Chapter 1: The Young Swordsman

Clad in a black robe and carrying a long wooden case on his back, Qin Xuan strode calmly out of Jinling Railway Station. His short hair was fresh and neat, his features strikingly handsome, and his eyes were sharp yet serene, as though nothing around him could disturb his composure.

In no time, Qin Xuan drew the attention of many passersby. Who could help but stare at such an unusual figure?

While he was observing his surroundings, a middle-aged driver suddenly stepped in front of him.

“Young man, over here! Come, come, where are you headed?” The driver was effusive, smiling broadly as he pulled Qin Xuan toward a red taxi by the roadside.

Although Qin Xuan had just come down from the deep mountains, he understood well enough that this was simply a taxi driver seeking fares. Since he had planned to take a taxi anyway, he followed the man.

He settled into the front passenger seat, but the driver lingered outside, still beaming as he asked, “Where to, young man? I’ll call a couple more passengers and then we’ll set off.”

Qin Xuan frowned slightly, instantly realizing that the driver wanted to pick up more people for extra profit.

At the end of August, this was a common sight outside Jinling Railway Station. Though he was slightly displeased, Qin Xuan merely uttered four quiet words: “Qixia Manor.”

The driver’s smile faltered.

“What? Qixia Manor?”

Qin Xuan nodded.

“You’re not a student?” The man had thought he was a new student to Jinling—after all, Qin Xuan looked no more than seventeen or eighteen. His attire was odd, but he was a fine-looking youth, his eyes still carrying a trace of innocence.

Qin Xuan shook his head. “No. Let’s go quickly, I’m in a hurry.”

To his surprise, the driver immediately changed his tune.

“No, I won’t go. No one else is headed toward Qixia Manor. You’ll have to get out; I’ll find someone else.”

Glancing at the driver’s weathered face, Qin Xuan’s lips curled in a faint smile. “Sir, isn’t this unreasonable? You took me into your car, and now you say you won’t go?”

The driver sighed. “Ah, times are hard. Young man, you’d best find another car…”

Suddenly, his eyes widened in surprise.

For Qin Xuan had drawn two crisp one-hundred-yuan bills from his pocket and waved them in front of the driver. “Is this enough? Qixia Manor isn’t far—make sure we get there in half an hour.”

The driver swallowed hard and snatched the bills with a grin, climbing into the driver’s seat.

“Heh, young man. You must have urgent business. All right, I’ll take you there. Don’t worry, Qixia Manor isn’t far from the station, and I know a shortcut.”

The red taxi roared to life.

Qin Xuan couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. The power of money was greater than he had expected. He couldn’t really fault the driver; the whole fabric of society had changed, and those who refused to go with the tide were simply left behind.

“Young man, where are you from? You don’t look like someone from Jinling.”

“Sichuan,” Qin Xuan replied simply.

He hailed from Mount Shu, a native of Sichuan, though he had lived deep in the mountains all his life.

“Oh? That’s quite far. What brings you to Jinling?”

“I’m looking for someone,” Qin Xuan answered briefly.

He was on a mission. But unlike his past duties—slaying monsters and demons, sword in hand—this time, his task was to protect some important person, which left him rather disappointed.

As the sole orthodox heir to the Mount Shu Sword Sect, Qin Xuan was well-versed in the rules of his order: respect your master, cherish filial piety above all; act with chivalry, and aid the world. If he refused this mission, his master would surely discipline him harshly…

“Is there someone you know at Qixia Manor?” the driver asked, puzzled.

“No,” Qin Xuan replied.

“Then why…”

The driver was even more bewildered, but he thought better of asking further—Qixia Manor was no ordinary place.

He focused on his driving. Soon the taxi turned onto a remote side road, with not a soul in sight on either side.

“Sir, this road?” Qin Xuan asked, somewhat curious.

“Aren’t you in a hurry? This way, we can avoid detours—it’s a bit remote, but it’ll save us twenty minutes,” the driver replied with a smile.

Qin Xuan examined the road and saw it was growing ever more desolate. The path was rough and narrow, barely wide enough for a single car. Still, as long as he reached Qixia Manor quickly, the route didn’t matter.

“According to reliable sources, the suspect in the serial killings, Zhou Daqiang, is now at large in our city. We urge all citizens to stay vigilant and take care when out and about.” The sweet voice of a newscaster reported from the car radio, but neither man paid it any mind.

The driver chuckled. “I heard that Zhou Daqiang killed several people out of province—there’s a manhunt everywhere. If we ran into him and reported it, we could get a hefty reward.”

Qin Xuan made no comment. With millions living in Jinling, what were the chances of running into this Zhou Daqiang?

Suddenly, both men felt the car lurch violently—and then—

The engine died.

The driver cursed and stomped on the gas, then sighed. “Young man, the car’s broken down. I’ll have to check it. Come on out, it’ll just take a few minutes—this old car always acts up.”

With no other choice, Qin Xuan stepped out as instructed.

A cool summer breeze blew as Qin Xuan stood by the roadside and surveyed the area. There wasn’t another person in sight. The road was flanked by abandoned factories—utterly deserted.

The driver began inspecting the car. Suddenly, Qin Xuan frowned.

“Help…” The cry for help was abruptly cut off, but it carried clearly on the wind to Qin Xuan’s ears. As a swordsman of great attainment, his hearing far surpassed that of ordinary people.

“I’ll go take a look over there,” Qin Xuan said, pointing to the gate of one of the abandoned factories.

“Why go over there? The car will be fixed in a few minutes…” The driver hadn’t finished speaking before he saw Qin Xuan walking toward the factory entrance, his face etched with confusion, unable to guess what the young man was up to.

…

Qin Xuan entered the gates of the abandoned factory, thinking to himself: Could I have stumbled into a kidnapping?

As a swordsman sworn to justice, he knew he must intervene. It might not fit with the ways of the modern world, but it was what his master had always taught him: if you have the ability, you must uphold justice.

“Taiching, are you lonely? It’s our time to take the stage,” Qin Xuan murmured with a smile as he stepped into the factory, patting the long wooden case on his back. It held the sword of the Mount Shu Sect, the Taiching Sword.

Mount Shu had always passed down its legacy from master to disciple, two at a time. The Taiching Sword was the disciple’s to carry—a weapon of legend, almost sentient from centuries of use. But when Qin Xuan patted the case, the sword gave no response. He was used to this and paid it no mind.

Following the direction of the woman’s voice, Qin Xuan stepped into one of the workshops. He had barely entered when a rough male voice, cursing and muttering, rang out.

“Damn it, someone actually came to this godforsaken place? You brat, you’re looking for death! Don’t blame me for what happens next!”

Immediately after came the crack of a gunshot.

Bang!

Qin Xuan’s pupils contracted sharply. He could feel—the shot was aimed directly at him!