The Reticent Blade

Compared to the grandeur and splendor of the Ruen Dynasty's imperial palace, the Northern Qiang's royal city was less extravagant but carried a deeper, more solemn presence.

Walking along the stone-paved roads of the royal city, Dang Gui habitually touched the golden hoop on his left ear. Among the Northern Qiang, men customarily wore rings on their ears, while women adorned their wrists. The material, be it gold, silver, iron, or copper, signified their social standing.

Despite having lived in Northern Qiang for many years, Dang Gui still disliked the sensation of something hanging from his ear.

As he walked through the royal city at night, he thought that the empty city was so silent that it felt like a vast tomb. The only sound accompanying him was that of his own footsteps. Dang Gui often thought that the royal city was nothing more than an enormous cage, and inside, the primary prisoner was the Northern Qiang King, Yelü Jiejia.

Occasionally, patrolling guards carrying torches would approach, but they would retreat without question upon seeing Dang Gui display his Qihuang Society token. The King of Northern Qiang put his greatest trust not in his favored ministers or his most decorated generals, but rather the members of the Qihuang Society—his personal, hidden army.

Dang Gui had served in the Qihuang Society for ten years, steadily climbing the ranks through sheer martial prowess until he reached the Huitian-rank. The rank was like a legend among the Northern Qiang people. Achieving this position required more than combat skill; it also required an untainted past. The primary duty of the Huitian-rank was to safeguard Yelü Jiejia from the shadows.

Seven days had passed since he received the secret letter from the Ruen Dynasty. Tonight, it was finally his turn to take the night watch. It was time for him to "change shifts."

That secret letter contained only a few words, yet Dang Gui was the only one who understood the gravity of those words.

The palace pathways were sparsely lit, casting shadows that made the road appear dim. Dang Gui walked with his head slightly lowered, silently counting his steps. When he reached his three-thousandth step, he lifted his gaze and faced a secluded hall, the Library Hall.

Northern Qiang were not as creative with names as the Ruen Dynasty, Dang Gui thought to himself.

Yelü Jiejia would be in the hall right now. He handled state affairs in the Library Hall every night.

Dang Gui ascended the steps, nodded to the guards, then gently pushed open the door and slipped inside, closing it softly behind him.

The walls of the library were lined with bookshelves that would tower over two men standing on top of each other. The shelves were filled with books and scrolls mostly from the Ruen Dynasty. In the center of the room, Yelü Jiejia reclined on a cushioned couch, a thin blanket draped over his legs, a small table before him.

Dang Gui's footsteps were silent, nearly imperceptible. As was his habit, he moved toward the shadows along the walls.

From the darkness, another figure emerged. He nodded at Dang Gui without a word, then silently exited the hall.

Dang Gui watched the figure leave, then shifted his gaze back to Yelü Jiejia.

Everything was as it had always been.

Silence returned to the library, broken only by the occasional rustling of pages as Yelü Jiejia flipped through his book.

Dang Gui mentally counted the time. There was still a while before Yelü Jiejia would retire for the night.

Stepping out from the shadows, he approached Yelü Jiejia from behind and spoke softly, "Your Majesty."

Yelü Jiejia's hand froze mid-turn of the page. He turned his head slightly, brows furrowing, clearly displeased at being interrupted. "Hm?"

Dang Gui met Yelü Jiejia's gaze and looked him directly in the eye. His lips parted slightly. "I'm leaving."

"Leaving?" A flicker of confusion passed through Yelü Jiejia's eyes. "Where to?"

"To where I came from." Dang Gui's gaze was as calm and still as a lifeless lake.

Yelü Jiejia's frown deepened. "The place you came from? If I recall correctly, your father was a warrior of my Great Qiang, your mother was from the Ruen Dynasty, and after your family was destroyed there, your parents died tragically, and you were sold into Great Qiang. You have no father, no mother, no home—where exactly do you intend to return? The Ruen Dynasty?"

Dang Gui said nothing, only stared intently at Yelü Jiejia.

Yelü Jiejia snorted. "Have you forgotten the rules of the Qihuang Society?"

"Once entered into the Qihuang Society, all ties to the past life are severed," Dang Gui responded in a detached voice.

"As long as you understand." Yelü Jiejia waved his hand dismissively and flipped a page of the book before him. "Do not bring this up again. Focus on your duties."

"I..." Dang Gui parted his lips, his voice devoid of any emotion, as if speaking to himself.

"What I'm doing now... is exactly what I must do..."

***

The East Sea, Ghostbane Association's Headquarters.

At the cliff's edge behind the Hall of Killing Intent, Sikong Yan had a stone table and chairs carved into the rock by the precipice. This vantage point was perfect for gazing into the vast, endless ocean.

"Northern Qiang's momentum is too strong right now. The Ruen Dynasty is nearly incapable of putting up any resistance."

The fierce wind atop the cliff caused Sikong Yan's loose hair to dance wildly. At the moment, he was staring unblinkingly at the fire currently warming a pot of wine.

Standing behind him was Fu Yiran, the Sand Scourer. The old man stood as straight as a spear and had only grown stronger with his age.

Opposite Sikong Yan, Ah San sat staring blankly toward the sea, lost in thought. After Sikong Yan spoke, he absently replied, "Isn't that a good thing? The sooner the court is trampled under Northern Qiang's iron hooves, the sooner my master and senior brothers' deaths can be avenged."

"No, no, no..." Sikong Yan grinned. "We could do better than that."

Ah San paused, turning back to look at him. "What do you mean? What's wrong with how things are going?"

Sikong Yan's smile remained as he continued, "If things keep going this way, the Northern Qiang will become the sole dominant power. The Ruen Dynasty isn't as weak as you think. The reason they're in such dire straits now is due to many factors. For example, Qi Zongbi trusted me too much and fell into my trap. From the very beginning, unifying his forces was a mistake.

"Another factor is that the Northern Qiang received early information about the Ruen's battle tactics—which, of course, was my doing. There's internal turmoil too—Ruen is not only struggling against the Qiang invasion but also dealing with widespread uprisings within its borders. All of these factors combined have left them barely able to cope. They're nearly at their limit.

"If things continue, the Northern Qiang will truly capture the imperial capital. If Northern Qiang has no rivals left, do you really think we'll be any better off than we are now?"

Ah San narrowed his eyes, his gaze locking onto Sikong Yan like a venomous snake sizing up its prey. "I don't care about your schemes and calculations. I only know that you promised me... the Ruen Dynasty will be destroyed."

"Hmph!" Fu Yiran let out a cold snort, stepping forward. His imposing presence bore down on Ah San like a crushing weight.

Ah San planted his hands firmly on the stone table, forcing himself to rise. He locked eyes with Fu Yiran, refusing to back down even as his arms began to tremble.

Fu Yiran sneered and took another step forward. The pressure around him seemed to solidify the surrounding air.

Boom—

The stone table gave way first, shattering into pieces.

Ah San suddenly had no support and felt a heavy pressure in his chest. He staggered back several steps, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.

Sikong Yan waved his hand, signaling Fu Yiran to step back. He said, "No need to be hasty. I never said I wouldn't help you take revenge."

A vein twitched on Ah San's forehead. "What do you mean by that?"

Sikong Yan rubbed the corner of his eye, as if troubled about how to explain. After a moment, he spread his hands. "Even if I explained, you wouldn't understand. Let's put it this way—just think of it as me not having had my fill of fun yet. Can you understand that?"

Ah San let out a cold snort. "The Northern Qiang army is about to break through the Ruen Dynasty. Are you saying you can keep them in check?"

Sikong Yan shook his head. "Keep them in check? No. That would be too slow. I have a faster way."

Ah San frowned. "What way?"

Sikong Yan narrowed his eyes, gazing at the distant horizon where the sea met the sky.

"Checkmate."

***

Yelü Jiejia heard Dang Gui's voice drifting from behind him, and a sudden sense of alarm surged in his heart. Instinctively, he turned his head—only to see a flicker of ghostly light flashing toward him!

The ghostly light came and went in an instant, vanishing into the darkness just as swiftly. A severed head soared higher the tall bookshelves.

Dang Gui caught Yelü Jiejia's collar with his left hand, preventing the body from collapsing, while his right hand swiftly snatched the head as it fell.

Supporting the body, he gently leaned it back onto the cushioned couch. Holding the severed head by its hair, he carefully placed it upright on the table.

After finishing, Dang Gui pulled a small pouch from his robes and calmly applied its contents to his face. Then, he removed his outer clothes—revealing an outfit identical to the one worn by the person who had left earlier. With his disguise, he now looked identical to the man he had relieved.

Having finished his preparations, Dang Gui strode to the door and stepped outside. The two guards at the entrance instinctively glanced over. They hesitated upon seeing him, but before they could react, Dang Gui's arm flickered and slit their throats in an instant. Before the blood could even spray out, he had already dragged their bodies back into the hall.

Moments later, Dang Gui emerged from the hall alone and strode briskly toward the city gates. He moved through the palace unimpeded with his Qihuang Society identity as a cover.

Dang Gui had timed it perfectly; Yelü Jiejia would begin retiring to his chambers at this point.

As he stepped beyond the palace walls and onto the streets of Yuanyang City, the sound of bells suddenly echoed across the entire city. At once, the lost citizens began pouring into the streets, turning to face the royal palace and kneeling in silence. Countless voices erupted into sorrowful cries.

Dang Gui remained expressionless. He turned into a narrow alleyway, his figure vanishing into the darkness.

***

"Are you an ethnic Qiang?" the figure in the shadows asked.

The young boy nodded his head. "I am. My father is from Northern Qiang, my mother is from the Ruen Dynasty."

"No wonder," the voice from the shadows murmured. "Then it'll be you."

The boy knelt halfway, his gaze fixed on the floor.

"Do you know what you're being sent to do?"

The boy nodded. "I do. I'm going to Northern Qiang."

"And what will you do there?"

"Kill."

"Do you know who you're killing?"

The boy hesitated briefly before shaking his head. "I don't."

The floor creaked as the man in the shadows shifted slightly. He said, "I want you to kill... the most powerful man in Northern Qiang."

This time, the boy did not hesitate. He nodded. "Understood."

"But not now." The shadowed man coughed. "I've heard that among this batch of 'domestic tigers,' your talent and physique are the best. And on top of that, you have the face of a man from Northern Qiang. This mission is yours by right. Once you get there, our Ghostbane Association agents will arrange for you to enter the Qihuang Society and provide you with a clean background. After that, all you have to do is wait."

"Yes."

"And then..." The man in the shadows seemed to lean closer, his voice suddenly filling the space before the boy. "When the time comes for you to return—you will kill him."

The boy nodded firmly. "Yes!"

"Raise your head," the man commanded.

The boy lifted his head and saw a man with disheveled hair. He appeared to be around thirty, though his face was somewhat pale.

"What is your poetic-ranker title?" the man asked.

The boy opened his mouth and spoke slowly.

"Grueling Return..."