The clamor of the Drunken Immortal Tower gradually faded beneath the cool night breeze. With a faint haze of wine and the excitement and worry lingering from the feast, everyone headed home. Ye Yun did not return to his lodgings directly. Instead, he turned and walked toward the familiar blacksmith shop in the western part of the city.
The shop's furnace had gone cold, leaving only the anvil and tools in the corner, silently reflecting the chill moonlight. By the glow of an oil lamp, the old blacksmith carefully wiped down the last few finished pieces with a coarse cloth. Hearing footsteps, he looked up, a knowing smile appearing on his wrinkled face.
"Head Constable Ye, just in time. What you asked for is ready." As he spoke, the old blacksmith turned and took a long, narrow object, carefully wrapped in thick oilcloth, from the wooden rack behind him.
He unwrapped the oilcloth layer by layer, his movements solemn. When he lifted the last layer, twelve throwing knives lay in neat rows on the soft velvet lining.
Ye Yun's gaze was instantly drawn to them. The knives were about three inches long, their shape simple and streamlined. They had no unnecessary ornamentation, yet exuded a chilling killing intent. Their blades were not the gray-white of ordinary iron, but a deep, inky black, achieved through special tempering and repeated forging, as though they could absorb the light around them. Only the edges, thin as cicada wings, reflected a concentrated line of cold light beneath the dim oil lamp, so sharp they seemed capable of slicing through one's gaze.
Ye Yun reached out, careful not to touch the edges, and felt their icy sharpness from a hair's breadth away. A faint sting prickled his fingertips, the instinctive response to such pure sharpness. He picked one up. It felt slightly heavy in his hand, its center of gravity perfectly balanced at the midpoint, making it easy to use at will, whether for throwing or blocking at close range. As his fingertip traced the blade's cold, smooth surface, a long-lost familiarity welled up, as though it were an extension of his own body. These were more than weapons; they felt like a part of his strength, dormant for a long time, finally awakened and returned to his control.
"Fine work!" Ye Yun praised sincerely, his eyes flashing.
"Heh, you flatter me." The old blacksmith stroked his grizzled beard, a trace of pride in his eyes. "They're made of top-grade Cold Iron, folded and forged nine times. I quenched them using an old recipe, with Cold Spring Water and Beast's Heart Blood. I can't say they'll cut through gold and split jade, but they'll pierce ordinary leather armor and tear through muscle and bone without a doubt. Those edges are just too sharp, so be careful when you use them."
Ye Yun nodded in satisfaction and promptly paid the remaining balance. He wrapped the knives back in oilcloth and carefully secured all twelve black blades in a specially made leather sheath at his waist. Their cold metal pressed against his abdomen through the thin fabric, giving him a reassuring sense of weight and a faint aura of slaughter. With them, he felt a firm confidence settle in his heart as he prepared to venture into the unknown mountain forest the next day.
At dawn the following morning, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, seven or eight figures had already gathered beneath the old locust tree by the agreed-upon city gate. There were Yan Xiao Liu, Ye Yun, and several constables who had been eager to join in at the feast the previous day. Everyone had made ample preparations. Their expressions held both anticipation for the adventure and a hint of unconcealed nervousness.
Their equipment was first-rate. Each had a polished regulation saber hanging at his waist and wore soft armor sewn from several layers of treated animal hide. It was not as sturdy as iron armor, but it was light and flexible, enough to resist the bites of ordinary beasts and the scratches of thorny brush. Three men also carried hunting bows, their quivers full of arrows, and sturdy hemp ropes and snares in their hands, clearly meant for handling large prey or climbing. Each man carried a bulging pack filled with necessities like dried food, fresh water, fire starters, and medicine.
As the newly appointed head constable and the only 9th Rank martial artist, Yan Xiao Liu naturally stood in the center. He had changed into a more practical outfit, with a long saber at his waist. He looked confident and imposing. Ye Yun, by contrast, was far more understated. He wore plain dark gray clothes with no ornamentation, but his gaze was calm and his aura restrained, giving him a reassuring presence.
Just as everyone was counting heads and preparing to depart, Zhao Si came running from the direction of the city gate, panting. "Wait! Wait for me!" To everyone's surprise, two unfamiliar middle-aged men followed behind him.
The moment the pair appeared, they drew everyone's attention. They were dressed plainly, like common traveling merchants or hunters, though their fabric seemed of finer quality, cleanly washed and neatly pressed. One was tall and gaunt, with sallow skin, prominent cheekbones, and narrow eyes half-lidded. As his gaze swept over the group, it carried a scrutinizing air, like a falcon sizing up its prey on the ground. The other was short, stout, and silent, his face expressionless. Yet the exposed muscles of his neck and forearms stood out in knots, brimming with explosive strength.
"Zhao Si, who are these two?" Yan Xiao Liu asked, frowning in confusion. The others also looked at the newcomers with curiosity and caution.
Zhao Si hurriedly put on a smile and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Head Constable Yan, brothers, don't take it the wrong way. These are Brother Li San and Brother Wang Wu. I met them while doing business in the provincial capital. They've traveled far and wide, and they're reliable hands!" He paused and gestured toward the tall, gaunt man and the short, stocky one. "They've come here to search the depths of the Sunset Mountains for a rare herb called Crimson Star Grass. They say it only grows in certain treacherous places. When they heard we were heading into the mountains too, they wanted to join us so we could look out for one another."
Seeing that the others still looked doubtful, he hurriedly added, "Don't worry! The two brothers said we can split everything we find in the mountains, whether it's game or other herbs. They only want the Crimson Star Grass. If they can't find it, they won't complain; they'll just consider it traveling together and making a friend! And the two brothers are more than capable!"
Ye Yun's gaze swept over the pair unobtrusively. The tall, gaunt man, Li San, had a steady breath and sharp eyes. A cold, restrained energy flowed faintly within him—he was unmistakably at the peak of the 9th Rank! Wang Wu, the short, stout man, had an even heavier, more imposing presence. He stood like a boulder, surrounded by an invisible pressure far stronger than Yan Xiao Liu's. He was a martial artist who had only recently entered the 8th Rank!
A faint, viper-like malice radiated from the two men, making Ye Yun instinctively uneasy. A subtle, hard-to-describe Killing Intent clung to them, nothing like what one would expect from ordinary merchants or hunters. But Ye Yun's thoughts raced. He was already at the 8th Rank, and no ordinary 8th Rank at that. Even if the two men tried anything, he was confident he could keep the situation under control. The assurance his strength gave him allowed him to set aside his doubts for now.
Yan Xiao Liu also studied the pair carefully. Having only just entered the 9th Rank, his senses were not as keen as Ye Yun's. He merely felt that the two men had steady auras and strong steps, and certainly seemed to know martial arts. Besides, Zhao Si had vouched for them, and they had offered such "generous" terms: all the spoils would go to their group, while the newcomers wanted only a herb they might not even find. By the looks of it, his side was getting the better deal. He was an easygoing man who also desperately needed resources, so he nodded. "Since they're friends of Brother Zhao Si's and they've come in good faith, then let's go together! We'll look out for each other in the mountains!"
"Many thanks, Head Constable Yan!" Li San cupped his hands. His voice was hoarse, and he forced a somewhat stiff smile. Wang Wu merely gave a muffled nod in greeting.
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