The narrow alleyway was dark and damp. Rainwater from the dilapidated eaves continued to drip rhythmically onto the bluestone paving, producing a cold, monotonous sound. The air was thick with the stench of moss, open sewers, and utter despair.
Both ends of the alley had been completely sealed off by shadowy figures clad in assassin garb. They were not boisterous like mountain bandits, nor were they as wildly ferocious as the men from the Black Dragon Stronghold. They simply stood there in silence, sabers in hand, their silhouettes melting into the darkness like a pack of wolves patiently awaiting their alpha's command. This absolute silence was far more terrifying than any verbal threat.
Tran Kien, Lam Vy, and Trinh Cong stood back-to-back, forming a crude tripod defensive formation. Trinh Cong shielded his granddaughter; his face was as pale as paper, not merely due to his unhealed wounds, but because of the appearance of the brocade-wearing old man. Lam Vy, usually so vivacious and stubborn, was now drained of all color, her hands trembling violently as they gripped her long whip.
Yet, the one exuding the most suffocating pressure was not the horde of black-clad men.
It was the old man dressed in brocade robes, with greying hair and beard, standing with his hands clasped behind his back at the mouth of the alley. He radiated no killing intent, nor did he appear the least bit vicious. He merely stood there, smiling amiably. But the invisible, unfathomably deep oppressive aura of a Foundation Establishment cultivator pressed down upon their souls like a massive, crushing mountain, making it nearly impossible for the three of them to breathe.
"Excellent! What a young hero!" The old man clapped in praise, the dry sound echoing through the alley. "To be able to send my subordinate flying, your skills are indeed not bad. But this game of chess, it is time for it to end."
His gaze didn't linger on Tran Kien; instead, it swept past him and landed on Lam Vy. There was no lust in his eyes, only a cold, calculating evaluation, much like a seasoned hunter admiring a precious fledgling phoenix that had just fallen into his trap.
"Trinh Cong, oh, Trinh Cong," he sighed, his tone thick with condescension. "You are a smart old man, why must you do something so foolish? Fleeing with the Young Lady... did you really think you could escape the palm of the Marquis?"
"Ly Thuan!" Trinh Cong gritted his teeth, snarling the name. "You are the Grand Steward of the Marquis of Vinh An, a Foundation Establishment cultivator! How can you willingly serve as a running dog for a usurper?!"
"A wise man submits to circumstances," Ly Thuan sneered. "The Heir Apparent has perished; the Marquis's only remaining son is the Second Young Master. The succession will belong to him sooner or later. The Young Lady is but a girl, yet born of the legitimate wife—she is destined to be a future calamity. The Marquis merely wishes to bring the Young Lady back to be 're-educated.' Since you refuse to appreciate his kindness, do not blame us for being ruthless."
Standing to the side and listening to their exchange, Tran Kien's heart trembled. He understood nothing of Marquises or Young Masters, but he had vaguely pieced it together. This was a brutal power struggle within a noble clan. For whatever reason, Lam Vy had become a thorn in the side of this "Second Young Master," prompting this relentless pursuit.
This chessboard was far more complex than he had imagined.
"Young Hero Tran," Trinh Cong's voice suddenly echoed directly in his mind via Qi transmission, laced with pleading and despair. "This old man knows you have no part in this. In a moment, I will risk my old life to carve out a path of blood. Use that opportunity to take Lam Vy and flee! As long as you reach the Capital and find the Duke of Dingguo's manor, mention my name; they will protect you both. The Trinh Clan will remember this debt of gratitude for all generations to come!"
Tran Kien did not reply. Take Lam Vy and flee? Under the watchful eye of a Foundation Establishment expert and dozens of Qi Condensation assassins? That wasn't bravery; that was suicide.
He didn't look at Trinh Cong. His eyes remained locked onto Ly Thuan, his cold mind analyzing the situation with frantic speed. This man was too confident. He wasn't in a rush to strike, choosing instead to waste breath on idle chatter—proof that he believed everything was securely in his grasp. He enjoyed the sensation of toying with his prey. Such people were usually exceedingly arrogant.
A dead end. But a dead end did not mean a death sentence. He threw a rapid glance around his surroundings. The alley was narrow; they were boxed in the middle. Both ends were blocked. The only escape route... was up!
"Enough useless chatter!" Ly Thuan finally lost his patience. "Trinh Cong, I will give you one last chance. Bind your own hands and hand over the Young Lady. Otherwise, not only you, but this meddling brat will also leave his life here today!"
"In your dreams!" Trinh Cong roared. He didn't waste another word. Suddenly, he withdrew a dark crimson jade sphere from his robes and, without the slightest hesitation, crushed it!
CRACK!
A blinding surge of blood-red light erupted from the shattered jade, condensing into the massive illusion of a Blood Condor. It let out an ear-piercing shriek and lunged straight at Ly Thuan!
"A Blood Condor Medallion? To think you actually possess such a thing!" Ly Thuan was momentarily surprised, but then let out a cold scoff. "Merely the petty tricks of a dying man!"
He flicked his sleeve. A majestic surge of emerald-green spiritual energy poured forth, transforming into a giant hand that effortlessly crushed the Blood Condor.
But Trinh Cong didn't need it to kill the enemy. He only needed a split second!
"GO, NOW!!!" He bellowed, gathering every last ounce of his life force, and swung his sword as he charged toward the black-clad assassins on the left, desperately trying to tear open a brief path of blood.
But Tran Kien did not take that path! He knew it was a fatal trap!
The exact moment Ly Thuan dealt with the Blood Condor, and everyone's attention was drawn to Trinh Cong's suicidal charge, Tran Kien moved!
"Grab onto me!" he roared at Lam Vy.
Lam Vy froze for a microsecond, but her sharp wits prevailed. She instantly understood. Snapping her long whip, she wrapped it tightly around Tran Kien's waist.
Tran Kien didn't charge forward or backward. He lunged sideways, directly toward the solid stone wall of the alley!
"Iron Mountain Lean!"
He utilized the familiar technique, but this time, his target wasn't an enemy. His legs stomped heavily onto the ground, borrowing the rotational force of his body, and channeling the absolute limits of his physical strength into his steel-like back, he rammed straight into the stone wall!
This was no wooden partition. It was a sturdy wall built of solid stone.
However, Tran Kien's impact, bolstered by the explosive might of Primordial Qi, carried an astonishing, terrifying power.
BOOM!!!
A massive shockwave echoed out. The stone wall trembled violently as countless spider-web cracks spiderwebbed across its surface. The sheer recoil caused Tran Kien to cough up a mouthful of fresh blood. But he didn't stop. He threw himself into it a second time!
CRASH!!!
The stone wall finally gave way, a large section crumbling into rubble to reveal the space beyond. It was the cellar of an adjacent tavern, stacked high with massive vats of liquor.
"Get in!" Tran Kien bellowed, pulling Lam Vy as they threw themselves through the breach.
Ly Thuan, having just finished off the Blood Condor, witnessed this scene. His previously composed face finally contorted into a mask of pure rage.
"Fools! Do you really think hiding in there will save you?"
He raised his hand, and an emerald-green fireball condensed in his palm, ready to be hurled into the cellar.
But at that exact moment, Tran Kien, who had just rolled inside, did something even more utterly insane. He didn't run. He swung his matte black saber—not at the enemy, but directly at the surrounding liquor vats!
SLASH! SLASH!
Dozens of wooden vats were cleaved open. Highly potent, top-grade alcohol gushed out like a torrential waterfall, instantly flooding the cellar floor. The overwhelming stench of strong liquor filled the air.
Then, Tran Kien reached into his pouch and pulled out a piece of flint.
He looked up through the gaping hole in the wall, locking eyes with Ly Thuan. The corners of his blood-stained mouth curled up into a face of absolute, unrestrained madness.
"Old man," he said.
"You want to capture us? Then... let's descend to the Yellow Springs together!"
Saying this, without a shadow of hesitation, he violently struck the flint.
A tiny spark flared to life.