Chapter 3: Miss, Hello

The destruction of the Blood Wolf Hall quickly sparked panic among all factions in Heishicheng.

They swiftly united to avoid being picked off one by one.

But by then, the instigator had already mounted a horse and stood atop a dune twenty li outside the city, gazing toward the southeast.

Cangmang Mountain lay like a colossal dragon sprawled across the earth.

Beyond Cangmang Mountain lay the southern lands of Mangzhou, where legends spoke of an entirely different scene.

The climate was humid and hot, dotted with rolling hills, dense forests, treacherous mountains, foul rivers, choking miasmas, prowling wolves, tigers, and leopards, rampant poisons, and even demonic beasts.

“Licheng!”

Xia Daoming stared far into the distance for a long while, then suddenly spat out two words, cracked his whip, and spurred his horse down the dune, racing straight toward the southeast.

Licheng lay in the southern lands of Mangzhou, a major city of the region.

Legends claimed that power structures within the city were deeply entangled, with strong cultivators everywhere—not only Grand Martial Masters of fifth rank and above, but even Martial Dao Masters of ninth rank and higher.

Martial Masters were ranked twelve tiers: first to fourth tier were called Minor Martial Masters, fifth to eighth tier were Grand Martial Masters, ninth to eleventh tier were Martial Dao Masters, and twelfth tier was singularly called Grand Martial Dao Master.

Chou Zhiheng had once learned the “Dragon-Snake Scripture” in Licheng, but his talent was limited; even nearing thirty, he had failed to reach the threshold of fifth-rank Martial Master, and just then he had offended a powerful figure, forcing him to flee to Heishicheng and open a martial school to make a living.

Fifth to eighth tier marked the Grand Martial Master realm, which carried even more profound methods of force circulation.

Chou Zhiheng was only a fourth-rank Martial Master and possessed no circulation techniques beyond the fourth tier of the “Dragon-Snake Scripture.”

Now Xia Daoming was also a fourth-rank Martial Master, and his meridians had been strengthened to the ninth level; if he could reach Licheng, find the martial school where Chou Zhiheng once trained, and learn the subsequent techniques, once his meridians completed full ninth-level reinforcement, he could enter the fifth-rank Grand Martial Master realm.

But Licheng lay thousands of li away—not only was the journey long, but bandits infested the roads, along with countless poisonous insects and ferocious beasts.

Especially the stretch crossing Cangmang Mountain was said to be extraordinarily perilous; many traveling merchants dared not journey alone and had to form groups at the mountain’s foot before daring to enter.

Yet the most critical issue was not these dangers—it was that Xia Daoming had never left Heishicheng; not only had he never been to Licheng, thousands of li away, but he had never even set foot in many places hundreds of li distant, having only heard tales of them.

This only increased the difficulty and peril of his journey.

Fortunately, Xia Daoming was no longer what he once was; even if he faced a fifth-rank Martial Master, as long as it wasn’t an exceptionally powerful one, he was confident he could defeat them with his formidable force.

Moreover, after plundering the Blood Wolf Hall, he had struck it rich—his banknotes and loose silver and gold totaled over five thousand taels, enough to cover his travel expenses and his settlement and master-seeking costs upon reaching Licheng.

This was the source of Xia Daoming’s confidence.

Thirty days later.

Under the blazing sun, Xia Daoming, shouldering a saddlebag and belted with a leather water flask, stood alone atop a hillock in the desert, gazing into the distance.

Wind stirred dust across the desert, distorting the sunlight into hazy, shimmering veils that draped the endless expanse like translucent silk.

White bones littered the ground, glaringly stark under the sun.

Scattered, leafless, stunted trees swayed helplessly in the wind and sand.

Xia Daoming licked his cracked lips and let out a faint, bitter smile.

He was lost.

Logically, he should have reached his next resting point, Eya City, two days ago.

But he had seen no sign of human habitation for two days.

Yesterday, misfortune piled upon misfortune—his horse, which had carried him for thirty days, was suddenly attacked by a rattlesnake and died in the desert.

“I hope I see signs of life before nightfall, or I’ll have to spend another night in the desert,” Xia Daoming muttered, glancing at the blood-red sun sinking westward, then pressed on toward the southeast.

Licheng and Cangmang Mountain both lay in the southeast.

Now that he was lost and could no longer discern the path, he could only press forward in the general direction.

Just as he descended the hillock, Xia Daoming heard hoofbeats behind him.

He perked up instantly, spun around, and saw a woman riding a horse racing down the hillock.

“Miss, hello!” Xia Daoming waved and called out loudly.

The woman quickly spotted Xia Daoming, her face paled, and she yanked and jerked the reins, galloping sharply in another direction.

“Miss, don’t misunderstand, don’t misunderstand—I only want to ask for directions!” Xia Daoming shouted, chasing after her.

There was no choice—he’d been lost for two days, and now that he’d finally found someone, how could he let her slip away?

But burdened with his gear, how could he outrun a four-legged horse?

Just as the woman and her horse were about to vanish into the distance, the horse stumbled and collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Fortunately, the woman was agile—she pressed her hand against the horse’s back and leapt cleanly to the ground.

She turned to see the horse, now foaming at the mouth—exhausted beyond endurance.

The woman’s face turned ashen, her eyes filled with despair; Xia Daoming, seeing this, felt a surge of relief, strode toward her, and called out: “Miss, don’t misunderstand—I’m lost, I only want to ask you…”

Before he finished speaking, Xia Daoming’s expression froze.

The ground trembled; hoofbeats thundered closer from afar.

Columns of dust rose like war smoke into the sky.

On the hillock where Xia Daoming had just stood, a rider and his horse now appeared.

The rider was a thin, sallow old man, as if just recovering from a grave illness, dressed in gray.

Yet his eyes burned with sharp, piercing vitality, like swords.

He now looked down upon Xia Daoming and the woman as if a predator sized up its prey.

Moreover, five more mounted figures appeared behind and beside Xia Daoming.

Unlike the old man, who loomed above, these five dismounted swiftly and advanced toward the two in a tightening encirclement.

“Elder Liao, your target is me—don’t drag the innocent into this!” the woman said, edging closer to Xia Daoming, addressing the old man atop the hillock.

Only then did Xia Daoming notice: she was a young woman with skin like snow, features as if painted, exquisitely beautiful, yet radiating an aura of lethal intent.

A graceful lady, worthy of a gentleman’s admiration.

At another time, Xia Daoming might have lingered to admire her—but now he had no time; instead, he quietly assessed the cultivation levels of the six men.

From the force signatures of the five on foot, Xia Daoming quickly deduced their ranks.

Of the five, one was a third-rank Martial Master; the other four were fourth-rank.

But the old man atop the horse—Xia Daoming could not fathom his level, meaning he was at least a fifth-rank Grand Martial Master.

“Tsk tsk, still worrying about the fate of an innocent at a time like this? Miss Ji, you’re not just beautiful—you’re truly kind-hearted! But you know, our Liao family’s business can’t yet be exposed, so I’m sorry—I cannot honor your request.”

“But rest assured, I’ll have my men give him a quick death. And don’t even think of fleeing again, or playing the suicide card.”

“If you return with me willingly, hand over the formula, and help us brew the medicine, I guarantee not a single hair on your body will be harmed. If not—even if you kill yourself, I won’t let your corpse go untouched.”

“You’re a smart woman. Come with me, and you’ll preserve your purity—and still have some hope.” Elder Liao said.

Ji Wenyue had indeed considered suicide, but hearing the old man say he’d defile even her corpse, she imagined her body violated after death—her limbs turned icy, her heart plunged into an abyss.

“What level is that old man?” Just as Ji Wenyue felt death was her only option, a man’s voice sounded beside her.

In fact, as the five closed in, the two had unconsciously drawn near.

“Fifth-rank Grand Martial Master!” Ji Wenyue replied, her face filled with despair.

“Fifth-rank Grand Martial Master!” Xia Daoming’s eyes lit up instantly, his heart leaping with sudden energy.

A fifth-rank Martial Master past sixty—even if formidable—his vital energy and force must be declining.

With proper tactics, there might yet be a chance to trap him!

“That’s right—one fifth-rank Grand Martial Master, four fourth-ranks, and one third-rank. I’m basically doomed. But you’re not their target, and you’re a fourth-rank Martial Master. Take this talisman, drip a drop of blood on it, then we break out in separate directions—there might still be a chance to escape,” Ji Wenyue said bitterly.

Before her words finished, Xia Daoming felt something pressed into his hand—a material that felt like animal hide, yet also like paper.

“This is…” Xia Daoming glanced at it quickly, and his mind went blank.

For Ji Wenyue had given him a talisman covered in strange, scribbled runes.

In his world of origin, such things were universally called “ghost-drawn charms”—fraudulent nonsense.

And now, at this life-or-death moment, she’d handed him this absurd thing.

Clearly, big chest, no brain!

Still clinging to feudal superstition at a time like this!

As Xia Daoming silently cursed her, his eyes suddenly widened—as if he’d seen a ghost in broad daylight—forgetting entirely the enemies surrounding him.

For Ji Wenyue now held another “ghost-drawn charm” in her hand, its surface stained with a drop of blood.

Then, without fire, the charm ignited—and dissolved into a faint golden glow that enveloped her entire body.

“Kill!”

Ji Wenyue shouted, launching herself like a furious tigress toward the fourth-rank Martial Master advancing ahead.

Before she reached him, she swung her fist with full force.

Her fist, wrapped in the golden aura, gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight, radiating an entirely new, formidable aura.

“Holy shit—Tianma Liuxing Quan!”

Xia Daoming nearly shouted it aloud.

PS: Finally, another journey begins. I hope both new and old readers enjoy it, and please help by bookmarking and sharing. During the public release, there’s generally one chapter in the morning and one at night—thank you.

Today’s three chapters—no update tonight.