Chapter 2: Old Friends in the Old City, One Sword Seals the Throat

At dawn, Jiang Che entered Hanzhou City.

The city gate was still that same city gate.

Three years ago, when he left the city, behind him were the Zhenbei Marquis Manor ablaze with fire, the iron-armored troops scouring the entire city to hunt him down, and his father's blood-stained cloak.

Three years later, when he returned, he wore only an old fox fur coat, carried a wooden sword, and bore the scent of fresh blood all over his body.

The city guards stopped him.

"Halt, where did this beggar come from?"

Jiang Che looked up.

The guard froze for a moment.

Many people in Hanzhou City had seen Jiang Che before.

Even after three years, the Little Marquis's face was still too recognizable.

The guard's face instantly turned pale: "Jiang... Jiang Che?"

Another man nearby, hearing this, immediately gripped the blade at his waist.

But before his blade could be drawn, Jiang Che had already walked between the two of them.

The wind stirred gently.

The two guards froze in place, their scabbards at their waists cracking open in unison.

The blades had not left their scabbards, yet they were already snapped in two.

Jiang Che did not kill them.

The lazy voice from within the sword clicked its tongue: "Soft-hearted?"

Jiang Che said calmly: "They are just gatekeepers."

"Then who do you want to kill?"

Jiang Che looked toward the end of the long street.

There once stood the Zhenbei Marquis Manor.

Now, a new plaque hung there.

Prince of Zhenhan Manor.

Three years ago, the Marquis of Zhenbei, Jiang Xuan, died in battle, and the deputy commander, Lu Heng, took control of the military power in Han Zhou. The court issued an Imperial Edict, ennobling Lu Heng as the Prince of Zhenhan.

The merit of the Jiang Family guarding the Northern Border for three generations turned to ash overnight.

And Lu Heng was the one who personally opened the city gates back then, inviting the enemy army into the pass.

Jiang Che walked down the street, and pedestrians parted to make way.

Some recognized him, their faces changing instantly.

"The Little Marquis?"

"Didn't he die?"

"Shh! Do you want to lose your life? Now Hanzhou belongs to the Lu family!"

The news spread like the Wind.

By the time Jiang Che reached the entrance of the Prince of Zhenhan Manor, the area outside the manor gates was already filled with armored soldiers.

The leader was a young man in silver armor.

He was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with a handsome face, holding a long spear, and his eyes were cold.

Lu Chen.

Lu Heng's eldest son.

He was also the number one expert among the young generation in Han Zhou back then.

Lu Chen looked at Jiang Che, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, followed by a cold sneer: "You actually dare to return."

Jiang Che gazed at him, and the scene from three years ago floated into his mind.

That night, Lu Chen stood on horseback outside the Hou Manor gates and personally thrust a spear into the old steward's chest.

Before the old steward died, he turned his head and shouted at Jiang Che: "Young Master, run!"

The hand holding Jiang Che's sword turned slightly pale.

Lu Chen saw that wooden sword and mocked: "What, haven't seen each other in three years, and the Little Marquis has switched to playing with wood?"

The armored soldiers around them burst into laughter.

Jiang Che did not laugh.

He simply asked: "Where is Lu Heng?"

Lu Chen raised an eyebrow: "Is my father's name something you can address directly?"

Jiang Che continued to ask: "Where is he?"

Lu Chen's face grew colder: "It seems you still haven't realized your own status. Jiang Che, Hanzhou now is not your Jiang Family's Hanzhou."

He raised his long spear, the tip pointing directly at Jiang Che's forehead.

"Kneel."

"I can leave you with an intact corpse."

The commoners on the street fell silent as if frozen by cold.

Jiang Che looked down at that spear.

The Sword Spirit chuckled lightly: "This kid's spear technique is decent, Third Rank Realm. If you fight him head-on now, it will be a bit of a struggle."

Jiang Che asked: "Can I kill him?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Very simple."

The Sword Spirit's voice suddenly grew more serious.

"Draw your sword fast."

"Fast enough that he has no time to regret it."

Jiang Che slowly exhaled.

Lu Chen had already lost patience; he stomped his foot, shattering the bluestone, and surged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

The long spear tore through the air, carrying a sharp whistling sound.

Before the spear tip arrived, the force of the wind already stung Jiang Che's brow.

Jiang Che stood his ground.

He did not retreat.

He did not dodge.

He watched that point of cold light rapidly expand.

Until the spear tip was less than three inches from his brow.

Jiang Che drew his sword.

The Wooden Sword left its scabbard.

In truth, it had no scabbard.

Yet everyone heard a clear, resonant sword cry.

In the next instant, Lu Chen rushed past Jiang Che's side.

The two stood back to back.

The long street was so quiet one could hear raindrops falling from the eaves.

Lu Chen lowered his head, looking at the long spear in his hand.

The spear tip was gone.

Immediately, a thin bloodline appeared on his neck.

Lu Chen opened his mouth, as if wanting to say something.

But he could speak no more.

Thud.

The eldest son of the Lu Family collapsed in the street.

One sword strike sealed his throat.

The entire street instantly erupted.

"Young Master!"

"Kill him!"

The armored soldiers of the Prince's Manor roared and charged out.

Jiang Che raised the Wooden Sword, his expression cold.

The Sword Spirit suddenly said, "Wait."

Jiang Che frowned: "What?"

"So many people; killing them one by one is too tiring."

Jiang Che: "Then what do we do?"

The Sword Spirit smiled: "I will teach you a move."

"Name?"

"Call it whatever you like."

"Then let's call it..."

Jiang Che raised his sword, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground.

The meridians in his body, just now opened, trembled wildly; as if invisible threads of Qi from Heaven and Earth were being drawn toward the Wooden Sword.

On the long street, the swords at the waists of every sword-bearer trembled and cried out simultaneously.

On the second floor of the tea house, a white-haired old man suddenly stood up.

"This is... Sword Intent?"

Jiang Che struck down with his sword.

Sword Qi skimming the ground, in an instant raising the dust of the entire long street.

The dozens of armored soldiers at the forefront were struck as if by Thunder; their breastplates shattered completely, and they were blown backward.

Before the Gate of the Prince's Manor, the stone lions crumbled with a boom.

Jiang Che stood in the dust and smoke, holding his sword; his voice was not loud, yet it carried across half the street.

"Lu Heng."

"Come out and meet your death."