Chapter 3: Drinking Bl00d

A little over ten miles south of Yaocheng sat a modest county called Pingxian. Though small in size, it sat squarely on the critical route that linked the Southern Official Road to the north, connecting directly to Yaocheng and even Bianjing beyond.

Because of this, Pingxian bustled far more than its size suggested. Street stalls lined the roads, hawkers shouted for customers, and travelers from all walks of life passed through. Unlike Yaocheng, which—despite its status—was tightly monitored by military watch and heavily influenced by both Shuanglongmen and Qingfengzhai, Pingxian had a looser air. It was the kind of place where unsavory business could be done without too many questions asked. Over time, this seemingly quiet town turned into a haven where all manner of people—righteous or rogue—mingled without fear or formality.

That evening, Pingxian’s largest inn—Linfu Inn—was alive with its usual chaos. The main hall hummed with conversation and the sound of dice clattering on tables. Within that lively crowd, two men stepped through the entrance one after another. They carried themselves with grace and quiet confidence—one draped in black, the other in white. Their hats were veiled to obscure their faces, and both had long objects wrapped in plain white cloth strapped to their backs.

The old-timers seated inside instantly noticed. Though their eyes flickered with curiosity, none openly reacted. In a place like this, you learned early not to stare too long. The inn’s waiter, more practiced than most, quickly hurried over to greet the guests with a practiced smile and ushered them to a table by the window.

Once seated, the two removed their veils halfway, revealing none other than Yao Chuan and Lin Yi.

Yao Chuan downed two bowls of plain water before finally relaxing. When he looked up, he caught sight of Lin Yi sipping his wine as if it were some rare elixir sent from heaven.

He scoffed. “We’ll be heading off-road once we leave this county. No inns, no rest stops, barely a tea shed to speak of. You might want to fill up while you can, Shaozhai Master.”

Lin Yi looked up, smiling faintly. “Appreciate the reminder, Brother Yao. It’s truly my good fortune to travel with someone as experienced as yourself. After this, why not visit Qingfengzhai for a few days? I’ll treat you to better wine and better company.”

Yao Chuan snorted, unimpressed. “I won’t trouble the young master. Once this mission is done, I’ll head back to Bianjing. I’ve been gone half a year. Time I returned to see my juniors.”

Lin Yi chuckled. “We’ll speak of it later then.”

After their meal, the sky outside had turned a dusky shade of purple, and it was clear they wouldn’t be traveling any farther that day. They called for the innkeeper and asked for two rooms.

The inn’s second attendant bowed deeply and gave an apologetic grin. “Ah, what terrible timing, gentlemen! A group of tea merchants was turned away from Yaocheng tonight because of the curfew. They’re all lodged here now. I’m afraid there’s only one room left.”

Yao Chuan narrowed his eyes but saw the situation was exactly as described—every table full, the hallway brimming with guests. Just as he opened his mouth to ask about other inns nearby, Lin Yi stepped in with that usual relaxed grace.

“No need to make it complicated,” he said smoothly. “We’re used to traveling rough. One room will do.”

The innkeeper beamed and led them upstairs.

Lin Yi gave a mock-bow and gestured toward the staircase. “After you, Brother Yao.”

Yao Chuan saw something in Lin Yi’s eyes that made him pause—there was intent behind that politeness. Still, he said nothing and made his way up.

Their room was simple: a bed by the window, a square table in the center. Not much more.

Yao Chuan walked in and sat down at the table without ceremony. “No need for games. Just say what’s on your mind.”

Lin Yi pointed to the long bundle on the table. “I want to see your blade.”

Yao Chuan didn’t respond right away, so Lin Yi continued, “You don’t need to pretend with me. Everyone in the pugilist world knows that Shuanglongmen’s legacy lies in both its palm and blade—the source of its name. Before your master became chief helmsman, he was renowned for his swordsmanship, particularly with a certain blade that made his name echo throughout the martial realm. Then suddenly… he abandoned it. Now only palm techniques and standard sword routines are taught. Ever wonder why that is?”

Yao Chuan narrowed his eyes. “You already know the answer, don’t you?”

After a moment, he said flatly, “Yes, this is the Bl00d-Drinking Blade. And yes—you’ve seen it before.”

Lin Yi’s breath hitched. “Then what Master Fang said…”

“What Master says is never wrong,” Yao Chuan cut in. Then, with a decisive motion, he unwrapped the white cloth around the weapon.

Layer after layer came off before the weapon finally emerged. The scabbard was simple—plain rosewood, no embellishments. Yet it exuded a chilling weight, as if it had tasted bl00d many times and remembered every drop.

Lin Yi instantly recognized it. Even though he’d only seen it once, as a child accompanying his father to Bianjing… that memory was seared into him. The one who had wielded the blade back then—was Yao Chuan.

Before he could stop himself, Lin Yi reached out toward the weapon.

But in a flash, Yao Chuan’s hand gripped his wrist with steely force.

At the same time, Yao Chuan flicked a porcelain cup off the table with his other hand. The cup shot through the air like a bullet and shattered the window. A shadow had just darted past it.

They locked eyes.

Yao Chuan grabbed his blade and muttered, “Stay here. Could be a trap. I’ll chase.” Then he leapt out the window.

Yao Chuan’s qinggong was among the best in the martial world, yet even now, he found himself at a disadvantage. The figure ahead—a short, stocky man wrapped in black—moved with startling speed, weaving through trees like a ghost in the wind. As soon as he entered the forest, his movement became almost liquid, flowing through terrain like it was home ground.

Yao Chuan gave chase, but unease crept into his heart.

Could this be a decoy? he thought grimly. A ploy to pull me away? If they’ve laid a trap behind us...

Just then, the wind shifted.

A strange, delicate scent floated through the air.

Faint, sweet, but with something unnatural beneath. Familiar.

Yao Chuan’s heart skipped a beat.

That scent… he had definitely smelled it before.

But where?