The silence in the study was a living thing, heavy and suffocating. The scent of old paper and ink was now tainted by a new, sharp aroma: fear. Master Feng's eyes, wide and terrified behind his spectacles, were locked onto the simple stone pendant resting against Li Yunfan's chest. It was as if he were staring at a venomous snake poised to strike.
Yunfan's hand instinctively flew up to cover it, a gut reaction to shield the only piece of his past from this stranger's invasive gaze. "It was my mother's," he said, his voice low and defensive. It was a half-truth, an assumption. It was all he had.
"Your mother…" Master Feng whispered, taking a shaky step back. His composure as a respected scholar had completely crumbled, replaced by the primal terror of a man looking at a ghost. He stumbled to the window, peering nervously into the tranquil twilight of his courtyard as if expecting demons to leap from the decorative rock gardens.
"That crest… that symbol of the tranquil river under a void-like sky…" He wrung his hands, his knuckles pale. "I have seen it only once before. In the Imperial Archives, nearly fifteen years ago. On a sealed decree, marked in blood-red ink."
Yunfan's heart began to beat a slow, heavy drum against his ribs. Sealed decree? Blood-red ink? These were words from a world of power and death, far removed from the simple survival of the streets.
"That is the mark of the Li Clan of the Azure River," Feng said, his voice barely a breath. "A noble house, famed for their martial philosophy and their deep connection to the Jianghu. But they are no more. The decree I saw accused them of high treason. The sentence was extermination. Every man, woman, and child. Their name was to be struck from all records, their lands confiscated, their memory erased from the empire."
Li.
The name echoed in the hollow chambers of Yunfan's mind. Li Yunfan. He had always thought it a common name, one given to him by the Sect. But now, it felt like a brand, searing his soul. The Li Clan. His clan. He was not just an orphan; he was a survivor of a purge, a remnant of a house erased by imperial decree. The weight of it was so sudden, so immense, it nearly buckled his knees. Vengeance had been an abstract concept, a dull ache for a past he didn't know. Now, it had a name.
"Why?" Yunfan asked, his voice raw. "What did they do?"
"The records were sealed. To ask questions was to invite suspicion," Master Feng said, wringing his hands. "All I know is that they were deemed a threat to the stability of the throne. That crest… boy, you do not understand. It is not a symbol of honor anymore. It is a mark of death. If anyone of consequence were to see it and recognize it…"
Thwump.
The sound was soft, almost gentle. A thin, black dart, no longer than a finger, embedded itself deep into the wooden doorframe, inches from Master Feng's head. Its tip glistened with a sickly green fluid.
Master Feng let out a choked cry, stumbling away from the door. Yunfan spun around, his staff held tight in a two-handed grip. The tranquility of the courtyard outside was shattered. Two figures, clad head-to-toe in black, dropped from the roof into the garden. They moved with a silent, fluid grace that made the River Rat thugs look like stumbling children. They were assassins. Professionals.
Their eyes, cold and merciless behind their masks, fixed on Li Yunfan. They had seen the pendant.
"They're here for the secret," Feng gasped, his face ashen. "For anyone who knows the Li Clan is not entirely gone!"
The assassins didn't waste time with words. One slid through the open doorway, a pair of short, wicked-looking daggers appearing in his hands as if by magic. His movements were swift and direct, a blur of black cloth and gleaming steel. He lunged for Yunfan, his blades humming a song of death.
Yunfan's mind went blank, his body moving on pure instinct. This was not a brawl; this was a dance with death. The assassin's dagger stabbed for his throat—the infamous "Shadowless Thrust." Yunfan's staff shot up, not to block, but to parry, tapping the assassin's wrist just enough to send the blade wide. He felt the assassin's intent, a cold, sharp spike of killing energy, and his body reacted before his mind could catch up. He shifted his weight, flowing backward in the first stance of the Flowing Void, his feet moving in an arc that seemed both to retreat and advance at the same time.
The second assassin was already on him, a chain whip whistling through the air. Yunfan was trapped between them.
"This way!" Master Feng cried, pulling desperately at a large, ornate bookshelf. With a groan of hidden mechanisms, it swung inward, revealing a dark, narrow passage. "Quickly!"
But the path was blocked. The dagger-wielding assassin pressed his attack, a flurry of strikes aimed at Yunfan's vital points. Each parry with his staff sent a jarring shock up his arms. This was no common martial art; it was a science of killing, refined and perfected. He was outmatched.
Just as a dagger slipped past his guard, aiming for his ribs, a new sound cut through the air—the sharp, commanding crack of a whip.
A flash of green silk burst into the study. Hua Ziyan stood at the doorway, her face grim, her whip a writhing serpent in her hand. It lashed out, striking the chain whip of the second assassin, the two weapons tangling in a shower of sparks.
"I knew that carriage attack felt wrong!" she called out, her voice sharp with adrenaline. "These are the same men! They weren't after my chest—they were waiting for you!" She had tracked him, her instincts screaming that the beggar boy who fought with such strange skill was at the center of a far darker plot.
The assassins, momentarily surprised by the interference, regrouped. The dynamic in the room shifted. Hua Ziyan's style was wide and controlling, her whip creating a zone of denial around her. Yunfan's was close, disruptive, and reactive. They fell into a natural, unspoken rhythm, covering each other's weaknesses.
"The passage!" Yunfan yelled, using his staff to sweep a table into the path of the dagger assassin, buying a precious second.
Hua Ziyan's whip cracked again, forcing the second assassin back. "Go! I'll hold them!"
Yunfan hesitated for only a heartbeat before grabbing the terrified Master Feng and shoving him toward the hidden door. He followed right behind, Hua Ziyan slipping through just as the assassins lunged, her whip coiling back into her hand with a final, defiant snap. Yunfan slammed the bookshelf shut, plunging them into the musty darkness of the secret passage.
They stumbled through the cramped, cobweb-filled tunnel, emerging into a filthy back alley pungent with the smell of discarded refuse. Master Feng collapsed against a wall, gasping for air, his scholarly dignity in tatters.
"I should have burned that record," he wheezed, his body trembling. "To know is to be marked." He looked at Yunfan, his eyes filled with a desperate pity. "I cannot help you further, boy. To be seen with you is a death sentence."
He fumbled inside his robes and pushed a small, sealed scroll into Yunfan's hands. "I was a scribe. I made copies. This is the official decree of erasure for the Li Clan. It names their supposed crimes. It is all I have."
He paused, his gaze distant. "There is one other thing. A rumor, a whisper I heard once in the archives. The Li Clan's martial philosophy… some called it the 'Manual of the Empty Vein.' A Wudang elder, a hermit who lives on Mount Qingcheng, once spoke of it. He is an eccentric, but he is wise. If you seek answers beyond this... seek him. But seek knowledge, boy, not vengeance. Vengeance is a fire that consumes the bearer."
Without another word, Master Feng turned and scurried away into the night, a ghost fleeing his own past.
Yunfan was left in the alley, the cold scroll in his hand, the pendant a heavy weight on his chest. Hua Ziyan stood beside him, her breathing still ragged from the fight. The earlier social chasm between the noble lady and the beggar boy had vanished, burned away by the heat of shared battle. They were now simply two people caught in the same deadly conspiracy.
"So," she said, her voice soft but clear in the darkness, "Li Yunfan of the fallen Li Clan. It seems your life is far more interesting than you let on."
He looked down at the pendant in his hand. It was no longer just a keepsake. It was a legacy. A death sentence. And a compass. He now had a name for his past and a direction for his future: Mount Qingcheng. But the shadows that hunted him were deeper and more numerous than he could have ever imagined.
The first step on his ten thousand li journey had been taken, and the road ahead was already soaked in blood.