Chapter 3: The Flash of a Stunning Blade

As night fell, Ye Jingtang led his horse slowly through the bustling streets of Yunzhou City.

Having lived in this world for eighteen years, Ye Jingtang’s understanding of the land’s contours gradually sharpened.

The Daliang Kingdom was vast, divided into twelve provinces. Though it no longer rivaled the glory of the Tang Dynasty at its peak, under the rule of the Empress Regnant, it displayed a distinct character. Yet the geography was far removed from the memories of Ye Jingtang’s previous life; even the familiar names of mountains and rivers no longer corresponded to the places he once knew.

In Ye Jingtang’s eyes, the political situation in Daliang was unstable. Martial artists roamed unchecked, the south harbored separatist enclaves, the Northern Wei Kingdom eyed Liangzhou covetously, and numerous schemers lurked in the Central Plains.

He had once dwelled in a remote border town, where life was harsh and isolated. Hearing of the turmoil beyond, he had thought Daliang was far from prosperous.

But upon reaching the capital, he realized his earlier judgment was narrow.

The capital was immense, with fourteen main streets intersecting and countless alleys branching off. Its permanent population likely exceeded a million. The city’s infrastructure was sound; broad paved sidewalks lined the streets—this was a sprawling metropolis without the glow of modern lighting.

The post-rain air brought a slight chill, and citizens poured out of their homes. Brightly dressed men and women, mothers with children, thronged the streets. From shops came the scents of delicious food and vendors’ calls:

“Authentic kiln-roasted chicken, secret family recipe, oily yet not greasy...”

The large bird perched on Ye Jingtang’s shoulder, seeing so many people for the first time, appeared frightened. It crouched obediently, its eyes fixed on the golden roasted chicken, softly chirping at Ye Jingtang:

“Chirp chirp~”

Stopping, Ye Jingtang reached into his sleeve and withdrew all his savings—two taels of broken silver. This was the leftover pocket money from his days as the young master of a security escort agency; he had left the family fortune to the Shao family.

Two taels of silver were barely enough to rent a small room in the prosperous capital, let alone cover food and lodging at an inn.

From wealth at dawn to poverty by dusk—the vicissitudes of life were poignant.

Yet, no matter how difficult, he could not let the bird suffer. As a man, he thought, one should earn money, not merely save it.

He gently stroked the bird on his shoulder and approached a roadside roasted chicken stall. He bought a chicken and casually inquired:

“Boss, when outsiders come to the capital, where do they usually find work?”

“Oh, young sir, you’re so handsome, surely not an ordinary person. It’s flattering you ask me... Many outsiders come to the city. When they first arrive, they usually go to Mingyu Tower in the east. There, the wealthy families are recruiting. If you don’t mind, finding a job shouldn’t be hard...”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, take care now...”

With the roasted chicken in hand, Ye Jingtang entered a small tavern, ordered food and wine, and shared a hearty meal with the bird on his shoulder. Before sunset, he made his way to Mingyu Tower in the west of the city.

Yunzhou was a city that never slept. Even before night fully fell, the streets were brilliantly lit, and pedestrians outnumbered those of the daytime.

Ye Jingtang dismounted near Mingyu Tower and wandered the streets casually. Passing by a large government office with black-painted outer walls, he noticed no sign hung above its gate.

At first, he thought it an obscure official bureau, but soon learned it was the infamous “Black Bureau” of the martial world—akin to the Six Doors. Inside were six chief constables, known as the “Six Fiends of the Black Bureau,” whose fearsome reputation struck terror into the hearts of martial artists.

As a security escort, Ye Jingtang was unafraid of bandits but wary of official checkpoints.

Habitually, he avoided the “Kingdom of the Underworld” and proceeded to the talent recruitment market.

Though swords and knives were not banned in Daliang, anyone carrying weapons had to obey strict rules: blades sheathed, bows relaxed. Drawing a weapon without cause resulted in fifteen days’ detention and a fine of five thousand wen.

Ye Jingtang knew the rules well. He hung the sword he inherited from his foster father at his waist, concealed beneath his outer robe to avoid unwanted attention.

Though he minded not disturbing others, he could not avoid being disturbed himself.

As he led his horse down the street, a sudden sound came from behind:

“Eh?”

His waist shifted. A hand reached out from behind, trying to grasp his sword’s hilt!

For an escort, a sword was both livelihood and life’s safeguard. Losing it meant losing everything. In his youth, to train his reflexes, his foster father often tried to “steal” his sword, resulting in many beatings.

Detecting the movement at his waist, Ye Jingtang’s left hand swiftly rose.

Clang—

Under the bright streetlights, a cold gleam flashed!

Originally indifferent passersby suddenly saw a silver dragon-like blade arc through the dusk in a crescent shape.

The street instantly fell silent.

Drawn by the sound of the blade unsheathing, everyone turned their heads in unison.

In the crowded main street’s center stood a young swordsman clad in black, wielding an old blade.

The sword measured three feet three inches long and two and a half fingers wide. Its blade was straight, the hilt wrapped in black cord, with a brass guard and pommel embossed with a dragon motif.

The blade was not smooth; its front half bore countless fine scratches. Any connoisseur could tell at a glance how many trials and tribulations this old sword had endured in the martial world.

At that moment, the blade’s edge rested steadily against the right side of the man behind him, just at the neck.

That man bowed slightly, left hand clutching the scabbard, the blade drawn less than half an inch. His whole body stiffened, his face pale, sweat beading on his forehead.

Tick—

Though tiny, the droplet’s sound echoed clearly through the street.

Witnessing this, the crowd displayed a mixture of surprise and admiration—astonished by Ye Jingtang’s lightning-fast skill and shocked by his audacity.

“That kid…”

“Great skill… but his gaze could be sharper…”

Ye Jingtang’s brow furrowed at being touched from behind, but upon seeing the figure’s face, his anger froze. He retracted his blade quickly, cupped his fist in greeting:

“Sir, a misunderstanding. Please forgive me.”

His swift apology was not due to fear of the other’s strength, but because the man wore a dark green robe, a gauze cap, and bore an iron feather at his waist—signs of a Black Bureau constable.

Unlike ordinary officers, the Black Bureau specialized in handling martial artists, with the authority to arrest and interrogate at will, and if necessary, execute first and report later. Martial artists universally feared them.

The constable behind was in his thirties, slightly stout, with a beard.

Having narrowly escaped death, he wiped sweat from his brow. Knowing he was outmatched and in the wrong, he returned the courtesy:

“Impressive skill. I misjudged you just now. I am Wang Chihu, chief constable of the Black Bureau. Young brother, that sword of yours is fine—looks battle-worn. Your kung fu suits it well.”

Calmly, Ye Jingtang replied to the constable’s suspicion:

“My name is Ye Jingtang, from Liangzhou. My family runs a security agency. This sword belonged to my father; traveling the world, it’s bound to have some wear.”

He then produced a “permit” issued by his hometown’s government office, clearly stating his place of origin, profession, age, and stamped with the official seal.

Wang Chihu examined the permit, confirmed its authenticity, and relaxed slightly:

“Never thought such talent could come from a remote place like Liangzhou. No wonder people say the deep mountains produce excellent people…”

“Chirp~”

The bird on Ye Jingtang’s shoulder brightened its eyes.

Wang Chihu noticed it and paused:

“Oh, that bird is clever. It’s common for those roaming the martial world to bring eagles, dogs, or parrots—but what exactly is this?”

“This is a bird from beyond the northern borders, a kind of hawk… a fat-headed owl.”

“If you hadn’t said, I’d have thought it a fat chicken with no neck. Doesn’t look like it can fly high…”

“Chirp!”

Ye Jingtang calmed the ruffled bird and, with Wang Chihu, headed toward a nearby teahouse.

“Sir, may I ask why you summoned me?”

“Brother Ye, you’re a security chief. Are you here to recruit escorts or to find work?”

“To make a living. Sir, do you intend to recruit me into the Black Bureau?”

Wang Chihu shook his head:

“Being a constable isn’t respectable. It may look glorious, but once you take off this uniform, people despise you. You’re young, talented, skilled; joining the Black Bureau would only hinder your prospects. I called you here to show you a way to make a fortune.”

“Oh?”

Ye Jingtang smiled, warmed by Wang Chihu’s honesty:

“I’m all ears.”

Wang Chihu cupped his fist and pointed toward the distant imperial city:

“The current emperor plans to find a son-in-law for Prince Jing. I think you’re quite handsome…”

Ye Jingtang’s smile froze.

He knew something of court affairs. The reigning Empress was said to be strong-willed and harsh. Initially regent, after saving the nation from crisis, she deposed her brother and took the throne herself. Not only that, she unusually granted her own sister the title of prince.

Mentioning the Empress and the prince’s menfolk, Ye Jingtang first thought of court favorites—he was confident in that role but had no interest:

“Thank you for your advice, Lord Wang, but I already have a family. I will not abandon my wife…”

“Prince Jing values martial prowess. If he truly admires your skill and looks, he wouldn’t mind your family. Your loyalty might even endear you more to the prince.”

Ye Jingtang felt perplexed.

He knew court favorites might be shared by the Empress, the prince, even the Empress Dowager.

But bringing one’s wife along as a favorite was a notion he had never heard.

“Judging by your tone, do you have a connection with Prince Jing?”

A flicker of pride lit Wang Chihu’s eyes as he gestured toward the Black Bureau headquarters:

“Prince Jing is the emperor’s trusted aide. The Black Bureau doesn’t belong to the six ministries but to Prince Jing’s personal guard. Even our salaries come from his household. Naturally, I’ve met him. Setting aside his identity, his martial arts master is the Imperial Tutor, Xuanji Zhenren. You look like a good candidate for martial training. If Prince Jing favors you and recommends you, your progress could skyrocket. Are you sure you don’t want to try for a bright future?”

Ye Jingtang had long heard of Xuanji Zhenren, the Imperial Tutor of Jade Void Mountain, junior sister to the “Two Sages” and herself ranked sixth in the world, reputed as one of the strongest women alive.

Though eager to meet martial world eccentrics and planning to infiltrate the palace for the Dragon-Singing Chart, he had not yet sunk to “selling his looks” to achieve his goals.

“I’m just a man of the martial world, a rough fellow, not so blessed…”

“Sigh, I think you have a great chance, which is why I mentioned it. With some luck, you could avoid decades of detours…”

Ye Jingtang and the constable talked leisurely in the teahouse, while atop Mingyu Tower, they could be overlooked from the top floor.

The Black Bureau had existed since the founding of the kingdom, originally the emperor’s private guard. After the Empress’s ascension, it was reassigned under Prince Jing’s command. Because the “Green Bandits” repeatedly attempted to assassinate royal members, their offices were relocated outside Prince Jing’s mansion.

Mingyu Tower stood in the prince’s rear garden, five stories tall, even taller than the palace walls—a bold overreach that made locals call the area Mingyu Tower.

Night deepened, the tower gleamed with lights. In the top-floor study, a man dressed in a silver dragon robe and jade crown stood on the terrace before a painting desk, brush poised, sketching the eyebrows of a handsome young man:

“Have Wang Chihu investigate his background. I didn’t expect this young man’s skill to be so good… That blade move just now resembles the opening of the ‘Eight-Step Mad Blade.’ Could he be Zheng Feng’s disciple?”

Behind the Eastern nobleman stood an old white-haired woman, her figure shadow-like, close behind:

“I have seen Zheng Feng. His moves are never so casual. This young man has potential, but ‘the form resembles but the spirit does not.’ It’s likely just coincidence.”

“It’s said Zheng Feng’s master, Kuang Yazi, once stole the Dragon-Singing Chart from the palace. If this young man truly wields the ‘Eight-Step Mad Blade,’ he must be connected…”

The old woman asked, “Should we send someone to test him?”

The nobleman thought briefly then shook his head:

“Those pre-foundation martial world rumors are not worth troubling us. First check his background. If it’s clean, once the portrait is finished, send it to the emperor. He’s so handsome, the emperor may take an interest.”

“As you command.”