Chapter 1: The Mountain God's Temple

In the desolate countryside, dense forests sprawled endlessly. Through the thick branches and leaves that blotted out the sky, a few threads of moonlight slipped through, illuminating a narrow path that had long fallen into disrepair.

This path branched off from the main road and wound into the woods for some two or three hundred meters. At its end stood a dilapidated temple dedicated to the Mountain God.

Inside the temple, three people were warming themselves by a fire.

One of them appeared to be in his early thirties, with striking features and a languid demeanor. He lounged against an overturned table, tossing peanuts into his mouth with idle indifference.

Of the other two, one was a young man in his twenties, handsome and well-built, who was baking flatbreads over the flames. The last was a small and delicate youth of about sixteen or seventeen, who sat intently sharpening a long knife on a whetstone.

These three were none other than Li Miao, his trusted aide Wang Hai, and his servant Xiao Si. They were traveling to the Tai Mountain region, having accepted the command from Commander Zhu Zaizhen of the Embroidered Uniform Guard to annihilate the Five Peaks Sword Sect.

In an agrarian age, long journeys were fraught with hardship. Men and horses both required food, travelers often slept exposed to the elements, and local dialects could vary so much that even upon reaching a village, one might find no one who spoke the official tongue, leaving them no choice but to camp in the wild.

Official roads were unreliable, and threats abounded—bandits, wolves, tigers, and leopards all lurked beyond the safety of home. Any journey beyond fifty li could easily become a parting forever.

It had already been over a month since Li Miao took the assignment in the capital, and only now had they just entered the lands of Qi and Lu.

With no inn or village nearby, they had settled for rest in this ruined temple.

Li Miao, gripped by one of his bouts of laziness, had no desire to speak and simply gazed absentmindedly into the flames.

Between Wang Hai and Xiao Si there was a hint of unspoken affection; each wished to sit together and talk, but with Li Miao—both their guardian and a constant presence—sitting there, neither dared begin.

Within the temple, only the crackling of the fire and the rhythmic rasp of Xiao Si’s blade on the whetstone broke the silence.

In the midst of this awkward quiet, voices drifted in from the path outside, approaching steadily—clearly headed toward the ruined temple.

Wang Hai immediately rose and slipped to one side of the doorway, peering out. Xiao Si, less skilled in martial arts, clutched her knife and hurried to Li Miao’s side.

Of course, these were merely habitual precautions; their faces betrayed no trace of anxiety. With Li Miao present, only an elite force from a grand sect like Emei could possibly threaten them.

Wang Hai observed carefully. Approaching were a group of about a dozen men and women of all ages, clustered around a cart draped in cloth and bearing a banner marked "Tiger Might".

They were an escort party from a security firm, likely also seeking shelter in this abandoned temple.

There must have been a thousand "Tiger Might" Escort Agencies across the land, if not more; it was impossible to tell which branch this was.

Wang Hai waited until the group drew near, then opened the main doors and stepped forward to greet them. “Welcome, friends.”

The leader was Zhao Dehua, head escort of Tiger Might, an old hand in the trade. He stepped forward with a courteous clasp of hands and a smile, “Young man, are you resting here as well? Is there space for us to stay awhile?”

Responding in kind, Wang Hai’s gesture of coming out alone signaled goodwill, so the escort guards behind Zhao Dehua relaxed, removing their hands from their weapons.

Their caution was understandable. Since ancient times, the bloodiest places in the martial world had always been ruined temples, inns, and arenas. For those seeking to rob an escort, ruined temples were a favored site. No one knew who first set the precedent, but it had become an unspoken rule that all escorts would grip their weapons before entering such places.

Seeing Wang Hai’s youthful, refined appearance and courteous manners, they felt somewhat reassured.

Wang Hai replied, “This is no one’s domain—of course you may stay. My companions and I have taken the center of the hall; I hope you won’t mind settling along the sides.”

“You’re too kind. Those who come first take their place; we who travel the roads aren’t fussy about such things,” Zhao Dehua replied with a respectful bow.

Wang Hai then welcomed the party inside.

A few guards set their cargo in a corner and began unpacking. Zhao Dehua approached Li Miao and offered a formal salute. “Thank you for allowing us to rest here.”

Li Miao, without even lifting his head, gave a casual wave in return.

Zhao Dehua bowed once more, then turned to see to the fire and prepare their meal.

Once the Tiger Might party had kindled their own fire and gathered for a meal, a young woman in her early twenties leaned close to Zhao Dehua and whispered, “Father, that man lying there didn’t even look at you—why did you bother saluting him? Doesn’t that undermine our escort’s dignity?”

This was Zhao Ying, Zhao Dehua’s daughter, who had trained well in martial arts and was traveling as an escort for the first time. Li Miao’s lack of respect toward her father had irked her, but she knew that on the road, one followed the escort leader’s judgment. Only after they had settled in did she quietly voice her concerns.

The ruined temple was spacious enough that their conversation could not be overheard by Li Miao’s party. Zhao Dehua smiled and replied, “Letting us in was already a sign of respect.”

“There are only three of them, and we outnumber them. Not only did one of them come out to greet us and put us at ease, but they invited us to share their shelter. That’s more than enough goodwill. We’ve already gained the advantage; there’s no need to fret about etiquette.”

“As for dignity, who’s there to see us here anyway?”

He paused, then said to his daughter, “Besides, these people are not to be trifled with.”

Intending to teach her the ways of the martial world, he instructed Zhao Ying to observe Li Miao and his companions out of the corner of her eye, without turning her head. Once she had looked them over, he asked, “What do you see?”

Zhao Ying shook her head. “All three have fair hands and faces, and their clothes are of good quality. They seem to come from wealthy families.”

Zhao Dehua frowned. “You still need more practice.”

“The young man who greeted us breathes deeply and moves lightly—his internal strength must be solid. His hands are long and strong, yet without a trace of callus; he is not a weapons man. The martial arts he’s mastered are subtle, not the kind that rely on brute force or toughening the flesh.”

“As for the youngest, clearly a girl from her build, her steps are unsteady and her breathing uneven—she likely lacks any foundation in martial arts.”

Zhao Ying was puzzled. “If she can’t fight, why are they not to be trifled with?”

“It’s precisely because she can’t fight that you should be wary. Anyone who dares bring a defenseless girl to camp in a ruined temple in the wild is not someone to provoke.”

“You’ve been training since you were a child, and I only brought you on the road after you’d made real progress at twenty.”

“That girl probably couldn’t even best a large chicken, yet they’re willing to let over a dozen strangers share their shelter with hardly a care. That’s a sign they have absolute confidence.”