Mystic Dragon Fifth Tier, Crimson Wind Colt

In the twelfth lunar month of the 24th year of Jiajing, a north wind whipped up snowflakes, making the iron wind chimes on the eaves of the manor clatter.

Zhao Tieying could now walk slowly, leaning on the corridor pillars. His gaunt face finally had a bit of color—the "Pulse Renewing and Qi Solidifying Pills" from the Imperial Hospital were indeed well-deserved, costing five thousand taels of silver but managing to save his life.

Lin Zhao watched his staggering figure, a heavy stone in his heart finally falling away. "It seems the authorities, though rigid in their ways, are not entirely useless."

Since Tie Shan's execution, the "Night Raven Tower" he had been wary of had remained silent. No assassins had appeared, nor had any unusual spies been spotted.

"Could they be scared? Or are they planning something bigger?" Lin Zhao wondered, but he had no intention of passively waiting any longer—he was no longer the youth who, months ago, needed three Mystic Arm Snow Apes to tie down his enemies.

With Zhao Tieying's health improving, the previously arranged procurement of Crimson Wind Colts was finally settled.

On the last day of the month, Zhao Tieying's former subordinates arrived at the manor with five spirited horses. The horses were entirely crimson, their manes like flames, and their hooves seemed to stir up a restless energy as they struck the ground. These were indeed Crimson Wind Colts from Crimson Soil Slope.

Lin Zhao immediately went to the stables and let his fingertips brush over the horses' necks.

A gentle Internal Breath flowed slowly from his Dantian, using the "Heart of Beast Taming" to connect with the horses' minds. He instantly perceived the source of their restlessness—it wasn't the rumored "Tatar curses," but rather that the horses, having grown up on the grasslands, were naturally spirited. Ordinary beast tamers would only use whips for forceful taming, which only made them more defiant.

"Taming them like this is no different from driving cattle. How could they understand?" He dismissed the beast tamer, personally fetched alfalfa, and fed the horses a mixture of beast essence and warm water.

The Crimson Wind Colts initially bared their teeth in resistance, but under the soothing influence of his gentle Internal Breath, they gradually relaxed their guard and even nudged his hand.

In less than half a day, the first Crimson Wind Colt was tamed, and the remaining four submitted within two days.

"Issue an order to the blacksmith shop to expedite the forging of Mystic Iron Internal Breath mounted armor. The armor plates are to be thickened by three inches, the edges sharpened, and a Heart Mirror embedded in the breastplate." Lin Zhao gazed at the docile Crimson Wind Colts, a fierce glint in his eyes—with such warhorses, forming a cavalry in the future would at least double their combat power.

The manor's storerooms were now abundant, with a continuous supply of Mystic Iron ore and the three thousand taels of silver confiscated from Ai Tie Shan's property, enough to support subsequent procurement and forging.

The winter wind in the twelfth lunar month grew fiercer, yet the manor's quiet room was filled with warmth.

Lin Zhao sat cross-legged on a meditation cushion. The Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique surged within his Dantian, washing through his meridians repeatedly along the Extraordinary Meridians. Ever since breaking through the Blood Poison Spider Breathing Technique in late autumn, he had been fully focused on reaching the fifth level of the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique, and today was finally the day of success.

"Hah!"

With a low grunt, his Internal Breath exploded in his Dantian and then spread through his meridians to his head and neck.

He raised his hand and touched his cheek. A faint, dark halo now covered his skin. His fingertips felt a metallic hardness—the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique, fifth level achieved!

Lin Zhao—

Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique: Fifth Level (1/30000), Special Effect: Intermediate Body Protection Qi.

This "Intermediate Body Protection Qi" was several times stronger than the initial stage. Previously, his Internal Breath could only cover his arms, but now it extended to his head, neck, and torso. If he pushed it to its limit, the faint dark halo could even block ordinary sword slashes. Even if struck, it would only leave a shallow mark.

Combined with the two layers of chainmail and the Mystic Iron Heart Mirror he wore, unless it was a strike from a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior, no one could easily injure him.

"If I encounter another peak Entering Martial Master like Ai Tie Shan, I won't need poison, nor the help of the three Mystic Arm Snow Apes. I can kill him with my bare hands!" Lin Zhao clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white.

Now, possessing the Black Bear's "Basic Divine Strength," the Mystic Wolf's "Swiftness," the Blood Poison Spider's "Vibration Sense and Intuition," and the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique's "Intermediate Body Protection Qi," his four attributes were no longer simple additions—they had undergone a qualitative change!

Across the martial world, among those of the same generation, it would be hard to find another with such comprehensive cultivation.

Even the peak Martial Masters of the "Night Raven Tower" could now be easily dealt with by him; only the five "Night Raven Tower Lords" level grand experts would require him to temporarily avoid their sharp edge.

On the sixteenth of the twelfth lunar month, snow fell heavily.

Lin Zhao was no longer willing to wait—passive defense was not a long-term solution. To eliminate future troubles, he had to proactively dismantle the "Night Raven Tower's" strongholds.

He summoned Zhao Tieying and entrusted him with the affairs of the territory one by one. "I leave the management of the manor's order to you. Continue with the iron ore and blacksmith shop as planned. The Mystic Arm Snow Apes will be under your command for now. If there are any disturbances, have them protect the inner courtyard and prevent any unauthorized personnel from approaching the quiet room or the dungeon." He also instructed the steward to prepare provisions and medical supplies for his return.

After nightfall, Lin Zhao changed into dark, close-fitting attire, a Dragon Vein Mystic Iron Dagger and a medicine pouch at his waist. The pouch contained three vials each of Thousand Mechanism Blood Poison and Xuanji Spider Poison, along with several packets of finely ground Qi Breaking Powder.

He put on the already prepared Mystic Iron Rakshasa Mask. The mask's edges were inlaid with hair-thin dark gold, which could both prevent poison and protect his face. He leaped out of the manor's high wall, his figure quickly disappearing into the wind and snow.

Three days later, he arrived at Zhenbei Prefecture city.

The snow at the city gate was ankle-deep, and many refugees huddled beneath the walls, some already frozen stiff and uncollected.

"Could it be that the border Tatars have raided again, coupled with a snow disaster, forcing the farmers to flee?" Lin Zhao frowned—he had been in seclusion for months and was unaware of the outside changes.

He did not head directly to the "Night Raven Tower's" stronghold but instead turned into the "Xuanyao Tavern" in the southern part of the city.

The tavern was warm, with a roaring charcoal stove. A singer strummed a pipa, softly singing "Ballad of the Frontier," while the patrons laughed and talked loudly, a stark contrast to the miserable scene outside the gate.

The doorman, seeing him wearing a mask, was not surprised. He handed Lin Zhao a pot of warm plum blossom wine. "Guest, this is our newly brewed plum blossom wine. We've steeped it with Angelica Sinensis slices; it warms the body—may you have the courage of the Snow Ridge General who single-handedly charged into the Tatar camp back then!"

Lin Zhao took the wine pot and scanned the patrons inside—his purpose here was to first probe for information at this tavern, to see if the recent disturbances in Zhenbei Prefecture were related to the "Night Raven Tower."

The rule at Xuanyao Tavern was to finish a pot of plum blossom wine. The wine was warmed by charcoal, and the mellow taste of Angelica Sinensis mixed with the clarity of plum blossoms. It was sharp on the palate but had a strong aftertaste, much like the character of the "Snow Ridge General" thirty years ago.

Legend had it that the Snow Ridge General hailed from the Northern Frontier Garrison. He was born during a snowstorm in June and later, with a single Cold Iron saber, charged into the Tatar camp alone, killing dozens, becoming a legend among the people of Zhenbei Prefecture.

Lin Zhao took the wine pot and tilted it back, drinking it dry.

As the wine flowed down his throat, warmth spread through his esophagus, yet the fine hairs on his body stood on end—the Blood Poison Spider's "Subtle Sense" was fully active, perceiving everything within the tavern: the clatter of dice on the table to the east, the vibration of the pipa strings from the singer to the west, the sound of the kitchen helper's knife cutting through the air, and even the faint rustle of the leather sheath as the man next to him secretly reached for his dagger, all were as clear as a painting.

"It's quite like the 'locating by sound' that martial artists speak of, only more precise. I can even sense the trajectory of vibrations." He found a seat by the window, tapping his fingers on the wine cup, listening to the idle chatter of the bounty hunters at the next table, his gaze, however, passed through the windowpane to the huddled refugees on the street.

From dusk until midnight, Lin Zhao absorbed a flood of information, finally piecing together the cause and effect.

Those refugees freezing to death on the streets had mostly fled from the Northern Frontier. Since the 22nd year of Jiajing, the Northern Frontier had grown colder year by year. The black soil, which could previously be cultivated with difficulty, cracked open from the frost. Even the Tatar tribes could not endure and had begun migrating south; even more terrifying were the rumors of the "Northern Frontier Snow Fiend."

Some refugees said that the blizzards in the Northern Frontier contained a pale, malevolent energy, shaped like a giant beast, which froze anything it touched. Many tribes had been buried under the snow, their bodies found frozen solid when dug out.

At first, no one believed it, but as more refugees arrived, and even the constables in Zhenbei Prefecture found frozen merchants and travelers on the outskirts of the city, the Taoist priests from the Celestial Masters' Manor stepped forward, declaring it the work of the "Northern Frontier Snow Fiend," a retribution for the world's disrespect towards the Heavenly Dao.

"To avoid disaster, you must donate silver to build temples, chant the 'Fiend Dispelling Sutra' daily, and obtain a 'Fiend Dispelling Talisman' to receive the Heavenly Dao's protection."

Lin Zhao recalled the sight of the Taoist priests banging wooden fish and soliciting donations when he passed the Celestial Masters' Manor during the day. He let out a cold laugh—this was no different from how the White Lotus Society had extorted money using "evil spirits" back then, merely changing the guise to "Heavenly Dao." The so-called "Fiend Dispelling Talisman" was nothing more than yellow paper mixed with cinnabar, utterly useless.

The Zhenbei Prefecture is in turmoil. Wealthy gentry have already fled to Jiangnan, and even the prefect is secretly packing his belongings, preparing to resign.

"The world is heading for chaos," Lin Zhao sighed, a thought stirring within him. With more refugees, the price of servants would surely plummet. It would be a good time to add manpower to his territory, filling the gaps in the iron mine and mill.

At midnight, Lin Zhao approached the "Commission Wall" in a corner of the Drunken Immortal Tower. He picked up a charcoal pencil and wrote a line: "Seeking to purchase the Mystic Ice Technique or any other complete cultivation method. Rewards for lower-tier methods start at fifty taels of silver. If it's a high-tier method, add another hundred taels—interested parties, please contact 'Rakshasa Shen Luo' through the Xuanyao Tavern's proprietor."

He didn't expect to actually find the Mystic Ice Technique, but it was worth a shot. He had already mastered four methods, and one more would give him more confidence, especially a body-refining technique that could complement the Black Bear Strength.

After finishing the commission, he turned and left the Xuanyao Tavern, his figure quickly disappearing into the alley shrouded in wind and snow.

No one was in the alley. Lin Zhao circulated the Bone Softening Technique, his bones creaking slightly. His body actually grew half a foot taller, and his shoulders broadened a few inches. This was the "Bone Shrinking and Shape Shifting" ability of the Bone Softening Technique, which could temporarily alter one's appearance to avoid recognition.

He took out the Mystic Iron Rakshasa Mask from his embrace, its interior lined with anti-toxin silk brocade. The Fine Steel sword at his waist was a "Frost Condensation Sword" he had forged himself. The blade was cast with black gold the size of a baby's fist, costing a full two hundred taels of silver. It was designed to withstand the triple impact of the "Vibrating Entanglement Force," preventing a repeat of his previous sword breaking.

"Once Uncle Zhao recovers, I'll have to forge him a suitable sword too." He touched the scabbard, thinking of Zhao Tieying's old abdominal wound. He then took out two small bottles from his medicine pouch. One bottle of "Mystic Orb Spider Poison" was lightly applied to the sword's edge; it dissolved upon contact with blood, sealing death with a single drop.

The other bottle, "Thousand Mechanism Blood Poison," was hidden in his sleeve. Crushing it would release a poisonous mist to obscure the enemy's vision.

A cold glint flashed as the poison on the sword's edge shimmered with a faint blue luster, exuding a deadly chill under the snow light.

South of Zhenbei Prefecture lay an abandoned garrison. It was built during the Yongle Era to defend against the Tatars. Later, the border shifted south, and the garrison fell into disuse, neglected for years and rumored to be haunted.

But no one knew that this was the Night Raven Tower's stronghold in Zhenbei Prefecture.

Inside the garrison, candlelight flickered.

On the training ground, over a dozen youths practiced assassination techniques. Their faces were numb, but their movements were vicious, each strike aimed at vital points like the throat and chest.

Beside the field, a man in a black robe was reading from a Night Raven Treasure Scroll: "With the night as its sheath, the blade as its heart, those who abandon the mundane gain dark power, those who cast aside pity acquire killing skills—only by disregarding life and death can one become a servant of the Lord of the Netherworld and learn supreme assassination arts."

This was the stronghold's "Instructor," a high-level Entering Martial Master, responsible for training assassin apprentices and managing intelligence.

He had just finished writing a secret letter and tied it to a pigeon's leg. The letter stated that the Gold Rank Assassin, Iron Mountain, was still missing. Scouts sent to Qixia Valley reported everything was normal, suggesting Iron Mountain had been greedy for merit, disregarded the assassination mission, and gone elsewhere to pillage.

"With Iron Mountain's skill, if he had truly gone to Qixia Valley, Lin Zhao would have been a corpse by now," the Instructor sneered, releasing the pigeon.

As the pigeon took flight, a "whoosh" was heard. A black gold feathered arrow pierced its body, the fletching carrying blood as it embedded itself in the wall.

The Instructor spun around abruptly. At the end of the garrison's long corridor, a figure wearing a Rakshasa mask slowly emerged. The hem of his black robe was still dusted with snow. Behind him lay the bodies of two gatekeepers, blood blooming in dark red stains on the snow. The wounds on their necks were clean, clearly a swift kill.

"Who are you? How dare you trespass into a Night Raven Tower stronghold!" the Instructor reached for the dagger at his waist, his voice trembling. Someone who could kill two gatekeepers silently was undoubtedly no weaker than him.

Beneath the Rakshasa mask, Lin Zhao's voice was as cold as ice, carrying the chill of the snowy night: "I am here to take your lives and purge this Night Raven nest."

The Frost Condensation Sword was unsheathed, its light reflecting the candlelight, casting a shifting, cold shadow on the ground. Tonight, this hidden stronghold would be brought to light. The debt the Night Raven Tower owed him would finally begin to be repaid.