Chapter 26: Even a Powerful Dragon Cannot Suppress the Local Tyrant

The official road was shrouded in blowing sand. A group of young people sat around a tea table, entirely out of place amid the noisy bustle, their attention fixed on the tea before them, each silent as stone.

The traveling merchants nearby took note of this strange scene, but not a soul dared to approach. Just a glance at the black-faced burly man among them, with the blood-red saber slung across his back, was enough to know this company was not to be provoked.

Lu Qian sat among them, silent as well, the atmosphere heavy and tense. He wondered who their fellow traveler might be, feeling that their strength was formidable. In storybooks, those who appear last are always masters.

At that moment, the chatter around them faded, and everyone, as if by silent accord, turned to look toward the door.

Lu Qian followed their gaze by instinct.

He first saw pale yellow silk boots and simple long trousers, from which hung a piece of jade. Above, a pure white sash cinched her waist, accentuating a slender, graceful figure. She wore a goose-yellow tunic, a light veil draped over her shoulders, the patterns subtle yet exquisite.

Lu Qian raised his eyes and met a calm, limpid gaze, tranquil as still water, yet with fleeting currents of emotion, as if a blade’s chill and brilliance flashed beneath the surface—dazzling and dangerous.

In that instant, all distractions vanished.

A sword-bearing immortal maiden, poised and elegant.

Even after many years, Lu Qian would remember that scene with perfect clarity.

“Han Bingli, greetings to my fellow cultivators.”

The woman had appeared at their side without anyone noticing.

“Lu Qian.”

“Yu Ci.”

…

The others came to themselves and introduced themselves in turn.

Only then did Lu Qian realize he had seen this woman before. A year ago, when he first joined the sect, she had been among the top-ranked disciples.

This beauty, cold as ice, was unforgettable after a single meeting. Judging by her appearance just now—arriving without a sound—her strength must be considerable.

Yu Ci outlined their plan to her.

Han Bingli inclined her head slightly. “I have no objections. I’ll follow your lead.”

The group set off immediately.

As they traveled, they exchanged a few words. To their surprise, Han Bingli was not as aloof as they had imagined; she could smile, and her manner was polite. Perhaps it was her temperament or the unfamiliarity among them, but she always seemed to maintain a subtle distance.

Lu Qian felt relieved at this. Thankfully, she was not like the cold and rigid heroines of the stories—eccentric, unapproachable, and impossible to work with. Such people were a disaster for any group, everyone forced to accommodate their whims. Otherwise, Lu Qian would already be thinking of abandoning the mission—she was not someone to offend lightly.

“Fellow Yu, do you also favor the sword?” Han Bingli inquired.

She had just learned about her companions’ abilities; the other three each had their specialties, but only Yu Ci seemed adept in combat.

“Oh, I practice the Sword Qi of the Lunar Lung,” Yu Ci replied, touching the treasured sword at his waist with some pride. “I’ve carried a sword since childhood and have some insights into swordsmanship. Are you also a practitioner? What method do you study?”

“I am a sword cultivator. I know a little of the way of the sword,” she replied.

“A sword cultivator?” Yu Ci’s expression was odd. “Then I’ve been displaying my meager skills before an expert.”

The others, too, looked at Han Bingli in surprise.

Yu Ci’s sword techniques at best counted as ‘spells’; they were really just a method of refining energy and spirit. Sword cultivators were different. They made the sword the foundation of their cultivation, their entire practice built upon it. Day and night, they nurtured their sword with true qi. When a blade of sword qi dwelled in the dantian and heart, it signified the Qi Refining stage. This path was one of extremes—extreme dedication to the sword, to a single way. Their killing power was fierce and unmatched. In a contest of swordsmanship, Yu Ci would likely be defeated in a single move.

There are many paths in cultivation, too numerous to count in a lifetime. Sword cultivation was only one among countless eccentric methods.

As they chatted, they arrived before the City Lord’s mansion without even realizing it.

A towering vermilion gate stood before them, flanked by two black stone lions, their eyes wide with rage. Sixteen armored soldiers stood in formation on either side. Upon a stone altar, a black banner with a gold character snapped in the wind.

This imposing residence was the City Lord's mansion. Baiyang City’s lord, Jin Yang, resided here.

“Halt! Who goes there?”

“Please announce that visitors have come from the Temple of Mysteries,” Yu Ci said, stepping forward.

The guards exchanged uncertain glances, unfamiliar with the Temple of Mysteries. Yet, seeing the distinguished bearing of these men and women, one went inside to relay their message.

In the end, the group did not meet the City Lord.

For nearly a decade, the City Lord had not handled the city’s affairs personally. The meeting was instead arranged at the most bustling place in town—the Wind and Sand Pavilion.

In the elegant, antique halls, they met an old man. His hair and beard were snow-white, his skin dark and mottled, his eyes cloudy—a withered figure close to death.

“Cough, cough… greetings, fellow cultivators.”

Seeing this old man, much of Lu Qian’s suspicion faded.

The City Lord of Baiyang, Jin Yang, was over one hundred and forty years old. Ordinary Qi Refining cultivators rarely lived past one hundred and fifty. Though Jin Yang was in the mid-stage of Qi Refining, he looked so frail that even a beginner could likely defeat him now.

Lu Qian did not doubt his authenticity. The aura of death around him was real; his organs were utterly failing—his life hung by a thread. If at his age he was still vigorous, he’d be at least at the Spirit Nurturing stage, surely an outer sect steward, for whom killing dozens would be nothing, and who would receive resources far better than Ghostface Flower. There would be no need for secrecy.

Lu Qian and the others did not ask directly about the Perfumed Incense Sect but inquired instead about the case of the missing women in the city. As they chatted, they gradually learned about the local powers.

There were three factions in Baiyang City: the City Lord, Five Spirits Temple, and the Perfumed Incense Sect.

The City Lord and his grandson Jin Ying were both Qi Refining Daoists. The Five Spirits Temple was passed down from master to disciple and had only two members. The two families were allies, opposing the Perfumed Incense Sect, which boasted a late-stage Qi Refining master and five more of the same rank.

“In recent years, the Perfumed Incense Sect has grown increasingly audacious, expanding their power at will. Nine out of ten households now follow them, and even Wanshou has his eye on temple resources.” Wanshou was the sect leader’s real name, and Jin Yang’s words were laced with resentment.

“Are you saying it was he who tampered with the Ghostface Flower and the Ice Silkworm Silk harvests?”

Jin Yang’s expression turned ashamed, and he sighed. “I suspect him, but I am powerless to find proof. I rely on your keen eyes to uncover the truth about this man.”

As they spoke, in another private room, a group was also keeping watch.

Two young men sat by the window, with guards and pages behind them. The man at the window wore black, his long hair flowing, his bearing graceful and handsome, his smile like a spring breeze. Across from him, the man wore a pink robe, his face pale from dissipation, his gaze predatory.

They were Wanshou’s son, Wan Ming, and the City Lord’s grandson, Jin Ying. Of the same age, both were considered geniuses among the younger generation, known as the Twin Walls of Baiyang.

“Wan, did you see that woman just now? Tsk, I’d love to savor her beauty,” the man in pink mused, a figure lingering in his mind.

“My friend Jin, the people of the Temple of Mysteries are not to be trifled with. We’d best not provoke them,” Wan Ming replied with a smile.

“Ha, just ordinary disciples. If they had real backing, would they be out here toiling?” Jin Ying sneered, Wan Ming’s words irking him. “A mighty dragon won’t suppress the local lords. With my family’s connections to the stewards, what do they dare do?”

“Wait here; I’ll go curb their arrogance.”

“Your real aim is to get close to the beauty, isn’t it?” Wan Ming said knowingly.

Jin Ying smiled. At that moment, Lu Qian and his companions descended the stairs.

Jin Ying rose, drifting down in a graceful leap.