As these words fell, the situation changed once again. Wei Wuque darted a sideways glance at Chen Yi.

In his view, the scene had split into two factions accusing each other. Without knowing the full picture—only seeing a mere corner of the iceberg—it was difficult to judge.

At this moment, Chen Yi began to laugh.

The laugh was not loud, just a faint chuckle, but in the tense and sword-strained atmosphere of the private room, it sounded crystal clear.

Wei Wuque raised an eyebrow and said, "Why does the household commander laugh? Have you more words to defend yourself?"

"Each arguing their case—there's no saying what is defense or not. Yet..."

Chen Yi replied leisurely:

"A mere county magistrate, who doesn't even hold a Fourth Rank position, turns out to be a Fourth Rank martial artist?"

Jiang Shangli's eyes immediately hardened.

The sword in his hand radiated a bone-chilling coldness. He sneered and posed his question:

"The greatest hermits hide in the marketplace; the lesser hermit hides in the wilderness. Isn't it possible for great masters to exist among merchants or workers? Laozi once traveled the world with a green bull—why can't I, a county magistrate, be a Fourth Rank martial artist? Household Commander Min, your words reek of classical rhetoric."

"County Magistrate Jiang knows how to use a sword."

"So what? Is knowing how to use a sword so strange?"

"Knows how to use a killing sword."

These plain words dropped, and Jiang Shangli froze on the spot. Beneath the ferocity in his eyes, a trace of fear surged forth.

Wei Wuque turned his head slightly to observe him.

It was rare enough to pass the civil service exams as a scholar, particularly for someone under thirty. To both study literature and have spare time for martial arts—even reaching the Fourth Rank—such individuals in the world were truly rare as phoenix feathers and unicorn horns. Wei Wuque couldn't help but doubt.

If the household commander's words were true, Jiang Shangli practiced a killing sword similar to the Lonely Smoke Sword, which had only recently emerged in Shantong City.

Wei Wuque subtly lowered his eyes, squinting as he gazed at Jiang Shangli.

Jiang Shangli said nothing, but his expression grew even colder.

The next moment, his pupils contracted sharply.

"The real County Magistrate Jiang has been dead for a long time."

Chen Yi slowly revealed, "Am I wrong, Kunlun Sect Leader Tang Ze?"

As his words dropped, a cold flash of sword light sliced through the night.

The frosty-white blade streaked like lightning. "Jiang Shangli" moved with the sword, aiming directly for Chen Yi's throat in that fleeting second before his words took hold.

As the long sword was drawn, Wei Wuque moved. Standing off to the side, he suddenly stepped forward, his sleeve flaring out. His hand shot forth, delivering a direct palm strike to Jiang Shangli. The latter turned to redirect the sword—a motion seamless like clouds and flowing water. It turned out to be a feint, and his true goal was to kill Wei Wuque!

At the moment the sword came, Wei Wuque showed no trace of surprise. Crossing his arms, he curled backward, instantly capturing the three-foot Sword Gang between his arms. His footwork shifted unpredictably as strange energy condensed in his palms, soft and pliant like cotton, neutralizing the overwhelming Sword Qi into nothingness.

Eight Trigrams Palm.

Wei Wuque looked down at the remnants of dissipating Sword Qi lingering in his palms, squinting as he remarked:

"Indeed, a killing sword.

It rises to kill, ruthless and swift. You are Tang Ze.

Since that is so—does Sect Leader Tang know that attacking a government officer is tantamount to rebellion?"

Upon his failed move, "Jiang Shangli" retreated several meters in an instant, ensuring Wei Wuque had no chance to entangle his sword momentum. He held his sword horizontally before him, stepping aside until he was entirely positioned by Zhao Yan's side.

But Zhao Yan's forehead was already slick with sweat.

Damn it! No wonder this county magistrate has such martial prowess!

Damn it! No wonder he was hell-bent on finding the Lonely Smoke Sword!

In Shantong City nowadays, the Jianghu tale of the Lonely Smoke Sword was already well-known.

The Lonely Smoke Sword was comprehended at the peak of Kunlun and gifted to the previous Sect Leader of Kunlun. Yet the leader's son behaved like the proverbial wolf and the farmer—after mastering the fragmented sword technique and inheriting the sect leader position, he couldn't advance his martial skills any further and demanded the complete Sword Manual from the gift's original seeker.

When denied, he joined forces with others to hunt them down, all the way to Shantong City.

And this "Jiang Shangli" had gone to great lengths to pursue the Lonely Smoke Sword. It seemed done for the Heavenly Family's sake, but in truth, it aligned perfectly with his own interest.

Zhao Yan's veins bulged, and he nearly crushed the hilt of his blade.

Damn it, Tang Ze's murderous outburst has ruined my chances for maneuvering!

Damn it, I wanted to defect—now I've gone from renegade sect member to full-blown rebel!

Wei Wuque glanced at the two before turning his head toward Chen Yi.

"Do you need me to act?"

Normally, he didn't have to ask such redundant questions.

Who would refuse assistance in such circumstances?

Yet the blood-stained threads of Chen Yi's hem were unexpectedly unsettling, making Wei Wuque keenly want to ask.

He quickly received his answer.

Chen Yi raised a hand and said, "No need—I alone am more than enough."

Wei Wuque withdrew his hand into his sleeve and took several steps back.

Perhaps Chen Yi had many intricate considerations in mind. Still, Wei Wuque didn't press for clarity. From that response alone, he heard an overwhelming killing intent. Ordinary people who'd seen much blood might grow indifferent or avoidant, but Chen Yi was the opposite—as though the more blood he saw, the more he desired to unleash. A sharp sword with no sheath—he could scarcely avoid becoming another little Wu Buxu.

Wei Wuque turned without looking back, descending the stairs while mulling it over.

Halfway down the steps, he muttered to himself, "Still haven't started killing, have you?"

Just as the words fell, there came a deafening crack like thunder. Looking up, he saw a half-shattered body embedded in the floor, the blood-soaked Brocade Spring Blade piercing through the chest. The blade withdrew in an instant, spraying blood that left a single droplet upon Wei Wuque's face. He wordlessly brushed the blood aside.

Indeed,

the killing had begun.

On the third floor.

Having plunged the blade through the assassin's chest, Chen Yi quickly lifted his gaze, facing Zhao Yan and Tang Ze.

The reason he dismissed Wei Wuque was due to his own identity, to avoid complications.

More importantly, after enduring this game of deception for so long, he simply wished to kill freely.

Moments earlier as he butchered the Lifeng Pavilion assassins—straightforward as it was—it hadn't been satisfying. The disparity in martial skill was too vast; slicing through them felt like cutting paper, leaving them no chance to retaliate. In Chen Yi's own words: low-level matchmaking, slaughtering fish and crushing vegetables.

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