Da, da.
It was the sound of iron hooves striking the ground.
On a tall steed sat a burly man, his massive fra clad in heavy armor. The plating fit tightly, complenting his physique, as he wielded a long lance inverted, its tip nearly dragging the ground.
Behind him followed thirty or so attendants, all skilled cavalryn, his direct loyal guards brought from the Southern Border.
The Southern Border was ho to treacherous mountains and harsh terrain, plagued by miasma and lacking proper grounds to raise horses. Thus, warhorses were scarce. However, his retinue included cavalry, all elite soldiers—clearly indicating his exceptional status.
Qin Liancheng sat upright on horseback and spotted one of his valiant riders in the distance, decapitating a head with a curved blade.
"Quick horse speed, and precise execution. Liang has improved. His skills have progressed recently."
Qin Liancheng chatted with the surrounding riders, laughing.
"Second Young Master, you might not know, but Liang broke into the eighth rank just a few days ago," one of the valiant riders ntioned flatteringly.
Qin Liancheng snorted, "What do you an I don’t know? I knew two days ago. Otherwise, why would I risk military discipline to bring you out here for so fun?"
One rider, who was slightly more composed, heard this and replied worriedly, "If we’re discovered when we return later, wouldn’t that..."
Qin Liancheng waved dismissively, unconcerned. "What about it? Even if we’re discovered, are you worried I can’t protect you? I am also part of the Qin Family. Whatever disaster falls, I’ll bear it."
After his words, the group fell silent, turning their collective gaze to the rider who had just killed the woman with a single blade. The woman’s severed head rested quietly on the ground, while her body stood upright for a mont before collapsing slowly, blood pouring like a pillar, as if unwilling to accept death.
The rider whose blade tasted blood seed ready to whip his horse again.
"I’ve said it already—only when blood is spilled can it be called practicing martial arts. After coming all the way to the capital, drilling big n into suppressing their bloodlust under empty rules—what nonsense is this? Talking about military orders like mountains, refusing to harm even a thread—this grind-down of morale will ruin future warfare!"
Qin Liancheng spoke, pointing at the rider, venting his pent-up frustrations amidst laughter.
"Look at Liang now—his entire aura has transford..."
His words abruptly ceased.
A snowy, bright long sword streaked through the air, its light shocking. With a thunderous crash, it pierced through armor in an instant.
Blood exploded outward. The rider pinned by the sword flew off his horse as if nailed to the city wall by a giant crossbow, landing lifelessly on the ground.
Growing up alongside him, Qin Liancheng’s childhood companion lay dead. He stared angrily, his eyes ablaze.
For soone of noble lineage, every loyal soldier was akin to family.
But the thousand-households officer surnad Min looked emotionless, neither sad nor joyful.
As if saying, "What I killed—was your family."
Fierce malice flashed in Qin Liancheng’s eyes. Raising his hand, the thirty-so cavalryn lined up in formation, and he shouted aloud:
"Who goes there?"
The thousand-households officer did not answer, instead walking slowly to retrieve the blade nailed into the ground.
Qin Liancheng’s viciousness deepened. The Qin Family ruled the southern lands of Great Yu with iron and blood, and their offspring saw human lives as expendable. What was one dead comrade? Seeing that the thousand-households officer had made his killing intent obvious, he straightforwardly ordered:
"Kill without rcy."
Within the village, Min Ning noticed villagers fleeing in all directions. Looking to the side, he spotted a group of young children scattering like startled birds—so being carried away, others hiding. Only one farr’s child stood frozen, staring at his mother’s corpse, motionless.
The child’s playmates gritted their teeth and dashed forward, trying to drag him away. Yet he remained unmoving, like a soulless husk.
On the road before the young hero, thirty or so horsen had ford scattered groups. The skies were dimming, the cold winds cutting, and the brilliant red blood slowly darkened.
The child crouched down, facing the severed head, his mouth hanging open as if he were attempting to call his mother back to life.
The young hero rembered the day his own father died, how he too had reacted with that sa vacant stare, as if unable to comprehend what had transpired.
"Do not be afraid. My na is Min Ning, I am the thousand-households officer who taught Chen Qianhu martial arts," Min Ning finally spoke. "I will help you avenge her."
The child finally reacted, crying loudly.
The group of children tugged at him, pulling and dragging him into a nearby house.
From the edge of the window, little heads peeked out cautiously, trembling in fear yet unable to resist their curiosity. They watched Min Ning and the thirty-so riders fervently gearing to attack.
Terror gripped them all.
"You haven’t heard tales of Min Qianhu before? Then it’s not too late to listen now." Her voice was warm and comforting.
In the children’s eyes, they saw a young hero turning away, walking forward while unsheathing her Brocade Spring Blade, preparing to face thirty horsen alone.
In the distance, two riders were nearly shoulder-to-shoulder, charging onward. Starting with small steps, their pace accelerated steadily until, at thirty-so ters, their speed peaked. A lance and a blade glead coldly in the fading light.
First ca the spear’s unstoppable assault.
Min Ning’s form didn’t budge as she gripped the Brocade Spring Blade. Waiting until the rider closed the ten-ter distance, she abruptly struck with force, her blade exploding outward.
Crushing wind, slicing rain.
The blade cast brilliant arcs, slicing horizontally. The spear was pushed off course by the resulting gust and missed its mark, grazing her shoulder harmlessly. The rider’s expression turned to fright, realizing the blade had already pierced his armor.
His entire body crumpled like paper at the blade’s crease, folding before being felled to the ground.
His intestines spilled out.
The spear-wielding rider fell, while Min Ning appeared unaffected. As she hadn’t yet turned around, another rider saw the opening and slashed with a curved blade from behind, its edge gleaming dangerously.
Min Ning suddenly ducked, avoiding the strike, before slashing upwards.
It had been a deliberate bait.
The rider’s face twisted in panic as the rising blade ca from below, overwhelming him. He leapt backward desperately, falling off his horse, barely escaping the deadly strike. Before he could raise his blade and recover, another blade ca slicing through the air.
The blade drove through his throat. He died instantly, unable to even utter a single word.
Two riders fell quickly and effortlessly. The remaining horsen were struck by fear, the scent of blood unnerving their steeds as their hooves stomped uneasily.
Qin Liancheng wouldn’t allow his soldiers to die without reason. His face darkened as he pulled his reins, personally selecting the three finest riders to join him. Commanding loudly, he ordered, "Charge with !"
The chosen three riders stepped forward. All were first-rate fighters, considered seventh-ranked martial artists—figures well-known in Jianghu—and together with Qin Liancheng, a sixth-rank martial artist, they ford most of the squad’s power. Any more fighters joining the charge would only complicate their assault.
Fixing his gaze on her, Qin Liancheng narrowed his eyes. In this narrow confrontation, no one knew her exact strength, though it was certain she was beyond fifth-grade. If she were truly fifth-grade—a rank recognized in the annals of Spring and Autumn legends—she wouldn’t need them to charge. She’d simply crush their formation solo. Since she wasn’t fifth-grade, their combined assault could still strike her down.
Min Ning slowly approached the rider pinned by the initial sword strike, pulling the long sword from his lifeless form.
Her expression remained tranquil, gripping the sword lightly, eyes half-closed.
She was taking in that sliver of... Sword Intent left by Chen Yi.
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