Chapter One: Fugitive of Qin

At the edge of the lush woodlands near the city of Yu in the Zhou Martial Kingdom, a contingent of over thirty warriors clad in heavy black armor emerged silently, moving in separate groups. Their physiques were imposing, faces resolute—clearly veterans honed by countless battles. As soon as they stepped out of the forest, a deep, commanding voice rang out, and the entire group stood motionless as if rooted to the earth, displaying exceptional discipline.

A young armored warrior with a pale face but determined eyes hurried forward, searching the soil for traces. Rising, he reported to the burly man without a helmet, “Captain Lin, the fugitive left just moments ago. If we pursue immediately, we might still catch him.”

Captain Lin snorted coldly, his gaze piercing the distance, his tone confident and assured. “No need to rush. The boy may have some backing, but this time, our allied cities have laid a net as vast as the heavens. However cunning he is, he cannot escape.”

The young warrior’s expression was puzzled. “Sir, this man is a wanted criminal in Qin. Capturing him would bring great merit. Are we really going to let others claim it?”

Captain Lin’s lips curled into a cold smile, his voice tinged with amusement. “Merit? That depends on whether those old men have the skill. If we move slowly, perhaps we’ll reap the fisherman’s reward.”

The young warrior was baffled. “What do you mean, sir? The other captains have more men. Even if the boy is skilled, he cannot long withstand them.”

Captain Lin did not answer directly, but instead asked, “Zhang Liang, you’ve served me for years and have some courage. If you were surrounded by constables, how many could you handle?”

Zhang Liang pondered before replying cautiously, “Ordinary constables, perhaps six or seven, but if there were more than ten, it would become extremely perilous.”

Captain Lin chuckled, his tone dark. “Six or seven? Since the warrant was issued, that boy has slain seven or eight hundred constables—just since he entered the Zhou Martial Kingdom.”

Zhang Liang was stunned, disbelief etched across his face. “How is that possible? Constables are trained professionals, not as skilled as us Tiger Guards, but hardly insignificant.”

“He escaped from the Qin Imperial City Office,” Captain Lin replied coldly. “Though young, to accomplish such a feat is not surprising. The Imperial City Office breeds assassins; its members are all exceptionally skilled and not to be underestimated.”

Zhang Liang drew a sharp breath, then quickly asked, “I heard that under pressure from other nations, Qin executed all the Imperial City Office members, presided over by three immortals. Could the boy have escaped from immortals?”

Captain Lin shook his head. “I don’t know for certain. Even immortals would have trouble annihilating so many assassins at once; hence, three were dispatched. If not for our alliance with Qin and the strict orders to kill him, we would do well to avoid such a killing god.”

With that, Captain Lin waved his hand. “Move! It’s time we set out.”

The entire squad moved swiftly, vanishing into the forest like shadows.

Moments later, as they emerged from the dense woods, they were met with a shocking sight: the once-green meadow was now stained red with blood. Amidst the scarlet, corpses clad in the same black armor lay scattered across the ground.

The faces of these corpses were twisted in terror, as though they had witnessed something unimaginable before death. Each throat bore a thumb-sized hole, blood flowing ceaselessly. Zhang Liang, his face paler than ever, stepped forward to inspect the bodies, then reported to Captain Lin, “Fifty-two in total. It seems all of Captain Liu’s men are here, but Liu himself is not among them.”

Captain Lin’s expression darkened as he listened, his gaze shifting to the far side of the meadow. Striding swiftly, he moved toward a tall tree, the others following close behind, all on high alert.

Captain Lin stopped before the tree, his face contorting with anger. Beneath it, a sallow-faced middle-aged man in black armor was pinned half a foot off the ground to the trunk by a steel sword thrust through his throat. Nearby, a pale silver long blade was embedded diagonally in the earth. The man’s hands gripped the sword’s hilt so tightly his fingers were broken, eyes wide open in a death stare, utterly lifeless.

Through the dense woods, Cao Yun moved swiftly, his body wracked with pain; even the red short blade he gripped felt heavier in his hand. Trained from childhood in the arts of killing, he had never imagined the armored warriors would be so formidable. Though he eliminated enemies with agile tactics, their captain pursued him relentlessly like a shadow. To shake this fatal pursuit, Cao Yun was forced to unleash a secret technique to awaken his potential, aggravating old wounds but finally managing to kill the captain. The cost was steep, his youthful body strained to its limits.

He glanced at his shoulder, where the cloth wraps were soaked with blood, pain stabbing like knives. Even with his resilience and the technique’s physical enhancements, it was barely bearable.

The Tiger Guards, elite troops of the Zhou Martial Kingdom, far surpassed any adversaries he had faced before. Now, Cao Yun could only hope his prior slaughter would intimidate the remaining Tiger Guards, making them hesitate to chase him further.

If he could hold out another day or two, the aftereffects of his secret technique would subside, and he could slip into the river to escape. Though young, Cao Yun had mastered several rare and unconventional secret arts in the Imperial City Office. Without them, he would have long since perished.

Suddenly, Cao Yun’s expression shifted. His body twisted in midair and shot sideways like a black sphere. At that moment, from deep within the woods ahead, a sharp, urgent whistling erupted—like arrows slicing through the night. Two blazing streaks of fire shot from hidden shadows, flashing past so close to Cao Yun’s body they left scorching trails.

A wave of intense heat washed over him. The fire streaks crashed into a grayish tree behind him, erupting into a volcanic blaze. The massive tree shriveled in the flames, reduced to a heap of glowing embers that drifted away on the wind, leaving the air thick with the acrid scent of char and smoke.

“Who’s there?” Cao Yun rolled into the shrubbery like a panther, his red short blade gleaming coldly. He glared into the depths of the forest, voice low and icy, alert and probing.

“A remarkable talent indeed. No wonder you’ve lasted so long against the Tiger Guards’ encirclement. But now that you’ve encountered us, your fate is sealed.” From behind a towering tree, a woman’s voice rang out, sharp and taunting.

A man and a woman stepped out from behind the tree. The man, about forty, wore flowing blue robes embroidered with clouds and water. His stride was light yet steady, his gaze deep, exuding a chilling indifference and lethal intent. Time had left little mark on his face, only adding to his composure and depth.

The woman was in her early twenties, breathtakingly beautiful, her skin fair as snow, her figure graceful as willow in the wind. She wore elegant, understated garments, the hem swaying gently, like a celestial maiden descending to earth. Yet within her clear eyes lurked the same icy killing intent as the man—contrasting yet harmoniously balanced.

“Immortals?” Cao Yun licked his cracked, bloodied lips, his voice laced with shock and disbelief as his gaze locked onto the pair, searching for any sign that they were indeed immortals.