Chapter 1: Li Muxian

Great Li, Wanzhou, Shun’an City.

Today, the renowned Yu Family Martial Arts Hall was decorated with lanterns and streamers, drums and gongs booming, guests pouring in from all directions.

“A Sheng, there aren’t enough tables in the east hall—come with me to the back courtyard and fetch a few more.”

Amid the clamor, a muscular man hurriedly called out, pulling a young man standing in the front courtyard toward the back.

The young man had sharp eyebrows and star-like eyes, his face handsome—precisely because of his good looks that he’d been assigned the easy task of greeting guests up front.

“Big Zhang, why the rush? Let those guests stand a bit longer—they won’t die of fatigue.”

Li Muxian yawned and shuffled slowly after the ahead-moving Zhang Dazhuang.

The man turned back and glared, irritable:

“Today is our old master’s grand day of retiring from the martial world—everyone here is a big shot in the Jianghu. If you slack off like this, you’ll invite trouble and a beating.”

At this, Li Muxian rolled his eyes—he’d actually been hoping to find someone who could beat him, but such a person was likely impossible to find.

At this, Zhang Dazhuang shook his head, slowed his pace, and spoke with solemn gravity:

“You’re too proud for your own good. With your looks, if you’d trained harder, maybe the old master would’ve married his second daughter to you.”

“Big Zhang, spare me—my second sister weighs four hundred jin, her palm is wider than my head; I’m not built to handle her.”

Li Muxian chuckled, then added, changing tone:

“If that stingy old man Yu would give me his third daughter, I might consider it.”

“Don’t make me laugh—his third daughter is a celestial beauty, with terrifying martial talent, and has already joined the famed Qingyun Sect of Wanzhou. Do you think she’d look at you?”

Zhang Dazhuang sneered and mercilessly mocked Li Muxian further.

Li Muxian didn’t mind; after bantering a bit, they soon reached the back courtyard storage shed.

Zhang Dazhuang stacked five tables and slung them onto his shoulders, rushing back toward the front courtyard—but as soon as his foot crossed the threshold, a voice like a great bell rang out over the entire estate:

“Yu Zhentian, twenty years since we last met—I’ve come to take your life!”

The voice exploded like thunder beside the ear, shaking the eardrums with searing pain; before anyone saw the man, his voice alone silenced the once-noisy estate.

…

Inside the main hall, Yu Zhentian, his hair streaked white, sat at the head seat; the golden basin meant for his retirement ritual had just been brought out.

“This man’s internal qi is formidable!”

A middle-aged man in lavish robes seated below him showed surprise—he was broad-shouldered and thick-backed, radiating an aura of quiet authority.

“I sensed this day wouldn’t pass peacefully. I apologize for troubling you, Mayor Hao.”

Yu Zhentian rose and bowed to Hao Shen, then his expression darkened.

Meanwhile, a group of disciples had already rushed anxiously to the hall’s entrance, ready to guard him.

“Master, disaster! Someone’s come to kill us!”

“What’s the panic? A coward hiding behind a mask—I don’t even consider him worth my attention.”

Yu Zhentian snorted coldly, then strode out of the hall with each step stirring the air:

“Mayor Hao, wait a moment—I’ll deal with this, then join you for three cups of wine.”

Hearing this, Hao Shen’s eyes flickered; he rose and followed, saying:

“Brother Yu, wait—I’ll go with you. I’d like to see who dares cause trouble in Shun’an City.”

The group stormed into the front courtyard.

The guests were huddled together, all gazing upward at the rooftop, whispering nervously—the atmosphere heavy with tension.

Standing straight atop the dark-tiled roof like a mountain ridge was a tall man in black, his face covered by a black cloth, a long blade in hand gleaming with chilling frost.

Zhang Dazhuang and Li Muxian stood at the back of the crowd.

Zhang Dazhuang gripped his staff, his face tense as he stared up at the black-clad man; beside him, Li Muxian lounged with arms crossed, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“Dares not show his face—clearly a vile murderer hiding from the light,” Zhang Dazhuang blurted angrily.

Seeing Yu Zhentian arrive, he moved to rush forward and help—but the front courtyard was packed too tightly to push through.

Li Muxian grabbed his arm and smiled:

“This man’s strength rivals Old Master Yu’s—you going up there won’t help; one slash from him and you’re dead.”

Zhang Dazhuang froze, suddenly recalling how the man’s voice alone had shaken the estate—he must be a master of profound internal qi.

He halted his advance; he wasn’t a fool—he knew his own limits.

“This kind of villain? The old master will easily capture him.”

Zhang Dazhuang cleared his throat and stayed beside Li Muxian, leaning on his staff as he peered toward the courtyard’s center.

“Who are you? Why hide your face? What grudge do you hold against me?”

Yu Zhentian suppressed his fury and confronted the black-clad man directly.

“You old fool are truly senile!”

The man let out a cold, bitter laugh:

“Let me refresh your memory—twenty years ago, at Junliu Mountain, you slashed off one of my fifth brother’s arms. Do you remember?”

Hearing this, Yu Zhentian’s white eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to recall.

Then, suddenly, he looked up: “Are you one of the Zhe River Seven Bandits?”

“What? The Zhe River Seven Bandits!”

At this, all guests in the courtyard gasped in shock.

The Zhe River Seven Bandits were infamous; for the past decade, they had terrorized Wanzhou, killing countless people, consistently ranked among the top three on the government’s most-wanted list.

More importantly, their martial skill was extraordinary—many renowned martial artists had fallen to their blades.

Their most recent atrocity: three months ago, they slaughtered the entire Zhao family arms shop in Shencheng overnight—over a hundred men, women, and children, none spared.

The news spread, sending shockwaves through the entire Wanzhou Jianghu.

The Zhao family was a century-old martial lineage, rich in skilled warriors, one of the top powers in Shencheng.

Yet even they couldn’t escape the Zhe River Seven Bandits’ massacre—proof of the bandits’ terrifying strength.

“Correct. You finally remember.”

Zhe Laosan’s gaze turned icy as he slowly scanned the now-chattering crowd below, then spoke in a deep, commanding tone:

“From now, you have ten breaths to leave—everyone except the Yu family.”

“After ten breaths, anyone who remains—I will kill them all.”

Zhe Laosan’s voice, driven by profound internal power, shattered the bark of the jujube tree before him, snapped branches, and sent leaves cascading down; everyone’s ears rang, their heads reeling.

Ordinary people without martial skill were seized by terror, their hearts pounding, their guts trembling—some even urinated in their pants.

Once they recovered, they fled without a second thought.

(End of Chapter)