City streets drowned in chatter.
Roads that were unsafe to be in were now filled with families. Those who trod outside the bounds of law were slain in haste. Alleys where the underworld gathered now painted the path of a blade in blood.
News of the domain's outskirts had already reached the third sector. Vera and the branch members rested at an inn at the boundary of the sector.
Liquor flowed like water. People spoke of rumours that had lived for less than a day.
A gruff, middle-aged man slammed his cup against the table. His tone was boisterous.
"How could you look down on the righteous sword band? Backed by the Blade Master sect, those young disciples have cleared our streets of the filth that used to roam!"
He glared at the young warrior beside him; his thick hand gripped the youth's collar.
However, despite the man's aggression, the youth didn't back down. He pushed the middle-aged man back to his barstool.
"What a joke! The Blade Master sect's third young lord is the reason that filth trashed around so confidently. The phantom sword, on the other hand, has no ties to the sect; only he deserves to be called righteous."
They lunged, hands locking at each other's throat.
"You ungrateful bastard!"
"You're the fucking bastard here, geezer. Put the cup down!"
The two drunkards turned back to look for support. Both spotted a tanned young man and called out to him.
"You there! Which one of us is right?"
The young man scowled at the two of them; a murderous intent seeped from him as he held a child's ears shut.
"Stop swearing and get out before I rip your damn tongues out."
Despite the tanned man's youthful countenance, he emanated the pressure of a seasoned warrior. Both of the drunkards felt the hair over their napes rise.
"Father... should we head out to the job centre now? I think we've drunk enough."
The middle-aged man let go of the youth's collar. His overbearing tone shrunk to a mumble.
"Spots for the marsh drainage project should be open. Let's hurry."
Youth and old, father and son, scurried out of the inn's dining hall; peace soon returned in their absence. Aspartese looked towards Vera with a skewer, picking the meat out of his teeth.
"Damned phantom swordsman, taking away all my potential earnings."
Vera listened to Aspartese's complaints silently as he wiped off stains from Chun's mouth. Chun, on the other hand, was very invested. He glared at Aspartese.
"Don't insult the Phantom Sword! He's a hero."
Aspartese leant into his chair; a devious grin sprouted on his face.
"The Phantom Sword only clears out encampments and doesn't free any of the slaves. It's more likely that he is from a rival gang, here to usurp the beggar coalition."
Most children would have thrown a tantrum when logic came into play; however, Chun wasn't one of those kids.
He smirked at Aspartese's comment as he tapped his empty skewer against a plate.
"That's just because he wants slow grandpas, like you, to have the glory while he works in the shadows."
A round of subtle giggles escaped all sixth-branch members at the table. Aspartese's expression turned indignant. If he argued, he would be childish; if he didn't, he would've lost.
The wooden skewer between his teeth crunched as he tightened his jaw.
Just then a low thud sounded. Vera tapped Chun's head with his knuckles.
"Chun, don't disrespect the branch master."
Chun turned to Vera with an aggrieved expression while he rubbed the bump on his head.
"But he started it!"
Vera simply shook his head, making it clear he wasn't interested in his excuses.
"Grandpa Aspartese is already losing his mind due to his advanced age. The next time he babbles shamelessly, just give in."
A round of not-so-subtle giggles filled the dining room.
Aspartese's bearded face flushed a shade of red. The wooden skewer in his mouth broke into two pieces. The foot of his chair screeched against the floor as he stood up.
"Both father and son are disrespectful!"
Aspartese ran to the door, like a maiden in distress. However, under his mask of tears hid a grin.
Most wouldn't catch his plan, but Vera...
He scanned through the dishes on the table and recalled the prices on the menu.
At least two hundred coppers... That coot is still sharp.
Being the foremost senior, after Aspartese, he knew.
I'll have to pay off the tab!
Vera's expression dulled. He looked toward Chang-yu with a pleading gaze. He patted Chun's head gently.
"Chang-yu, I think Chun really hurt the branch master this time."
Chang-yu tilted and stared at Vera with suspicion.
"I don't think—"
She was cut off almost immediately. Vera lifted Chun over his shoulder and ran to Chang-yu.
"We must go buy him a gift now!"
Before she could finish, he gripped her hand and dragged her out of the tavern.
The tavern door swung shut as they escaped the bill. The remaining branch members stared at the door silently, with no giggles to be heard.
Both seniors were cheaper than a merchant; only Lin-yu was left to pay.
***
The afternoon sun glistened against the main branch's polished windows.
Tong Xuan, bound to his desk, went through a mountain of documents. The implications of the recent events had nearly doubled his workload.
He leant into his chair and massaged his temples. His eyes, covered by dark circles, rested for a moment. The crimes young third's late faction committed were far too grave.
"To think Master Tao would hang their heads at the entrance..."
Following their conversation, the Blade Master dealt with the members of the third faction the very next day. As for the disposal of their corpses...
That was left to nature.
Now that the overseer was no longer in this world, Tong Xuan had to take over his portion of the workload as well.
Dull thuds sounded as the vice master slapped his cheeks. He pried his back away from the alluring woollen cushions on his chair.
A sheet of paper rustled under his grip. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"Why did you have to come here now, Zhuge Jin?"
Over his table there were three stacks of documents; one entire mound was relevant to only Zhuge Jin.
Tong Xuan sifted through the documents one by one. Each paper detailed scenes of brutality. Nearly twenty encampments were annihilated by the phantom sword.
However, the issue wasn't that the scenes were horrific.
"The reports have been coming in since before even we found out about the camps... When did a child of the Zhuge enter our domain?"
He dipped his quill in ink and pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote out a set of orders. Having dropped the sheet into a bucket of outgoing documents, he continued going over the documents.
"In the end, all of humanity still owes the Zhuge clan. Back then we could only stand by and watch..."
All copies of reports on the phantom swordsman were set aside.
"The least I can do is help him gather what remains—"
Ink splattered over the documents Tong Xuan was signing off on. A vein bulged through the skin of his neck.
"Damn, overseer. If you were raking in so much gold, couldn't you have at least bought a suitable quill?"
Though there was no point in complaining to him now. Considering all that remained of him was a head on a pike.
"Cheap bastard."
Just then a young scholar rushed in; a stack of documents piled up on his arms. A dull thwack sounded as he dropped them onto the desk.
"Vice Master! The emperor has passed a new law!"
Tong Xuan passed a cup of water to the young scholar. He used void telekinesis to pull out a couch from the far end of the room.
"Drink that, take a breath, and tell me what's changed."
The young scholar, reluctantly so, rested for a few moments. With a single swig, he drained the cup of water Tong Xuan gave him.
Followed by a gesture from him, the young scholar started his report.
"The new law states that only criminals, charged with a capital offence, can be enslaved. All registered slaves, who don't meet this requirement, are to be freed within a period of five years. The loss of owners will be compensated by the imperial palace over a period of ten years."
Tong Xuan's quill came to a dead stop. He stared at the scholar with wide eyes.
It was common knowledge to those involved in monetary policy that the current slave trade was worth a few thousand tonnes of gold.
Tong Xuan's face contorted into a grimmace.
Did you take the emperor's arm along with you?
The young scholar filled up the cup of water and passed it over to Tong Xuan. He got off his chair and bowed to the vice master.
"Would you like a cup of tea, senior?"
Tong Xuan sipped on the cup of tea meekly; he nodded at the young scholar, accepting his offer.
Money alone was not Tong Xuan's concern. The amount could be arranged by the palace in a few decades. However, slavery was the livelihood of most mercantile groups and labour-intensive activities.
Both were markets that were backed by powerful people.
You scared the young emperor too much.
He pulled out another fresh sheet of paper. He scribbled out summons for all local and sect-owned militias. If those people lost a source of wealth...
They wouldn't mind toppling over an empire with or without the people's support.
Three days of unending labour left Tong Xuan's mind cloudy. Nonetheless, the real trouble had just begun.
There may be a few more years before they drop the mask of lobbying. When that time comes, we will have to support the emperor.
Despite his dissatisfaction with the Blade Master's methods, he alone supported his lord more than anyone.
As he wrote out hundreds of summons, he heard a familiar sound. A blotch of ink splattered over his documents.
A series of deep breaths permeated the room. The walls shook, fearing his temper.
"Are you haunting me in death, Overseer Leng?!"
***
The afternoon sun baked the surface of shattered bricks and stone. Four men stood in the ruins of a colosseum.
The sword path was inscribed on every brick strong enough to bear it weight.
In the western edge of the Five Plains, one of the five masters had fallen. A defeat observed by the now strongest of the plains, Danho.
His pupils dialated as he watched the scene. A scene that was all too familiar to him.
Sharp and confident moves made with foresight.
He himself had lost only twice in his life. The first loss was to the Bixie, of the demon continent; The second...
His movements. They are the same as Vera's.
As the dust cleared and the rubble settled. A scene turned to a mirage by the sheer heat.
Elem's sword, laden with golden manifestation, rested over a master's shoulder. His eyes, cold as void, crushed his defeated opponent.
No slash was free of consequence.
No movement was unexpected.
He was played like a fiddle. Alexander of the west—one of the four who weilded aura swords—stood defeated.
The lord of an entire plain— no different than the emperor of the east— had just lost his place among the five who defined strength.
Creases formed over Danho's eyes. He realised his thoughts were incorrect. His plain white robe crinkled as he gripped it.
No... His movements aren't the same as Vera's.
A strained smile crept onto his face.
Vera was the one who resembled Elem.
To Danho's left stood Santa. He brushed the stubble over his chin as he watched the fight's conclusion in surprise.
Santa turned to face Danho.
"Human... the scrawny one— no. Elem is no longer holding us back. You have also completed your technique."
A plan that was set less than two years ago
Faint sparks of lightning circled around his horn. Cold sweats beaded over his forehead.
"Shall we enter the continent?"
Was about to unfold.