The official road heading south from Thanh Chau was choked with dust kicked up by horse hooves and carriage wheels. Tran Kien, disguised as a timid country bumpkin, had been traveling on foot for three full days. He did not walk fast, nor did he display any qualities that would distinguish him from the other travelers. During the day, he blended into the flow of people, listening to the idle gossip of merchants and drivers to gather intelligence. At night, he avoided the noisy relay stations, seeking out dilapidated temples or secluded caves to rest.
Every night, only after ensuring his safety would he take out the Sun Essence Guardian fragment to cultivate. Nourished by the ancestral relic, the Primordial Chaos Qi within his body grew increasingly pure and robust. He could clearly feel his fleshly body growing stronger by the day, his senses becoming preternaturally sharp. He could hear a snake slithering through the grass over ten zhang away; he could smell the scent of magical beasts carried on the wind.
On the afternoon of the third day, a sudden summer squall descended. The clear blue sky abruptly darkened as rolling black clouds gathered, bringing with them flashes of silver lightning that tore through the firmament. The rain poured down in torrents, swiftly turning the dirt road into a muddy, slippery mess.
Tran Kien saw a small, solitary inn situated at the edge of the forest a short distance ahead. Its lanterns were already lit, radiating a warm, yellow glow amidst the white sheet of rain. It was a weathered, two-story wooden structure; its faded signboard bore three characters: Wind and Cloud Inn.
He hesitated for a moment. Ordinarily, he would not enter such a crowded place. But the downpour was too intense, and ahead lay a desolate stretch of forest; continuing through a stormy night was clearly not a wise choice. Observing for a moment, he saw several other merchants and itinerant cultivators rushing into the inn, and decided it was likely just an ordinary waystation. He pulled his hood low, obscuring most of his face, and quickened his pace to step inside.
The interior of the inn was rather crowded. The air was thick with the stench of cheap liquor, food, sweat, and the damp musk of rain gear. Raucous laughter, curses, and the clattering of bowls and plates created a deafening din. Most of the patrons were figures of the martial underworld—rogue cultivators and wandering swordsmen, carrying weapons and emanating a faint killing intent.
Tran Kien quietly found an empty table in the most obscure corner, ordering a bowl of hot noodles and a pot of cheap tea. Maintaining his old habit, he ate while silently observing his surroundings.
This inn was somewhat peculiar. The waiter was a scrawny, middle-aged man with a completely expressionless face. The innkeeper was a plump old man whose face was plastered with a perpetual smile, yet a cunning glint occasionally flashed within his eyes.
Tran Kien specifically took note of three groups of people.
The first group consisted of three burly men seated at the table nearest the door. Clad in beast-skins, they looked like hunters, yet their weapons were massive ghost-head broadswords, and their bodies reeked of dense bloodlust. They drank boisterously, but their eyes constantly darted toward the door, as if lying in wait for someone.
The second group was a man and a woman seated at another table. The man had ordinary features, but his cultivation base was not weak; he was already at the mid-stage of the Qi Guiding realm. The woman possessed a beautiful visage and a graceful figure, but her eyes harbored an icy coldness. They did not speak to each other, merely sipping their tea in silence.
The third group—and the one that put Tran Kien on the highest alert—was a lone man sitting in another dark corner. He wore a grey cloak with the hood pulled down, concealing his face. He neither ate nor drank, sitting as motionless as a boulder, his entire being exuding a sinister, deathly aura.
Tran Kien subtly knitted his brows. Why would such a small inn attract a gathering of such complicated figures? He decided to finish his meal quickly and leave, unwilling to get entangled in their karma.
But just as he placed his coins on the table and prepared to stand up, the doors of the inn were violently shoved open.
BANG!
A figure staggered inside. It was a middle-aged man in tattered clothes, his body covered in bleeding wounds. He tightly clutched a bundle to his chest, his face pale from blood loss, his eyes brimming with terror and despair.
"Save... save me..." he gasped weakly before collapsing onto the floorboards.
Immediately, the three hunters at the table near the door sprang to their feet, their faces revealing a ferocious malice. "You bastard! Hand over the Fire Crow Wood!" the leader roared.
The entire inn instantly fell dead silent. Every pair of eyes converged on the man lying on the ground and the bundle in his arms. Fire Crow Wood—a rare and precious spiritual wood used for artifact refining; its value was immense.
The plump innkeeper maintained the smile on his face, showing no intention of intervening. This was clearly a common occurrence in places like this.
The three hunters stepped forward, intending to snatch the bundle. But at that exact moment, the man and woman at the adjacent table also suddenly stood up.
"Hold on a moment," the man said, his voice placid. "Ownerless treasures belong to whoever sees them. Our Azure Water Sect would like a share of this Fire Crow Wood."
"The Azure Water Sect?" The lead hunter narrowed his eyes, clearly somewhat wary. "So it is the esteemed disciples of the Azure Water Sect. But this item was hunted down first by our Black Wind Three Fiends. Isn't it against the rules for you to interfere?"
"Rules?" The beautiful woman sneered, her smile as cold as ice. "In a place like this, whoever has the biggest fist is the rule."
The atmosphere in the inn grew as taut as a drawn bowstring. The two sides locked in a standoff, neither willing to yield the treasure.
Tran Kien quietly shrank back into his corner. He didn't want to interfere. But his gaze never left the lone, grey-cloaked man. From the moment the incident began, he had remained perfectly still, as if the entire affair had nothing to do with him. Yet, Tran Kien could sense a faint, needle-sharp killing intent slowly coalescing around him.
His target... isn't the Fire Crow Wood, Tran Kien realized with a jolt of horror. His target... is everyone here! He intended to wait for the two sides to slaughter each other, then step in and sweep the board clean!
Just as he predicted, negotiations broke down. The Black Wind Three Fiends and the Azure Water Sect duo instantly clashed. Sabers flashed and sword light gleamed; tables and chairs were sent flying. The other patrons, terrified of being caught in the crossfire, scrambled to the sides.
The battle was incredibly vicious. Although the Black Wind Three Fiends had the numerical advantage, the cultivation bases of the Azure Water Sect duo were a level higher. In mere moments, one of the Fiends had his shoulder pierced by a treacherous sword thrust from the woman, fresh blood spraying through the air.
Right at the climax of the battle, when everyone's attention was fully captivated by the life-and-death struggle, the grey-cloaked man in the dark corner... finally moved.
He didn't make a single sound. His figure rose silently, like a phantom. At some unknown point, a short dagger had appeared in his hand—curved like a viper's fang and pitch-black.
His first target was not the combatants, but the injured man lying on the floor—the one holding the Fire Crow Wood!
It was an incredibly ruthless and treacherous strike.
No one noticed. Everyone was entranced by the fierce battle.
But Tran Kien saw it. He had always kept a portion of his mind vigilant against this man.
In that life-and-death instant, Tran Kien had no time to think. The instinct of a man who valued bonds, a man who protected the weak, surged forth. He could not stand by and watch an innocent person be slaughtered so callously.
He didn't draw his saber. He merely bent down and picked up a bamboo chopstick from the table.
SWISH!
He channeled a wisp of Primordial Chaos Qi into the chopstick and hurled it with the full strength of his arm. In that instant, the ordinary bamboo chopstick transformed into a black arrow, tearing through the air with terrifying velocity.
The grey-cloaked man, just as he was about to plunge his dagger downward, suddenly felt a sharp, forceful wind rocketing toward the back of his neck. Aghast, he hastily abandoned his target and twisted his body to evade.
THWACK!
The bamboo chopstick embedded itself deeply into a nearby wooden pillar, its tail end still quivering violently.
The grey-cloaked man turned his head in shock. Through the gap in his hood, his gloomy, sinister gaze locked dead onto the silhouette standing in the dark corner.
Tran Kien knew his cover was blown. He had single-handedly transformed himself from a spectator into an actor upon this blood-soaked stage.