The story begins with a power struggle among nine princes, but the protagonist doesn't vie for

After all, Luo Zhaoheng had no connection with Lingfeng, Lingyu, and the others, and they weren't fellow disciples of the Qingcheng Sect. So, Luo Zhaoheng had no need to chat with Lingfeng and the others. He was already being generous by saving their lives this time, and they shouldn't ask for anything more.

Luo Zhaoheng gave the three of them a few brief instructions before setting off on horseback.

Lingfeng, Lingyu, and Lingyun were left behind, carrying a bellyful of complicated and indescribable emotions, as well as more or less scratches and bruises on their bodies, and headed towards their own sect.

Once out of the sight of the three juniors, only the natural sounds of the mountains and forests remained around him. Luo Zhaoheng, riding on his horse, gradually slowed down. His calm and composed mind, which had been undisturbed, finally showed a slight ripple.

He committed murder.

He used Bajiquan to personally end three lives.

Although those three deserved to die, although they acted calmly and decisively, and although they remained composed when looting the corpses afterwards... at this moment, when facing this silent mountain forest alone, an indescribable feeling, similar to "dazedness," still quietly crept into my heart.

It wasn't fear, nor regret, and certainly not disgust or dread.

But... the feeling of "ending a life with your own hands" is ultimately different.

The feedback when a fist touches flesh and bone, the stagnation of life abruptly ending, the scent of blood and death... these direct, primal impacts cannot be completely replaced by any calculation or imagination.

Luo Zhaoheng raised his right hand, his five fingers slowly closing and then opening again. His palm was clean, his knuckles were even, and his skin contained explosive power.

These very hands, in the blink of an eye, in the most brutal and direct way, deprived three people of their right to live.

"Heh..." Luo Zhaoheng chuckled softly, his voice barely audible in the mountain wind. There was no joy or pity in his laughter, only a chilling understanding.

So this is the feeling of life and death that comes with power.

So, killing... is nothing more than this.

There was no discomfort as expected, no intense moral struggle. It was like crushing three poisonous insects that tried to bite—nothing more.

Even in that moment of power eruption and control over life and death, there seemed to be a very subtle, even unseen, stirring deep within Luo Zhaoheng's heart... a throbbing sensation?

Is it a confirmation of control over power? Or is it the release of some instinct that has been suppressed for too long?

Luo Zhaoheng shook his head, suppressing these chaotic thoughts. The slight "dazedness" in his heart quickly passed.

He sat up straight again, his gaze regaining its usual calm and depth. A mountain breeze blew by, causing his Taoist robe to flutter slightly, and the faint trace of dazedness and ripples from before had vanished without a trace, as if it had never existed.

After looking up to determine the direction, Luo Zhaoheng did not linger and continued forward.

Once you leave Sichuan, you'll find yourself on the vast, flat Jianghan Plain.

Under the scorching summer sun, the rice paddies along the official road are lush and green, and in the distance, a network of waterways with boats dotted the landscape, a stark contrast to the mountainous scenery of Sichuan.

Along the way, Luo Zhaoheng changed out of the Qingcheng Sect's indigo Taoist robe and into a simple, easy-to-move dark blue cloth outfit, with his hair simply tied up with an ebony hairpin.

If it weren't for the sword in his hand, Luo Zhaoheng would look more like a young scholar or merchant's son from a well-off family, traveling or running errands alone.

However, the lingering calm demeanor between Luo Zhaoheng's brows and his slightly slender yet exceptionally upright figure still drew attention.

On his return to the capital, Luo Zhaoheng was not in a hurry, so he traveled at a leisurely pace, traveling during the day and staying overnight, occasionally taking detours to observe the local customs and culture, which truly had the feel of a traveler.

Jingzhou was a vital city, a crossroads of nine provinces, and a hub of waterways. The city walls were tall and majestic, the moat wide, and the city bustled with carriages and pedestrians. Merchants and travelers from all walks of life mingled here and there, making it a truly prosperous and vibrant city.

Luo Zhaoheng led his horse and slowly entered the city through the west gate with the flow of people.

Before your eyes is a wide and flat bluestone street, lined with shops on both sides, with flags fluttering in the wind. The sounds of hawking, bargaining, carriages, and storytelling mingle together, creating a vibrant and bustling atmosphere that seems like a world apart from the tranquility of Qingcheng Mountain.

Luo Zhaoheng wandered around the city for a while, roughly figuring out the directions of the main streets and docks, and then found an inn that looked clean and had quite a few guests but wasn't too noisy—"Yuelai Inn".

These types of inns, with their common names and moderate size, are often good places for information to circulate without attracting too much attention.

"Sir, would you like a meal or a room?" The quick-witted waiter immediately came to greet him.

"If you're staying at an inn, you need to eat too. Take the horse and feed it well, with the best fodder." Luo Zhaoheng said calmly, casually tossing over a small piece of silver.

The waiter took the silver, feeling its weight, and immediately beamed, his attitude becoming even more attentive: "Alright! Don't worry, sir, I'll make sure your horse is taken care of perfectly! Would you like to eat first or see a room?"

"Let's get a nice, quiet room first. Put the luggage upstairs, then I'll come down for dinner."

"Alright! Room number three, the best room, clean and bright, I guarantee you'll be satisfied! This way, sir!" The waiter called out loudly, leading Luo Zhaoheng into the inn and arranging the room.

The room was indeed quite clean. Opening the window, you could see a small courtyard with a few clumps of bamboo growing behind the inn, which was quite elegant.

Luo Zhaoheng placed his personal sword and small package in the room, then went downstairs to the restaurant that served as the front hall of the inn.

It was around noon, and the restaurant was quite lively, with most of the seats occupied.

Luo Zhaoheng glanced at it and went straight to the second floor.

The second floor was relatively quiet and had a good view. He chose a seat by the window, where he could observe the stairwell and most of the floor, as well as see part of the street below.

"Sir, what would you like to order? Our shop has authentic Jingzhou cuisine, fresh fish and shrimp from the river, and fine aged wine..." Another waiter came over briskly, draped a white towel over his shoulders, and rattled off the names of the dishes.

Luo Zhaoheng casually ordered three dishes and a soup: a steamed sea bass, a mixed steamed dish of preserved meats, a stir-fried vegetable dish, a bowl of three-delicacy soup, and a pot of good tea.

While waiting for the food to be served, Luo Zhaoheng poured himself a cup of tea, sipped it slowly, and casually glanced at the diners in the restaurant.

At a table by the window sat several people who looked like traveling merchants, discussing this year's silk prices and canal tariffs in hushed tones, their voices filled with anxiety.

At the middle table sat several men in tight-fitting clothes, carrying knives and swords, with loud voices, drinking and boasting about their adventures in the martial arts world...