Wanted Poster

Wanted Poster

Yan Kingdom, a roadside tea stall.

Dark clouds blanketed the sky, gales howled, and rain poured down in sheets.

Inside the tea stall, an old man in coarse brown clothes fiddled with a battered abacus.

A waiter with a hemp cloth draped over his hand listlessly served tea from an old kettle.

Three to five customers, sheltering from the rain, took occasional sips of weak tea.

Suddenly, a burly man with a broadsword at his waist smacked his lips and shouted, "Shopkeeper, do you have any good wine here? I can't stomach this damn tea!"

"Sir, you've come at the wrong time. This is a tea stall. We don't serve alcohol."

The waiter was wiping down a table. Hearing the shout, he refused without even turning around, but his attitude truly angered the man.

Bang!

The sword-bearing man glared with tiger eyes. His rough, callused hands seemed to have been trained in some external martial art as he slammed the table, nearly shaking it apart.

The waiter's hair stood on end. He turned around indignantly and drew a breath, wanting to put on a brave front, but the sight of that executioner's blade immediately made his hands go weak and drained his courage.

At the old tea stall owner's meaningful glance, he could only apologize in a muffled voice.

"If you don't want tea, then get out and drink the rain."

A richly dressed young man at the next table had his peace disturbed by the loud commotion. With a cold snort, he spoke mockingly.

"Pretty boy, are you looking to challenge me?"

The burly man narrowed his eyes, his large hands reaching for the hilt of his sword. He was a martial wanderer who lived by the blade, ready to draw steel at the slightest disagreement.

"How arrogant. My sword isn't dull either!"

The richly dressed young man set down his teacup. With a clang, the treasured sword on the table slid halfway from its sheath, exposing a gleaming snowy blade.

"My little shop can't afford to survive you two tearing it apart."

Just as a bloody brawl, the sort martial folk loved to see, was about to begin, the old tea stall owner let out a long sigh. His withered fingers picked up two abacus beads.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The two beads turned into streaks of light, striking the broadsword and treasured sword respectively. Both weapons were knocked flying into the rain outside.

Rain quickly soaked the two blades that had nearly drawn blood. Droplets slid down their edges, splashing up tiny sprays.

"This is... Innate internal force!"

The burly man's eyes widened. His Adam's apple bobbed, and the hand that had held his sword was still numb.

"So there is a senior of the martial world living in seclusion here. This junior has been disrespectful!"

The richly dressed young man's eyes lit up instead. He had barely counted as acting righteously just now; perhaps by chance, he could form a good connection with this Innate Realm senior.

Seeing both men yield in turn, the old tea stall owner neither pursued the matter nor favored either side.

He merely shook his head and sighed. "Why are all the younger generation in Yan Kingdom's martial world so disappointing these days? I haven't seen a single one capable of accomplishing great things!"

"Heh heh heh, Sir, this finger-flicking technique of yours is called Sand-Shifting Shadow, isn't it? It reminds me of a famous martial expert from decades ago."

From the deepest part of the tea stall, a middle-aged man in a gray robe spoke leisurely. The old tea stall owner revealed a surprised expression; someone had actually recognized his technique. This man was clearly well-informed.

Seeing everyone's puzzled looks, the middle-aged man rather humbly revealed his background.

"I am one of this generation's Martial World Storytellers."

The Martial World Storytellers were a reclusive martial sect of Yan Kingdom, passing down their legacy through a single line. They knew the martial world's strange tales and anecdotes, and the Divine Weapon Manual they compiled was a ranking countless experts wished to enter.

For that meant making a name for oneself and achieving fame and success—the moment every wandering martial hero dreamed of.

"I seem to have made it onto the previous generation's storyteller's Divine Weapon Manual as well. Unfortunately, I ranked near the bottom and could not compare to those geniuses."

The old tea stall owner's gaze wavered and grew somewhat clouded, as though he had recalled the storms of bygone days—the martial world that had once belonged to him.

"Sir, please do not belittle yourself. Reaching the Innate Realm is something countless martial artists can only dream of, and you even made it onto my master's Divine Weapon Manual. You must have been a genius hero in your day!"

The storyteller cupped his hands with respect, then changed the subject. "Earlier, you said that Yan Kingdom's martial world has no outstanding youngsters in this generation. This junior happens to have some new information for you."

"Oh? Then I would be glad to hear it. If you tell it well, I won't charge you for tea."

The old tea stall owner looked intrigued.

The burly man and the richly dressed young man, who had nearly fought earlier, also quietly sat back down and pricked up their ears.

"Today, Yan Kingdom's martial world has three exceptionally talented young experts. They appeared out of nowhere and, in just a few months, challenged several notorious sects. Their methods were extremely ruthless, and all the chief villains were executed. Since then, they have risen to fame throughout the martial world!"

"The sects all shared the same master behind them: the current King of Yan's younger brother, Great General Yan Wuxu!"

As soon as the storyteller finished speaking, the people present frowned slightly. Yan Wuxu's reputation in the martial world was notoriously foul.

"Yan Wuxu, the one who cultivates an evil art and harvests yin to replenish yang? Since women who cultivate martial arts provide better nourishment, the lackeys of those sects under his command have captured no one knew how many female martial heroes. Those who resisted even had their entire families exterminated!"

"Now that his lackeys have been slain, it is simply karmic retribution!"

The richly dressed young man's eyes widened slightly. He came from a martial family and was well-informed, and a trace of satisfaction appeared on his face.

"And that bastard Yan Wuxu—if not for the Yan Kingdom Imperial Guard protecting him and his own formidable martial arts, someone would have killed him long ago!"

The burly man also snorted, thinking that if he had the chance to kill the man, he would immediately become famous.

"Does Yan Wuxu have a ranking on the Divine Weapon Manual?"

The old tea stall owner narrowed his eyes and asked as if casually.

"Yan Wuxu ranks third on the Divine Weapon Manual. Through his evil harvesting art, his internal energy is said to possess two hundred years of cultivation. He practices a secret martial art passed down by the Yan Kingdom royal family, and his protective energy can repel water and fire. Even a barrage of ten thousand arrows could not harm him in the slightest before his internal force was exhausted."

The storyteller sighed. The Divine Weapon Manual judged only strength; even a monstrous villain could be listed.

"But recently, Yan Wuxu has been forced into hiding and has not dared step outside the Great General's Manor. Rumor has it that he can barely eat."

"What? Could it have been those three?"

"That's right!"

"How could the younger generation possess experts like that? Could some martial legend from the past have put on a disguise to rid the martial world of evil?"

"Storyteller, you still haven't said whether those three are ranked on the Divine Weapon Manual, or what titles they use!"

"Hahaha, based on those three's current achievements alone, they have already entered the top ten of the Divine Weapon Manual. They are known as..."

The chatter in the tea stall drifted away with the wind and rain.

A dozen or so kilometers from the tea stall stood the royal capital of Yan Kingdom. Imperial Guards patrolled the tall, solid walls with wary expressions.

A captain carried a stack of wanted posters and distributed them.

Soon, wanted posters were pasted along the city walls and throughout the city. They depicted two women and one man; although all wore masks, their figures and bearing had been rendered vividly.

"Mystic Sound Divine Sword, Flying Demoness, Fire Ghost Freak!"

"Capture any one of these three, dead or alive, and receive ten thousand gold plus the rank of Thousand Commander! Even reporting their whereabouts will earn a reward of a thousand gold!"

At the city gate, an armored soldier held up a wanted poster. His booming voice carried far into the distance.

A black-robed figure suddenly squeezed out from the watching crowd. Fine golden light coiled around his fingers. With a slight downward press, he pinned the armored soldier in place from afar, leaving him unable to move.

He walked over, tore down a wanted poster, and looked it over. Then he approached the soldier, removed his hat, and revealed a savage ghost mask.

"Fire Ghost Freak..."

The armored soldier's legs began to tremble, his face filled with horror.

"Who the hell came up with these nicknames? Why am I the freak?"

The black-robed man cursed, punched the soldier unconscious, then lightly tapped the ground with his feet. Afterimages flickered around him as he ignored the hundreds of soldiers rushing to surround him and headed straight into the city.

An alarm was immediately raised atop the walls. Several carrier pigeons were released, circling through the wind and rain as they flew in one direction.

(End of Chapter)