The Tang Heng Blade is short, measuring two feet in length and two fingers wide. Its sheath extends over the hilt, making it thin and sharp. The blade's dull copper ring, exposed on the exterior, exudes an eerie chill. Convenient to carry, it can fit snugly in one's chest pocket or hidden within a sleeve—it's favored by assassins and killers.

However, it also means close combat offers no advantage whatsoever.

Zhao Yan couldn't pinpoint what Chen Yi might be hiding behind his back.

Yet, Qingfeng Hall ultimately belonged to Lifeng Pavilion. The lurking tension within Zhao Yan's heart, stirred by Chen Yi's abrupt appearance, began to settle. Zhao Yan's tone turned leisurely:

"It seems Young Master Long has heard everything?"

Chen Yi raised a brow and replied, "I've heard some of it."

Jiang Shangli's breath grew somewhat labored, his gaze shifting between darkness and light, as the image of the button rolling into the tea remained vivid in his mind.

As for the petty official, Qin Tu, faced with the unexpected upheaval, he nearly wet himself out of fright. Under this murderous atmosphere, he hurriedly retreated while repeating to himself a hundred times, "You don't see me, you don't see me."

The silent moon hung above, its cold light spilling over the room neither large nor small. On the ground, an eye-catching blue-and-white porcelain vase with carved phoenix patterns stood prominently. Clusters of orchids held up dewdrops on their leaves, hinting at the opulence of the place.

Seeing Chen Yi remain still, the three assassins began losing their composure. Zhao Yan raised his hand slightly, signaling them to hold back.

He tapped his grand armchair lightly and remarked with indifference: "Since Young Master Long has heard everything, tonight you must choose—to walk away now or leave your life behind?"

As his fingers tapped, hidden force surged forth, shattering the already cracked chair beneath him. It collapsed noisily into a pile of broken wood.

A show of dominance.

"That chair—deserved it?" Chen Yi asked with a hint of amusement.

"Deserved it," replied Zhao Yan, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled the curling strands of incense smoke like a ravenous beast. "Tonight, you walk away—or you die right here."

Chen Yi remained expressionless.

Zhao Yan smirked coldly, "If not for considering your connection to Yin Sword Mountain disciples, tonight, if I joined hands with County Magistrate Jiang, you'd have no chance of leaving alive. Letting you go tonight is giving Young Master Long one life—or perhaps… sparing Min Household's thousand lives?"

"Her life,"

Chen Yi spoke slowly,

"is not for you to spare."

Zhao Yan was slightly puzzled—why use "her" instead of "my"? Was Chen Yi not thinking clearly, or had they completely mistaken someone from the start?

This wasn't the time to dwell on it. Zhao Yan locked onto Chen Yi like a dragon stalking prey and hissed chillingly:

"So, today, you intend to leave your life here in Qingfeng Hall, which has no shortage of coffins.

You bet I wouldn't dare kill you because of Yin Sword Mountain,

but what if I disregarded Qingfeng Hall entirely to take your life?!"

Hardly had the words left his mouth when the chilling screams of death rang out:

"Dead, all dead!"

For a moment, Zhao Yan froze, then stiffened, his eyes widening abruptly, red veins shooting through like cracks in glass.

He caught the scent of blood emanating from Chen Yi, noticing the black stains in rounded drops adorning the hem of Chen Yi's flowing garments.

Chen Yi scratched his chin and asked, "Qingfeng Hall… doesn't lack coffins, does it?"

With his blood suddenly frozen, Zhao Yan erupted in rage: "You're courting death!"

The moment his words landed, Zhao Yan stomped heavily, his aura surging violently as he instantly charged at Chen Yi. His eyes glinted menacingly, his Tang Heng Blade's strike ruthless and abrupt, the knife gleaming like snowy brilliance as it aimed straight for the throat.

Chen Yi glanced briefly, and the Brocade Spring Blade sprang from its sheath. He gripped the handle in reverse, sweeping it into an arc. Its edge collided with the Tang Heng Blade, vibrations rippling outward with explosive intensity, echoing like metal clashing in shrill notes.

The clash of short weapons unleashed immense energies. Waves of force scattered, rolling outwards, their shock strong enough to cause the corridor around them to tremble.

Both men retreated simultaneously. Chen Yi steadied himself and immediately threw a punch forward. Zhao Yan responded with a sudden burst of strength, smashing through wooden boards beneath him to gain several yards of distance, narrowly evading the fierce blow.

In a brief exchange of blows, Zhao Yan, moments ago in a rage, was cooled down by Chen Yi's single strike.

Zhao Yan stole a glance at the marks on Chen Yi's blade, his gaze unwavering, and remarked slowly:

"County Magistrate Jiang, are you not stepping in?

If he's heard everything tonight, you won't have a way out."

Now that tonight had been thoroughly exposed, the plan to find a scapegoat was utterly impossible. Zhao Yan had laid the truth bare.

Having witnessed their brief encounter just now, Jiang Shangli withdrew his hands from his sleeves and silently fixed his gaze upon Chen Yi.

He seemed to be pondering—or perhaps conversing in silent exchange.

Chen Yi ignored Jiang Shangli's stare and spoke leisurely:

"If you're going to make a move, do it now. You all… one, two, three… five against one. I'm clearly at a disadvantage."

Jiang Shangli discerned the hostility in Chen Yi's words. His eyes, usually amiable, suddenly filled with cold malice, as he sneered:

"Bring me a sword."

An assassin turned to retrieve a longsword from the weapons rack and tossed it over.

With precision, Jiang Shangli pointed with a single finger, releasing a burst of energy to unsheath the weapon mid-air. He caught it securely, its icy blade pointed directly toward Chen Yi.

His aura fully unfurled, the air shifted drastically. What remained of his appearance as a mild-mannered paperhanger magistrate scattered like dust.

In a single step, Jiang Shangli's sword momentum swirled around him, kicking up sharp winds that roared across the room. In the blink of an eye, he closed the distance to Chen Yi and brought his sword down with unrelenting force.

The Sword Gang extended three feet, cold moonlight refracting its blue-green glow like it had cut a gaping wound through the night itself. Chen Yi's body twisted like a dragon reversing its flight. With both hands gripping his blade, he cut through the wind and rain fiercely. His strike connected directly with Jiang Shangli's sword. The collision sent strands of their hair flying, tearing portions of their clothing, while razor winds howled past their ears.

The forceful impact rippled outward. The doorframe, unable to withstand the residual shockwaves, snapped in two amidst vibrating hums and collapsed downward. Both figures recoiled upon contact nearly simultaneously. As Chen Yi landed, a flicker of intrigue lit his gaze.

That sword…

Its chill was striking, its presence overwhelming, and its trajectory deadly intent—a killing blade.

Chen Yi began to piece together more clues about Jiang Shangli's origins, judging his martial arts to be of Fourth Rank, superior even to Lifeng Pavilion's incense master Zhao Yan.

Jiang Shangli steadied himself, shook his sword lightly, and upon noticing a clear notch had formed within its blade, reached for another weapon.

Meanwhile, Zhao Yan, observing Jiang Shangli's duel with Chen Yi result in an almost even match, felt a newfound confidence settle within him. However, he dared not slacken. Raising his hand slightly, he commanded the three assassins:

"Wear down his energy."

The three assassins exchanged fleeting looks of alarm and disbelief, but they quickly suppressed it, not daring to resist orders. Each gripped their weapons, stepping forward to encircle Chen Yi.

The tension thickened, the air heavy with the promise of violence. Chen Yi tilted the Brocade Spring Blade slightly, his sharp gaze sliding past the three assassins, fully locking on Zhao Yan and Jiang Shangli.

At that precise moment, a declaration echoed from the Qingfeng Hall's main chamber:

"Xique Pavilion, Seat Master Wei Wuque has arrived for the banquet!"

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