Wind and snow danced in a chaotic flurry. On the outskirts of Xuanwu River City, Zhou Lingyi and his men fixed their gazes upon Shen Han.
Zhou Lingyi, in particular, stood out. This exceptionally fierce and burly man was, at this moment, projecting an air of calculated calm. He scrutinized the mysterious man before him. The figure was well-proportioned, dressed in a plain, gray, commoner’s robe. A standard mask covered his face, and his hair was hidden beneath a wide-brimmed bamboo hat, leaving only his chin visible from Zhou Lingyi's vantage point. He carried no weapons; standing there empty-handed, he appeared entirely ordinary.
Had Zhou Lingyi not witnessed this man effortlessly follow him earlier, he would have surely mistaken him for a mundane passerby on the street. Who was this person? And why had he come here? Even if Zhou Lingyi did not believe the man’s strength surpassed his own, it would be sheer folly to make an enemy of such a person over the death of Zhou Eleven.
Shen Han spoke first: "Did you bring the money?"
"I brought it," Zhou Lingyi replied.
He unhooked a money bag from his waist. It was filled with exactly one thousand Heavenly Mandate coins. He tossed the bulging bag across the ten-meter gap to Shen Han.
Shen Han caught it and checked the contents briefly. Once satisfied, he turned to leave. He intended to head back to the Longmen Escort Agency, as there were matters to attend to, and he had no desire to linger in Xuanwu River City.
"Wait," Zhou Lingyi called out.
Shen Han turned, his gaze slowly settling on the man.
A smile touched Zhou Lingyi’s eyes. "Might you be willing to trade a few moves with me?"
"Trade moves?" Shen Han asked.
"Yes. Just a standard martial arts exchange between practitioners. No grudges, simply a test of skill. What do you say?"
Zhou Lingyi was being perfectly honest. As the master of the Twelve-Link Docks, he possessed the basic judgment to know that one does not impulsively attack a mysterious foe without first uncovering their identity. While he might talk tough and disparage others behind their backs to his brothers, he knew how to act when face-to-face. A simple sparring match would force the man to reveal his style, and given the state of martial arts in the world, it would take only a glance for an expert at the First Tier Houtian Great Perfection to identify which sect he belonged to.
Zhou Lingjiu, hearing his leader, understood the intent immediately. He agreed—behind-the-scenes arrogance had its limits. Besides, the aura this mysterious man projected was so incredibly plain that it felt all the more terrifying.
Zhou Lingqi, known for his hot temper, stood behind his leader, sighing heavily with deep resentment. When had the Twelve-Link Docks ever been forced to swallow such bitterness? Yet, when one’s strength was inferior, one had no choice but to endure. Still, he took comfort in the thought that once this young man fought his brother, his true origins would be unmasked, and then they could find a way to retaliate. "Maybe we can still avenge Eleven," he thought defiantly.
Zhou Twelve remained silent throughout, watching the mysterious figure with a wary intensity. He knew better than to speak now.
As all eyes remained fixed on him, Shen Han shook his head. "There is no need for a spar."
Zhou Lingyi frowned, unable to comprehend the refusal. Was the man afraid of revealing his cultivation technique? Before he could press the issue, Shen Han added calmly: "I am afraid I might accidentally kill you."
The group went rigid.
For Shen Han, it was the truth. When dealing with those at the Innate Realm, he could hold back with ease, but fighting someone at the Houtian level required such precise control that a slight slip could prove fatal. The Twelve-Link Docks, however, could not fall just yet.
But the men before him interpreted his words differently. The hot-headed Zhou Lingqi erupted: "Isn't that a bit arrogant? You haven't even started, and you talk about killing my brother? Who do you think you are, looking down on us in Xuanwu River City!"
Zhou Lingjiu chimed in, "Exactly! Talking like that before even fighting is nothing but pure contempt!"
Zhou Twelve remained mute. Zhou Lingyi stepped in front of his brothers, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his Nine-Ring Saber. A bloody, distorted aura began to surge across the burly man’s surface, and his physical frame seemed to swell by nearly a meter. He looked like a small mountain. As he drew his blade, the nine rings on the back of the steel rang out with a sharp, clattering cacophony.
Clearly, Shen Han would not be allowed to leave without showing his hand. The money might be paid and the dead man forgotten, but he would leave his identity behind.
Seeing the man’s confidence and arrogance, Shen Han gave a light smile. He extended his right arm, palm facing upward. With a subtle flick of his fingers, a four-foot blade, shimmering with a glazed, ethereal luster, materialized. Under the gray, snowy sky, the glazed sword emitted an icy, bone-chilling cold.
Shen Han struck out with the sword toward the sky.
*Shhh—*
The wind stopped. The snow hung suspended in mid-air. Even the waves on the river froze in place.
An instant later, the frost shattered. A brilliant streak of sword qi tore through the wind and snow, piercing the heavens. It sliced through the dense, overcast clouds, leaving a massive, jagged rift over a hundred miles long. Along the edges of the severed clouds, one could see the crystalline, glazed remnants of the strike.
Warm sunlight spilled down from the gap, casting a massive, elongated pillar of light that illuminated the entirety of Xuanwu River City.
The citizens looked up in bewilderment. They shielded their eyes, peering through their fingers at the sudden anomaly, completely unaware of what had occurred to tear the sky asunder and let the sun break through.
As the wind and snow resumed their dance along the riverbank, Shen Han let the glazed sword dissipate into nothingness. Ignoring the stunned men, he vanished, taking the silver with him.
Only after he had departed did the earth tremble with a thunderous roar.
Zhou Lingyi’s expression was one of absolute shock. His massive frame went limp, and he dropped to one knee with a heavy thud. He understood now. He realized that the mysterious man’s words had not been a boast. With such terrifying, violent power at his command, killing him would indeed be as easy as drinking water. The sheer terror of that sword qi and the artistry of the technique filled him with a fear that reached his very soul.
"I have been nothing but a circus clown..." he muttered, his head hanging low. The burly man shrank back to his normal stature, leaning on his Nine-Ring Saber to haul himself up. He had hoped to uncover the truth for the Twelve-Link Docks, but he had learned nothing—only that his opponent was vastly too strong.
If Zhou Lingyi was shaken, the three brothers behind him were shattered. Zhou Lingjiu was paralyzed with fear; a chill ran down Zhou Lingqi’s spine, realizing that had this master chosen to mind his insolence, he would have been dead long ago. Zhou Twelve squeezed his fists, but the strength had long since left them. In the face of absolute power, all schemes were futile.