Chapter 30: Return to Lingnan

Lingnan County, Iron Sword Sect Council Hall.

A middle-aged man sat at the head of the table. Though his features seemed refined and scholarly, his gaze was sharp as a blade, occasionally flashing with a cold light that belied his gentle appearance. He was none other than Li Tiexin, Master of the Iron Sword Sect and one of Lingnan’s famed Four Masters of Blade, Spear, Sword, and Halberd.

His mastery of the Thirty-Six Ancient Iron Sword Techniques was legendary; his lightness skill was exquisite, his internal strength profound—an undisputed grandmaster.

“Has Long’er not returned yet?”

“When Young Master was hunting on the mountain, he came upon a five-colored spirit serpent. Excited by the chase, he went after it, saying he’d capture it to soak in medicinal wine for you, Master,” someone replied, pausing before continuing, “Steward Sun accompanied him, so there shouldn’t be any serious trouble.”

He used the word “shouldn’t,” for Li Tianlong had been gone too long, and even he was not entirely confident.

“Report!”

A voice rang out from beyond the hall. An Iron Sword Sect disciple rushed in, panic written all over his face.

“What’s the hurry? Compose yourself and speak properly.” An elder rebuked him sternly.

“Young Master… Young Master is dead!” the disciple cried, lifting his head in grief.

At those words, a heavy silence fell over the council hall. Neither the sect elders nor Li Tiexin’s personal disciples dared make a sound. Everyone lowered their heads, fearing to draw Li Tiexin’s attention.

With a thunderous crash, Li Tiexin’s right palm slammed down, shattering the heavy rosewood table before him into splinters. “This is what you call ‘no trouble’?!”

Fragments of wood flew in all directions. The nearby disciples were cut across their faces, blood blossoming, yet none dared utter a word or even move.

“Iron Brother, I’ve examined the bodies. Except for Long’er, everyone else had their throats slit with a single stroke—even Steward Sun,” a middle-aged scholar, dressed in traditional robes, entered and spoke quietly at Li Tiexin’s side.

It was the season when the snow had just begun to melt, colder than winter itself, yet the scholar wore only a thin robe—a testament to his formidable inner strength. His manner showed his high standing within the Iron Sword Sect.

“Killed in a single blow?”

“Yes—one stroke, clean and precise. The work of a true killer.” The scholar nodded.

“Who do you think did this?” Li Tiexin asked.

“In all Lingnan County, the first that comes to mind for blade work is the Pure Frost Sect. But their knife techniques are all grand, sweeping styles, which don’t match the wounds on Steward Sun and the others. However, there is one person I recall.”

“The Masked Blade Demon!” Li Tiexin’s voice was low and grave.

Li Tiexin had heard of the Masked Blade Demon’s exploits—though the demon’s targets had always been bandits. Why would he attack the Iron Sword Sect?

“You said ‘except for Long’er?’ How did Long’er die?”

“His throat was pierced by a sword. Judging by the wound, the strike was swift, accurate, and ruthless—you know as well as I that such skill is only possible after ten years of immersion in swordsmanship. That’s what puzzles me. If this was the Masked Blade Demon’s doing, it means he has a sword master with him,” the scholar explained.

Hearing this, Li Tiexin’s brow furrowed deeply. After a long silence, he murmured, “There is another possibility…”

Of the four great sects, the Iron Sword Sect’s path was now completely blocked. Because of Zhang Heng, Ning Xiu’s view of the Pure Frost Sect was equally poor.

Only the Great River Gang and the Bamboo Grove Society remained. The Great River Gang was essentially a large shipping guild, relying on the Clearwater River, mostly involved in smuggling salt. Their territory was confined to the riverside; their contact with the Dark Calamity was limited, running counter to Ning Xiu’s original intentions.

In the end, the Bamboo Grove Society was the most suitable. Even though Zhang Heng had warned him that the society’s president, Xiao Wanli—known as the “Gentleman Spear of the Endless Breeze”—was ruthless and cunning.

This was Ning Xiu’s second visit to Lingnan. The last time, he had come and gone in haste, spending most of his days deep in the forests with a band of mountain brigands.

This time, he finally had a chance to experience the bustle of a great city. Riding into town, Ning Xiu saw the streets teeming with people, a cacophony of voices rising and falling. Martial artists in sturdy attire passed constantly along the road.

After days of travel, Ning Xiu was in no rush to report to his family’s pharmacy. Instead, he sought out a tavern for a good meal.

Pine-Crane Pavilion—the name was elegant enough.

Unfussy, Ning Xiu entered directly.

“Welcome, sir! Please, come in!” The server, sharp-eyed, noticed the fine silk from Lingnan’s famed celestial silkworms that Ning Xiu wore—material too costly for the ordinary. Realizing a distinguished guest had arrived, he hurried over.

Ning Xiu was not shy about it. He ordered a tableful of dishes, nearly all meat. Ever since mastering the Nine Suns skill, his appetite had grown yet again.

He sat and ate with quiet disregard for those around him, yet every movement in the tavern was clear to his keen eyes.

There seemed to be far too many martial artists about. He’d noticed as soon as he entered the city—was something major brewing in Lingnan?

“Is that man a pig? How can he eat so much?”

Ning Xiu frowned as a faint voice drifted to his ears. Though the speaker tried to keep quiet, it was useless against a trained martial artist.

He glanced over. At a table diagonally across sat three people. The speaker was the youngest “man” among them.

Though dressed as a man, Ning Xiu instantly saw through her disguise.

He pulled a few small pieces of silver from his sleeve, stood, and headed for the door. As he passed their table, he paused.

The cross-dresser, thinking Ning Xiu meant to start something, quietly placed her right hand on her sword hilt, her face full of pride.

She had reason for such confidence. Ning Xiu could tell she had already cultivated internal energy—a true adept. The other two were also at the third rank.

To have reached such a level at so young an age, arrogance was natural. Perhaps, in their eyes, Ning Xiu was just a pampered young master, not worth a second thought—even if they killed him with a single stroke.

Little did they know, Ning Xiu simply smiled, made no move, and left the tavern without a backward glance.

“Brother, is there something wrong?” The disguised woman turned to the eldest of her companions, who was lost in thought.

“I noticed his steady gait—he’s clearly a trained martial artist. He’s not as simple as you think,” the eldest replied, watching Ning Xiu’s departing figure.