Forgotten Tale of Jianghu

After leaving the rendezvous point alone on horseback, Xin Long found himself reflecting on the past two years.

Two years… It was enough time to change a person in many ways. His body had grown stronger, his once-youthful face now carried a quiet intensity. A faint mustache had begun to take shape, and his long, neatly groomed hair added a sense of refinement.

He had made sure of that.

Over time, he had come to understand human nature—how appearances could command respect. Through experience, he had learned that people valued strength and presence.

Even Seductress Wei Wei had taken to calling him a wolf in sheep's clothing whenever their missions were complete.

During those two years, he had mastered all sixty movements of the Soul-splitting Blade under the guidance of the deputy leader, Kong Sunmu. At the same time, he had studied inner power techniques with Zhen Yi, one of the four senior masters. Because of that, he was now convinced that his martial arts and inner strength had surpassed even Bai Luo's.

Kong Sunmu had once mentioned that every member of the organization practiced the Soul-splitting Blade, while Zhen Yi had introduced him to an inner energy technique known as Fire Palm Energy.

However, no matter how much Zhen Yi had taught him, Xin Long had never once addressed him as master. He knew they were only training him for the sect's benefit, and because of that, he never felt the need to acknowledge a teacher. He had no master—nor would he ever have one.

As for Fire Palm Energy, he had never used it in actual combat. Now that he was on his own, he intended to test it for the first time.

Thinking back on those two years, he recalled completing five mercenary missions alongside Wei Wei. Each time they returned victorious, they created moments of laughter and celebration. Yet, despite everything, Xin Long had never truly thought of Wei Wei. To him, she was no more than spare coins in his pocket—something to use when needed and set aside when not. She was simply another person caught in the illusions he had woven.

In the five times he had ventured outside with her, he had managed to obtain the necessary hearts for the mind-controlling drug on three occasions—a stroke of luck in itself. However, with the drug's shelf life set to expire the next day, today was a day he could not afford to waste. He had to find another victim.

Young Master Xu…

Kunming City…

The target was a thirty-year-old young master.

His father had died at the hands of Wei Wei, and after inheriting his father's wealth, he had risen to the position of a wealthy merchant. He possessed strikingly well-defined lips, identical to his late father's—so much so that one could hardly tell them apart.

As soon as Xin Long saw his portrait and the attached information, the first thought that crossed his mind was simple—whoever had ordered Young Master Xu's execution in the past was now making another attempt. The mastermind had to be someone close, either a trusted aide, a household steward, or a relative.

But in the end, none of that mattered to Xin Long.

His job was to kill whoever he was paid to kill. It made no difference whether they were good or evil. That was simply the iron rule of a mercenary.

For the past two years in Kunming City, Xin Long had occasionally found himself recalling the young woman from the apothecary. And now, realizing that he would soon be returning to that city—where she might still be—his heart pounded uncontrollably. She was the first woman who had ever made his heart race.

Was she still there?

The thought sent an unfamiliar sense of unease through him.

Xin Long exhaled, pushing aside unnecessary thoughts. His gaze shifted to the misty silhouette of Nan Hai's city walls.

Golden Tiger Fortress—home to his greatest foe.

He was returning once again.

But this time, Xin Long was no longer the man he had been before. He now possessed the strength necessary to walk into that city. With that conviction, he urged his horse forward, galloping toward the city gates with unwavering determination.

…

As soon as Xin Long stepped into Nan Hai City, he felt his blood surge with intensity. A storm of fury swept through his chest, but he kept his emotions in check. His face was wrapped in a black cloth from his mouth to his nose, allowing him to move through the city unnoticed. It was better this way—concealing his features was safer than drawing attention.

Dressed in a fitted black robe, a belt securing his waist, and a sword at his side, he carried only the weapons he trusted most—his sword and dagger. Somewhere beyond the mist-covered rooftops, hidden deep within the city's western district, lay the enemy he had sworn to find: the Lord of Golden Tiger Fortress—Sangguan Jin Hu.

The city had changed little since his last visit. On either side of the street, shops bustled with merchants and travelers, their movements a steady hum of life. Taverns, restaurants, brothels, and gambling dens remained in their usual places, untouched by time. Laughter spilled from Lustrous Haven, a well-known pleasure house, while heated arguments echoed from The Virtuous Drunken Immortal, a famous tavern.

As Xin Long walked further, he came upon a gambling hall with a signboard that read Wu Shi. Just outside its entrance, a wounded martial artist lay sprawled on the ground. A group of enforcers, dressed in fighting robes, surrounded him, kicking and stomping mercilessly. His face was swollen beyond recognition, blood trickling from his lips onto the dirt-covered street. Clutched tightly in his trembling hand was a small pouch, likely filled with whatever little money he had left.

Despite the brutality of the scene, the crowd barely reacted. Some passersby merely spared a glance before continuing on their way, as if it were nothing more than a common occurrence—one that did not concern them.

People often turned a blind eye to certain things just to preserve their own peace and comfort. And in doing so, they convinced themselves it was the natural order of the world—a quiet selfishness, a subconscious refusal to let another's misfortune reach their doorstep.

Xin Long understood this all too well. Even as he witnessed the scene before him, he felt no urge to interfere. Not every suffering soul needed saving. He had his own struggles, his own fire to endure. Why take on burdens that were not his to bear?

At that moment, the hunger gnawing at his stomach felt far more urgent than the troubles of a stranger. Pushing aside any lingering thoughts, he shifted his gaze away from the half-dead man sprawled on the ground. His eyes landed instead on the grand establishment across the street—Fairy Blossom Pavilion, an opulent restaurant known for its exquisite dishes and lavish décor.

Without hesitation, Xin Long dismounted, tossing the reins of his horse to a stablehand eagerly calling out to customers at the entrance. Without another glance at the scene behind him, he stepped inside, drawn by the promise of a warm meal.

End – 21