The two men in the courtyard squinted their eyes, their expressions far from kind as they stared fixedly at this uninvited guest.
One of them had already reached for the blade at his waist, while the other crossed his arms over his chest. "Who are you to dare intrude upon our Twelve-Link Docks?"
The Twelve-Link Docks had seen its fair share of bold, wandering recluses trying to stir up trouble in the past, but every one of them had ended up dead. Unless this mysterious figure before them could provide a reasonable excuse in the next moment, they would not be held responsible for any lack of mercy.
Zhou Twelve was the twelfth Dockmaster of the Twelve-Link Docks. As for his birth name? No one knew it anymore. He was quite fond of his current title: Twelve-Link Docks, Dockmaster, Zhou Twelve!
Behind his mask, Shen Han’s voice remained remarkably calm. "So, are you both finished talking?"
A cold glint appeared in the eyes of both Zhou Twelve and Zhou Eleven.
"We’re finished, so you can speak your piece!"
Shen Han nodded slightly. "I have come to request some silver. My demands are not high; ten thousand units of Heavenly Mandate currency will suffice."
In this world, silver existed as silver shards or copper coins, but the most common form was the currency known as "Heavenly Mandate." One unit of the lowest denomination could buy two steamed buns or one meat bun. Correspondingly, there were units worth ten, a hundred, and a thousand. In the current age, the largest denomination was the "Ten Thousand Heavenly Mandate" note, a single piece worth ten thousand small coins.
When Zhou Twelve and Zhou Eleven heard Shen Han ask for one thousand of these ten-thousand-unit notes, they burst into laughter.
"How ridiculous."
"What kind of lowly rat are you, spouting such nonsense?"
"I think you... are looking to die!"
Zhou Eleven stepped forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade! The snow covering the courtyard was instantly blasted more than ten feet into the air. Amidst the swirling snow mist, he unleashed the "Cloud-Severing Blade Technique," the signature style of the Twelve-Link Docks.
The technique was fast, precise, and ruthless, channeling the user’s True Essence into a series of rapid strikes. It was a "Mountain-Splitting, Rock-Crushing" style capable of killing even a master at the Innate Great Perfection in a single blow.
Seeing his brother launch the attack, Zhou Twelve grew relaxed, his subconscious already assuming the matter was settled. To him, this was just another nameless wanderer; killing him was no different from stepping on an insect—hardly worth asking his name.
Suddenly, however, he felt the snow mist swirling in the courtyard react as if struck by a monstrous force descending from the heavens. With a resounding boom, the thick snow fog was instantly crushed back down to the ground. The layer of snow, previously a palm’s width deep, was flattened until only the thickness of a knuckle remained.
On the compacted snow, Zhou Eleven fell to his knees before the mysterious visitor, his expression one of savage agony and contortion. His blade had vanished. A primal, overwhelming sense of shock and terror took hold of his mind. He didn't even know what had happened!
The Cloud-Severing Blade Technique was devastatingly powerful. He had clearly struck the stranger's shoulder; under normal circumstances, the man should have been sliced in two. The True Essence contained within the blade should have erupted within the wound, inflicting massive, explosive damage. This wanderer should have been nothing more than a splatter of flesh and blood.
Yet, the man stood unscathed. And he, Zhou Eleven, had somehow ended up on his knees without even realizing when he had fallen!
"What kind of terrifying power is this? Who is this man?!"
As the fear spread, Shen Han freed one hand and caught the blade that had fallen from the sky.
"If you run your Twelve-Link Docks like a legitimate business, I will not interfere. But if you resort to robbery and deception, that is wrong."
Shen Han lowered his gaze behind the mask. He carelessly tossed the blade onto the hard-packed snow. It slid several yards, coming to a stop at the feet of the stunned Zhou Twelve. Shen Han gently rested a hand on the other man’s shoulder. "So, I ask you: have you killed any innocent people?"
Zhou Eleven, trembling and bowing his head, rolled his eyes wildly in their sockets. He didn't know how to answer, yet the terrifying pressure radiating from Shen Han left him no choice. He stammered, "I answer to you, Senior—I have not killed any innocent people!"
Shen Han sighed helplessly. "You see, you are lying again."
Zhou Eleven froze for a moment. Then, in his eyes, the man before him was no longer a mere wanderer; he had transformed into a colossal sword, piercing the firmament and shattering the darkness. The terrifying, thunderous aura he emitted carried the power to obliterate every evil spirit and soul in existence.
"Run!"
"Run, you fool!"
His instinct screamed at him to flee. He braced his hands against the ground and pushed off with his toes, but it was already too late. No technique, no matter how extraordinary, could be unleashed now.
Shen Han’s hand, gentle as a grandfather’s touch, rested upon the crown of his head. The next instant, like a playful child crushing a thin layer of ice, Zhou Eleven’s body was shattered, layer by layer, from his head down to his feet.
*Crack, crack.* The sound was incessant. There was no chance for blood to spray; in that fleeting moment, Zhou Eleven, who had been desperate to flee, was reduced to nothing more than a crimson stain on the ground.
Shen Han stood beside the pool of blood, which still emitted a faint steam. With a single step, he appeared behind Zhou Twelve and looked toward the plum blossoms blooming in the courtyard. "And you?"
Shen Han’s voice was faint, but to Zhou Twelve, it sounded like the voices of the spirits of death coming to claim his soul. His pupils dilated in terror. His brother, Zhou Eleven, had been a formidable master of the Innate Great Perfection, yet he had been crushed like thin ice, utterly helpless! Just who was this mysterious person? What kind of terrifying power did he possess?
He didn't even dare to turn his head to look at the man. He immediately knelt before the bloodstain near the wall, his eyes trembling as he stared at the frozen snow.
"Senior, although my style of business is reckless, I truly have never killed any innocent people!"
Zhou Twelve was telling the truth. While he didn't care about the lives of wandering martial artists, he had never bothered to kill them; he held them in such contempt that he found even the act of killing them beneath him. Now, however, he dared not show the slightest defiance. He had never even knelt before his own parents, yet here he was, bowing in submission, his neck shrunken in fear, with his brother’s blade lying just a few feet away.
Shen Han glanced at the hulking man kneeling on the ground through his mask. "Very well. Go prepare the money."
With those two simple sentences, Shen Han’s figure vanished from the courtyard.
As soon as he departed, the compacted snow instantly regained its original, fluffy texture. As for the remains of Zhou Eleven, they finally had the chance to erupt into a gruesome, blooming flower of blood.
Zhou Twelve, who had been unaffected by the wind and cold, felt a chill penetrate to the very marrow of his bones. Supporting himself with his hands, he shuddered violently. He knew one thing for certain: he had just walked the fine line between life and death.
So! Just who was this mysterious man in the bamboo hat and mask? How could he be so powerful?