The “victim” Zhou Man had robbed days earlier appeared in a stone-green robe, fresh as the tide of spring. Gold thread still embroidered the sleeves and hem, and at her waist hung the same three items—sword, writing brush, and abacus. Even the gold-flecked fan in her hand was unchanged.
Her eyes swept over Zhou Man the moment she entered.
Zhou Man remained calm. That night in Jiajin Valley she had worn a mask, the moon hidden by clouds, the valley cloaked in darkness. Even when speaking with Jin Buhuan, she had lowered her voice. She was certain she had left no trace.
Yet Jin Buhuan stared at her for a long time, then suddenly hissed, pressing his fan to his temple. “Why do you look so familiar, young lady? As if I’ve seen you somewhere before?”
Zhou Man’s heart skipped. This shouldn’t be happening.
She quickly recovered, smiling lightly. “I saw you at a weapons shop on Mud Plate Street half a month ago. There were many people there—you might not have noticed.”
At the words Mud Plate Street, Jin Buhuan’s expression shifted, then smoothed into a smile. “So you saw me kill someone, Miss.”
He spoke of murder as if it were nothing.
“I never imagined my first meeting with a classmate would be in such a scene,” he sighed. “Had I known you were there, I wouldn’t have killed him. I should have left a better impression…”
His tone was frivolous, almost mocking.
Zhou Man frowned, her smile fading. “You jest, Young Master Jin.”
Wei Xuan’s gaze lingered on them. Manager Yang asked, “Does Miss Zhou know him?”
Zhou Man was about to deny it, but Jin Buhuan cut in smoothly, “Yes, of course we know each other.”
She looked at him in surprise, but he only produced a ledger, handing it to Manager Yang. “The account of last month’s items. Please check it. If there are errors, call me.”
Manager Yang accepted it with thanks.
Then Jin Buhuan pointed at Zhou Man. “This Miss Zhou is new. She hasn’t chosen a dormitory yet. I know the academy well—why don’t I show her around?”
Manager Yang immediately understood his intent, but for a newcomer, making connections wasn’t a bad thing. Especially with someone as socially adept as Jin Buhuan. He turned to Wei Xuan.
Wei Xuan nodded. “Since they are classmates, it’s appropriate.”
“Then go with him, Miss Zhou,” Manager Yang said.
Jin Buhuan beamed. Zhou Man, however, was stunned. She had barely arrived, yet everything seemed arranged already. Just who is this Jin Buhuan?
She bid farewell to Wei Xuan and Manager Yang, then followed him deeper into the academy.
Once outside Jieyun Hall, Jin Buhuan stared at her as though she were a rare treasure.
Zhou Man bristled. “Young Master Jin, why are you looking at me like that?”
He stroked his fan, eyes gleaming. “Elder Wei of the Wang family personally escorted you. Are you really the legendary outsider?”
“Legendary outsider?” she echoed.
He laughed. “The one who caused chaos in the Wang family and took the place of Wang Gao.”
So that’s the story Wei Xuan spread? Zhou Man almost laughed with relief. Outwardly, she feigned surprise. “Ah, really? Then perhaps it’s me.”
“Perhaps?” Jin Buhuan repeated, intrigued. “Do you know almost everyone here is waiting to see you?”
“To see how many heads I have? They’ll be disappointed,” Zhou Man replied coolly.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
“What should I be afraid of?”
Jin Buhuan stared, then burst into laughter. What should she be afraid of? Anyone who could ask that wasn’t someone to trifle with.
Overjoyed, he slapped his fan. “Interesting, interesting—hiss!”
He winced suddenly, clutching his side.
“You’re injured?” Zhou Man asked.
He cursed inwardly, then forced a smile. “It’s from Jiajin Valley. A skilled archer tried to rob us. Cruel and vicious. I risked my life to fight him off, but was struck by an arrow…”
Zhou Man: …Excuse me? You surrendered without a fight!
Oblivious, he continued boasting. “The scene was bloody. If I meet him again, I’ll make sure he never returns!”
Zhou Man: Very well, Jin. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.
Noticing her look, he asked, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
She smiled faintly. “I was born with a crooked mouth and eyes. Sometimes I can’t control it.”
“Oh. That’s minor. The healers at Spring Breeze Hall are skilled. They’ll cure you perfectly,” he said.
Zhou Man sneered inwardly, then asked, “Was the Jiajin Valley incident serious? Was the attacker caught?”
“No. Young Master Song sent Chen Si to investigate, but the arrows were common. Two were smelted silver—one shattered, the other too damaged to trace.”
Zhou Man thought of the broken arrows she had bought. Good luck with that investigation.
She smiled. “Then it will take some time.”
“Yes,” Jin Buhuan agreed smugly.
They walked deeper into the academy. He pointed to a tall building. “That’s the Sword Study Hall. We’ll learn swordsmanship there.”
Zhou Man looked up at its solemn grandeur, the tallest structure besides the East Corner Tower.
But Jin Buhuan moved on. “I’ll take my junior sister to the East Dormitory first.”
Zhou Man arched a brow. “Is there a West Dormitory?”
“Yes. The East Dormitory houses disciples of Shu Prefecture’s four sects. The West Dormitory is for those from the six prefectures and one kingdom.”
Zhou Man narrowed her eyes. “And the three great families?”
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Jin Buhuan gave Zhou Man a meaningful look, then snapped his fan shut and gestured toward the peaks looming above Jianmen Academy. “They don’t live in the East or West Dormitories. The three great families usually build their own mansions and courtyards on the mountain.”
“...”
Zhou Man glanced at the distant ridges. Of course. The three great families would never stoop to live with the rest.
The East Dormitory lay on the academy’s eastern side. Jin Buhuan led her out into a valley where clusters of houses stood. At last, there were people.
From the first courtyard came the clash of steel and furious voices.
“Fight! Fight! Fight! I’ll teach you Qingcheng Sect bastards a lesson!”
“You shameless Emei woman, you dare curse me?”
“Take this!”
“You copied my moves? Fine, who’s shameless now!”
“The Great Dao has three thousand paths, all leading to the same end. Your moves are my moves! I’ll steal them if I want!”
Inside, a valiant woman with sword in hand battled a young Taoist in a dark blue robe, each strike vicious and unrelenting.
Jin Buhuan coughed. “Senior Brother Huo Zhui of Qingcheng Sect and Senior Sister Yu Xiuying of Emei. They’ve been fighting since the day they arrived. Swords have no eyes—let’s move on.”
Neither combatant noticed them. Zhou Man studied their swordplay, nodding in appreciation.
They passed another corridor. Behind a tightly shut door came raucous laughter and drunken shouts:
“Drink three hundred cups!”
“No one leaves standing tonight!”
“Good wine, good wine!”
“Life is short—seize the day! Who’ll dance with a sword? I’ll sing for him!”
Zhou Man didn’t need Jin Buhuan’s explanation. “The Sanhua Tower?”
He coughed again. “Yes. Descendants of the Qinglian Sword Immortal. They love wine, poetry, and sword dances. A bit noisy, but generous with their coin…” His eyes gleamed with a merchant’s shrewdness.
Zhou Man recalled the ledger he’d handed Steward Yang. “Young Master Jin can actually do business inside Jianmen Academy?”
He fanned himself smugly. “What in the world isn’t business? If Junior Sister ever lacks—”
“Behind the red gates, meat and wine rot, while on the road, corpses freeze!”
The sudden recitation cut him off, heavy with resentment.
Jin Buhuan stiffened.
In a pavilion ahead stood a young man with square features, loose robe, wooden crown, and bamboo brush at his waist. His cold gaze fixed not on Zhou Man—but on Jin Buhuan.
Suppressing a headache, Jin Buhuan forced a smile. “Greetings, Senior Brother Chang. You misunderstand. I was only helping a new junior sister choose her dorm, not swindling anyone. Why greet me with such ‘grand poetry’?”
Senior Brother Chang glanced at Zhou Man, snorted, flicked his sleeve, and left.
Zhou Man watched him go, thoughtful.
Jin Buhuan shrugged. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m from Du Caotang.”
“You’re from Du Caotang too,” Zhou Man said.
He grinned. “I bet you’re wondering how someone like me, so out of place, not only entered Du Caotang but also secured a quota here?”
Zhou Man nodded.
He laughed loudly. “I won’t tell you. Guess for yourself!”
“...”
Her expression only made him laugh harder, his peach-blossom eyes sparkling. “We’ve seen the East Dormitory. Now let’s visit the West.”
The West Dormitory housed cultivators from the six states and one kingdom—those who had fought through brutal selections. Their backgrounds varied, but their strength was undeniable. Zhou Man’s interest sharpened.
They changed direction, passing a roaring waterfall. On the opposite bank, a crowd gathered around a high platform.
Jin Buhuan halted. “Isn’t that the execution platform?”
Several bronze pillars stood there. A middle-aged man was bound to one, his body writhing under the crack of a golden whip. Lightning flared with each strike, tearing flesh and spilling blood. He sagged, drenched in sweat, on the verge of collapse.
“Father!”
A young woman in white rushed forward, shielding him with her body. The whip lashed her instead, blood splattering, a welt burning across her cheek.
The whip-bearer froze, glancing at the stern steward beside him.
“Zhao Nishang, what are you doing?” the steward barked.
Kneeling, her voice steady, Zhao Nishang cried, “That brocade was meant for me. If it is theft, punish me! My father has served the Song family and academy for years. He is old and frail—he cannot endure fifty lashes. Let me take his place!”
The steward hesitated, but when he looked at the brocade in his hand, his face hardened. “Rules cannot be broken. Today it is a scrap of cloth; tomorrow, theft. This is not punishment, but prevention. Continue!”
“Executive Gao!” Zhao Nishang pleaded.
He ignored her. Guards seized her, and the whip fell again.
Ten lashes. Twenty. Blood sprayed. Zhao Nishang collapsed, eyes red with fury and grief.
The crowd murmured. Some bore Xuan Tie or Bai Yu tokens, most none at all.
“Cloth-maker Zhao is a fool,” someone whispered. “That brocade was for Miss Lanzhen’s gown. How could he give scraps to his daughter?”
Zhou Man’s eyes flicked toward the speaker. Jin Buhuan said nothing.
At last, the lashes ended. The rope was cut, and the bloodied man crumpled to the ground.
“Father—!” Zhao Nishang broke free, rushing to him. His breath was faint, his eyes closed. Blood stained her hands as she tried to lift him.
“Please, hold on. I’ll take you to Chunfeng Hall, I’ll find a doctor…”
But she was too frail. After several failed attempts, she turned desperately to the crowd.
“Is there anyone who can help? Please—take my father to Chunfeng Hall. He’s dying!”
Yet everyone who met Zhao Nishang’s desperate gaze quietly turned away, shaking their heads with sighs before slipping off.
Not a single person stepped forward.
Zhou Man frowned, watching her sink into despair. Everyone sweeps the snow from their own doorstep, who cares about the frost on another’s roof? Such indifference is the way of the world.
How could Zhao Nishang have imagined it? Those who once laughed and chatted with her now stood idle, or turned their backs in silence.
She was nearly ready to accept her fate.
But then she saw Zhou Man. Among the crowd, only this woman stood calm, unflinching, her expression thoughtful rather than fearful.
To Zhao Nishang, it was like seeing a lifeline. She gambled everything on that faint hope.
Abandoning all pretense of dignity, she turned and knelt before Zhou Man—a stranger she had never met. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded, “Could you please ask this senior sister to help me take my father to Chunfeng Hall?”
At once, every eye in the crowd fixed on Zhou Man.
She was taken aback.
Jin Buhuan frowned, though his smile lingered. His voice, however, carried a chill. “She’s just a tailor from Qiluo Hall. Junior Sister Zhou, you should leave her alone.”
At those words, Zhao Nishang’s heart froze. All hope drained away. She lowered her head in silence.
Zhou Man studied her for a long moment.
Jin Buhuan was about to pull her away when, unexpectedly, Zhou Man laughed softly and asked, “How do I get to Chunfeng Hall?”
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