Two days later, a cold autumn rain swept through, clinging to the world and forcing everyone to bundle up in their thickest clothes. But the chill wasn't just from the weather. Whispers were spreading like wildfire, whispers that had finally drifted in from Sifang City, and they were enough to freeze the blood.
All over town, in every tavern and teahouse, the story was the same. The Black Tiger Gang—the unstoppable force that had clawed its way to the top over the last decade—was gone. Disbanded. A monstrous beast, the rumors said, had torn through their headquarters and slaughtered every last one of their masters. It was unbelievable.
"What is happening to the world?" a merchant muttered into his wine. "First, the Qiankun and Yanri Sects in the Central Plains get wiped out. Then the Raging Flames Gang gets targeted by some evil spirit. Now the Black Tiger Gang?"
"It's a dark time," another traveler agreed, pulling his cloak tighter. "I fled from the Central Plains myself. The fields are littered with bones, and entire villages are silent. The government has cordoned off huge swaths of land, calling them 'forbidden zones.' Step inside, and you're just another ghost. Some places... they just don't belong to us anymore."
The fear was palpable. "You can't find a haven anywhere. I heard Hengzhou and Jiangzhou to the south were hit by some disaster, resulting in countless deaths. And now the barbarians are raiding the northern border again. It feels like the heavens themselves have abandoned us."
"Quiet," someone hissed. "That's not the kind of talk you want the wrong people to overhear."
High above the noise, in a private room on the top floor of a five-story tavern draped in red lanterns, Jiang Dao sat like a mountain in a white mink coat. His jet-black hair fell over his broad shoulders as he watched the group of so-called "experts" from the imperial court.
"That's everything I know," Jiang Dao said, his voice a low rumble. "I have no idea how the Gold Seal Divine Constable died."
They had arrived in Qianyuan City a day ago, just as his Right Protector had predicted. Three Spirit Exorcists from the powerful Tuoba family, all of them looking no older than him, dressed in unassuming clothes.
"Let me get this straight, Gang Leader Jiang," the leader of the trio said, his eyes sharp. "Every single person who died just so happened to have an issue with your gang. They were actively working against you. And you're telling me you know nothing?"
"That's right," Jiang Dao replied, his face a stone mask. "I was planning on dealing with them myself. It's a shame someone beat me to it."
"And where were you when you disappeared for a full day?" another one pressed.
"Seclusion," Jiang Dao said flatly. "I'm obsessed with my training—eight out of every ten days, I'm locked away. Anyone here can tell you that."
The three Tuoba masters exchanged a look with the court officials. A tall, thin general offered a tight-lipped smile. "Let's be honest, Gang Leader Jiang... the word on the street is you didn't exactly 'inherit' your position. They say you killed the previous gang leader to take his place. Any truth to that?"
Jiang Dao's gaze shifted, locking onto the general. His eyes were deep, unreadable. "The old leader was cursed by an evil spirit. Poisoned. He lost his mind and couldn't tell friend from foe. I did what I had to do. It was nothing."
He knew they could have dug up parts of the story. Better to just own it.
"Fang Tianba was considered the greatest fighter in this city," the general pushed, his eyes narrowing. "Are you saying you're stronger than him?"
"Don't twist my words," Jiang Dao countered. "Fang Tianba was out of his mind. He couldn't access a fraction of his true power. And even if I were stronger, that doesn't make me a killer of imperial officers."
"But as the leader of the biggest gang in the city," the general insisted, "how could you be completely in the dark about something this huge?"
"I was," Jiang Dao said, his patience wearing thin.
Just then, the Right Protector rushed in and whispered urgently in his ear. Jiang Dao's expression flickered for a second before he rose from his chair. "Gentlemen, you'll have to excuse me. An urgent matter has come up within the gang that I need to handle personally."
"One last thing, Gang Leader Jiang," the lead Tuoba youth said, stopping him. Jiang Dao turned.
"My family is looking for a young girl. She's extremely important to us, and we have reason to believe she's somewhere in this area. As the local authority, we'd appreciate your help in finding her."
"A girl? How old?"
"Six or seven," the youth said, not even bothering to stand. He flicked his wrist, and a scroll flew across the room into Jiang Dao's hand. "I have her portrait."
Jiang Dao unrolled it. His eyes, sharp as electricity, instantly recognized the face.
Qin Qingqing.
"Why are you looking for her?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"Let's just say she has her uses," the youth replied dismissively. "Just keep an eye out. There will be a generous reward if you find her."
"Fine," Jiang Dao nodded, holding the scroll. "I'll look into it."
He turned and left, the Right Protector trailing silently behind him.
In the room, the officials watched him go. As soon as the sound of his footsteps faded from the stairs, one of the younger Tuoba youths spoke, his voice dripping with contempt. "He was lying through his teeth."
"You think he really killed the Divine Constable, Lord Ling?" the general asked.
"I'd bet on it," the youth said, then looked at their leader. "Third Brother, should I follow him? See what he's really up to?"
"It's not that simple," the leader replied, his gaze fixed on the street below. "Did you see that giant sword his men were carrying?"
The others looked. Down below, four of Jiang Dao's men were straining to carry a colossal black sword, their faces red with effort as they hurried after their leader.
The two youths paled.
"That's... Spirit Exorcist Pang Long's sword."
"The Black Shark Sword."
"Exactly," their leader said, his eyes narrowed in thought. "Pang Long's sword is in his possession. This Jiang Dao is much more than he seems."
"Hmph," the other youth scoffed. "Third Brother, let me investigate him. If he's hiding something, I'll kill him myself."
The leader frowned. "Fine. But use the Ashen Veil. And if you find anything, you report back immediately. Do not engage him. Understood?"
"Yes, Third Brother."
The night was pitch black and dead silent, the mountain forest a canvas of shifting, menacing shadows. Every so often, a flurry of crows would burst from the trees, their cries echoing like a warning.
Parked on a remote dirt path were several luxury carriages, surrounded by a ring of torches that pushed back weakly against the oppressive darkness. A guard carefully helped a man of about fifty from a carriage.
"Master, we've arrived. This is the Yin Mountain Ancient Temple."
The old man, Li Daoyuan, leaned heavily on a red nanmu cane. Dressed in an expensive silk robe, his hair and beard streaked with gray, he looked up at the temple. It was a simple, dilapidated structure, barely a few acres, with a main hall and a few crumbling side rooms. Under the pale moonlight, it looked utterly deserted, draped in cobwebs and shrouded in dust.
This place, once an abandoned ruin, had recently become a legend whispered among the elite of Qingluo City. They said it held a mysterious power. Anyone who came at the stroke of midnight and offered the first stick of incense could have any wish granted. Some said a merchant won a fortune overnight; another, a ruined businessman, saw his empire reborn.
Of course, it didn't work for everyone. But for Li Daoyuan, it was his last, desperate hope.
He was the wealthiest man in the city, his fortune seemingly endless. Yet he was cursed with two great sorrows. At fifty, he remained childless, with no heir to his legacy. Worse, he had been struck by a mysterious illness—a persistent cough and fever that no doctor could cure. One had given him three years to live. The thought of dying and leaving everything behind was a torment he couldn't bear.
"How long until midnight?" he asked, his voice thin.
"It's almost time, Master," his loyal guard, Zhu Biao, replied, glancing at the water clock.
"Then let's begin."
As Zhu Biao directed the other guards to carry the offerings inside, he helped Li Daoyuan up the stone steps. On the final drip of the water clock, midnight arrived.
Inside the main hall, Li Daoyuan lit row after row of candles, their flickering light casting long, dancing shadows. He knelt before the cracked and weathered Buddha statue, his hands pressed together, his eyes shut tight as he began to chant, bowing his head again and again.
Zhu Biao and the guards stood watch. The silence was absolute, broken only by his master's muffled prayers. A strange feeling began to creep over Zhu Biao—a deep, primal unease, like the time he'd wandered into a graveyard as a boy. A chill that had nothing to do with the night air settled over him.
He glanced at the other guards, but their faces were lost in the gloom. Swallowing hard, he turned his gaze back to the main hall. He looked at the statue, wondering how this broken relic could hold any power. He didn't believe in magic, not really.
Then he looked at his master.
And his blood ran cold.
His eyes widened in horror. Li Daoyuan was kneeling with his back to them, but he wasn't alone. A second face—impossibly, horrifically—was growing from the back of his master's head. It was neither male nor female, its features twisted into a grotesque, demonic smile that seemed to mock the candlelight.
"GHOST!" Zhu Biao shrieked, scrambling backward and fleeing into the courtyard.
The other guards whipped around, startled. Li Daoyuan's prayers stopped, and he turned, his face a mask of confusion.
"There's a ghost! A ghost!" Zhu Biao screamed, tripping and crawling his way out into the darkness.
Hundreds of miles away, the rhythmic thud of nearly a hundred hooves echoed on the main road. Men in black robes, each bearing the crimson flame of the Raging Flames Gang, rode hard through the night. In their center, a grand carriage was pulled by three powerful horses, churning up dust in its wake.
Inside, Jiang Dao's eyes snapped open. "Guo Dutian," he called out, his voice cutting through the air. "Stop the carriage."
The command rippled through the convoy. Horses whinnied as the entire procession ground to a halt. Jiang Dao pushed aside the curtain and stepped out, the white mink coat draped over his formidable frame.
He scanned the empty darkness behind them.
"You've been following us long enough," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "Aren't you tired yet? Why don't you show yourself?"
The road was silent. His men exchanged nervous glances. Was someone there?
Jiang Dao's eyes grew colder. "Still not coming out?"
A faint, ethereal chuckle drifted out of the shadows. The darkness seemed to ripple, and a foul, cold energy bled into the air. A young man in a blue robe emerged, a smug smile on his face. "Impressive, Gang Leader Jiang. To detect me even through the Ashen Veil... you really are something else."
"Young Master Tuoba," Jiang Dao said, his tone flat. "What do you want?"
"Tell me, Jiang Dao," the youth said, his eyes boring into him. "Are you really just an ordinary man?"
"I am," Jiang Dao replied.
The youth laughed, a short, derisive sound. "I see you're the type who needs convincing. But it doesn't matter if you're a mortal or a Spirit Exorcist. Either way, how do you like your chances against me tonight?"
As he spoke, a small pebble appeared in his palm, and it began to darken, turning a sickly, unnatural black.
"Sorry, Jiang Dao," he said, his smile widening. "The world's just a little safer with you out of it."
Flick.
The pebble screamed through the air, faster than a bullet, aimed straight for Jiang Dao's heart.
But with a movement too fast to follow, Jiang Dao's fingers plucked it from its path. The black energy surrounding the stone vanished instantly, and he held the ordinary pebble between his index finger and thumb.
"You want to kill me?" Jiang Dao asked, his expression unchanging.
The youth froze, his smile gone. "How...?" he stammered. "That's impossible! My Jade Shattering Technique..."
Crack.
Jiang Dao squeezed, and the pebble disintegrated into fine dust, carried away by the wind. He looked at the stunned youth, a flicker of something like disappointment in his eyes.
"Is that all you've got?" he said, his voice dangerously low. "You call that power? It's not even enough to tickle."