Thus has my life unfolded.

After sitting in the teahouse for a while, Zhang Ling carried his tea outside. The street was bustling with people, yet there was a lingering chill in the air. He gathered his sleeves, drinking directly from the teapot, seemingly unfazed by the heat.

Gazing at the sparkling river, Zhang Ling turned to Song Linjie beside him and asked, "Where have you been lately?"

Song Linjie grinned, "Fighting! Didn’t you say the retainers in those powerful families are formidable? So I asked around, visited more than a dozen families—there are indeed many experts."

"And?" Zhang Ling pressed. "How did it go?"

Song Linjie sighed, "Nine bouts against third-grade warriors, all victories. Five against second-grade, won only once. Faced a first-grade, but lost."

In the four realms of martial arts, each step is a chasm. Among first-grade, few throughout history have ever slain opponents across ranks. Even below first-grade, advancing a grade is no small feat. Each grade is finely divided: common folk speak of seven external orifices, martial artists of six internal ones, but in truth the human body has three hundred sixty-five acupoints. Depending on one’s chosen martial path, breaking through certain acupoints is required to ascend. The most arduous, “Piling Stones to Make a Mountain,” demands clearing them all. To achieve invincibility within one's grade, relying only on oneself, is already rare—let alone surpassing grades. It was clear that the man before Zhang Ling was indeed a peerless talent.

The next moment, Zhang Ling strode ahead, stepping swiftly across the floating lanterns on the river to the other side.

…

Dusk was falling. Neither moonlight nor lanterns reached the dark alley, but the path could barely be made out. A scholar with delicate features returned from outside the city, just as the gates closed behind him. He passed through the dim, cold alley, intending to return to his humble abode for rest. Three young men in embroidered robes blocked his way. Not long ago, the scholar had penned an essay, “On the Ruin of the Nation,” naming among its culprits the pampered sons of noble families. After being recommended, his article gained immense favor in official circles, but also drew the ire of many such youths. Over the past ten days, this was the twenty-first time they had harassed him. Some officials had offered him protection, but he always refused. He bent down, placing his books aside—though each time, his books ended up torn to shreds—curled up, and awaited the venting of their frustrations, which he found almost laughable.

By the faint light, one of the youths, with a white jade pendant at his waist, spoke angrily, "Ren Pingsheng, you really have nerve. A lowborn dares write something like ‘On the Ruin of the Nation’? Do you know who you've offended?"

The scholar, Ren Pingsheng, remained curled up. He knew these men wouldn’t dare kill him outright, but would not hesitate to rough him up. He answered calmly, "Li Yuan, eldest son of Li Ya, Deputy Minister of Personnel. I don’t know the other two names—probably your lackeys."

The other two, unacknowledged, grew furious and were about to strike, but Li Yuan, the jade-belted youth, stopped them. He sneered, "So you know who you’ve crossed. I am merciful. Crawl between our legs and we’ll let you go. I’ve heard you have some talent in letters—come be a retainer in my family. Don’t worry, you won’t be mistreated."

Ren Pingsheng glanced at him, unmoved, inwardly mocking the youth who had nothing but his family name. He kept his emotions hidden, hoping to suffer less. Sensing his contempt, the three youths were instantly enraged. Li Yuan barked, "Ungrateful wretch! Beat him within an inch of his life!"

The other two, hearing Li Yuan’s commanding tone, felt resentful. If not for his father’s rank, would they tolerate his orders? Even in their usual mischief, he was always the leader. Though they disliked him, power was power; their fathers insisted they associate with the Deputy Minister’s son to pave the way in officialdom. The two, more like lapdogs, stepped forward, throwing punches at the crouched scholar. But as their fists closed within two inches of him, their hands were suddenly gripped tight, and before they could see who it was, a force swung them aside.

Li Yuan, just realizing what had happened, barely blinked as his childhood friends were tossed away. He stared at their assailant and shouted in anger, "Who are you? Dare to meddle in my affairs? Are you tired of living?"

The one who threw the youths was Zhang Ling. He straightened his rumpled clothes from the effort, squatted beside the scholar, and asked, "Frustrated?"

The scholar slowly released his tightly hugged knees, replying with composure, "A true man bends and stretches as needed."

Feeling ignored, Li Yuan’s fury simmered, yet he wasn’t foolish—he knew he couldn’t best this young man in a fight. He calmed himself and said, "I am Li Yuan, eldest son of Deputy Minister Li Ya. Judging by your attire, you must be from a noble house as well. This Ren Pingsheng is merely a commoner. Standing up for such a lowly man is most unwise!"

Neither Zhang Ling nor Ren Pingsheng looked up at him. The two youths, stumbling to their feet, stood behind Li Yuan, urging, "Li, teach him a lesson for his insolence!"

Li Yuan shot them a look. Knowing the young man’s skill, he saw through their attempt to push him forward—true jackals, not worth befriending. He raised a hand to Zhang Ling, "Since you wish to protect him, I’ll give you face. Let’s leave it at that."

The two lackeys tried to protest, but Li Yuan glared at them. Though outwardly respectful, he was already planning to investigate Zhang Ling—if he came from a minor family, after this humiliation, he would make them suffer; if from the highest circles, at worst they’d never cross paths again. In the capital, unless you were a prince, a fool without foresight wouldn’t last long—such was the hard-earned wisdom of these city scions.

The three turned to leave, but were suddenly kicked back to the ground. Looking up, they saw another young man had tripped them. Li Yuan rose, murderous intent in his eyes, and said coldly, "So you’re determined to go against us? Do you know what consequences that would bring?"

Zhang Ling helped the scholar to his feet, glanced at the late-arriving Song Linjie, and asked, "What do you think?"

Song Linjie replied calmly, "Why not just kill them?"

Zhang Ling shook his head, "If they trace it to us, it will be troublesome."

The three youths watched as the two discussed murder so nonchalantly, their hearts sinking. They began to back away, turning to flee, when a flash of silver streaked past. All three throats were slashed with shallow, matching wounds, and they collapsed.

A young man holding a spear stood before them. Zhang Ling looked him in the eye, "Is there anyone else involved in tonight’s affair?"

Ren Pingsheng, who had until now remained silent, stirred and named him, "A disciple of the Academy, Liu Yuancheng. From what I know, he is the eldest son of Liu Xinmu of Ninglong Mountain, a renowned family of martial artists. His spear technique is famed—Tiger Mountain, Thousand Hills—and his spear, Dragon Snake, forged by the master craftsman Yang Qingshan, bears a coiling red dragon and bronze serpent motifs."

Song Linjie, gripping his Forged Heaven Blade, exclaimed excitedly, "So he’s an expert!"

Forged Heaven was drawn, swung at Liu Yuancheng, who raised his spear in defense. Blade and spear clashed; both retreated a foot.

Liu Yuancheng frowned, snapping, "Are you mad? Attacking without a word!"

Song Linjie, undeterred, tapped his blade, making it hum. They clashed again, their duel spilling deeper into the alley, soon erupting onto a street where a few passersby lingered.

Zhang Ling picked up the scholar’s books, placed them in his arms, and smiled, "Where do you live?"