In the 24th Year of Jiajing, during the winter month, the north wind swept broken snowflakes along, making the iron bells beneath the manor's eaves jingle incessantly.
Zhao Tieying could already walk slowly while supporting himself on the corridor pillars. At last, a hint of color had returned to his gaunt face—the Imperial Hospital's Pulse Renewing and Qi Solidifying Pills had indeed lived up to their reputation. Though they had cost five thousand taels of silver, they had finally preserved his life.
Watching his staggering back, the huge stone in Lin Zhao's heart finally fell to the ground. "It seems the authorities may be rigid in their ways, but they are not entirely useless."
Since Iron Mountain had been executed, the Night Raven Tower he had guarded against every day had shown no further movement. No assassins came calling, nor were there any suspicious eyes spying on him.
Could they be afraid? Or are they holding back some bigger move? Lin Zhao was puzzled, but he had no intention of passively waiting any longer—he was no longer the youth from several months ago who had needed three Mystic Arm Snow Apes to hold his enemies at bay.
As Zhao Tieying's health improved, the procurement of Crimson Wind Colts that had been arranged earlier finally came through as well.
At the end of the month, Zhao Tieying's old subordinates drove five fierce steeds to the manor. Their bodies were wholly crimson, their manes burned like fire, and even their hooves carried a restless energy when they struck the ground. They were Crimson Wind Colts produced in Crimson Soil Slope.
Lin Zhao immediately went to the stables and ran his fingers over their necks.
The gentle inner breath in his dantian circulated slowly. Using the Heart of Beast Taming to draw upon the horses' minds, he instantly sensed the source of their agitation—it was not the rumored "Tatar curse," but rather that these horses had grown up on the grasslands and were accustomed to a fierce temperament. Ordinary beast tamers only knew how to break them with whips, which merely provoked their wild natures further.
"Training horses like that is no different from driving cattle. What do they know?" He had the beast tamers withdraw, then personally fetched alfalfa feed and mixed demonic beast essence blood into warm water to feed the horses.
At first, the Crimson Wind Colts bared their teeth in resistance. Yet under the soothing touch of his warm, gentle inner breath, they gradually relaxed their guard and even took the initiative to nuzzle his palm.
In less than half a day, the first Crimson Wind Colt had been tamed, and the remaining four submitted within two days as well.
"Pass down my order. Have the Blacksmith Shop hurry the forging of Mystic Iron inner-breath-equipped horse armor. Make the armor plates three inches thicker, grind blade edges onto them, and embed Heart Mirrors into the breastplates." Lin Zhao looked at the docile Crimson Wind Colts, a fierce glint flashing through his eyes—with such warhorses, if he formed a cavalry force in the future, its combat strength would at least double.
The manor's storehouses were now well stocked. There was a steady supply of Mystic Iron ore, along with the three thousand taels of silver seized from Ai Tieshan's household. It was enough to support the purchases and forging to come.
The cold wind of the twelfth lunar month grew fiercer, yet the manor's quiet chamber was filled with warmth.
Lin Zhao sat cross-legged upon a meditation cushion. The Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique surged through his dantian like a tide, washing through the Extraordinary Meridians again and again. Since breaking through the Blood Poison Spider Breathing Technique in late autumn, he had thrown all his strength into attacking the fifth tier of the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique. The day of success had finally arrived.
"Hah!"
With a low shout, his inner breath exploded within his dantian, then spread through his meridians to his head and neck.
He raised a hand and ran it over his cheek. A faint black sheen had appeared over the surface of his skin, and his fingertips met a texture like metal and stone—fifth-tier Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique achieved!
Lin Zhao—
Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique: Fifth Tier (1/30000), Special Effect: Intermediate Protective Gang Qi.
This Intermediate Protective Gang Qi was several times stronger than its initial stage. Previously, his inner breath could only cover both arms; now it had spread to his head, neck, and torso. If he pushed the technique to its limit, the faint black sheen could even block the chops of ordinary steel blades. Even if struck, it would leave only shallow marks.
Combined with the two layers of chainmail on his body and the Mystic Iron Heart Mirror, no one beneath a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior could hope to injure him easily.
"If I meet someone like Ai Tieshan, a peak Entering Martial Master, again, I will not need poison or the aid of three Mystic Arm Snow Apes. With these bare palms alone, I can kill him beneath them!" Lin Zhao clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white.
He now possessed the Black Bear's Primary Divine Strength, the Mystic Wolf's swiftness, the Blood Poison Spider's vibration sense and spiritual perception, plus the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique's Intermediate Protective Gang Qi. His four attributes were no longer merely stacked together—they had undergone a qualitative transformation!
Looking across the martial world, there was likely not another person of his generation with such all-around cultivation.
Even a Peak Martial Master from the Night Raven Tower would be easy for him to handle now. Only those five great experts at the level of the Night Raven Tower Master required him to temporarily avoid their edge.
On the sixteenth of the twelfth lunar month, snow filled the sky.
Lin Zhao was no longer willing to wait—passive defense could never be a long-term solution. If he wanted to eradicate all future trouble, he could only take the initiative and overturn the Night Raven Tower's stronghold.
He summoned Zhao Tieying and entrusted the territory's affairs to him one by one. "The order within the manor will be in your care. Proceed with the iron mine and Blacksmith Shop according to the original plan. The Mystic Arm Snow Apes will temporarily be under your command. If anything unusual happens, have them guard the inner courtyard. Do not let idle people approach the quiet chamber or dungeon." He also instructed the steward to prepare provisions and medicine for wounds, ready to receive him upon his return.
After nightfall, Lin Zhao changed into black fitted clothes. At his waist hung the Dragon Vein Mystic Iron Dagger and a medicine pouch—within it were three doses each of Thousand Mechanism Blood Poison and Xuanji Spider Poison, along with several packets of ground Qi-Breaking poison powder.
He put on the Mystic Iron Rakshasa Mask he had prepared long ago. Fine strands of Black Gold were set around the mask's edges; it could ward off poison and protect his face. He vaulted over the manor's high wall, and his figure swiftly vanished into the wind and snow.
Three days later, he arrived at Zhenbei Prefecture City.
Snow at the city gates reached past his ankles. Quite a few refugees were curled up beneath the walls, some already frozen stiff, with no one to collect their bodies.
"Could the Tatar have raided the border again, and the snow disaster driven the farmers into exile?" Lin Zhao frowned. He had secluded himself for months and had not known of the changes outside.
Rather than heading directly for the Night Raven Tower's stronghold, he turned into Xuanyao Tavern in the south of the city.
Warmth filled the tavern. Charcoal burned brightly in copper braziers, singing girls cradled pipa as they softly sang "Song of the Frontier," and drinkers laughed and chatted loudly. It was as different from the misery outside as heaven was from earth.
Though the doorman saw that he wore a mask, he showed no surprise. He handed him a pot of warm plum blossom wine. "Honored guest, this is our tavern's newly brewed plum blossom wine. Angelica Sinensis slices have been steeped in it, and it will warm your body after you drink it—may you possess the courage of the Snow Ridge General, who once rode alone into the Tatar main camp!"
Lin Zhao accepted the wine pot, his gaze sweeping across the tavern's patrons. His purpose in coming here was to first sound out the news at this Drunken Immortal Tower and see whether Zhenbei Prefecture's recent disturbances had anything to do with the Night Raven Tower.
Xuanyao Tavern had a rule: one had to finish an entire pot of plum blossom wine. The wine was thoroughly warmed over charcoal, and the richness of Angelica Sinensis mingled with the clarity of plum blossoms. It entered the mouth with a biting chill, yet its aftereffects were strong—just like the temperament of the Snow Ridge General from thirty years ago.
Legend said that the Snow Ridge General had come from the Northern Frontier Garrison. When he was born, snow had fallen in the sixth month. Later, armed with only a cold iron saber, he rode alone into the Tatar main camp and slew dozens of enemies, becoming a legend in the mouths of Zhenbei Prefecture's people.
Lin Zhao took the wine pot and drained it in one gulp.
The liquor slid down his throat, warmth spreading through his esophagus, but every hair on his body quietly stood on end—the Blood Poison Spider's Subtle Vibration Sense was fully activated, taking in every movement within the tavern. The clatter of dice at the eastern tables, the vibration of the singing girls' pipa strings to the west, the whistle of kitchen hands' blades slicing vegetables in the rear kitchen—even the faint scrape of a leather sheath when a man at the next table secretly reached for the dagger at his waist—all became clear as a painting.
"It does have a little of what martial folk call 'locating positions by sound,' except it is even more precise. I can even perceive the paths of vibrations." He found a seat by the window, tapped his fingers against his wine cup, and listened to the bounty hunters at the next table chatting, while his gaze passed through the window lattice and fell upon the refugees curled up in the street.
From dusk until midnight, Lin Zhao heard news enough to fill his ears, finally sorting out the chain of events.
Most of those refugees freezing to death in the streets had fled from the Northern Frontier. Since the 22nd Year of Jiajing, the Northern Frontier had grown colder year by year. The black earth that had barely supported cultivation froze until it cracked, and even the Tatar tribes could no longer endure it, migrating south one after another. More terrifying still were the rumors of the Northern Frontier Snow Fiend.
Some refugees said that pale baleful intent lurked within Northern Frontier blizzards, shaped like enormous beasts. A touch would freeze one solid. Many entire tribes had been buried beneath the snow, and when their corpses were dug out, they had already become ice sculptures.
At first, no one believed it. But as more and more refugees arrived, even Zhenbei Prefecture's constables found frozen merchants and travelers in the outskirts. The Celestial Masters' Manor's Daoists then stepped forward and declared that the Northern Frontier Snow Fiend was causing trouble, a punishment for the world's failure to respect the Heavenly Dao.
"To escape this calamity, you must donate silver to build temples, recite the Fiend Dispelling Scripture every day, and seek a Fiend Dispelling Talisman. Only then may you receive the Heavenly Dao's protection."
Lin Zhao recalled the Daoists he had passed during the day, beating wooden fish as they solicited donations outside the Celestial Masters' Manor, and sneered. This was exactly like how the White Lotus Society had gathered wealth through "demons and evil spirits" in those days. They had merely put on a new skin called the Heavenly Dao. Those so-called Fiend Dispelling Talismans were nothing but yellow paper mixed with cinnabar, utterly useless.
Zhenbei Prefecture was now gripped by panic. Wealthy gentry had long since migrated to Jiangnan, and even the prefect was secretly packing up his valuables, preparing to resign from office.
"Chaotic times are coming." Lin Zhao sighed softly, but a thought stirred in his heart—the more refugees there were, the more servant prices would plummet. It was the perfect chance to add hands to his territory and fill the vacancies at the iron mine and mill.
At midnight, Lin Zhao walked to the "commission wall" in a corner of Drunken Immortal Tower. He took down a charcoal pencil and wrote a line: "Seeking to purchase the Mystic Ice Technique or other complete cultivation methods. Rewards for Lower Grade methods start at fifty taels of silver; for Upper Grade methods, an additional hundred taels will be offered. Those interested, please contact 'Rakshasa Shen Luo' through the Xuanyao Tavern proprietor."
He did not expect to truly find the Mystic Ice Technique. He was merely trying his luck—he had now learned four techniques, and one more technique meant one more measure of confidence, especially a body-tempering method that could complement Black Bear Strength.
After writing the commission, he turned and left Xuanyao Tavern, his figure soon disappearing into an alley amid the wind and snow.
The alley was empty. Lin Zhao activated the Bone Softening Technique, and his bones gave faint cracks. His body actually grew half a foot taller, while his shoulders broadened by several inches—this was the Bone Shrinking Shapeshifting ability of the Bone Softening Technique, allowing him to temporarily alter his physique and appearance to avoid being recognized.
He took the Mystic Iron Rakshasa Mask from his robes, its inner side lined with poison-proof brocade. The steel sword at his waist was the Frost Condensation Sword he had forged himself. A fist-sized piece of Black Gold had been fused into its blade, costing a full two hundred taels of silver, all so it could withstand the Third Tier impact of Vibrating Entangling Strength and avoid repeating the disaster of his sword breaking last time.
"Once Uncle Zhao recovers, I should forge him a sword that suits his hand as well." He stroked the scabbard, recalling Zhao Tieying's old abdominal wound. Then he took out two small bottles from his medicine pouch—he lightly coated the blade with Xuanji Spider Poison from one bottle. It dissolved upon meeting blood, Blood Sealing Death;
The other bottle of Thousand Mechanism Blood Poison was hidden in his sleeve. Crush it, and it would release a poisonous mist capable of blocking an enemy's sight.
A cold gleam flashed. The poison on the blade shone with a faint blue radiance, revealing a fatal chill beneath the snowlight.
South of Zhenbei Prefecture stood an abandoned garrison. It had been built during the Yongle Era to defend against the Tatar, but after the border shifted south, the garrison had been abandoned. No one paid it any mind year-round, and rumors even claimed it was haunted.
Yet no one knew that this was precisely the Night Raven Tower's stronghold in Zhenbei Prefecture.
Within the garrison, candle flames flickered.
In the training ground, more than a dozen youths practiced assassination techniques. Their faces were numb, yet their movements were vicious, every strike aimed at vital points such as the throat and heart.
At the edge of the grounds, a black-robed man held a copy of the Night Raven Treasure Scroll and recited, "Take night as your sheath and the blade as your heart. Those who abandon the mundane gain hidden strength; those who cast away mercy attain killing arts—only by placing life and death beyond all concern may one become a servant of the Lord of the Netherworld and learn the supreme art of assassination."
He was the stronghold's instructor, a high-level Entering Martial Master. He was responsible for training assassin apprentices and managing the transmission of intelligence.
He had just finished writing a secret letter and tied it to a carrier pigeon's leg. The letter said that Gold Rank Assassin Iron Mountain had still sent no word, while the spies sent to Qixia Valley reported only that everything in the territory was normal. Iron Mountain had likely been greedy for merit, failed to take the assassination mission seriously, and gone elsewhere to plunder.
"With Iron Mountain's skill, if he had truly gone to Qixia Valley, Lin Zhao should have been a corpse long ago." The instructor sneered and raised his hand to release the pigeon.
The pigeon had barely left the ground when a sharp whoosh rang out. A Black Gold-feathered arrow pierced through its body, its feathers pinning it to the wall with blood.
The instructor spun around. At the far end of the garrison corridor, a figure wearing a Rakshasa mask slowly emerged. Snow still clung to the hem of his black robe. Two gatekeepers' corpses lay behind him, blood spreading in dark-red marks across the snow. The wounds at their necks were smooth and level; clearly, each had been slain with a single sword stroke to the throat.
"Who are you? How dare you break into a Night Raven Tower stronghold!" The instructor reached for the dagger at his waist, his voice trembling. Anyone who could silently kill two gatekeepers possessed cultivation no weaker than his own.
Behind the Rakshasa mask, Lin Zhao's voice was cold as ice, carrying the chill of a snowy night. "I have come to take your lives, to purge this Night Raven nest."
The Frost Condensation Sword left its sheath. Sword light reflected the candles and cast swaying, icy shadows across the ground—tonight, this stronghold hidden in darkness would be brought into the light; and the debt the Night Raven Tower owed him would begin to be repaid.
Before you continue