Jiangnan – Huzhou City. Headquarters of the Snowfall Hall, one of the Six Great Powers of the South.
In a quiet corner of a teahouse beside the grand headquarters of Snowfall Hall, a woman clad in robes whiter than snow sat alone on the second floor, by the window.
Her meal was frugal—two plates of greens, a bowl of plain rice, and a pot of clear tea.
She ate with refined grace, though swift and efficient. Not a single grain of rice or shred of vegetable was left behind. Her every movement bespoke the long discipline of one accustomed to hardship.
Just then, a sharp whinny pierced the air, followed by a thunder of hooves and the sound of running feet.
The woman turned her gaze toward the street.
A rider burst forth from the Snowfall Hall gates. She wore a snowy-white cloak, a veil of silk hanging from a white bamboo hat that obscured her face. Her horse was equally white, galloping ahead with the fluid grace of an avalanche. Behind her, twelve elite riders followed—each clad in white battle garb, each bearing a long broadsword with crimson silk tied to the hilt.
Behind them came a phalanx of thirty white-robed young men, each carrying a long spear and a dagger at the waist. Though on foot, they ran with astounding speed, nearly matching the gallop of the horses. Clearly, their lightness skill was top-notch.
The scene on the street was like a sudden charge into battle. Pedestrians scattered like birds before a storm.
The woman in the teahouse watched the procession, her icy features tinged with curiosity.
From a table nearby, two armed youths leaned close, whispering. Their voices were low—but the woman, with her sharp martial hearing, caught every word.
"Hey, have you heard? Big trouble's brewing in the martial world!"
"What kind of trouble? The government jacked up taxes again, so the sects are rebelling?"
"Don't joke! Which sect dares rebel against the court? No, this time it's a true disaster—an outrage to both gods and men! A devil has risen in Jianghu, and now the righteous alliances of North and South are calling for a martial summit to denounce him!"
"A summit? To denounce a devil? Since when has a 'Martial World Summit' been anything more than a glorified dinner party where old masters draw maps, eat good food, drink fine wine, and maybe spar once or twice before deciding who gets which mountain range?"
"Not this time! This summit's serious. It's been organized by none other than Du Gu Hongjian, the Grand Commissioner of the Jianghu Bureau. He's called upon every righteous sect to gather at Tianping Manor, near Ironblood Howling Fortress in Yan Province. The location's perfect—lush, serene, and full of rare fruits and delicacies. And guess what? All expenses are covered by the Fenyu Sect. Attendees even get goody bags, and at the end, ten lucky guests win special prizes!"
"Sounds more like a vacation raffle than a war council!"
"You jest, but the highlight this time is the public execution of the devil himself—by a thousand cuts!"
"Damn, slicing someone up during the banquet? That's a new one. Who's this villain, anyway? What unforgivable sins did he commit?"
"You know of the Freewill Manor? Their Third Young Master, Qin Ren? Word is—he's the devil! That scoundrel's a degenerate beyond words—lecherous, shameless, absolutely without virtue. In just a month, he's seduced or raped over a dozen noble girls, including White Lotus Fairy Lian Zhou Ruo'er, Cold Plum Blossom Qiu Ruomei, Poison-Hand Violet Thorn Qin Nier, and even high-level sect leaders like Master Mie Jue of Emei and Abbot Ruqu of Shaoling!"
"Wait—he raped Abbot Ruqu? Isn't he a man?!"
"Exactly! That beast spares no one—men, women, children, elders. From age seven to seventy, no target is safe if he sets his eyes on them. And the worst? To get close to Lady Hua Linglong, daughter of Grand Tutor Hua An, he even used a forbidden technique to cripple his own brother—Qin Lei, the Thunderblade God!"
"Holy hell! He defeated Qin Lei? The world's doomed! Finally, a chance for scoundrels like me to rise!"
"That's why the righteous path is mobilizing in full. Snowfall Hall's Master Ye just rode out with her elites—heading north for the summit, and maybe to hunt Qin Ren herself."
"Alas… what a hero among perverts, a general among rogues. His only mistake was pissing off everyone at once…"
Just as they sighed in pity, a cold gleam flashed. Before they could react, a single sword—long and radiant, its blade shimmering like moonlight—rested across both their necks.
Yes—one sword. Two throats.
One was facing her; the other had his back turned. The sword lay across the first man's shoulder and pointed at the second's throat. Neither had seen her move. Neither even realized when the woman with the sword—still in white—had approached.
"Mercy, fair warrior!" the man facing her squeaked. "Spare me, I beg you! I have a 108-year-old mother, and a newborn child—108 days old! If you kill me, you doom three generations!"
"Speak," the white-robed woman said coldly. "Where did you hear of the summit? And these lies about Qin Ren?"
"Everyone's talking about it!" the man whimpered. "Two days ago, it spread like wildfire. I—I don't know who started it… Wait, yes! I remember!"
"Then speak," the woman snapped.
"Lady… you must be one of Qin Ren's victims too! Want revenge? I've got a sword, my brother's got a knife. Just say the word, and we'll carve him up! As long as we don't hit Qin Feng by mistake, of course! Spare me, and I'll be your loyal hound!"
The man with his back to her chimed in desperately, "Same here! Mercy, please!"
The woman's face turned colder than winter frost. Her voice cut sharper than her blade.
"Killing you with my sword would stain it."
The two men exhaled in relief. But before they could thank her, their heads slammed onto the table—blood blooming across the wood like ink on parchment.
They'd been killed by chopsticks. One had a bamboo stick lodged clean through the back of his skull. The other—dead with a purple-stained chopstick in the center of his forehead.
"Chopsticks," the woman muttered. "They don't sully my blade."
A shadow of concern flickered in her icy eyes. "Ah Ren, you idiot… What mess have you gotten yourself into now?"
With a sigh, she leapt from the window, landed gracefully in the street, and snatched a horse from the pole outside. She galloped out of Huzhou, riding like the wind.
Northern Border – Yan Province. Qilian Town, twenty li from Ironblood Howling Fortress.
At the town's central square, at a humble noodle stall, two radiant girls were slurping noodles like there was no tomorrow.
One wore a snow-white dress, graceful and serene. The other wore a green blouse with a light-yellow skirt, eating in full, noisy slurps—hot oil staining her cherry lips into a shade both comical and strangely alluring.
Their mere presence turned the stall into a hotspot. There weren't enough tables. Some folks simply squatted by the roadside, bowls in hand, shoveling noodles while stealing glances at the beauties.
Naturally, men started showing off. What better topic than martial gossip?
A burly fellow with a messy beard slammed his bowl down theatrically.
"Listen up! Jianghu's in chaos! A bloodthirsty pervert's risen—defiling maidens left and right, and even... pillaging the back doors of men!"
"Seriously? Who's this madman?!"
"Qin Ren! That damn devil from Freewill Manor! Now the Martial Bureau is organizing a summit not just to gossip—but to publicly judge and butcher him! The victims will be there to expose him—Lian Zhou Ruo'er, Qin Nier, even the Emei and Shaoling masters!"
PFFFFT!
The green-garbed girl sprayed a mouthful of noodles and soup across the table, barely missing the white-dressed girl's face.
"Swear on my beard!" the bearded man cried. "There were witnesses, too!"
"Lies!" the green-garbed girl shouted, her voice like a whipcrack. She wiped her mouth, stood, and flicked her fingers. The air filled with a fragrant, poisonous wind.
Fifteen minutes later, the noodle stall was a graveyard. Every corpse bore a faint bluish hue.
The two girls had already ridden off, their steeds racing past Qilian's edge.
"Who's spreading these rumors? When I find them—I'll exterminate their clan!" the green girl growled.
"No use being angry," her cousin replied. "What matters is finding Qin Ren. That idiot still hasn't shown up at Ironblood Fortress. We've waited long enough…"
"What if he's already been caught by the so-called righteous sects?"
"If so, we can't let him fall into their hands. Our reputations would be ruined!"
"Exactly! I'd rather kill Qin Ren myself than let those peeping hypocrites get their hands on him. Hyah!"
Two horses sped into the dust, riding south—away from the summit, into the heart of chaos.