After listening to Chen Ying’s briefing, Lu Sheng’s brows tightened into a hard knot. The case echoed the massacre of Brother Xu Daoran’s family in Nine Links City—an unresolved tragedy that still weighed on his mind.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone present, he closed his eyes and sank into deep thought. Only after a long breath did he slowly open them again.
“Alright, I’ll take on this case. But I can’t guarantee I’ll solve it. If I fail, I’ll return this position within a year.”
A trace of helplessness flickered across Chen Ying’s gaze. Even the two Deputy Sect Masters had not dared accept Wu San’s case—yet this young lad was stepping forward?
“That’s settled then,” Sect Master Hong Mingzi laughed heartily. “The newborn calf fears no tiger. Brother Lu, since you’ve accepted the post, then if things go awry, be ready to withdraw early. Losing another Wu San is the last thing we want.”
Lu Sheng nodded.
After further discussion, they finalized the scope of authority and estate under Lu Sheng’s command.
It consisted of roughly three hundred elite saber-wielders, numerous stores within Mountain-Edge City, over ten farming villas outside the city, several oil refineries, and—most crucial of all—blacksmith and artisan workshops. More than ten of each, dedicated to forging weapons and tools for the sect’s disciples.
Wu San’s holdings were not vast, but they were indispensable to the sect. That alone explained why even Deputy Sect Master Gongsun Zhanglan had tried to interfere in their reassignment.
Of course, Lu Sheng could not yet command these assets freely. For now, he could only mobilize a portion of them to investigate the iron mine case. Only by resolving it could he truly be considered the legitimate External Affairs Emissary.
Once the meeting concluded, the group dispersed. Internal Affairs Emissary Elder Wang approached Lu Sheng and brought him aboard his own carriage toward Mountain-Edge City.
Inside the carriage, Elder Wang formally explained his family’s connection to the Heart-Shattering Palm.
“The iron mine case is a real headache. Brother Lu, you must look before you leap—don’t act rashly. As for the Heart-Shattering Palm… this old man wishes to ask: did you learn your version from a man named Zhang Xun in Nine Links City?”
Lu Sheng nodded. “Indeed. Senior Constable Zhang Xun imparted it to me.”
“No wonder. Zhang Xun was once a disciple of mine. I never paid him much attention—he lacked talent and promise. And now he’s reached Strength Proficiency… unbelievable…” Elder Wang sighed. “In my life, I’ve taken in only a few disciples. Yet none of the ones I had high hopes for amounted to anything. Instead, the one I overlooked ended up achieving something.”
“Elder Brother Wang has done exactly as the saying goes—‘a casually planted willow has grown into shade,’” Lu Sheng said with a light laugh.
“Perhaps,” Elder Wang murmured, shaking his head. “Brother Lu, I sought you out to ask—would you be interested in learning the Wang Family’s orthodox Heart-Shattering Palm?”
“What does Elder Wang mean?” Lu Sheng’s brow rose. He knew the orthodox version was a Wang Family heirloom. Agreeing would no doubt come with conditions. In this world, nothing came without a price.
“My elder brother has a daughter; young, pretty, well-figured…”
Before Elder Wang could finish, Lu Sheng’s expression froze into stiff awkwardness.
“Hold it, Elder Wang, hold it,” Lu Sheng quickly waved his hands. “I’m still young and don’t want to think about marriage yet. When I’ve made something of myself in the martial world, that will be the right time to consider such matters.”
Disappointment washed over Elder Wang’s face. One look at Lu Sheng told him the young man was truly unwilling. With a sigh, he let the matter drop. Wu San’s case was still unsolved, and even among the Black Calamities, it was a hornet’s nest. A single misstep could cost this young Brother Lu his life. Elder Wang quietly lamented—had Lu Sheng not accepted the assignment, his elder brother might still have intervened. But now, the die was cast.
Their conversation drifted back to martial arts. Elder Wang found himself inspired by Lu Sheng’s insights, and his admiration for the young man only deepened.
Lu Sheng, in turn, gained a broader understanding of the current pugilistic world—the various sects and factions, how to handle different situations, the sensitive issues best avoided, and much more.
By the time he arrived back at his apartment in Mountain-Edge City, night had already settled. After a brief meditation, he retired to rest.
At dawn’s first light, a man named Duan Meng’an—one of Wu San’s direct subordinates—appeared at his door with a group of men.
When Lu Sheng opened the door, he found two neat rows of sturdily built, tanned men standing before him. The sky had yet to brighten, yet the entire group bowed in unison.
“We pay our respects, Boss!”
Their shout rolled through the room like thunder, causing even the roof beams to tremble.
Standing in the doorway, staring at the gray-robed men addressing him as “boss” with such vigor, Lu Sheng briefly felt as though he had become the head of a criminal syndicate.
“In the future, call me… erm… what did you used to call Wu San?”
The crew-cut man at the front stepped forward. “In reply to your question, Boss, we called him Boss Wu!”
Lu Sheng’s face tightened. Imagining people shouting “Boss Lu” wherever he went was unbearable.
“From now on, just call me Young Master or Lord.”
Duan Meng’an scratched his head. “In that case, we’d better call you Young Master. ‘Lord’ is for the old court officials.”
“That works,” Lu Sheng said with a nod. “Let’s head out. Tell me about the forces I can deploy on the way.”
The group swiftly descended the stairs and stepped onto the street. Some mounted horses, others walked. Lu Sheng and Duan Meng’an boarded a horse carriage.
“Among the forces Young Master can command,” Duan Meng’an reported, “there are four Strength Proficiency experts—including myself—thirty-two ordinary experts, and the rest are average sect disciples. Our numbers have taken heavy losses, and after Boss Wu passed, much of his estate was seized by other Internal Affairs Emissaries. Only the iron mines and a few related properties remain. We’re a bit stretched thin… we beg your understanding, Young Master.”
“And how do I deploy them? A code? A command token? Or something else?” Lu Sheng asked.
“This is your command token, which also serves as your seal. Our branch is the 6th Black Soil Division. All brothers under the Black Soil Division must obey you the moment they see this token, Young Master,” Duan Meng’an explained as he produced a bronze command token.
Lu Sheng accepted it and examined it closely. The token was palm-sized, shaped like a fish, its surface carved with intricate pine trees and rice ear motifs—a craftsman’s touch evident in every line.
As Duan Meng’an continued his briefing, the carriage rolled out of Mountain-Edge City. Two rows of men bearing the Crimson Whale Sect’s flags flanked the carriage, escorting it toward the iron mine mountain.
The sky slowly brightened, though a pall of heaviness hung overhead. Thick, brooding clouds gathered, casting a dull gray over the land.
After traveling for nearly an hour outside the city, the carriage entered a stretch of blackish-yellow soil. Stone pits dotted both sides of the path, appearing at irregular intervals.
They resembled craters left by massive explosions—some over ten meters wide, others only several meters across, but all gouged deep into the earth.
Lu Sheng narrowed his eyes at the scene outside the window, his mood dipping slightly.
“Why are there so many pits here?” He sniffed at the air. A faint smell of decay drifted by, sharp and unpleasant, reminiscent of rotting flesh.
Duan Meng’an glanced outside. “Young Master, these used to be stone quarries. The stones were taken to build houses in Mountain-Edge City. Later, for reasons unknown, the area was abandoned, leaving behind these pits.”
Lu Sheng nodded. “How far are we from the iron mine mountain?”
“Roughly halfway there.”
“No rush. Just notify me when we arrive,” Lu Sheng said, his tone casual.
“Yes,” Duan Meng’an responded, leaning closer to the window to keep track of the path.
The carriage moved past the desolate quarry area and soon entered a region of rolling hills blanketed by small white flowers. In stark contrast to the stone pits, the hills looked fresh and vibrant, brimming with life.
The group pressed forward. Near noon, they finally reached the region where the Crimson Whale Sect’s iron mountain was situated.
Here, the sect had constructed rows of small wooden huts to house supervisors, miners, and the disciples assigned to oversee operations. Once bustling, these huts formed a small settlement known as Iron Mine Village.
This was their destination.
The wheels clattered steadily as the carriage approached. Lu Sheng sat by the window, resting with closed eyes, until Duan Meng’an gently roused him.
“Young Master, we’re entering Iron Mine Village now.”
Lu Sheng opened his eyes and leaned toward the window, looking outside.
The carriage rolled past a manor enclosed by a tall, weathered wall. Blotches of discoloration mottled the grayish-white surface, giving it an air of decay and long neglect. No figures lingered nearby; the entire place exuded a cold, desolate stillness.
The road curved around the manor, forcing the carriage to change direction. As they made the turn, Lu Sheng looked toward the estate. Within those silent walls, there was only emptiness—so quiet it felt as though no living thing had breathed there for years.
“This is the Song Manor,” Duan Meng’an said, his voice low and drained of color. The contrast between his broad, muscular frame and the fear tightening his expression left a distinct impression on Lu Sheng.
“Oh? Song Manor… the one where the incident happened?” Lu Sheng asked.
“Yes, Young Master. Boss Wu entered this manor to investigate the incident. After that, he disappeared. Later, in the forest outside…” Duan Meng’an lowered his head, unable to look toward the manor. “The brothers with us today are all newcomers. They don’t know what happened. I’m the only one aware that this was the place that met with disaster. So please keep it quiet, Young Master.”
Lu Sheng narrowed his eyes, studying the manor as it slid past the window.
Soon, the carriage approached the main entrance.
The massive red-painted doors—doors that should have been tightly shut—were instead slightly ajar, a narrow gap yawning between them.
Lu Sheng leaned closer, peering through that sliver into the courtyard beyond.
Inside lay a forgotten garden: dried, rotting plants sagged lifelessly; fallen leaves carpeted the ground; barren tree limbs sprawled like skeletal fingers.
The manor was deserted. Not a single soul could be seen.
“This Song Manor has been deserted, hasn’t it?” Lu Sheng asked quietly.
“There used to be people living here—the eldest son, a scholar, and his younger sister. After the incident… I don’t know what became of them,” Duan Meng’an answered in a hushed tone.
“There doesn’t seem to be anyone,” Lu Sheng murmured as he continued observing through the shifting angle of the moving carriage.
A decayed tree trunk.
Windows coated thickly in dust.
A lone white lantern swaying under the heavy sky.
Pillars scarred and marred by age.
And then—on a small stone bridge—
A gray-robed scholar.
His hair hung in disarray. His eyes stared directly at the passing carriage.
Lu Sheng’s eyes widened. With his keen vision, he saw him clearly: a face drained of life, eyes bloodshot, expression empty. The scholar stood motionless like a corpse—save for the slow, deliberate blinking of his eyes.
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and then Add to home screen.