Chapter 52: The Rising Sun

“Scorpion Tail” Xu Erniang gripped her twin knives, palms slick with sweat.

Internal energy flowed through her meridians, blood and qi surged through her sinews and bones, yet as she watched the approaching green-clad youth, not a shred of courage stirred within her.

“Young Master, I know my fault—I beg to serve you as dog or horse, you…” She straightened her robes, baring half her snow-white bosom, looking pitifully vulnerable.

One sweep of the sword, a head fell, blood sprayed.

“Down the Mountain Tiger” Lang Yi let out a low roar, disregarding consequences as he forced his internal energy to surge, ignoring the stabbing pain in his meridians, his speed exploding by another full fold.

Down the Mountain Tiger—fierce as a storm!

Speed was his strength, praised throughout the martial world.

A green shadow flashed; the sword’s light slashed diagonally.

Lang Yi’s body stiffened for an instant, then continued its sprinting posture—suddenly, head and body split apart, each flying off in opposite directions.

Two sword shadows faded one after another.

Jiang Ding turned back, expression startled.

“You didn’t run?”

Zhou Kun, a black giant like a steel tower, clutched a pair of octagonal bronze hammers, staring fixedly at him.

Jiang Ding placed a hand on his waist sword and stepped closer.

“Sir, you’ve just arrived here—you must have great matters to attend to. I have something to say.”

Zhou Kun stared at him and said gravely: “Since childhood, I’ve trained in hardening arts, studied under the Marquis’s instructor, mastered military strategy, excelled in troop training and command—if I had ten thousand soldiers under my command, even a Xiantian would not frighten me.”

“I am of great use—I can achieve greatness in the future!”

“Oh?”

Jiang Ding assumed a posture of listening intently.

“Zhou Kun begs to serve you as dog or horse—I beg to charge into battle for you, to seize the world!”

“I don’t need you.”

Jiang Ding listened to the end, then his foot flashed forward—he drew his sword.

“Then die, you bastard!”

Zhou Kun roared, unleashing his internal energy in a wild explosion—his muscles bulged like hills, twin meteor hammers rained down in relentless succession, hammer shadows merging, qi currents swirling in all directions.

Suddenly, his body froze.

A long sword pierced diagonally from the side, sinking deep into his throat—countless threads of internal energy surged in, turning his brain to mush.

“If not for all those children… I might have considered it. Just a little.”

Jiang Ding withdrew his sword, shook off the blood, and walked toward the center of the fortress without looking back.

Behind him, the mighty black giant collapsed like a mountain toppling, a jade pillar crumbling.

Before him, countless fleeing bandits fled in panic, daring not to glance back, escaping past the fortress gate, fleeing far away from this nightmare.

“Mountain Splitting Tiger” Zhou Kuang and “Golden Dot Tiger” Zhou Sheng escaped the flames, barely regrouped their men—only to see a flood of fleeing bandits approaching from afar, refusing to rejoin, fleeing for their lives.

“What are you running from?”

Zhou Kuang grabbed one fleeing bandit and roared angrily.

“The Second Boss is dead, the Third and Fourth Bosses are dead too, dozens of our brothers are dead…” The bandit, hair disheveled, wailed: “The Boss is dead too—that man is a demon born from those children—we’re all going to die!”

“Nonsense!”

Zhou Kuang slammed him to the ground and roared: “If you spread rumors, I’ll kill your whole family!”

The bandits who had just escaped the firestorm around him erupted into chaos—murmurs rose, each called out to familiar fleeing men, confirmed the truth, then joined the flight without hesitation.

“Shut up!”

Zhou Kuang chopped down the screaming bandit with his axe and bellowed: “He’s only one man! Do you understand? He’s exhausted now—follow me, surround and kill him! One hundred taels of silver each, ten big-breasted women!”

Now, no one paid him any heed.

The barely cohesive group instantly scattered—even if the two brothers slew several men, it did no good.

“Big brother! These cowards are useless—let’s go kill him together! Just you and me are enough!”

“Golden Dot Tiger” Zhou Sheng screamed, eyes bloodshot.

“Die, you son of a dog!”

Zhou Kuang kicked him in the chest, raised his axe to strike—Zhou Sheng scrambled back in terror: “Get lost! Get far away! Leave a spark for the Zhou family—just like Mother said: survive!”

“The Boss’s favor—I’ll repay it myself!”

“Big brother!”

Zhou Sheng’s eyes reddened—he stopped dodging, understanding his meaning.

…

Jiang Ding strolled through the rear fortress; corpses and bloodstains dotted the ground, yet the quiet night remained undisturbed.

This was where the dozen carts of Blue Glow Butterflies were stored, along with pigs, sheep, cattle, and horses; further back, in the cow pen, dozens of children were imprisoned, their dark eyes filled with terror as they watched the armed youth outside.

In the chaos, bandits had taken the chance to loot, fight among themselves, and even tried to steal horses to escape.

They ended up lying on the ground.

Under the moonlight, blue glows sparkled—fifteen to sixteen thousand pairs of Blue Glow Butterflies clustered together, turning the place into a dreamlike azure fairyland.

Jiang Ding observed closely.

These Blue Glow Butterflies were in decent mental condition—someone knowledgeable must have cared for them meticulously. The Tiger’s Den had no such resources in the short term; as expected, it must have been the Righteous Brotherhood who hired them.

Tap-tap~

In the distance, a burly man with a steel battle-axe approached, face brimming with murderous intent.

“Tiger’s Den Zhou Kuang—come to take your life!”

Zhou Kuang, frenzied and demonic, brought his steel battle-axe down with the force of a mountain collapsing—the green-clad youth beneath looked as fragile as a willow leaf in the wind.

A sliver of swordlight flashed.

A head fell; the steel battle-axe flew away, crashing to the ground.

“You’ve done so many evil deeds—yet even these bandits, drenched in innocent blood, feel fierce, unyielding emotion?”

Jiang Ding sheathed his sword and shook his head: “The more they feel this way, the more they deserve to die.”

Sword shadows appeared, then vanished—clearly visible in the night.

He pulled a paper tube from his sleeve and unrolled it.

Liiii!

A streak of fire shot upward, exploding into a brilliant firework in the dim night sky.

…

Long San jolted awake from half-sleep.

Gazing at the distant fireworks, his eyes filled with excitement, doubt, hope—complex emotions that left him pacing in place, unwilling to proceed.

“Shopkeeper… could Master Jiang have been captured?”

One of the clerks, also awakened, hesitated before speaking.

This was the most likely scenario—they’d accompanied Long San here only because they dared not defy an old man who’d lost his son and teetered on madness, merely going through the motions.

As for one man wiping out a whole fortress? Even the loudest gossip in the teahouse wouldn’t dare say that.

The other clerks shrank back.

If they recklessly charged forward, those bandits would devour them down to the bones.

“Go.”

Long San suddenly said, stepping forward.

“Master…”

The other clerks looked uneasy, feet rooted to the ground.

“How many of you have eaten and drunk from the Four Seas Trading House? Now, when it matters, you won’t act?” Long San turned, raised his knife, and revealed a chilling smile.

His patience was now extremely limited.

“Master! Shopkeeper! That’s not true!”

The other clerks shuddered, shaking their heads frantically, hurrying after him, daring not utter another word.

After walking a while, Long San’s eyes filled with shock.

He’d assumed that with only a firework as a guide, the path would be treacherous, taking long to reach the destination—perhaps even getting lost.

But now, no need to wonder.

In the distance, atop the cliff, roaring flames illuminated the scene—buildings could be seen collapsing in fire, people screaming and fleeing within.

Some buildings were half-burned, leaving only black bricks and tiles, piles of glowing embers on the ground; thick smoke rolled for miles—blind men could find the place by the stench alone.

“Could he… really have wiped out the Tiger’s Den alone?”

The thought arose unbidden, growing wild in Long San’s mind—and in the minds of all the clerks.