Chapter 1

The Wind Ling Ferry, with its iron chains spanning the sky, was the last river crossing to the city of Luo Yi. Beyond the iron chain bridge lay a vast, open plain. Two pure-blooded Fire Dragon steeds, pulling a carriage, galloped swiftly from the mountains. The driver was a burly man, and the carriage windows were closed, but the window frames bore obvious marks of sword and axe strikes, crisscrossing and even cutting through some of the frames.

The two Fire Dragon steeds, though fine horses, were already exhausted.

"Prince, don't panic. Once we cross the bridge, no one will dare to pursue you!" A deep male voice came from inside the carriage.

"Uncle Duanmu, I'm not afraid!" A young voice replied.

"Zhong Yong, how much further?"

"I can already see the Wind Ling Ferry, it's just one li away," the driver Zhong Yong answered, his tone devoid of any joy, for he saw several figures at the ferry, wearing straw hats and black clothes.

He flicked his whip, and with a sharp crack, the exhausted horses suddenly sped up, kicking up a cloud of dust as they charged straight toward the Wind Ling Ferry.

The black-clad figures formed three rows. The first row crouched slightly, dragging their horse-cutting blades, and charged forward. The second row released countless hidden weapons, which flew like locusts toward the carriage. The third row was unique, consisting of only one person, who was at least two heads taller than the others, like a giant. What was truly terrifying was the large iron mace in his hand, with a diameter of about three to four feet. He swung it in a circle and hurled it at the carriage.

Before the carriage even arrived, the hidden weapons had already rained down. Zhong Yong shouted, and his whip blurred, creating layers of ripples, causing the hidden weapons to fall. He grunted, but a few still slipped through, one of which hit his left shoulder, and a few more struck the carriage behind him.

Without time to think, the large iron mace came hurtling through the air. The small whip was effective against hidden weapons but could not stop such a massive mace. Just as he was about to block it with his life, a force emerged from behind: "Step aside!"

Zhong Yong was involuntarily thrown high into the air by this gentle force, flipped forward, and drew his sword from his waist, landing in front of the carriage. As soon as he landed, a blade of light flashed, and a horse-cutting blade came at him, but he thrust his sword forward.

Zhong Yong had no time to look back, but he knew Duanmu Liang had taken action.

Duanmu Liang, a capable general under the Marquis of Zheng, was the bulwark of the state of Zheng and the teacher of Prince Baili Ming. He was leading the prince on a tour when he received news of the Marquis's illness. They traveled day and night, encountering numerous assassination attempts, and their men and horses were all lost. They were just a few dozen li from the capital, but their enemies ambushed them at the Wind Ling Ferry.

He guessed who it was; apart from Prince Baili Cong, who else could do this?

Baili Cong, the eldest son of the Marquis of Zheng, was born to a concubine. He appeared kind and benevolent, but Duanmu Liang knew it was a facade. The Marquis had four sons, and because Baili Cong was born to a concubine, the only obstacle in his path was Prince Baili Ming.

With a loud thud, the large iron mace struck the carriage, shattering it into pieces, but the people inside were unharmed, as Duanmu Liang had infused his internal energy into the carriage, using its disintegration to dissipate the impact.

A woman's frightened scream came from inside the carriage, and two maidservants were crouched on the ground. Duanmu Liang stood majestically on the carriage, holding a black iron truncheon, with the prince behind him. The Fire Dragon steeds let out a long neigh and charged toward the iron chain bridge.

He knew the danger; the iron chain bridge was different from ordinary bridges. Normally, carriages would pass slowly, but there was no time. Duanmu Liang trusted himself.

Zhong Yong saw the horse-cutting blade coming but did not block it. He took a large step forward, and his sword, sharp and fierce, pierced the throat of his opponent before the blade could reach him. He did not stop, turning his sword and advancing, his sword technique simple and practical, emphasizing momentum. In a narrow path, the brave one wins, and there were no fancy moves.

The enemies fell one by one, and blood spattered his body. Both sides fought with no fear of death.

The carriage, enveloped in a cloud of dust, charged onto the iron chain bridge. The bridge was covered with wooden planks, well-maintained, as the Wind Ling Ferry was a crucial hub for the state of Zheng. The river often flooded, and stone bridges could not withstand it, so an iron chain bridge was used.

The carriage, now a flatbed, had two maidservants crouched on the boards, trembling. Duanmu Liang held the black iron truncheon, standing tall, with Prince Baili Ming, though pale, standing like a young pine tree behind him.

The bridge was bumpy, but the carriage's speed did not decrease, and in a moment, they had crossed a third of it.

Suddenly, a splash of water and a dazzling sword light emerged from the turbulent river, heading straight for Baili Ming.

Duanmu Liang swung his truncheon, took a small step forward, and shouted. Water splashed, and the sound of metal clashing echoed. A figure suddenly appeared in the air.

This was a young man with bright eyes, but his face was covered. His sword suddenly glowed and exploded. Duanmu Liang was startled and exclaimed, "Shattered Sword Mo Xian! You are Shattered Sword Mo Xian!"

Mo Xian, the sixth assassin of the Yama Hall, had never been seen by anyone, as his assassinations were always successful.

There were many more unknown experts from the Yama Hall.

Duanmu Liang had only heard rumors about him and never thought he would encounter Mo Xian. He knew Mo Xian's Shattered Sword technique but could not understand how a shattered sword could be effective.

As the light flashed, Duanmu Liang instinctively wanted to close his eyes but quickly realized he could not. He opened his eyes wide and saw Mo Xian's sword bloom like a flower.

In an instant, Duanmu Liang understood the essence of the Shattered Sword technique. He saw a smaller, finer sword emerge from the fragments, like the stamen of a flower, heading for his throat with a fierce beauty.

This was the essence of the Shattered Sword technique: it appeared to be one sword, but it contained another. The outer sword was specially treated and would explode when activated by internal energy, while the true, fatal strike was hidden within.

Duanmu Liang had no choice but to strike Mo Xian with his truncheon, ignoring the sword aimed at his throat.

He was not an ordinary person, and in this situation, his choice was correct. He aimed to take the enemy down with him, but he was wrong. If this move had worked, Mo Xian would not be feared for his Shattered Sword technique.

In that moment, Mo Xian's figure traced an odd arc, and Duanmu Liang's truncheon missed. Duanmu Liang felt a chill at his throat, and his strength drained away. His vision went dark, and his last thought was regret for the Marquis of Zheng.

Mo Xian turned his sword and saw Baili Ming, who was pale and dazed. The events had happened too quickly for Baili Ming to react. His mind was blank, and he was stunned by the sword light.

Just as Mo Xian was about to strike Baili Ming, he remained calm, like a reaper. He did not care who wanted Baili Ming dead; he was simply completing a task. The Yama Hall had paid in gold for Baili Ming's life, and he saw it as a routine matter.

"Namu Shakyamuni Buddha!" A loud chant echoed, and Mo Xian felt it everywhere, his senses overwhelmed, and his blood stirred.

He had never experienced such a situation but still focused on his task, thrusting his sword at Baili Ming. However, this strike lacked its usual finesse, being slow and full of flaws.

Baili Ming, though young, was Duanmu Liang's student. He had been momentarily stunned but now regained his senses, stepped back, and drew his sword, his eyes filled with hatred, parrying the strike.

Mo Xian's strike was far below his usual level, and he felt a chill. At that moment, he heard a wind behind him, and a massive aura pressed down on him. He knew someone was attacking from behind.

He moved in a curve, and a golden staff appeared in the air, coming from nowhere. Mo Xian was shocked; he had heard of Buddhist masters who could subdue dragons and tigers, but he never thought he would face them.

Mo Xian's sword, now like a mountain of blades, shot forward, but it could not withstand the staff. He was thrown into the air, spitting blood, and the black cloth covering his face was stained red.

Mo Xian splashed into the Luo River, and a trail of blood spread on the water's surface.

On the bridge, the Fire Dragon steeds' legs gave out, and they fell to the ground. The damaged carriage lurched forward, and the bridge shook violently. The two maidservants, who had been crouched on the carriage, were thrown into the air, screaming. Baili Ming, unable to maintain his balance, stumbled and fell off the bridge, heading toward the Luo River.

Zhong Yong, who was still fighting on the shore, saw this and his eyes widened in horror. He cried out, "Prince..."

At that moment, the golden staff suddenly glowed, and everything around it froze.

"Nam u Shakyamuni Buddha!" An old monk appeared, as if he belonged there, in the golden light, and extended his hand to catch the staff.

His face moved slightly, giving off a sense of grace, and in the midst of the chaos, it felt like a breath of fresh air. He paused, and the two maidservants and Baili Ming were suddenly back on the carriage.

The old monk looked kindly at Baili Ming, "Foolish child, wake up!"

Baili Ming was startled, as if he remembered something, and suddenly knelt down, "Disciple Huiming greets Master!"

The old monk laughed, "You remember, good! Good! You have returned from the trials! Let's go!"

Baili Ming, now Huiming, looked around, his face showing a struggle. He knelt before Duanmu Liang's body, "Great General, I will avenge you. Rest in peace!"

The old monk frowned and sighed, "The cycle of revenge will never end. I have freed you from the dust of the world, but you have entangled yourself in it again. What a curse!"

Huiming hesitated, "I have awakened to my past, but I must still face the karma of this life."

After saying this, he looked at Zhong Yong. The black-clad figures had quietly retreated when Mo Xian fell into the river. Zhong Yong was rushing to the bridge and, hearing this, became anxious, "Prince, why are you becoming a monk? Your father is waiting for you to return!"

"Human relationships are just the gathering and dispersing of causes and conditions," the old monk said, and he walked away, with Huiming following closely. Despite their slow pace, they disappeared at the other end of the bridge in an instant.

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