The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

Wangjianglou is the best restaurant in Nanchang Prefecture.

Built along the Gan River, you can see merchant ships coming and going on the river from the private room on the third floor.

In the past, when Duan Xilai hosted banquets here, he always sat in the host's seat, but today he sat in the guest's seat, facing a table full of delicacies without any appetite.

Li Shaoyuan's words from three days ago were still echoing in his ears.

"Lord Duan, I will help you get rid of Xu Jie, and in return, you will allow my Li family to participate in the salt and iron business in Jiangxi, ensuring fair trade and no deception of the young or old."

He didn't agree at the time, only saying he needed three days to consider it.

He barely slept for the past three days.

Xu Jie's actions are becoming increasingly rapid; he has already traced the discrepancies in the salt and iron tax accounts. If this is not stopped, it is only a matter of time before he finds out about Zhao Huan and Duan Xi.

But the conditions Li Shaoyuan offered were too dangerous.

Salt and iron were monopolies of the imperial court.

Allowing the Li family to participate in the salt and iron trade was tantamount to handing over the imperial court's power and resources to local powerful clans.

If this is discovered, it will be a serious crime that implicates the entire family.

He spent three days weighing his options and finally gave Li Shaoyuan an answer on the evening of the third day.

The door to the private room was pushed open, and Li Shaoyuan strode in.

A person wearing a black cloak followed behind him.

The person's footsteps were extremely light, as if they were stepping on cotton.

After entering, he silently stood in the shadows in the corner, his cloak hood pulled down so low that his face was not visible.

Duan Xi's gaze lingered on that person for a moment before shifting away.

He knew that it was a martial arts master raised by the Li family of Jinyang, whose cultivation was said to be no less than the sixth rank.

"Lord Duan, the three-day period has ended. What is your decision?"

Li Shaoyuan sat down opposite Duan Xi, picked up the wine pot on the table, poured himself a cup, and drank it.

His movements were so casual, as if the private room were his own territory.

Duan Xi remained silent for a while, his fingers slowly tracing the rim of the cup, before finally speaking: "Young Master Li, I can agree to your conditions, but I have two conditions."

"Speaking."

"First, Xu Jie must leave Jiangxi."

"As for how to get him to leave, whether it's through a transfer or some other means, I don't care about the process, I only care about the result."

"Secondly, the specific share of the salt and iron business cannot be decided by your company alone."

"I've been doing business in Jiangxi for many years, and you're not the only friend I have along the salt and iron line."

"If you want to take it all for yourself, I'd rather fight Xu Jie to the death."

Li Shaoyuan leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Duan Xi, that old fox, is still haggling even at this point, but it's not entirely unexpected.

He was able to hold the position of Provincial Surveillance Commissioner of Jiangxi for more than ten years. If he didn't even have this much negotiation skill, it wouldn't be worth him making the trip in person.

He put down his wine glass and said, "I can agree to your first condition right now."

"My men are already in Nanchang Prefecture. With just one word from me, Xu Jie will leave Jiangxi within three days."

"As for how to leave, Lord Duan need not ask, nor need he know."

"Just remember this: from now on, the Li family will have a share in the salt and iron business in Jiangxi."

"I understand Lord Duan's concerns regarding the second condition."

"How about this, you take half of the salt and iron quota, and the other half can be left to your friends."

"My Li family doesn't hoard wealth; we share it with everyone."

Duan Xi picked up his wine glass, tilted his head back, and drank it all in one gulp. The strong liquor burned his throat, making his eyes slightly red. His fingers were still trembling slightly when he put down the glass.

He stood up, straightened his clothes, and bowed to Li Shaoyuan, saying, "In that case, I will await your good news, Young Master Li."

After saying that, he turned and walked outside, but stopped at the door and looked back at the man in black in the corner.

The man remained standing motionless, his hood pulled low, revealing only a very thin, old scar on his chin.

Duan Xi withdrew his gaze, pushed open the door, and hurried downstairs.

Li Shaoyuan waited until Duan Xi's footsteps disappeared at the end of the stairs before gently placing his wine glass on the table. He then turned to the man in the corner and said, "Scarface, go and take care of it. Make sure it's clean."

Scarface nodded slightly and silently left the private room, disappearing into the night like a shadow.

Li Shaoyuan sat alone by the window, gazing at the Gan River outside, the smile on his lips slowly fading away.

He poured the remaining wine from his cup out the window, watching it fall into the river and be swallowed by the rolling water. He muttered to himself, "Lord Duan, you will soon find out that the person in this world more troublesome than Xu Jie is me, Li Shaoyuan."

……

Xu Jie's temporary residence was located in a quiet alley behind the Nanchang Prefectural Government Office.

The courtyard was not large, with three main rooms and side rooms where the accompanying officials of the Provincial Surveillance Commission lived.

Scarface had scouted the location beforehand and knew that Xu Jie would sit alone in his study for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea every night after finishing reviewing case files; this was the perfect opportunity to make his move.

He silently passed over the eaves of the house at the alley entrance, his toes lightly touching the tiles.

He landed silently on the courtyard wall, like a giant night owl.

He suppressed the aura of a peak sixth-grade martial artist to the extreme.

His vital energy was so concentrated that he was as cold as a stone, not even disturbing the night birds in the old locust tree in the courtyard.

He slowly drew the narrow, long sword from his back; the blade did not reflect light in the moonlight.

The blade was coated with a special ink lacquer, designed specifically for nighttime assassinations.

His gaze swept across the courtyard and landed on the window of the study, where a dim yellow light shone through.

A silhouette of someone bent over a desk reviewing official documents was reflected on the window paper.

He leaped silently off the courtyard wall, his knees slightly bent as he landed, only a few specks of dust rising from the bluestone slabs.

Three steps, two steps, one step.

His long sword was already held horizontally in front of his chest, the tip of the blade aimed at the throat of the silhouette on the window paper.

Just then, a very slight vibration came from the bluestone slab beneath his feet.

"wrong!"

"This isn't a bluestone slab, it's a trap."

Scarface's pupils contracted sharply, and he instinctively withdrew his sword to protect himself, but it was too late.

A dark shadow darted down from the canopy of the old locust tree in the courtyard like lightning, so fast that it tore a hole in the moonlight.

The dark figure didn't use any weapon; he simply extended two fingers and lightly flicked the blade of Scarface's long sword.

"Ding!"

A very light and crisp metallic clang rang out.

Scarface felt as if the long sword in his hand had been struck head-on by a charging rhinoceros.

The blade trembled violently, emitting a piercing buzz, and nearly flew out of my hand.

Using the force, he staggered back three steps, his back slamming against the courtyard wall. The sound of shattering bricks was particularly jarring in the quiet night.

He looked up and saw a middle-aged man dressed in a gray khaki shorts standing in front of the study door.

The man had a thin face, his hands were empty, he did not hold any weapons, he just stood there quietly, and there was no fluctuation of qi or blood in his body.

It was this utterly calm and uneventful state that made all the hairs on Scar's back stand on end.

The person who can conceal their aura to such an extent that even he cannot see through them must be at least as powerful as him, and may even be more so.

"Who goes there?" Nie Zheng's voice was not loud, and his tone was as indifferent as if he were asking what he had for dinner.

Scarface did not answer.

He knew that tonight's mission had failed.

The fact that Xu Jie had such a high-level expert secretly protecting him was something neither he nor Li Shaoyuan had expected.

But he couldn't retreat. He was a loyal follower of the Li family of Jinyang. Retreating meant death, and fighting meant death, but fighting offered a sliver of hope.

He held his longsword horizontally in front of him, the tip pointing diagonally at the ground. His blood and qi were no longer suppressed, and the aura of a peak sixth-rank cultivator erupted.

The bluestone slabs underfoot shattered inch by inch, the fragments were swept up by the shockwave and scattered in all directions, and the tiles on the courtyard wall fell down in a rustling sound.

Nie Zheng saw that his aura was as strong as a mountain, but his face remained calm as still water. He simply raised his right hand slowly.

His weapon was not hidden in his sleeve or carried on his back, but wrapped around his waist.

It was a soft sword as thin as a cicada's wing, usually hidden in the lining of the belt. The blade was as flexible as silk but incredibly sharp.

At this moment, the soft sword was drawn, its blade gleaming with a faint, cold light under the moonlight.

His grip on the sword was extremely casual, as if he were holding a willow branch.

But Scarface knew that once that sword was used, it would unleash a violent storm.

Scarface made the first move.

His movements were extremely fast, and he poured all his peak sixth-grade blood and qi into his legs.

He moved like an arrow shot from a bow, instantly covering several meters. His long sword whistled through the air as it slashed straight at Nie Zheng's face.

This strike was devoid of any feints, relying solely on pure power and speed.

Scar knew that against an opponent of this caliber, any feints would be a waste of time.

The only way is to force the opponent to reveal their weaknesses with the most straightforward and unpretentious offensive.

Nie Zheng did not take the blow head-on. Instead, he sidestepped the blade and slashed upwards at an angle, his soft sword emerging like a nimble snake from its hole.

The friction between the blade and the saber produced a long, piercing metallic hiss, and sparks flew everywhere.

Scarface felt an incredibly supple force travel from the blade to his wrist, causing his hand to tremble violently again, almost causing him to lose his grip on the hilt.

This sword strike, though seemingly effortless, actually contained eighty percent of Nie Zheng's seventh-grade cultivation power.

With a casual wave of his hand, he neutralized Scarface's full-force attack.

Scarface roared and launched another attack, his feet shattering the bluestone slabs as he spun like a top, his long sword sweeping across his waist.

This strike contained three times more energy than the previous one.

Before the blade even arrived, the wind from it had already cut several deep gashes into the trunk of the old locust tree in the courtyard, causing the leaves to fall in a flurry.

Nie Zheng lightly touched the ground with his toes and leaped into the air. His soft sword drew an arc in the air, and he flipped over in mid-air.

Using the momentum of his body's flip, the soft sword slashed diagonally downwards, its speed so fast that it left a silver afterimage in the air.

Scarface hastily parried with his own knife.

But Nie Zheng's soft sword suddenly bent at the moment it was about to collide with the blade.

The sword tip bypassed the blade and pierced his wrist, which was holding the knife.

Scarface had no choice but to loosen his grip on the hilt, his right wrist snapping as he narrowly avoided the sword tip, and then quickly retreated.

But before he could even get a foothold, Nie Zheng's second sword had already caught up.

The soft sword followed him closely, grazing his blade as it pierced towards his throat.

Scarface fell backward, the sword blade grazing his nose. He could even feel the chilling aura emanating from the blade.

He pushed off the wall with both feet and flipped to the side, skimming across the ground for two zhang (approximately 6.6 meters), barely avoiding the sword's pursuit.

But his left shoulder had been ripped open by the sword, leaving a shallow bloodstain on his skin.

They fought from the ground to the roof, and from the roof to the courtyard.

Wherever he went, the bluestone slabs were crushed and half of the courtyard wall was knocked down.

The old locust tree's crown was mostly sheared off by the wind, and broken bricks and stones rained down on the alley.

The more he fought, the more terrified he became.

Every time he tried to change his move, his opponent easily deflected it, while the opponent's counterattacks were deadly, forcing him to retreat continuously.

What's most terrifying is that this person's swordsmanship has no fixed moves.

Every sword strike was improvised, and every move was aimed at the weakest point in his swordsmanship.

Only now did Scarface finally determine the cultivation level of the person in front of him.

It's definitely a seventh-grade item.

Only a seventh-rank expert could suppress him so easily.

He took a deep breath, and his blood and energy suddenly became violent.

He used the unique Blood Burning Technique passed down by the Li family of Jinyang to forcefully push his blood and qi to their peak.

In exchange for a rapid increase in combat power in a short period of time.

The blue bricks beneath his feet shattered, and he was launched like a cannonball, raising his long sword high above his head and unleashing his strongest strike with all his might.

This strike was the culmination of his life's cultivation; the blade cleaved through the air with a deep, muffled thud.

Nie Zheng stood still without retreating, his eyes narrowing slightly.

This was the first time he had shown a serious expression that evening.

He held the soft sword horizontally in front of his chest, the blade suddenly straightening as he pushed his seventh-grade blood energy to its limit.

The two attacked simultaneously, their swords clashing violently in mid-air, creating a deafening explosion at the alley entrance.

The sword tip ripped open Scar's shirt, revealing a deep, bone-revealing wound that stretched from his collarbone to his chest, from which blood gushed out.

He staggered backward, using his long sword to steady himself, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

Nie Zheng's right sleeve was torn by the wind from the blade, revealing a shallow cut on his forearm from which blood slowly seeped.

He sheathed his soft sword at his waist, glanced down at the wound on his arm, and said calmly, "Blood Burning Secret Technique, the method of the Li family of Jinyang. Go back and tell your master that the affairs of Jiangxi are not his business."

Scarface gritted his teeth, gave him a deep look, then turned and leaped onto the dilapidated courtyard wall, disappearing into the night in a few bounds.

This is the destructive power of a high-level martial artist.

A seventh-rank martial artist could raze an alley to the ground with a single all-out attack.

If eighth- or ninth-rank experts were to fight unrestrained, destroying half a market would not be an exaggeration.

Since the founding of the Great Zhou Dynasty, Emperor Taizu had established an ironclad rule.

Any martial artist of rank four or above who engages in combat without authorization within the city will be detained and interrogated without question, and those who resist arrest will be killed without exception.

The imperial court has never relied on a single powerful figure to intimidate high-ranking martial artists.

Instead, they relied on their army, their crossbow formations, and tens of thousands of armored soldiers to surround them layer by layer.

During the reign of Emperor Dezong, the leader of the South China Sea Sword Sect, despite possessing an eighth-rank cultivation level, resisted arrest.

This man defeated dozens of skilled guards from the city patrol with just a long sword.

However, the city patrol directly dispatched 3,000 elite soldiers from the garrison camp.

They advanced in formation with heavily armored infantry, while powerful crossbows and bows fired simultaneously from all directions.

The sword sect leader's protective inner energy finally shattered under the continuous barrage of thousands of crossbow bolts, leaving him riddled with arrows.

From then on, an unwritten rule emerged in the martial arts world.

Within the imperial court's territory, dragons must coil up and tigers must lie down.