Thɪs chapter is updated by NoveIＦire.net Fall approached with the arrival of September.2 The walls of Bright Moon Prefecture sprawled across the land like a crouching black beast, spanning over 50 kilometers of ramparts. Silent patrols swept the surroundings with cool eyes.0 It was a state within a state, a forbidden zone of the mighty, yet still open to merchants and cultivators, so long as no malice clung to them.0 Lines formed at the gatehouse. Everyone filled out slips, writing down their name, background, cultivation rank, and reason for entry.  The old national travel passes were useless now; each governor ran his own patch.0 Ocean Province enforced a register‑and‑report system. A person could lie, of course, but there was a bounty system for those who were reported to have faked their identities. The stronger the culprit, the fatter the purse.0 If a person was caught falsifying their own entry there and then, the punishment was blunt and final—death.0 Three years ago, a fifth‑rank martial artist claimed he was sixth rank, then accidentally flashed his true power.  0 The soldiers beheaded him on the spot.0 After the execution, even the power that had backed that fifth rank martial artist kept its mouth shut. Everyone knew Bright Moon Prefecture commanded 30,000 young Ocean Province armored cavalry, fed by two vast fourth rank meat fields, and the man who led them was the Xie Clan’s eldest son, Xie Feng.0 Xie Feng was also nicknamed Lunatic Xie. He was obsessed first with martial arts, then with the art of war. He was so far gone that he genuinely could not tell men from women. For years, he’d thought his two little sisters were both little brothers. That, more than anything, proved the depth of his lunacy.0 So no outsider strutted inside Bright Moon Prefecture’s walls, because everyone understood what 30,000 battle hardened youths meant. Given 40 years, the estate could stamp out any faction it chose. Like every great house it had a weak spot, the shortage of first-rate experts, barely enough to match one major clan. But in Ocean Province, where five such powers had to be watched at once, even barely enough felt thin.0 Li Yuan had picked up plenty of Xie Clan gossip on the road. Now he queued at the gate in snowy robes. He’d disguised himself as a strikingly handsome, broad‑shouldered youth with his Mortal World Transformation. He rested one hand on a long blade he had forged for this trip.7 Materials were scarce; he had invested three hundred years of life‑force, no added Yin or Yang, only his own source blood.0 To his mild surprise, the blade’s single trick was clean and brutal. It stored power. His first explosive strike could whirl inside the steel, meet a second surge, and detonate together. But the metal set a ceiling. He tested it, and the amount of power that could be stored maxed out at 30,000. Push past that and the weapon simply refused to store anything else.0 His source blood was laced with the power of countless ancestral seal seeds, generators of savage shockwaves. The 300 years of lifeforce reined in the power just enough to let the blade store force. Higher quality ores might raise that cap; sadly, anything short of blood crystal marrow was worthless, and blood crystal was already the best stuff he knew.0 He was chewing on that problem when a voice drawled behind him.0 “Pretty boy, don’t tell me you’re here to marry Third Miss as well?”0 Li Yuan didn’t turn. He had already noticed the speaker, a garden‑variety sixth rank martial artist.0 Getting no reply, the man snorted. “A toad dreaming of swan meat. Do yourself a favor and clear off before our big brother sweeps the riffraff away. Dressing fancy won’t make you a blade master, you know.”0 This time Li Yuan’s eyes flicked toward the guards taking names farther up the line. Then he looked back, voice cool. “Who?”0 The fellow barked a laugh. “What, are you deaf?”0 Li Yuan’s stare deepened; a crushing aura rolled off him. The laughter died in the man’s throat, his heart lurched, goosebumps racing over his skin as if some primordial predator had fixed its gaze on him.0 He squeaked for help. “B‑big Brother, over here!”0 Li Yuan glanced toward a luxurious carriage from which strings and flutes drifted. The curtain lifted, revealing the readings of a mid sixth rank martial artist. 0 The older man gave him a polite clasp of fists, then glanced at the lackey.1 “I told you to queue quietly. Must you squawk? The gentleman’s come this far; let him settle matters on the dueling stage, eh?”0 With that, the man let the curtain fall.0 The underling swallowed hard, sweat pouring. He stammered at Li Yuan, “Wh‑wh‑whose disciple are you?”0 “...” Li Yuan didn’t bother answering. With a pulse of force, he slapped the heckler out of line. He briskly blew imaginary dust from his hand, as though the man were dirty.0 The vanquished gossip dashed to the carriage, wailing, “Young Master, that fellow—”0 “Useless trash!” the voice inside snapped.0 The curtain flew up. A brocade‑clad youth stepped out, the coachman half‑kneeling to offer his back as a step. The moment his feet touched the ground, he strode toward Li Yuan. At arm’s length. he stopped, taken aback by the handsomeness of the other party. Then the awe vanished behind a dark scowl.0 “Do you know who I am?” The youth didn’t wait for a reply. “My father is a high ranking retainer of Bright Moon Prefecture. Offend me, and you still think you’ll woo Third Miss—”0 He got no further. A long blade had come to rest, silent and icy, across his shoulder.0 The blade flashed out so fast it felt as if it had sprouted beside the young man’s throat the instant the thought crossed Li Yuan’s mind. For a heartbeat, the brocade‑clad braggart simply gaped, words frozen on his tongue.0 “Filthy,” the white‑robed youth said..0 He flicked his wrist. The gesture was as casual as shooing a cloud from the sky, yet the stroke hurled a rippling scar of force over a hundred meters through the air. A shrill metal scream carved sudden silence out of the milling crowd.0 The victim, breathing like a man drowning, finally understood he had provoked something his father’s rank could not shield him from.0 Li Yuan slid the blade back into its sheath. “Disappear from my sight.”0 He waved a hand in disdain, as though dispelling a foul odor, and the young master retreated like a stench on the wind.0 In that instant everyone present realized two things. The stranger had strength to spare, and he appeared to be a severe germaphobe. He looked like a drift of white cloud, spotless and offended even by dirty words.0 Li Yuan queued again. At the registry he wrote—0 「Name: Ximen GuchengIdentity: Wandering Martial ArtistRank: Fifth RankPurpose of visit: Xie Yu」4 The gate officer had witnessed the earlier incident, along with the sixth rank lackey’s ignominious flight, and raised no objections to the fifth rank claim. Protocol said anyone of that level was to be escorted inside.0 A carriage ride later, near sundown the next day, Li Yuan reached the gates of the Xie residence. The driver hurried in to report. Eventually a smiling man in brocade appeared. He had kind features and sharp eyes.0 “Zhao Xingwen, aide to the Xie household. Mister Ximen, please be so good as to enter.”0 Li Yuan stepped down. “Much obliged.”0 Zhao Xingwen sized him up with lively curiosity. The servants had already whispered the tale, a handsome youth with an ice‑cold temperament and obsessive cleanliness.0 Without strength, such quirks were laughable; with strength , they drew a certain awe.0 The chill in Li Yuan’s aura made Zhao Xingwen’s bones creak, and the power coiled in that frame was plain to anyone standing near. For some reason, the adviser found himself hoping this man would indeed become the clan’s son‑in‑law.0 Why? Firstly, the Third Miss shared the same spotless habits. They were kindred spirits. Secondly, she was fiery as summer, he cold as winter; sparks would fly. Thirdly, she loved handsome faces, and this one…0 Zhao Xingwen admitted privately that, were he a woman, he’d count it a bargain to share a bed with such a man.3 As they walked, Zhao Xingwen explained, “My lord highly regards talent. He asked that any outstanding visitor be brought to him first. Tonight isn’t a formal assessment; the real judging will be on the arena floor. I beg your understanding.”0 A few breaths later came a soft, “Fine.”0 Zhao Xingwen ushered Li Yuan into a reception hall. Maids served tea, yet every pair of eyes crept back to him, as if they had never seen such an extraordinary specimen.0 Li Yuan pretended to notice nothing. To improve his odds, he had shaped this appearance—beauty unearthly yet vigor divine—spending a long time before the mirror, then letting his Mortal World Transformation seal the image.3 Time passed. Footsteps whispered behind the screen; someone was spying, measuring him.0 Li Yuan remained still, fingers idly brushing the hilt of the blade laid across his knees. Handsome, powerful, aloof, immaculate, arrogant, and obsessed with the blade…that was the persona he had chosen0 He reckoned his handsome features, demeanor, and predisposition for cleanliness would prove irresistible to the Third Miss, Xie Yu.0 Li Yuan already knew, thanks to the intelligence that he’d gathered from the whitewood casket, exactly what Xie Yu liked. That was a handsome face, spotless manners, and a hint of disdain for ordinary folk.0 Power he needed to pass the trials. Frosty detachment and single‑minded martial zeal would keep petty trouble at bay; he’d already seen the benefit. Nobody would bother plotting against a simple minded man obsessed with the blade; the work was all risk, no reward.0 A breeze slipped through the hall, puffing his white hem into something like a wandering cloud. Strands of hair fluttered; his gaze stayed pinned to his blade, lips moving now and then as he murmured about edge angles and footwork.3