Within the guest hall of the Xiao residence, three figures sat close together in hushed discussion—Dao Master, Old Trickster, and Xiao Baichuan. The voice that filled the room most often belonged to Old Trickster, while the other two listened attentively, occasionally interrupting with a question whenever the meaning eluded them.
Old Trickster was recounting, in meticulous detail, the events that had taken place at the Guangzhou Restaurant, the city's most renowned dining hall.
He had been there on the day it all unfolded. He had seen it from beginning to end, and when the bloodshed erupted, it was none other than Old Trickster himself who had leapt out of the side window—the last to flee the carnage.
Xiao Baichuan, his brows furrowed, could no longer hold back the question burning in his heart.
"Elder Zhou…, why didn't you step in to help the staff? You saw them being slaughtered… how could you just stand there and watch?"
Old Trickster smiled, not in mockery, but with a trace of approval—he admired the boy's compassion.
"If it had been a mere brawl, you think I'd have stood aside?" he said. "But this… this wasn't something that could be resolved by jumping in. When such matters unfold, you must learn to look beyond what happens before your eyes. The problem lies not in what is seen, but in what is hidden."
Dao Master nodded, then added grimly, "Four of them—dressed in black tunics, red trousers, green waist sashes, curved sabers at their sides—and a crimson crow embroidered across their chests. Those weren't common thugs. Weren't they 'The CrimsonCrows?' Their presence alone is never meaningless. For them to have made it all the way to Guangzhou from the borderlands… this was no ordinary visit."
Old Trickster dipped his head slightly in agreement. "You've hit the mark. The Crimson Crows…, rarely show themselves unless there's a river of blood to be spilled. Wherever they appear, calamity follows."
"And then there's that group of four—brothers from the Central Provinces," he continued. "Word has it they've recently been released from the Iron Throne Prison. Crimes so severe, they should've been executed—or rotted away behind bars until their dying breath. And now they're seen walking alongside the Prefect of Guangzhou's son? Strange things are afoot."
"I suspect the hand of Beard Guwe in all this," he said darkly. "You see, nearly every reputable eatery in Guangzhou is now under the control of Guwe's father. The Guangzhou Restaurant was the last that remained independent. And wouldn't you know it—its owner, Master Lee Guan, left the city over a year ago for the capital, leaving only a steward behind."
"Guwe's family has been trying to take the Restaurant for some time but never dared make a move. Master Lee had strong ties with influential ministers in the capital. But now… with the empire's recent upheaval, those protections mean little. And so, Guwe allies himself with the Prefect's son and strikes before Master Lee can return."
Raset leaned back slightly, expression grave. "Power grabs, land grabs—these things always surge in times of transition. It's the law of vultures. In moments of change, the ones with quick blades and long arms rise to the top. Even the capital must be in chaos right now. But the Crimson Crows… their presence never bodes well. They don't just follow orders—they draw death to wherever they step."
Old Trickster glanced out the open window, eyes narrowing as he looked to the heavens. The skies above were heavy, thick with ominous crimson clouds that gathered in unnatural silence.
"You're right," he muttered. "Something's brewing. All we can do is watch. But mark my words—getting involved in this storm would be unwise. The city of Guangzhou… is no longer what it was."
Xiao Baichuan clenched his fists. The two old men might have been wise and far-seeing, but their inaction troubled him deeply. So many lives were lost—brutally, senselessly—and they spoke only of politics, of balance, of danger. Should not righteousness demand action?
He did not know the ways of the martial world, nor did he possess any grand martial skill. But even so, he could not bear to watch such cruelty pass unchecked.
Raset interrupted the silence with a question of his own.
"After the attack… the one who jumped out the window before you—did you find out who it was?"
Old Trickster nodded.
"I did. I followed him afterward, tried to observe him closely. He was quick—his body arts were not ordinary. I had to push myself to keep up, nearly half a burning incense stick behind him."
Raset raised his brows.
"Is that so? If even you could barely match him… who could he be?"
Old Trickster chuckled softly. "Indeed. He was no slouch. But his mother? Ah… I'd have to chase twice that hard to catch up with her."
At that, Raset blinked once, then laughed knowingly.
"So… the famed Mercenary Mother and son are in Guangzhou?"
Old Trickster's grin widened.
"They are. And I've no doubt Guwe's family brought her here as part of their scheme. The four Crimson Crows, the four escaped brothers—they're just the front line. The real weapon is hidden behind her."
"If that's the case," Dao Master said, his voice grave, "then this city is in for more than trouble. Something big is coming."
At this, Xiao Baichuan could hold his tongue no longer.
"You two!" he burst out. "You keep saying 'trouble, trouble,' but not once have you talked about helping! Are you telling me you won't lift a finger to stop this? Don't you care? There were only ten of them. Just ten! And yet no one stood against them?"
Both elders looked at him.
And then, together they laughed.
"Ha… ha ha ha…"
"This kid's got a fiery heart, doesn't he? Look, those ten men might seem like nothing, but don't underestimate them just yet. They each have their own skills and level. To look down on your enemy is the gravest danger for any martial artist. Remember that well."
"So what, should I admire them instead? How could I possibly respect such thugs?"
"There's no need to respect them but don't take them lightly either."
At that moment, Xiao Baichuan's heart remained unsettled. His mind was still gripped by the image of innocent lives being lost in the city of Guangzhou at the hands of those thugs blood staining the earth once more.
He had once lived peacefully, uninterested in the martial world. But now, something had shifted. The teachings of Xiao Ancestor, recorded in the ancestral bonze book, had taken root in his heart. He had resolved to carry out his ancestor's will to act for the good of the world and for the sake of humanity. And so, the fire within him now burned stronger than ever.
The two old men, however pretended not to notice the turmoil within the man.
Elder Zhou changed the subject, leaving the previous topic behind. He turned to Xiao Baichuan and asked gently, "Boy, how's your study of Ancestor Xiao's record coming along? Tell us."
Xiao Baichuan nodded and gave his report.
"It's starting to make more sense, Elder. In terms of inner force cultivation, I've managed to open the first blood vessel from the foundational stage. As for martial forms, I've fully grasped the first basic sequence of the primary Fist Technique."
Elder Zhou was visibly pleased.
"Excellent! I'd love to see it for myself. The techniques of Ancestor Xiao are legendary to us. We've only heard tales of his words and deeds never once witnessed them. Please, show me."
"Yes, Elder Zhou. Let us move outside."
Rising to his feet, Xiao Baichuan led the way. The two old masters followed behind him.
They stepped into the open training field behind the house, where Xiao Baichuan took position. There, in that quiet expanse, he began to demonstrate the teachings passed down in the scroll of Ancestor Xiao.
He inhaled deeply, gathering his internal energy in tranquility, and directed it into the first blood channel. As it flowed, his body became lighter, yet filled with strength.
Then, he began to unleash the Fist Form.
"Whoosh… whoosh… ha!"
Though it was called a single Fist Form, the primary technique actually comprised three segments: the Core Form, the Blossoming Form, and the Shadow Form.
Xiao Baichuan's fists moved with incredible speed, striking with precision and power. Each direct strike fractured into three. From those three, another three burst forth—and from them, a flurry of shadows fanned out in every direction.
Though each movement belonged to the same form, no two strikes were identical. Each varied subtly, adapting with the flow of inner force. Depending on how the qi was released, the strikes ranged from soft to explosive.
The longer he struck, the more intense and rapid the strikes became. The more inner force he poured out, the stronger and faster his fists flew.
"Haah… Haah!"
Waves of wind blasted outward from each blow, scattering dust, sand, and fallen leaves across the field.
The two old masters stood still, hardly believing their own eyes.
They had long known that the Xiao clan's martial heritage came from a grand master and was bound to be formidable but to witness such power in just one form was beyond their expectations.
Even Dao Master the Brave, who had previously seen the boy training, was astonished. Only now, seeing the complete flow of inner force and the entire structure of the Fist Technique, did he grasp the full picture.
After completing the full cycle of the Fist Form, Xiao Baichuan came to a stop.
"What a Fist Form," Elder Zhou said in admiration. He turned to Dao Master with excitement. "Hey, did you catch that? Can you even tell which were the real strikes and which were just shadows?"
Dao Master smiled and shook his head.
"No way. I couldn't distinguish them at all. I haven't even figured out how to counter it—much less defend against it. If I had to evade, I'd use my 'Smoke in the Storm' technique.
Elder Zhou stroked his thin beard thoughtfully, nodding.
"Same here. I can't see a clear path to block or break through that form. To dodge it… perhaps if I circle with my Spring Wind Spiral, I might just avoid it. I have to admit, this has truly opened my eyes. Ha ha ha!"
Dao Master lowered his eyes, pondering deeply.
Elder Zhou glanced at him and asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"That cascading split pattern… it reminds me of the third strike in the Fists Beyond Strength set—'A Thousand Dragons Drunken in the Sky.' The techniques themselves are different, but the underlying principles feel oddly similar."
"Then may be the old legends were right," said Elder Zhou, his tone thoughtful. "They say the founder of our sect once received guidance from Ancestor Xiao himself. And Fists Beyond Strength is based on only three core forms—the same number described in Ancestor's martial record. Even the structure matches."
Listening to Dao Master, Old Master Zhou Zhelai slowly nodded, a flicker of awe in his eyes.
"How powerful must the great martial heroes of the ancient legends have been? That age of legends must have been a path filled with wondrous, awe-inspiring adventures."
Although Xiao Baichuan couldn't fully grasp the depth of the two old masters' critique on martial philosophy, one thing was clear to him his fist technique had indeed improved.
"Elder Zhou, were you satisfied with the punch I just demonstrated?"
The clever old man scoffed, clearly unimpressed.
"Pfft. Satisfied? Hardly."
"Eh…? What's wrong, Elder Zhou?"
"What's wrong? You showed me one move. Just one! I want to see all three primary fist techniques. And after that, I still want to witness the insights of a true martial sage. Haha!"
"Ah… Elder Zhou, I thought you were being serious. Truth is, I've only just managed to open my first blood vessel. I haven't even reached the second yet, so for now I've got to keep honing this one technique over and over."
The clever old man stepped forward, grinning as he placed both hands on the boy's shoulders.
"Haha…, I like your spirit. Don't rush. Never rush. The martial path doesn't favor the hasty. You must build a solid foundation and temper your technique with calm persistence. Come now. Let's head back inside."
The three of them returned to the house.
Once inside, the two old men sat in the main hall, sipping warm tea. Meanwhile, Xiao Baichuan headed into his own room and resumed practicing the fist technique.
The Xiao Clan's martial arts could not be separated from their internal energy discipline. Every technique required careful synchronization with inner force.
Upon successfully opening the First Blood Vessel, one could begin practicing the first forms of the Primary Fist, Primary Palm, Primary Finger, Primary Kick, and the First Xiao Evasion Technique.
After opening the vessel, the practitioner must continually refine and reinforce three key pillars: internal gathering, internal control, and internal circulation. Only by mastering these could one elevate their internal energy from the beginner stage, through intermediate, to the advanced level.
Without advancing one's mastery of the First Blood Vessel to its peak, the practitioner could never fully grasp the true essence of the foundational techniques.
Each primary technique came in layers—Core, Split, Extended, and Shadow. These stages required increasing levels of refined inner force to execute properly. Only those with sufficient power could perform the full structure of a move and unleash its true potential.
At his current stage, Xiao Baichuan had only just opened his First Blood Vessel. While he could train in the Core Forms, the deeper techniques—Split, Extended, and Shadow—remained far beyond his grasp. The real strength behind each move had yet to be awakened.
He would need to master the First Vessel completely before even attempting the Second or Third Primary Techniques. And to do that, he would have to unlock the Second and Third Blood Vessels as well.
That was why the Xiao Clan's manuals clearly stated: Those not of the bloodline must not attempt the deeper forms. Without mastery of the clan's internal method, the rest of their martial art was simply inaccessible.
Whenever he had spare time, Xiao Baichuan locked himself in his room and trained tirelessly.
As night fell and the long day came to an end, he shifted to focus purely on cultivating his internal energy.
Midnight.
The entire city of Kwangzhou lay under a blanket of darkness, silent and still.
Its people had completed their daily toils and retreated to the comforts of their homes.
The day had been blistering hot. All throughout, scorching winds had swept down from the southern skies. The sky above southern Guangzhou had glowed red with heat.
But when midnight arrived, the relentless winds abruptly died down.
A moment passed.
Then the wind returned. At first, it came in gentle bursts then steadily grew stronger.
Then stronger still.
"Whooooo… whooooo…"
The darkness of night made it impossible to see what natural forces stirred outside.
"Woooo… woooo… huuuhuuu…"
The wind howled louder, no sign of easing.
Then—
"CRACK! … BOOM!!"
A jagged streak of lightning tore across the sky followed by a deafening thunderclap that echoed through the heavens.
It was so intense that even those sound asleep were startled awake.
Xiao Baichuan, however had not gone to sleep at all. He was still deep in his internal cultivation.
But the howling wind and thunderous roars shook even him from his focus.
"A storm?" he murmured, a flicker of concern crossing his brow.
He suddenly remembered Shan Mei and grew worried she might be afraid. Without hesitation, he made his way toward her room.
Just as he reached her door—
"WOOOOO!! … CRACK! CRACK!! … BOOM! … BOOM!!!"
Two bolts of lightning slashed the skies, and two more thunder claps shattered the stillness of the night.
Xiao Baichuan's entire body trembled.
"Dear… Brother…"
He heard Shan Mei's voice calling out to him.
"I'm coming, dear sister!" he replied, quickly stepping into the room.
Her voice hadn't been one of panic or a scream—it was something else entirely. He reached for the lantern that had been snuffed out by the storm winds and relit it.
"What's wrong, dear sister?" he asked gently.
As the light filled the room, the sight that met him stole the breath from his lungs.
Shan Mei sat on the bed, still and silent. Her hands clutched her abdomen tightly, her face pale as snow, and her eyes wide with a strange, unnatural blue tint.
Startled, Xiao Baichuan rushed to her side, kneeling next to her and supporting her gently.
"What happened? Shan Mei—what's wrong?!"
But as he looked closer, his heart sank. Her expression, her aura, everything felt… off.
Shan Mei didn't respond immediately. Her gaze was frozen, fixed upon her own stomach.
Finally, her lips parted, her voice barely a whisper.
Her words were trembling. Distant. Terrified.
"…My stomach… Brother… My stomach…"
End of Chapter