After nearly two weeks since Jin's arrival at the sect, Jiangsu Province was drowning in summer humidity.
The air was heavy with the scent of rivers and old markets.
In a narrow alley near the main road, Jin sat inside a small, modest tavern.
Its wooden planks were worn down, an oil lamp swayed gently above the tables, and the clinking of spoons against bowls was the only music… until the talking began.
Jin ate quietly, his head lowered—indistinguishable from any ordinary traveler.
But his ears… were sharp.
A rough-voiced man leaned forward and said,
"Have you heard? Rumors are spreading like wildfire through Jianghu… about a boy wandering around, challenging experts."
Another laughed mockingly.
"A boy? You say it like a joke. They say he's a teenager, wears a straw hat, and never shows his face."
The spoons paused for a moment.
A third spoke, his voice lower this time.
"That's not all… they say he wiped out six small gangs in a single month."
Eyebrows rose.
Someone whispered,
"They even say he defeated an expert from the Wudang Sect… without using internal energy at all."
A heavy silence fell.
Internal energy was the backbone of Jianghu.
Anyone who didn't use it was either a fool… or something else entirely.
A fat man near the door snorted.
"Impossible. No internal energy? Then it's just another tavern tale."
But the eyes around him were uncertain.
Jin finished his meal calmly, then stood.
He walked to the tavern owner and placed a few coins on the table.
In a low but clear voice, he said,
"The food was good. You didn't overdo the salt."
The owner blinked, then smiled sincerely.
"Thank you, young man… come again if you pass by."
Jin left.
Outside, the sun was leaning toward the horizon.
Jin adjusted his scarf slightly, hiding his features further, then placed the straw hat firmly on his head.
He didn't look back.
He walked through the outskirts of the province, where patrols were sparse and suspicious buildings were common.
After a short distance, a wide structure appeared before him, bathed in garish lights.
A poorly made wooden sign hung above it, bearing the words:
"Great Fortune Palace."
A faint smile crossed Jin's lips.
A cheap name.
Fitting.
He entered.
The inside was loud—shouting, laughter, gambling tables, and the stench of sweat and money.
Jin took a step forward and said calmly,
"I want to meet the owner of this place."
The men exchanged glances, then one burst into laughter.
"Hah? And who do you think you are?"
From the back came a hoarse voice.
"Let him through."
The owner appeared—a broad-shouldered man with narrow eyes, a sword at his waist that was more ornate than necessary.
He was known in the outskirts as a mid-tier expert, skilled in a crude technique called Heavy Blade Cleave, relying more on strength and weight than precision.
He stared at Jin, then laughed.
"A straw hat? Don't tell me you're the hero from the rumors!"
His men erupted in laughter.
Jin spoke evenly.
"I heard rumors about this place… murder, fraud, and threats against travelers."
The man wiped his mouth with his hand and stepped closer.
"And I've heard rumors that we make money. So—do you want to gamble… or die?"
His laughter, and the looks from his men, were enough.
Jin was certain now.
He reached back—
But this time, he didn't draw his sword.
He drew the blade strapped to his back.
The air changed.
The owner said coldly,
"Kill—"
He didn't finish.
Jin surged forward like a released shadow.
The first man rushed him—his neck snapped in a single, silent motion.
The second raised a dagger—
the blade pierced his chest before he could scream.
"Third! Fourth!"
They swarmed him.
Jin used no internal energy.
His movements were pure—
a trained body, perfect timing, and a blade moving as an extension of his will.
He severed the tendons in one man's leg, spun behind another, and buried the blade into his back.
Two fell in an instant.
The owner roared,
"Surround him! Thirteen against one!"
They closed in.
Jin advanced instead of retreating.
He slammed his shoulder into a man's chest, knocked him down, crushed his hand underfoot, then drove the blade into his throat.
But in the chaos, Jin misstepped—half an inch.
A heavy blow from behind tore into his shoulder.
Hot blood spilled.
He stepped back only once.
His eyes didn't waver…
but the pain was real.
He turned immediately, split the attacker's stomach open, then grabbed the blade with his wounded hand.
Ignoring the bleeding, he continued.
Five… seven… ten.
Two tried to flee.
He didn't chase them.
He threw the blade.
It struck the first in the back of the head.
The second collapsed after two steps, a small blade buried in his back.
Only the owner remained.
He tightened his grip on his sword and stepped back half a step.
Panting, he asked,
"Who… who are you?!"
Jin advanced slowly.
In a terrifyingly calm voice, he said,
"Just someone who hates filth."
The man roared and unleashed everything he had—
Heavy Blade Cleave, a vertical strike carrying his full weight and technique.
The blow smashed into the ground, shards flying—
but Jin had already slid aside… a fraction too late.
The edge of the sword tore into his ribs.
Blood flowed.
But Jin stepped closer instead of retreating.
He grabbed the man's wrist, crushed it with a clear crack, then—
One straight thrust.
Into the heart.
The owner fell, eyes wide.
Silence descended.
Jin looked around.
The workers trembled where they stood.
The customers stared in horror.
Jin said clearly, despite the blood on his clothes,
"Those who were forced to work here—leave.
Those who never raised a weapon—are safe."
No one moved.
He returned the blade to its sheath, tightened the scarf to stop the bleeding, then turned and left.
Outside, night had fallen.
Jin lowered his straw hat and disappeared into the darkness.
And by the next morning…
A new rumor would be added to Jianghu.