A cold wind swept across Ludong Ridge.
Spring rains had been sparse this year. Even after the wind passed, the sky above this rugged border town remained dull and gray, like the ashes in a long-cold brazier.
A plain carriage, its wheels recently replaced, rolled slowly out of a quiet inn near the western gate. It moved through the narrow streets of Ludong Ridge, left by the eastern gate, and continued eastward. Before long, it became a fading dot in the eyes of the guards on the wall—there, then gone.
The only unusual thing about this carriage was the one driving it—a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Her features were delicate, her hands too soft to hold reins, yet she held them with calm control. Still, no one paid much attention to her. Border towns didn't ask questions. People here had long since learned to look the other way.
Ludong Ridge Prefecture was built for war, not peace. The walls were thick, five zhang high, black bricks baked hard in dragon kilns. One-third of the city was taken up by officials and their halls. The rest belonged to soldiers—barracks, stables, training yards, armories. The scent of iron and blood never quite faded.
At the heart of the northern sector, the main hall of the Prefecture was dimly lit with thick red candles. The scent of wax and smoke lingered in the air.
Li Xiping, the Prefect, sat silently beneath the flickering light. His face was pale and stern.
He was not a tall man, nor broad. His robe was plain gray, its sleeves stained with oil and ink. He looked tired, worn. But when he grew cold and quiet like this, it felt like the air around him turned to ice. Even without drawing a blade, he could press down on a room with the weight of a mountain.
He had marched through killing fields. He had stared death in the face many times. That kind of man didn't need to raise his voice.
A man in dark leather armor stood before him, hesitating.
Li Xiping opened his mouth, his voice low and firm. "Tell Zhang Zhendong to report to Scarface Liu. Send them both to Blackwater Marsh."
The armored man's face changed. "Blackwater Marsh? Isn't that… too cruel?"
Li Xiping's eyes narrowed. "If he hadn't fought by my side for two years… I would've tossed him in a dungeon and left him to rot. No need to wait for an edict."
He paused, then said coldly, "These are troubled times. If we don't root out weakness now, we'll all be buried when the reckoning comes."
The man bowed, trembling slightly.
He'd served under Li Xiping for many years. This was the first time he'd seen him so cold, so ruthless.
"But that girl…" he couldn't help asking, "Who is she really? Even her maid gave off a presence…"
"Maid?" Li Xiping laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "There are things in this world best left unknown. The less you ask, the longer you live."
"…Yes, Prefect." The man bowed deeply and left.
Just as he was about to walk out, Li Xiping added, "Have Uncle Liu prepare the carriage. I'll go to Lulin Town myself."
The armored man stiffened but said nothing, only nodding silently before leaving the hall.
After a long moment alone, Li Xiping picked up his teacup—but halfway to his lips, his hand froze.
The cup shattered against the stone floor.
Even someone like him, who had survived battlefields and court schemes alike, couldn't bear what he had just done.
He had sentenced an old brother-in-arms to die.
He closed his eyes for a moment, then left the hall without changing his tea-stained robe. His back was straight as he stepped into the night.
Two guards came to clean up the shattered porcelain. Li Xiping climbed into a simple wooden carriage.
The man driving it was old, his hair white, his shoulders hunched. He didn't speak. They left the city quietly and traveled through villages and wild fields until they reached Lulin Town.
When the carriage stopped, Li Xiping stepped out alone.
He walked to a small slope by the roadside and stood silently. A few days ago, a girl in blue had passed here.
He looked up at the pale sky.
Then, slowly, he broke a branch from a nearby tree and used it as a walking stick. Step by step, he walked toward a nearby village.
Each step was steady. With every stride, the stick in his hand began to resemble less a crutch—and more a sword.
…
The old white-haired driver rested one night in Lulin Town, then left at dawn, the same carriage creaking behind him.
At the edge of town, a family stood watching the carriage off.
A thick-browed man with rough hands, a gentle woman blinking back tears, a younger girl trying not to cry, and a skinny yellow dog, tail wagging softly.
Inside the carriage, Lin Xi lifted the curtain and waved at them, his eyes red.
"Dad! That wine that kept going missing... I used it to make medicine wine. It's under my bed. Drink a bit every time you miss me."
"Mom! Don't catch a cold again."
"Little Sis! Be good! I'll bring back something fun when I come home."
"And you, Ah-Huang! Stop chasing chickens all day!"
"Waaah…" his little sister broke into tears, and the dog let out a low whine.
"You stinking brat," his father cursed, voice hoarse, wiping his eyes roughly. "Don't talk too much out there. The outside world doesn't spoil fools."
Lin Xi wanted to laugh. "You've never even been out of town, Dad."
But he held it in.
"Got it," he said instead, softly.
The carriage rolled onward, away from Lulin Town.
When the village was far behind, Lin Xi let the curtain fall and let out a long sigh.
He didn't look around. He wasn't in a rush.
There would be plenty of time for that.
He had lived here for two years now—two years in this strange world.
He remembered the last time he left home on Earth. He'd taken a train to university. His father sent money for tuition. His mother, who'd disappeared years ago chasing her debts, probably didn't even know where he was.
But here, in this world, he had a different father. A man who'd knelt and prayed when he was sick. A clever, clingy little sister. A fierce but warm-hearted mother. A peaceful town.
He had no grand ambitions. He didn't understand the Yunqin Empire's power, nor its borders. He only knew that it stretched far, and that his home was small.
Then two strange carriages came. And nothing was the same.
He didn't know who that girl in blue truly was. But she wasn't ordinary.
"Qingluan Academy… what kind of place is that?"
Just thinking of the girl made his heart twist.
Lin Xi reached under the seat and took out a bundle.
Inside was a dagger. Brand new. Sharp. Deadly.
He quietly tucked it up his sleeve, lifted the curtain slightly, and looked toward the front of the carriage.
The white-haired old man was still driving. Seemed half-asleep.
Lin Xi stared at his back.
Then, without warning, he struck.
Whoosh!
The air turned cold. Before his dagger reached its mark, Lin Xi was flying through the air, then crashing into the roadside brush.
The old man still hadn't turned around.
"What do you think you're doing?" he said flatly. He held the dagger between two fingers. The blade had bent.
Lin Xi crawled out of the bush and spat out a leaf.
"So there really are experts like this…"
He stood up, eyes shining. "Can you fly? Are there swords that soar through the air? Spells that burn mountains?"
The old man didn't answer. He looked at Lin Xi like he was looking at a rock that had just spoken.
"…Try that again," he said coldly, "and I'll break your hand."
Lin Xi sighed.
The next blink, he was back in the carriage. No bruises. No ache. The dagger was back in its sheath. It was like nothing had ever happened.
Outside, the spring sun rose higher.
The carriage kept moving, slowly, toward the north.