As though an old acquaintance had come

Prologue—

Leaden clouds, black as ink, hung low on the horizon. A mound of earth rose starkly from the boundless wasteland.

A wooden grave marker with a corner missing stood alone before the mound. Two words were carved upon it: Yang Qing.

A figure wrapped entirely in black held an exquisite wine cup and slowly poured its fine wine onto the ground.

"Today, I come to honor you before your grave. Someday, may I guide your soul back home."

Yan Prefecture City, Massacre Slope.

Yan Prefecture City lay where three kingdoms met and had been a battleground for rival armies since ancient times.

From Massacre Slope, one could look down over the whole Yan Prefecture City.

Scarface stood there with his broad-backed saber in hand, looking around as an inexplicable fear welled up inside him.

He had not felt this way in ten years.

"Scarface, long time no see."

A voice, as casual as an old friend exchanging greetings, reached Scarface's ears and sent a shudder through him.

That voice was like a venomous snake flicking its tongue with a hiss, coiling tightly around Scarface's heart.

For the first time in his life, Scarface felt his throat go dry.

Gulp!

He swallowed, then moved.

His broad-backed saber flashed through the sunlight like a startled swan, striking at the person behind him with the speed of lightning.

A hand rose, a blade fell, blood flashed!

Thud!

After crossing past the swordsman, Scarface's knees buckled, and he dropped straight to the ground.

A blood-red flower slowly bloomed upon his chest.

The sword was withdrawn and slid into its sheath.

Cradling his sword, Bu Er silently stepped aside.

Yang Qing reached up and removed his veiled hat, then slowly bent down to meet Scarface's eyes, which had little light left in them.

"Massacre Slope, where men of violence lie buried. Do you still remember the two hundred lives you destroyed ten years ago? Now, I've come to collect."

Yan Prefecture City, First Pavilion.

The First Pavilion had always been the favorite gathering place of Yan Prefecture City's scholars and poets. Many came here to enjoy lively conversation.

Today, it was even livelier than usual.

There was only one reason: Scarface, the notorious bandit whose name made everyone in Yan Prefecture City pale, had been killed with a single sword thrust on Massacre Slope yesterday!

"Have you all heard? Someone made short work of Scarface yesterday!"

"Tsk, tsk! I heard the man pierced his heart with just one thrust! Such skill, such speed—truly worthy of admiration! What a satisfying end!"

While the conversation raged on one side, a man sat silently by a window on the other, saying nothing.

He seemed not to hear the commotion at all.

His head was turned slightly toward the window, his gaze fixed on a narrow lane beside the First Pavilion.

Earlier, an utterly unremarkable carriage had driven into that lane. A short while later, it had come out again.

Only after the carriage had rolled away and vanished completely from sight did the man by the window silently withdraw his gaze.

The discussion of Scarface's death continued. The men talked and gestured, spittle flying as their faces lit up with excitement.

"Tell me, Scarface ran rampant all his life, only to meet a miserable end. Could someone have come to take revenge?"

"Revenge?" The listeners exchanged looks.

Scarface's vicious reputation was known far and wide, and countless wronged souls had died beneath his blade. But who had the courage to seek him out for revenge?

Never mind facing Scarface himself—his murderous underlings alone could make people tremble at the mention of them and silence a child crying in the night.

Who would be reckless enough to court death by crossing him?

"You've all heard, haven't you? Our Yan Prefecture City is about to welcome another military governor! Guess what our new governor's name is?"

The speaker paused with an air of great mystery.

"Who is it? Come on, tell us!" Everyone nearby pricked up their ears.

Delighted with the atmosphere he had created, the man gave a smug little cough before speaking again. "Why should the Qiang flute lament the willows? The spring wind never crosses Jade Gate Pass."

"Lament the willows... willows... ah! Could our new military governor's surname be Yang?"

Everyone nearby drew in a sharp breath. Even the man who had been sitting by the window turned his gaze toward the speaker surrounded by the crowd.

"Could this Lord Yang have something to do with the Yang Family of Little Willow Lane..."

The thought rose in everyone's minds, but they quickly forced it back down.

Ten years had passed. Was such a thing possible?

Silence settled over them. At last, the man who had first raised the subject broke the oppressive mood. "It's only idle talk. Why take it seriously?"

"Exactly, exactly. It might just be a coincidence."

The interrupted conversation resumed.

But the matter of the Yang Family was set aside, and no one mentioned it again.

At some point, the man by the window had quietly left. No one knew where he had gone.

Yan Prefecture government office.

Yang Qing stood with his head tilted up, his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the plaque above the County Office entrance. He seemed lost in it, remaining motionless for a long while.

Bu Er stood behind Yang Qing, his sword cradled in his arms, his face unsmiling.

He was still a child, but the taut lines of his face and eyes as still as stagnant water forcibly diminished his youthful air.

"Don't stand here blocking the officials' work. Move along, move along!"

The guard at the entrance had watched the two black-clad men stand there like wooden posts for ages without moving, so he came forward to drive them away.

Shing! The sword left its sheath. A cold gleam flashed, and the blade settled soundlessly on the guard's shoulder. One flick of Bu Er's wrist would send his head elsewhere.

"How d-dare you brandish weapons outside the County Office?"

The guard shouted at the top of his lungs to bolster his courage, only to discover that the boy did not so much as lift an eyelid. Instead, the icy sword tip pressed a little closer to his neck.

"Who are you? Why are you causing trouble outside the County Office?" Dai Sheng hurried out from the inner hall, his expression hostile.

Bu Er stepped forward and took a bright yellow silk scroll from inside his robe.

At the sight of it, Dai Sheng was greatly startled and dropped to his knees, prostrating himself. "Long live our emperor! Ten thousand years, ten thousand upon ten thousand years!"

"The military governor? You are Lord Yang, our newly appointed military governor?"

Dai Sheng's smile spread until his face nearly blossomed like a flower. "Oh dear, this truly is a flood washing through the Dragon King's temple—our own people failing to recognize one another! Please do not hold my subordinate's discourtesy against him, Lord Yang. This humble official is Dai Sheng, the county magistrate here in Yan Prefecture."

As Dai Sheng nodded and bowed to Yang Qing, he shot the guard a vicious glare. "You blind dog! Get out of here!"

Yang Qing stood to one side. His gaze lingered casually on Dai Sheng for only an instant, yet it immediately made Dai Sheng's back stiffen.

Dai Sheng managed a stiff bob of his head, tugged at the corners of his mouth, and struggled to recover his voice. "Lord Yang, shall we go inside?"

Yang Qing gave him another look, his expression hovering between a smile and no smile. "There's no hurry. I hear you persuaded that notorious bandit Scarface to submit, Lord Dai?"

Dai Sheng raised a hand to wipe his forehead. "Oh, hardly. Vicious criminals like Scarface must be torn out by the roots. I merely used that as a pretext, and have now had that villain beheaded!"

Then he abruptly changed the subject. "Lord Yang, you must be weary from your journey. Why not let this humble official arrange your lodgings?"

"No need. I shall stay at the Yang Residence in Little Willow Lane."

As soon as Yang Qing spoke, he saw the smile freeze completely on Dai Sheng's face. "Where did you say you would be staying, my lord?"

"The Yang Residence in Little Willow Lane!"

"My lord, you cannot stay there. You absolutely cannot! This humble official will find you another place at once."

Cold sweat suddenly rained down Dai Sheng's forehead. No matter how often he wiped it with his sleeve, he could not wipe it all away.

"My surname is Yang as well. Why can't I stay at the Yang Residence?"

"That is a place of terrible ill omen!"