The Xiao family was the preeminent power among the four great houses of Jiangzhong.
Today was a day of celebration for the Xiao family. First, the Longteng Group, a subsidiary of the Xiao family, had signed an agreement with the Qianjun Group, becoming their closest strategic partner—a milestone that signaled the Xiao family’s rise to even greater heights. Second, it was the eightieth birthday of the Xiao family patriarch, Xiao Biehe.
Outside the Xiao family villa, luxury cars converged. Jiangzhong’s social elite had arrived in droves to celebrate the patriarch’s birthday and congratulate the Xiao family on their new permanent partnership with the Qianjun Group.
"The Wang family presents a millennium jade ruyi, valued at eight million, wishing the old master a life as vast as the Eastern Sea and as enduring as the Southern Mountains!"
"The Zhou family presents a golden toad, valued at twelve million, wishing the Xiao family boundless wealth!"
"The Zhao family presents an authentic Tang Bohu painting, valued at eight million eight hundred thousand..."
At the main entrance, a hostess held a microphone, continuously announcing the gifts brought by guests.
Inside the villa’s grand hall, Xiao Biehe was dressed in light, casual attire. Though eighty, he appeared remarkably spirited. Hearing the litany of gifts, his smile stretched so wide he could hardly contain it. The banquet was filled with members of every major family in Jiangzhong. Even representatives from second-rate houses, like the Tang family, had come. To curry favor with the Xiaos, Tang Tianlong had gone to great lengths, spending a fortune on a jade Buddha to present to Xiao Biehe. Everyone was seizing the opportunity to network and expand their connections.
Outside the villa, a man wearing a brown trench coat and a mask walked toward the entrance, carrying a coffin on his shoulder. The coffin weighed at least two hundred pounds, yet the man hoisted it with one hand, as if it were weightless.
This was Jiang Chen.
Jiang Chen, the Dragon Commander who had once struck terror into the Southern Wasteland.
He had returned for two reasons: to repay a debt of gratitude and to exact revenge. Now that he was a live-in son-in-law for the Tang family and the husband of Tang Chuchu, he did not want to bring trouble upon her. Thus, he donned a black mask, transforming himself into a grim reaper.
*Boom!*
Reaching the gate, he exerted a sudden burst of strength, sending the coffin hurtling through the air. It shattered the entrance doors and crashed into the center of the villa’s hall.
The sudden outburst stunned everyone at the banquet. The clamor died away, replaced by an eerie silence.
What was happening? It was Xiao Biehe’s eightieth birthday; who could be so bold as to gift a coffin?
Xiao Biehe, who had been chatting with the heads of several families, saw the coffin fly in. His face darkened, and he roared, "What is the meaning of this? Where is security? What are they paid for? Who brought this thing in? Get it out of here, now!"
"Xiao Biehe, this coffin is a gift for you. Today is your eightieth birthday, but this day next year will be the anniversary of your death."
A thunderous voice rang out from the doorway. A man in a brown trench coat, his face obscured by a ghost mask, stepped inside.
"Who—who are you?" Xiao Biehe stared fixedly at Jiang Chen. This was the Xiao residence, and he was the head of the house, one of the most powerful figures in Jiangzhong. Who dared to act with such insolence here?
"I am the man coming for your life."
The cold, indifferent voice echoed through the hall. Jiang Chen, wearing the black ghost mask, walked forward step by step.
"You won’t get away with this!" A man in his twenties stepped out, pointing a finger at Jiang Chen. "I don't care who you are. In the Xiao house, even a dragon must coil and a tiger must crouch!"
It was Xiao Bin. He cursed at Jiang Chen and reached for the black mask, snarling, "Hiding behind a mask and playing god? I’ll see for myself exactly who you are."
Jiang Chen moved with lightning speed, grabbing Xiao Bin’s hand. With a slight twist, he wrenched the man up and threw him into a spin.
*Crack.*
Xiao Bin’s arm was torn clean off, blood spraying across the floor.
"Aaaah!" Xiao Bin let out a gut-wrenching scream.
The Jiangzhong elite were paralyzed with terror. Living in a time of peace, they had never witnessed such bloodshed. Many scrambled backward, terrified of being caught in the crossfire.
Jiang Chen stood like an executioner, casually tossing the severed arm to the floor. His aura was overwhelming; the Xiao family members, cowed by his sudden, brutal violence, trembled and retreated. Even Xiao Biehe took a step back, reaching toward his waistband to draw a weapon and kill this uninvited guest.
Jiang Chen continued his approach. In the crowded hall, the only sound was Xiao Bin’s agonizing wails. After a few moments, the pain caused Xiao Bin to lose consciousness, and the hall fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the rhythmic, fatal sound of Jiang Chen’s footsteps.
"Kneel."
The command rang out. Jiang Chen’s presence was immense, born from years on the battlefield amidst countless slaughtered enemies. Under the pressure of his killing intent, the elite and the Xiaos were struck with terror. No one dared to utter a word.
The single word "kneel" hit Xiao Biehe like a thunderbolt, shattering his composure. In that moment, he forgot how to resist; his body betrayed him, and he fell to his knees.
*Thump.*
The onlookers were stunned. This was Xiao Biehe, head of the preeminent house of Jiangzhong, now kneeling like a dog.
Jiang Chen produced a wire. It was a strange, segmented thing; upon closer inspection, one would see it was made of countless interlocking silver needles.
"Xiao Biehe, do you know your crimes?"
Only then did Xiao Biehe snap back to reality. A cold sweat drenched his spine. *What is happening? Why am I kneeling?* He tried to rise, but his legs felt like lead; he could not stand.
"Boy, do you have any idea who you are talking to?" Unable to stand, he still tried to project power, his hand hovering over his waistband, ready to kill. The other Xiao family members watched, too terrified to intervene.
"I will let you die with clarity. Ten years ago, by the shores of Huaju Lake, a fire burned for a day and a night. Thirty-eight souls were lost. Your blood must be the offering."
The cold, merciless voice resonated through the hall. Jiang Chen blurred, instantly reappearing behind Xiao Biehe. He looped the silver-needle wire around the old man's neck and gave a slight tug.
Blood sprayed as the head fell to the ground.
"Aaaah!" The socialites screamed, collapsing to the floor and clutching their heads in terror. The Xiao family members were paralyzed as they stared at the gruesome corpse of their patriarch.
Jiang Chen produced a black bag, placed the head inside, and turned to leave. He vanished as quickly as he had come, leaving the villa in a deathly silence. Everyone remained crouched on the floor, while Xiao Biehe’s headless body lay still in the hall.
...
At the Jiang Family Mausoleum, before the grave of Jiang Tian, Jiang Chen set down the black bag and leaned against the tombstone. He pulled out a flask of wine, took a deep drink, and poured the rest onto the ground.
"Grandfather, rest in peace. Your grandson will ensure the souls of the Jiang family find rest. As for *Dwelling in the Fuchun Mountains (Huayue)*, I will find a way to take it back."
With that, he rose and walked away. Upon returning to the Emperor’s Residence, he took a bath.
At the Xiao villa, the guests had long since fled. The coffin remained in the hall, with Xiao Biehe’s body lying silently on the floor. Xiao Bin, his arm severed, had been rushed to the hospital.
The Xiao family members were all kneeling before the corpse. Leading them was a beautiful, sensuous woman in a dress—Xiao Biehe’s youngest daughter, Xiao Ruoran. She was the very same woman who, by her own hand, had turned the Jiang family upside down and brought about its ruin. Her beautiful face was dark with grief.
"Have you called the fourth brother?" Xiao Ruoran’s voice was a jagged roar in the silent hall.
"We—we have."
"Do not touch anything at the scene. Wait until the fourth brother returns."
...
In the dead of night, several helicopters touched down at the Jiangzhong Military Region. Each was marked with the characters "Western Territory."
A middle-aged man in a combat uniform stepped out, his expression icy. A line of fully armed soldiers stood at attention, saluting him in unison. He climbed into a jeep, which sped directly toward the Xiao villa.
Upon arriving and seeing the headless body of his father, the middle-aged man removed his hat and dropped to his knees.
"Father, your son is late. I swear, whoever did this, I will never let them go!" A roar of boundless fury echoed through the house.
"Fourth brother," Xiao Ruoran approached.
The man was none other than Xiao Biehe’s fourth son, Xiao Zhan.
Xiao Zhan remained expressionless, his eyes dark. "I need the surveillance footage from the banquet."
"Yes, I will get it immediately." Xiao Ruoran nodded and ordered someone to retrieve the footage.
Xiao Zhan stood up and examined the wound on his father’s body, then watched the video, witnessing the entire sequence of the murder. He asked coldly, "What did this person say before he killed my father?"
Xiao Ruoran replied, "Ten years ago, by the shores of Huaju Lake, a fire burned for a day and a night. Thirty-eight souls were lost. Your blood must be the offering."
Hearing this, Xiao Zhan’s fists clenched, his face darkening. "A remnant of the Jiang family?"
"It must be."
Xiao Zhan covered his face, gesturing dismissively to Xiao Ruoran. "Let Father be laid to rest. Keep the funeral simple. I am going to the Capital tonight to consult a person of great influence and find out which other remnants of the Jiang family are still alive."