Chapter Twenty: I've Got You Right Where I Want You

A sparse stone chamber, devoid of any decoration. Aside from two beds and a large table overflowing with dossiers, the room contained nothing else—no chairs, no stools, not even a single cup. It was more austere than the dwelling of an ascetic.

Inside the chamber were two men.

One wore a bronze mask; he was tall, with a steady gait that exuded an air of majesty and dominance. This was Shangguan Jinhong—the man who, twenty years ago, had held the second position on the Weapon Rankings. This was his lair, his study. He worked standing up, for he believed that to sit was to let one’s spirit slacken, and a slack spirit led to errors.

Behind Shangguan Jinhong stood the other man. His face bore three jagged scars; he was tall and clad in golden robes. His eyes were the most chilling feature—a dull, deathly gray, devoid of emotion or life, enough to make one’s blood run cold. This was Jing Wuming.

Shangguan Jinhong held a letter, reading the latest rumors from the martial arts world.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Jing Wuming replied coldly, "Strange."

Li Tanhua, who had withdrawn from the world of pugilism ten years ago, had suddenly undergone a complete change in temperament—was that not strange? Especially since he was actively tracking them down. Shangguan Jinhong had been lurking in the shadows, orchestrating the martial arts world, spending twenty years meticulously investigating every figure of note. His plan was to unleash a campaign that would sweep across the land, unstoppable. Yet now, someone was hunting them.

"Little Li’s Flying Dagger, never missing its mark?" Shangguan Jinhong murmured to himself as he scanned the letter. He pondered the implications of Li Xunhuan’s sudden reappearance and whether there was any way to exploit it.

Jing Wuming stood silently by, observing his master. He was Shangguan Jinhong’s disciple and servant, inseparable from him, like a shadow cast by light.

Just then, a booming voice echoed from outside the stone chamber.

"This turtle hole is quite hard to find!"

Jing Wuming’s expression shifted. He knew how well-hidden this place was and that the surroundings were swarming with elite guards. Shangguan Jinhong realized this as well.

"I will go," Jing Wuming said.

"No," Shangguan Jinhong replied. "We have distinguished guests. We shall go together."

They emerged from the chamber into a quiet, secluded grove, beyond which stood a grand mansion. The mansion was for his subordinates, not for them.

"Who would have thought that such a place existed in the middle of the bustling city!" Tie Chuanjia remarked, his voice rumbling as he surveyed the serene woods.

Shangguan Jinhong eyed Tie Chuanjia—a man nine feet tall, dressed in tight black clothes, his eyes sharp and alert. The muscles visible on his bare arms were like coiled pythons; he was clearly a formidable fighter. Beside him stood Li Xunhuan, dressed in fine silk robes, holding a folding fan, his face wearing a faint smile like a carefree young nobleman.

With a snap, Li Xunhuan opened the fan, revealing four characters: "Never Missing Its Mark."

Li Xunhuan looked at him with a wicked, charming smile. Shangguan Jinhong, beneath his mask, allowed his lips to curl slightly. A worthy opponent.

Then, he noticed a third person—a youth. In his perception, he had only sensed Li Xunhuan and Tie Chuanjia; this young man had been completely invisible to him. If not for seeing him with his own eyes, he would have doubted his own senses. At that moment, his expression beneath the mask hardened.

"So you are the one in the mask, Shangguan Jinhong?" Tie Chuanjia said, looking at the bronze-masked man. "So the second-ranked man in the world still can't bear to show his face!"

Tie Chuanjia spoke his mind, unburdened. He no longer had to watch others' expressions or tread carefully; he didn't need to consider feelings or consequences. The feeling of speaking without restraint was truly exhilarating.

Shangguan Jinhong ignored him, but Jing Wuming acted. Like a phantom, he appeared beside Tie Chuanjia, his sword thrusting toward the man's chest. The flash of the blade was quick as lightning—no fancy footwork, just a simple, direct strike, yet executed with a lethal efficiency few could match. This was Jing Wuming’s sword, a sword for killing.

Tie Chuanjia did not dodge. He allowed the swift blade to strike his chest, his hands shimmering with a golden glow as he reached for Jing Wuming. The sword met resistance against his body. Jing Wuming remained unfazed; like a fading shadow, he slipped past the grab and lightened his touch, darting his blade toward the throat, the heart, the wrists, and the ankles. A strike to the throat kills; a strike to the wrist saps strength; a strike to the ankle prevents flight.

Yet, his blade could not pierce Tie Chuanjia’s skin. Tie Chuanjia, like an invulnerable diamond, swung his arms in wide, powerful arcs. Jing Wuming was determined not to be caught by such a man. The two moved like a butterfly dancing around a bear, and a bear trying to swat a butterfly.

The butterfly could sting the bear a thousand times, but it could not afford a single failure. To fail was to face a horrific end.

"A formidable hard-qigong technique," Shangguan Jinhong noted, seeing the essence of the struggle. To have mastered such a technique to this level was enough to dominate the martial arts world.

"For no reason, your man struck mine. I want an explanation," Li Xunhuan said.

"For no reason, you invaded my territory. I have yet to demand an explanation from you," Shangguan Jinhong countered.

"Then go ahead and demand it," Li Xunhuan replied calmly.

Shangguan Jinhong did not ask if they were looking for trouble; he knew they were not here in peace. If a mere servant could suppress the Jing Wuming he had painstakingly trained, what of Li Xunhuan himself? And what of the mysterious youth beside him?

After a moment's thought, Shangguan Jinhong asked, "What is it you want? You have been searching for me?"

Between men, it was best to be direct. He did not ask how they found this place; it was irrelevant.

"I wish to rule the martial arts world," Li Xunhuan said. "But ruling is too tedious and troublesome. I need someone to help me."

Dominating the world required more than just fists; it required strategy.

"And you think that person is me?" Shangguan Jinhong asked.

Li Xunhuan nodded. "You have the ambition and the capability. You are the perfect fit."

Shangguan Jinhong laughed. "I have the capability and the ambition, so why should I bow to another?"

Li Xunhuan sighed. "Because circumstances are stronger than men."

That was the way of the world: whoever held the power held the truth. Circumstances were indeed stronger than men.

"It seems you are certain you have me cornered," Shangguan Jinhong said.

Li Xunhuan looked at the bronze mask and replied, "Indeed, I am."

"Then I must seek instruction from the third-ranked Little Li’s Flying Dagger!"

As Shangguan Jinhong spoke, two flying rings whipped through the air from an impossible angle.