Volume One: The King's Command Chapter Twenty-Five: Boundless Desolation in All Directions

The Imperial King's Token contains the soul of the true dragon, rumored to be the embodiment of the dynasty's fortune. Whoever possesses it can harness this destiny to break through realms; in extraordinary cases, it may even overturn the world and establish a new dynasty. Not only the old emperor has dispatched agents to search for this last token, but other masters from every faction are watching its whereabouts from the shadows.

Destiny is intangible and elusive, yet the realms of martial cultivation are solid and real. The true dragon’s soul aids its bearer in ascending to new heights; experts like Nie Xiang need it most. Unsure if the rumors are true, Nie Xiang nonetheless chooses to pursue it; having just gravely injured Wang Xiuping and the twelve musicians, and with several others present, Yongle Pavilion stands no chance of recovery.

Yongle Pavilion is one of the few renowned pleasure houses in Changle City, admitting only the most beautiful women—each a peerless beauty. Its famed twelve musicians are masters of melody and skilled in every instrument. Countless wealthy merchants yearn for a glimpse of its maidens, some even willing to spend fortunes just for a single performance by the twelve musicians. No one would expect that amid such a place of spring delights, countless masters lie hidden.

Accompanying Nie Xiang are two of the eight swordmasters who serve the crown prince. Earlier, they fought two from Yongle Pavilion, and after thirty rounds, each subdued their opponent.

Wang Xiuping, barely able to stand, also heard the dragon’s roar, but given the current chaos, he could not afford to pursue that matter. He rubbed his sunken face, quietly channeled his energy, and forced out the cold from within.

“The old eunuch isn’t here—let’s see who can stop me now! Musicians, form the array!”

The twelve musicians, clad in crimson silk, gracefully took their positions, setting their wind instruments and zithers, producing enchanting melodies. This is a technique that mesmerizes the heart, using sound to bewitch enemies. The surrounding soldiers, upon hearing it, fell into a daze, unsure of themselves.

“Cover your ears! Don’t let these fox spirits beguile you!”

The two swordmasters attacked from left and right, but none noticed a nimble figure slipping out the side door. This person carried a bundle, stepping lightly atop bamboo spears, leaping over traps and walls, darting through shadows while the soldiers were dazed, heading swiftly toward the Shen family.

Chu Chunqiu, out of breath after evading pursuit, ducked into the alley opposite Yongle Pavilion, only to find Prefect Song Shuzai and his officials taking refuge there, which annoyed him.

“Prefect Song, why aren’t you helping?”

“Master Chu? That outfit—were you robbed?” Song Shuzai, seeing Chu’s tattered clothes and bloodstains, teased him.

His authority as prefect was in shambles; the city had been ravaged overnight, and he was powerless, forced to hide with his officials, sighing in the alley.

He vented his frustration at Chu Chunqiu. “My fellow civil officers are powerless; wouldn’t we just make things worse?”

“If the rebels escape, you’ll lose your hat!” Chu Chunqiu snapped, exhausted from running across rooftops.

“Hmph! I may not dare provoke Eunuch Nie, but I needn’t fear you! As a scribe for the crown prince, what rank do you hold?” Song Shuzai signaled with his eyes, and the officials understood, closing in.

“Don’t mention my position; know that the crown prince is my senior… Hey, what are you doing—”

Called and ordered about all night, the officials were already full of pent-up anger. Seeing Chu Chunqiu’s aggressive expression, they surrounded him, rolled up their sleeves, and pressed him to the ground.

Chu Chunqiu, lacking strength, could only wail as he was blocked at the alley mouth, becoming the officials’ scapegoat.

The black-clad figure who slipped out of Yongle Pavilion was short, with ear-length hair and swift steps, always choosing secluded paths, seemingly quite familiar with Changle City’s streets.

Passing a mansion, they saw bricks still falling from the wall, evidence of a recent fight. Inside stood a youth, empty-handed save for a sword scabbard, who also looked up and saw the stranger.

Liu Xiaoyi carefully examined the Dragon Movement Technique—the very method used by the old beggar. It was not speed, but the brevity of reaction time.

“Who are you?” Liu Xiaoyi raised the scabbard, wielding it as a sword.

The stranger did not answer but blinked and darted forward. By the time Liu Xiaoyi gave chase, only a fleeting silhouette remained, heading in the same direction as he intended.

Outside the Shen family’s manor, Xu Yin’s troops stood arrayed, silently awaiting word from within. Three waves of soldiers had already stormed the compound; after a span of time, none had returned. This troubled Xu Yin—his city guard troops were all valiant, so how could they be swallowed up by a mere mansion?

Shen Zhong, bearing his iron staff, stood protectively by Yu Wenwan’s side. He had expected the young lady to be frightened, yet she was calm, even a bit excited.

“Deputy General Xu, let me in—I fear those inside can’t hold out much longer.” Shen Zhong was impatient; his family’s three-tiered compound had left corpses in the front yard—soldiers were clearing them away.

Among them were familiar servants and guests, as well as Blue Plume Army assassins, the numbers on both sides equal.

“Shen family has offended the crown prince—what are you hiding?” After seeing the Blue Plume Army earlier, Xu Yin knew today’s events could not end well.

The general had not returned, the prefect had issued no orders, and his charge would surely draw criticism. Xu Yin dared not act rashly—his own life and future were at stake, and if the crown prince blamed him, he would be ruined.

As he hesitated, Hu Lie forced his way through layers of soldiers, crossing the front courtyard and entering the central hall.

“Deputy General Xu, please watch over this young lady—I must go!” Shen Zhong, staff in hand, followed him in.

“Ah! It’s fate, it’s destiny!” Xu Yin shook his spear. “Everyone, charge in! Cut down any Blue Plume Army you see—I’ll take the blame!”

The battle at the Shen family had reached its fevered pitch. Shen Desan, leading the servants, was cornered in the rear courtyard, making a last stand.

Facing endless assassins, even the well-prepared Shen Desan struggled to cope. Over two hundred servants had fallen in the central courtyard; the hired guards, all wounded, numbered less than thirty, arrayed outside the rear hall, surrounded by enemies.

They must not let the assassins enter the hall—not a single step! The secret passage to the hidden chamber lay just behind them, where Fei Ma Xiang and Shen Xu were sheltering.

“We might die soon—are you afraid?” Zhongli growled, noticing some guards faltering. “In our line of work, the greatest fear is a tarnished reputation.”

Those who had stepped back gritted their teeth and moved forward.

Suddenly, the hall door opened from within, and a young woman in night attire rushed out, closely followed by Shen Xu, who looked out in fright.

“Why did you come out? Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” Shen Desan scolded his daughter.

She was his only child; he could not let anything happen to her.

He Qingqing drew her flying sickle spear, patting her chest. “Uncle Shen, with me protecting sister, there’s no need to worry.”

Shen Desan was well acquainted with his daughter’s friend—she had always been scatterbrained and unreliable, but had found a good teacher, who imparted her great skill.

“Everyone, fight to the death—it’s enough!” Shen Desan roared, charging first.

“Sister Xu, wait here—I’ll help!” He Qingqing swung her weapon, entering the fray, left hand spinning the iron chain sickle, right gripping a three-pronged short spear—able to fight near or far.

The central courtyard doors were kicked open. Shen Zhong shouted, “Father! Your son is late!”

Shen Zhong had dreamed of becoming a true hero, earning his father’s approval. His father always urged him to study and train hard, to inherit the family business.

“Father, you know martial arts after all—and quite good at it!”

“Fool! Watch yourself—stop talking!” Shen Desan blushed, exposed by his son.

With the city guards joining, the Blue Plume Army could no longer hold out and scattered in retreat.

Xu Yin squeezed through the chaos to the rear courtyard. “Brother Shen, though this is our first meeting, I’ve risked everything and offended the crown prince!”

From front yard to rear, Xu Yin had placed all his hopes on Shen Desan; since the crown prince had targeted him, he must have a card the prince fears.

“Deputy General Xu, it’s an honor—never expected it would be you.” Shen Desan relaxed. In less than two hours, the fourth prince’s men would arrive. As long as they lasted until midnight, every crisis could be resolved.

“Xu has staked everything on you, Brother Shen—everything depends on you now.” The city guard’s presence disrupted Changle City’s entire balance. Assassins fleeing the Shen estate found Xie Dongting, tending his wounds by the roadside.

His waist was swollen from a blow by the old beggar, but he had managed to block the injury with his inner force.

“Lord Xie! The city guard has aided the Shen family—we are defeated!”

The Blue Plume Army assassins, usually trained by the eight swordmasters, revered them deeply.

Xie Dongting frowned, applied his medicine, straightened his robe, and said, “Lead the way—I will confront the city guard.”

Dozens who escaped followed Xie Dongting back to the Shen estate, where they happened to meet Liu Xiaoyi at the gate.

“It’s you?”

“It’s you, boy!” Xie Dongting’s anger flared at the sight. “The old beggar isn’t here—let’s see who saves you today!”

Before striking, he glanced around the shadows—no one was hiding—then drew his sword for the attack.

Liu Xiaoyi was stunned—such unfortunate timing! With no chance to run, he gritted his teeth and raised the scabbard to meet the attack.

Both were exhausted—one with an injured waist, the other drained of energy. As they fought, they grimaced in pain; Liu Xiaoyi parried the blade and drove his knee into Xie Dongting’s wounded waist, making him howl.

Xie Dongting spun and pulled two stones from his pocket, flicking them at Liu Xiaoyi’s wrist, knocking the scabbard away.

With no weapon in hand, Liu Xiaoyi shook his arm, mustered his energy, and struck. Xie Dongting, sword on his back, raised his palm; they clashed, and Liu Xiaoyi staggered back, his spine pressed against the cold wall.

“Let’s see who saves you now!” Xie Dongting unleashed sword energy, every strike aimed to kill.

Liu Xiaoyi rallied his last reserves of inner force, pouring it into his arms, channeling it along the Dragon Movement Technique’s meridian map.

Swordmasters train their arms’ meridians constantly; these are the easiest to open. With this surge, all the tiny branches of his meridians became unobstructed.

As the sword energy fell upon him, Liu Xiaoyi pressed his palms together above his head—and, astonishingly, caught the ethereal sword energy between his hands!