready to let you go. But since you're so eager to die, I'll oblige."
With a sharp shring, he drew a heavy saber from his waist—and charged.