Martial Arts Master: The Lin Family Sword God, who swept through the Five Mountains and Four Sects

Lin Tian laughed loudly, raising an eyebrow slightly, and said nonchalantly, "It was just a casual promise! Besides, that box is just an old box, with ordinary carvings and little spiritual charm. Who would want it?" He paused, raised an eyebrow, and his smile deepened. "As for leaving empty-handed? Not entirely—if we really kept her here to marry my disciple, wouldn't he be getting a huge advantage? With Yan Fei's grace and charm, it would be hard to find another like her in the world."

Before he finished speaking, his gaze had already locked onto Yan Fei's brows and eyes like a hook, especially staring intently at her eyes, scrutinizing every inch of the ripples in her pupils.

But those eyes remained clear as ever, without surprise or fear, without flinching or avoidance, calm to the point of being utterly detached. Lin Tian's heart skipped a beat—could it be that he was just being paranoid? Was she truly willing to give up all her wealth and glory for Yan Dan, even betting her entire life on this desperate gamble?

Before the doubts had dissipated, Gai Nie's clear voice suddenly came from outside the door: "Empress Dowager, the King summons Consort Yan to the palace immediately."

Zhao Ji sighed softly, raising her hand to straighten her sleeves: "Enough, nowadays even my voice is barely audible." She paused slightly, her eyes glancing lightly at Lin Tian out of the corner of her eye, "But I am still the Empress Dowager, the birth mother of Zheng'er. From now on, as long as you are in the palace, I will protect you."

Lin Tian's throat tightened, and he fell silent. He knew that the Empress Dowager still remembered the old grievances from that day, but the scene before him was so absurdly amusing: a girl of thirteen or fourteen years old with a childlike face and a rather slender figure was speaking gently and respectfully in the tone of an elder to a mature beauty with a calm demeanor and dazzling charm.

He felt a sudden sense of relief and almost burst out laughing—the contrast was truly chilling.

"Thank you for your kindness, Empress Dowager. Consort Yan will go to see the King of Qin now."

As soon as the figure disappeared into the end of the corridor pillars, Lin Tian turned around to chase after him.

Zhao Ji raised her hand to stop her, her phoenix eyes narrowing slightly: "What are you doing following my betrothed?"

Lin Tian shrugged and smiled, his words carrying three parts mockery and seven parts sharpness: "Tsk... I'm afraid this 'daughter-in-law' is plotting how to put a knife to your son's throat. She's willing to risk her life for Yan Dan, so why wouldn't she be willing to go further? Besides—if she succeeds in one strike, she can escape far away, preserving her reputation and fulfilling her infatuation. Why not? A woman's mind is always more unfathomable than a deep pool."

Yan Dan's only desire in life was to resist Qin and assassinate Qin. How could Yan Fei not know this?

Jing Ke's journey to Qin was orchestrated by Yan Dan after his return to Yan; his later appointment as the leader of the Mohist school was also solely for the purpose of opposing Qin.

Although Lin Tian disliked this person, he had to admit that since his youth, Yan Dan had been aware of Qin's ambition to annex the six states and had firmly grasped the key to destroying Qin—killing Ying Zheng.

Back then, as a hostage in Xianyang, he witnessed firsthand how Ying Zheng broke free from the constraints of powerful ministers, reorganized military law, implemented new policies, and revitalized Qin's prestige. How could Yan Dan ignore such skill and decisiveness? How could he not understand—without Ying Zheng's death, the six states would never have a chance to rise again?

But Yan Fei, as the Eastern Lord of the Yin-Yang School, is no ordinary lady. If she were to truly marry Ying Zheng, it would only be to preserve her reputation, secretly aid Yan Dan, and incidentally offer a bloody gift...

At this moment, Yan Dan is about to leave Qin.

Assassination, escape, and fleeing to Yan—for Dongjun, these were not necessarily unrealistic dreams.

Lin Tian's fingertips felt slightly cold. The plot had already been skewed by his meddling, and he absolutely could not allow Yan Fei to ruin the game he had personally laid out.

Fate? The general trend? Ha... It's nothing but a paper tiger skin; it crumbles as soon as you tear it open.

With a stomp of his feet, the Heavenly Concealment Technique quietly activated, his figure melting into water like ink, disappearing silently into the light and shadow.

He hadn't forgotten—the system had coldly reminded him: there were only two chances left to make a move in this realm.

Sure enough, a mechanical voice instantly rang out in the mind: "The host has used force authority once. Remaining uses: one. Please use with caution, otherwise you will forfeit your chance to win the lucky draw before the next world begins."

The wonder of the Heavenly Concealment Technique lies in its ability to conceal one's breath like dust and hide one's form like nothingness. Even someone with Lin Tian's cultivation level would find it difficult to detect him at close range.

Lin Tian quietly followed behind Yan Fei, his steps as light as a falling leaf. Even Gai Nie didn't notice anything amiss, let alone Yan Fei ahead. He followed her all the way, watching her pass through layers of palaces and enter Ying Zheng's bedroom. Inside, the candlelight flickered, and Ying Zheng had already removed his court robes, wearing a black and gold casual robe, standing with his hands behind his back beside the screen.

"Yanfei greets Your Majesty!"

Lin Tian leaned against the door frame, his gaze like a hook, sweeping over every detail in the hall, but his heart suddenly sank: Consort Yan's movements were stiff, her eyes were unfocused, and there was a faint but glaring panic on her brows.

Ying Zheng raised his hand, signaling Gai Nie to step back. The moment the palace doors closed, he strode forward, personally helping Yan Fei to her feet, a slight smile playing on his lips: "No need for formalities! Last night I sent an envoy to the Yin-Yang School, and there will be a reply within three days. Once the Grand Preceptor returns from his campaign, I will formally elevate my beloved consort to the rank of Noble Consort, and then order the Minister of Ceremonies to arrange the wedding ceremony—all six rites will be complete, and the whole nation will celebrate together."

Consort Yan lowered her eyes, her voice soft yet resolute: "Your Majesty's kindness is deeply appreciated. However, His Highness the Crown Prince has come from afar, and I wish to personally escort him back to Yan. He treats me like an elder brother, and our friendship is profound; I dare not neglect him."

"No need." Ying Zheng's tone suddenly turned cold, each word like an iron nail driven into the blue bricks. "You can stay in the palace and await your investiture." Before he finished speaking, he added, his voice as chilling as a blade: "If you make any further moves, Yan Dan—don't even think about leaving Xianyang alive."

Outside the door, Lin Tian stood with his arms crossed, his fingertips unconsciously tapping against his elbows, his brows furrowed into a deep frown. He truly couldn't understand: with three thousand beauties in his harem, why would Ying Zheng be so interested in a Yin-Yang sorceress?

The answer came unexpectedly.

Ying Zheng gazed at Yan Fei's panicked profile, his tone suddenly softening: "The Yin-Yang School still holds great value in Qin. Now that you've entered the palace, behave yourself and be a noble consort."

"...Yes." Consort Yan's throat trembled slightly, her voice choked with sobs, "I only beg Your Majesty to spare the Crown Prince's life..."

Her tear-streaked face was pitiful, yet the sorrow between her brows revealed a captivating tenderness. But as Lin Tian stared at her pale knuckles and slightly labored breathing, alarm bells rang in his heart—this was definitely not Yan Fei.

Just then, a very faint scent of red sand drifted into my nostrils...

Ying Zheng fell for the trap as expected. How could he not pity the beauty with tears in her eyes? He reached out to grasp Yan Fei's wrist, then turned to lead her to the side hall: "Yan Dan is nothing but the remnant of a fallen kingdom, how can he compare to me and the vast land of Qin? Come, see the wedding dress I made for you."

"it is good."

A faint smile had just appeared on her lips when she took two steps forward—

His smile froze instantly, his face turned as cold as frost on a still pond, and his voice cracked like ice: "Your death is nigh."

Her hands flew, forming hand seals, and a burst of vermilion smoke enveloped Ying Zheng's entire body. Yan Fei flashed to the corner of the palace, beneath the bronze crane lamp stand, coldly looking down.

As the smoke dissipated, Ying Zheng, his back hunched, coughed violently. His throat bobbed but no sound came out. Veins bulged on his forehead, clearly indicating excruciating pain.

Yan Fei's eyes flashed like knives as she spoke, each word distinct and deliberate: "Ying Zheng, after today, you will no longer be able to threaten the Yan Kingdom, nor will you be able to suppress the other six kingdoms!"

"Isn't it a bit too early?"

Before he could finish speaking, Ying Zheng straightened up, brushed the rouge off his sleeve, and let out a cold laugh. His expression and demeanor showed no trace of poisoning.

"Who are you?"

Ying Zheng slowly raised his hand, his face rippling like water, and in an instant, Lin Tian stood before Yan Fei.

The real Ying Zheng was already standing at the palace gate, with Gai Nie standing solemnly beside him.

An avatar, a substitution—it's nothing more than a smokescreen obtained by exchanging a blue card, harmless yet ingenious in its stealth. Coupled with invisibility and secret telepathic communication, who can stop Lin Tian from secretly stirring up trouble?

The instant the crimson smoke rose, Lin Tian secretly transmitted his voice, reminding Ying Zheng to be on guard while urging Gai Nie below to prepare for attack. Amidst the crimson mist, the real body and the illusion instantly switched places.