Volume One: The Emperor’s Sword Chapter 24: Slaying a Man in Ten Paces

In the deserted alley, blood stained the ground.

Two corpses lay by the roadside, their hollow eyes staring at the sky, faces twisted in shock and unwillingness. Their valuables had already been stripped away, leaving only gaping wounds that spoke of terrifying, fatal blows.

Creak.

At the end of the alley, the gate of a nearby house opened. An elderly woman, having heard the noise, trembled as she stepped out to investigate. When her gaze fell upon the distant bodies, she froze for a long moment, then her aged scream echoed through the alley.

In a quiet corner, Wu Dachuan slowly regained consciousness.

He sprang up, first checking his limbs, then feeling his head, finally relieved to find everything intact.

“I'm alive... Where are the barbarians?”

Wu Dachuan frantically looked around, discovering only Yun Que nearby, with no one else in sight.

“Brother Yun, you’re alive too! Thank goodness. Those two barbarians were so strong, we weren’t their match. How did you escape?”

“Some soldiers happened to pass by. In the chaos, I managed to get you out.”

“Lucky, lucky. Seems we’re blessed with good fortune!” Wu Dachuan said, still shaken. “We need to report this to the Sword Palace, let the elders scold that useless emperor. Barbarians sneaking into the imperial city—how could this be allowed!”

Yun Que agreed with the suggestion, then asked about Si Ruonan.

Having just been rescued, Wu Dachuan did not hide anything, truthfully sharing what he knew.

Si Ruonan was a mysterious figure, her arrival on Changliu Street unknown. Wu Dachuan had only met her by chance years ago.

Upon learning of her profound skill in crafting, Wu Dachuan, thick-skinned as he was, often sought her guidance, occasionally helping to polish materials or run errands. Over time, he became something of a half-disciple.

Naturally, he gained much from this relationship.

Not only did he learn the basics of crafting, but he could also purchase various magical implements made by Si Ruonan at prices below the market.

“What does she want with so many banknotes?” Yun Que wondered aloud, unable to understand.

Ordinarily, such a master would disdain banknotes, preferring only spirit stones.

“I didn’t get it at first, but later learned that Senior Si exchanged banknotes to buy things unavailable in the markets, like rare medicinal herbs, ancient antiques, blood jade, dragon-blood glass—strange and very expensive items.”

Wu Dachuan’s voice dropped as he looked around, lowering his tone:

“Senior Si once bought a dead infant! I even helped deliver it.”

“A dead infant?” Yun Que frowned upon hearing this.

Anyone dealing with dead infants could hardly be considered virtuous—was she some kind of evil cultivator?

Seeing Yun Que’s suspicion, Wu Dachuan hastily explained:

“Senior Si is not a bad person, I can vouch for that. She buys these odd things for her crafting research. At least in these years, I’ve never seen her harm anyone. Even for the dead infant, she paid the family a large sum as compensation.”

“The dead have no more worries; earning money for the family from a corpse isn’t such a bad thing,” Yun Que nodded.

He was not one for empty moralizing—he had no qualms about matters after death.

Wu Dachuan chuckled:

“Senior Si’s crafting skills are incredible. My Lucky, for example, was created by grafting a flying sword fragment onto a beast cub—with grafting, yes! That’s what she called it. I still don’t fully understand the essence of it.”

“Does Senior Si have any other relatives?” Yun Que pressed.

“Not that I know of. She lives alone here—oh, she once mentioned a younger brother who passed away early.”

“A younger brother?”

Yun Que thought of Hu Tieshan, but quickly dismissed the idea.

Even if Si Ruonan’s brother were alive, his age wouldn’t match Hu Tieshan’s.

“Brother Wu, return to the Sword Palace first. I still have matters to attend to; I’ll come back later.”

“Alright, take care. Don’t let those barbarians target you. Tomorrow morning, we set out for Mist Mountain!”

Wu Dachuan gave his instructions and hurried back to the Sword Palace.

Watching his figure disappear, Yun Que smiled softly.

“Don’t worry, they won’t be coming after me.”

He turned and melted into the bustle of the imperial city.

To kill a man every ten steps, to traverse a thousand miles without lingering, to finish one’s business and depart, hidden in both body and name.

Pear Blossom Street.

In the northern district of the imperial city, named for its sizable grove of pear trees. Not lively, but quiet and beautiful.

At the end of Pear Blossom Street, outside a medium-sized estate, the charming maid Qiuxiang was pouring out water.

She looked up, spotting a familiar figure.

“My lord! My lord has returned!”

Qiuxiang, overwhelmed with joy, teary-eyed, had finally seen her pillar of support.

“Boil water. Prepare a bath.”

“Yes, my lord!”

The maid welcomed her master with delight. As the not-so-tall figure walked past, she caught a faint scent of blood.

After a comfortable soak, Yun Que entered the reception hall.

Old He was already waiting.

“You were attacked?” Old He’s expression was grim, his murderous aura rising.

He had already noticed the blood on Yun Que and guessed his young master had been in danger.

Yun Que chuckled, pointing west.

“Two blood barbarians. I sent them on their way—they’re probably just now arriving in the afterlife.”

Old He’s tense killing intent eased, but his face changed abruptly.

“The barbarians crossed the Coldwater River?”

“I don’t think so. If the barbarian armies had breached the border, even the most incompetent emperor wouldn’t be oblivious. Those two blood barbarians didn’t recognize me—they were simply robbing and killing for profit,” Yun Que replied.

“So they’re scouts. But why would barbarian scouts rob for money, and do so openly in the imperial city?” Old He was increasingly puzzled.

“This matter is likely complicated. Keep an eye on the city, try to find out the barbarians’ purpose and locate their base,” Yun Que ordered.

“Rest assured, young master. I was once a scout under the marquis—I know the trade well,” Old He grinned, baring his teeth.

He was experienced in gathering intelligence, and his spectral body allowed him to leave his flesh at any time—an advantage ordinary people could never match.

Yun Que trusted this fierce lieutenant and asked,

“Old He, how much do you know about the blood barbarians? I’ve only heard my father mention them.”

Old He’s expression grew solemn as he explained,

“Blood barbarians are terrifying, monstrous even. They can awaken the power of their blood, strengthening their bodies to the extreme. A fully transformed blood barbarian, at full force, can swell to three times their size, turning into giant machines of war—impervious to blades and spears, capable of tearing tigers and leopards apart. Ordinary cultivators stand no chance.”

Listening to Old He’s detailed account, Yun Que realized the two blood barbarians he faced today were not fully transformed.

Only their arms had swollen, with little change to their bodies.

He must not underestimate them—Yun Que solemnly reminded himself.

After dismissing the servants, Yun Que opened his storage pouch to tally today’s gains.

The spoils were modest.

Two mid-grade magical long knives, two low-grade daggers, and a small pouch of unidentified sand, shimmering with a strange silvery hue.

No spirit stones, no banknotes.

This struck Yun Que as odd.

But on second thought, perhaps this explained why the two blood barbarians targeted the sword servants.

Robbery.

Having spent their spirit stones and banknotes somewhere, they were reduced to paupers, forced onto the path of violent theft.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have dared act so brazenly in the imperial city.

What secret lay hidden behind the blood barbarians?