A burly man with a savage expression leapt from his horse, charging toward the group of constables. Blades flashed in the sunlight as he unleashed a ruthless flurry of strikes. His swordsmanship was sharp and deadly—within moments, the constables were cut down one by one, their screams echoing through the street until only lifeless bodies remained. Nearby, a few riderless horses wandered aimlessly among the corpses.
The townsfolk, who had scattered at the first sign of violence, now watched from a distance. By the city gate, the guards stood expressionless, as if blind to the bloodshed before them. The man wiped his bloodstained blade on a corpse, let out a loud laugh, then mounted his horse and galloped off without a second glance.
Fengyun Wuji had watched the scene coldly from beginning to end. The townspeople showed no surprise, their faces devoid of emotion—as if such killings were a common sight. He had considered stepping in to save the constables, but thought better of it. With their fate, even if spared today, they'd likely die by another's blade tomorrow. Saving them now would change little. Besides, judging by the crowd's reaction, this wasn't a rare occurrence. If he had to intervene every time, he'd never know peace. And truth be told, before his ascension, he'd never had much regard for government officials. In the Jianghu, it was an unspoken rule: stay away from official matters. The brute may have been ruthless, but he was still one of their own.
Fengyun Wuji continued down the street, but then paused. A strange feeling tugged at him, and he turned back—just in time to see that same burly man flung through the city gate like a rag doll. Blood sprayed mid-air as the man crashed to the ground, his body slashed and mangled, soaked in crimson.
The man lay face-down, trembling violently. With a voice full of fear, he prostrated himself, hands pressed together in a pleading gesture. "I didn't know who I was dealing with! Please… spare me, immortals! Have mercy!"
His earlier arrogance was gone, replaced by a pitiful display. His large frame trembled uncontrollably, forehead thudding against the stone pavement again and again.
A chorus of hooves thundered beyond the gate. Then came a sharp whistle, and a gleaming longsword shot through the air like a bolt of lightning. The burly man barely lifted his head before the sword pierced through his chest, pinning him to the stone.
A man in flowing robes stepped through the gate, his face cold and severe. He seemed to float as he landed beside the corpse, effortlessly withdrawing the sword.
Behind him, hundreds of swordsmen dressed in identical white robes followed. The leader flicked his wrist, sending a golden plaque flying into the ground with a metallic clang. Three feet tall, its tip held two copper bells that jingled softly. On one side, intricate patterns were engraved. On the other, a single phrase in ancient script: "Swift Sword Sect."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Windows slammed shut in nearby buildings. Wooden doors creaked closed, hands quickly pulling them shut from within. The once-crowded street emptied in an instant.
The leader glanced indifferently at Fengyun Wuji—the only person still standing in the open. The message in his eyes was clear: Swift Sword Sect is handling this. Outsiders, stay out.
Though his cultivation was powerful, he couldn't quite gauge Fengyun Wuji's depth. With a wave, the white-robed swordsmen leapt onto the rooftops, vanishing into the distance within seconds.
Where there are people, there is Jianghu. And where there's Jianghu, there is bloodshed.
Fengyun Wuji looked once more in the direction they had gone, then continued walking toward the end of the street.
"First, I need to find Guyue Tian and the others. Then I must visit the Three Great Sects to confirm my identity. Once that's done, I'll suppress the ascenders and ensure that all who can ascend, do so together. That way, losses will be minimized." As he walked, he silently strategized.
Though it was still the city of Qingsong before him, everything felt unfamiliar. The world had changed—new sects like Muzi, Beibing, and Nanxing had emerged. Everything would have to start from scratch. Fengyun Wuji sighed deeply at the thought.
Smack!
A white figure suddenly dropped from above. Lost in thought, Fengyun Wuji hadn't noticed until it was nearly upon him. Startled, he flicked his fingers—sending the figure hurtling across the street and crashing into the wall.
Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be one of those white-robed swordsmen from earlier. Sounds of combat still echoed faintly from above—though clearly, the battle was nearing its end. Only a few stragglers remained.
"Fools."A cold voice rang out from the rooftop. Several figures swept past like birds in flight.
Fengyun Wuji made no obvious move, but in an instant, he was on the rooftop. There, the bodies of hundreds of white-clad swordsmen lay strewn across the tiles. Their own swords had pierced them through.
Even though he had expected this outcome, Fengyun Wuji was still taken aback. The once-dominant swordsmen had been slaughtered so swiftly. Blood trickled from the rooftop like a stream, dripping into the tavern below. Each drop landed with a quiet plink, yet to Fengyun Wuji, the sound rang out as clear as thunder.
"Ah..."
A soft groan caught his ear. To his surprise, someone was still alive. He stepped lightly past the corpses and stopped beside five overlapping bodies. Beneath them, a young face peeked out—still full of innocence.
A longsword had pierced the boy's chest, exiting through his ribs. Fengyun Wuji saw immediately that the youth had narrowly escaped death—the blade had grazed his heart. A hair more to the left, and he'd be dead already. Even so, the wound was still fatal… if not for him.
With two slender fingers, Fengyun Wuji grasped the sword's hilt. Gently, he drew it out along the same path, not damaging a single meridian. Then his fingers danced across the boy's chest, sealing several key points to staunch the bleeding.
Placing his palm over the wound, he injected a surge of inner energy. The boy cried out as his upper body arched up violently, coughing out a mouthful of black, clotted blood.
"Wah!"
His eyes fluttered open. Upon seeing the corpses, tears welled up—but he made no sound, only wept silently. Fengyun Wuji reached out to help him up, but the boy refused.
He stood on his own, slowly turning to look at every one of the fallen comrades. His tears flowed harder, but his face remained blank—devoid of even hatred.
"If your sect and elders are all gone, then from now on… you will follow me."
Hearing the magnetic voice, the boy turned to face Fengyun Wuji, gazing at him in silence.