Jin Buhuan hesitated, his gaze flickering with uncertainty. The purple-robed youth beside him spoke coolly, his tone edged with disdain.
“If you don’t cut the root, the trouble will never end. Better to kill him now.”
Jin Buhuan finally stirred and answered evenly, “There’s no need for killing.”
The youth frowned, his voice sharp with impatience. “You’re far too merciful for your own good.”
Anyone with eyes could see the hatred burning behind the grief of the woman and child kneeling by Sikong Yun’s corpse.
The woman might not have the strength to seek revenge—
but the child surely would, someday.
Yet Jin Buhuan remained composed. With a flick of his wrist, he shook the blood from his snow-white sword, sheathed it, and said coldly,
“This is Nipan Street. I don’t need you to teach me how to handle matters.”
The purple-robed youth sneered but obeyed, releasing his grip.
The woman immediately threw herself over Sikong Yun’s body, clutching her child and weeping bitterly.
Jin Buhuan didn’t spare them a glance. He gestured toward his men.
“Leave two people to collect the silver in the shop.”
Two servants bowed and hurried to obey.
Facing the silent crowd at the door, Jin Buhuan said calmly,
“I grew up on Nipan Street. I’ll never forget the kindness I’ve received. As long as Jin Buhuan stands, so will Nipan Street.
But Sikong Yun colluded with outsiders to harm me—his death was deserved.
If anyone here ever harbors such thoughts, they’ll meet the same fate.”
The street fell silent. Not a single person dared to respond.
When Jin Buhuan finished speaking, he turned, stepped into his carriage, and left.
The onlookers scattered as if the wind itself had passed through.
Inside, the two servants gathered the silver and account books, while others began dispersing the remaining customers.
Still holding her bow, Zhou Man lingered near the door.
“I made an agreement with the shopkeeper, Sikong,” she said, pointing toward the pile of bloodstained goods in the corner. “I wanted to buy a bow and a few arrows.”
The attendant frowned. “You want to buy something there?”
Zhou Man nodded.
After a pause, the attendant said, “Three items cost one tael of silver. That birch bow is three taels and six coins.”
Zhou Man blinked in surprise. “Only three taels and six coins for a bow?”
“Of course,” the man replied curtly. “Prices on this street are set by the master himself.”
Then he frowned. “How much did Sikong Yun quote you?”
Zhou Man glanced at the blood-soaked body and chuckled softly. “Eight taels.”
The attendant’s face darkened with contempt.
Zhou Man tilted her head. “People say your master is so stingy that even a swallow flying over his head wouldn’t lose a feather. How come these prices are so… fair?”
The servant’s voice hardened. “The boss may love money, but he doesn’t make it off Nipan Street.”
Perhaps realizing her teasing tone, the man’s face soured further. Zhou Man only smiled faintly, unbothered.
She had thought she might need to sell the Shen Zhao Jing scroll Wang Shi had given her, but now it wasn’t necessary.
For three taels and six coins, she bought the three-stone birch bow she’d tested earlier.
For another tael, she chose three silver-tipped arrows from the bloodstained pile.
With her last few hundred wen, she purchased twelve carved-feather arrows and a quiver.
By the end, Zhou Man’s purse was empty—but she couldn’t deny the purchase had been worthwhile.
Yet she didn’t leave right away.
Outside, the crowd that had gathered was already dispersing.
Vendors resumed their business as though no one had just died.
Zhou Man searched the street until she found the man she’d overheard earlier—a white-bearded elder fanning himself lazily beside a small stall selling pills.
“Old sir,” she asked, “a murder just happened, yet everyone seems unbothered. Why is that?”
The old man snorted. “Hah! Who on Nipan Street hasn’t killed a few people to make their way? One more death means nothing—especially for Jin Buhuan.”
“Even if it’s his old benefactor?” she pressed.
The man shrugged. “He grew up with the help of this street. Everyone here knows the way of things.
Born in Nipan Street, yet connected to noble families—he’s done well for himself.
They say he’s found jasper for the Song family’s fairy, Song Lanzhen. If he succeeds, he might rise even higher. The Song family may not rival the Wangs, but they’re still one of the three great houses.”
His voice carried an odd pride.
At the mention of Song Lanzhen, Zhou Man froze, a bitter taste rising in her mouth.
Feigning calm, she asked, “So he hasn’t found the chalcedony yet?”
The old man replied without thinking, “Not yet—it’s not harvest season in Jiajin Valley. Why are you asking—?”
He broke off, staring at her with suspicion before smirking.
“The Song family wants that stone. Who within a hundred miles would dare steal it? Take my advice—stay out of it if you value your life.”
Zhou Man smiled faintly. “Of course.”
But once she turned away, the smile faded.
After asking around a bit more, she finally left the city—but instead of going home, she climbed the mountain.
There, she wrapped her new bow and arrows in leaves and hid them inside a tree hollow.
Only then did she descend toward her village.
The bamboo fence and wooden door were just as she’d left them.
But when she drew closer, she noticed something new—a roasted chicken leg, neatly wrapped in layers of zongzi leaves, placed carefully at her doorstep.
She frowned, glancing around.
The afternoon sun dappled the empty path; not a soul was in sight.
Then, suddenly, she thought of someone—and couldn’t help but smile, amused.
“What a silly little brat,” she murmured. “Bringing me food to repay a favor?”
Zhou Man hadn’t eaten all day, and hunger gnawed at her resolve.
So when she saw the roasted chicken leg at her door, she didn’t refuse.
She bent down, picked it up, and took a bite. The savory flavor filled her mouth, and for a fleeting moment, peace settled in her chest. With the bone still in hand, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
She had left that morning and returned at dusk. By the time she finished the last bite and washed her hands, night had fallen.
Zhou Man struck the tinder, lighting the oil lamp on her table.
The dim flame flickered, casting long shadows on the empty walls.
Finally, she sat down and began to sort through the events of the day in Xiaojian’s ancient city.
Yet, no matter how she tried to focus, her mind kept circling back—to the jasper.
She had been fortunate to find arrows engraved with heavy silver at the weapons shop, capable of unleashing the Piercing Rainbow technique.
But there had only been three, each damaged in some way—an incomplete casting pattern, a dulled tip, or cracks along the shaft.
Still, if she had even a small jar of jasper marrow, she could forge fifty arrows of unmatched strength.
It was like a poor scholar catching sight of a golden house—how could she not be tempted?
“But Jin Buhuan and I have no feud,” she reasoned aloud. “And that jade marrow was meant for Song Lanzhen. Robbing him would hardly be honorable.”
She frowned, recalling the purple-robed youth at his side. “And that man... his cultivation wasn’t ordinary. At least Xiantian realm.”
The flame trembled softly in the lamplight, mirroring her hesitation.
At last, Zhou Man exhaled, half amused by her own indecision.
“Fine. If I can’t decide, I’ll let fate choose.”
She took out her only remaining copper coin and held it before the lamp.
“Bear witness,” she said solemnly. “If it lands heads, I’ll give up the jade marrow forever.
If tails... then I’ll fight for it.”
The coin spun into the air, flashing in the firelight—
and landed: heads.
Zhou Man raised an eyebrow and tossed it again.
Heads, once more.
Unfazed, she flipped it a third time.
This time, it landed tails.
A satisfied smile curved her lips. “See? Heaven’s will is clear. Jasper is part of the natural world—free for anyone fated to claim it. If the heavens decree it so, who am I to defy?”
She tucked the coin away, her eyes gleaming with quiet resolve.
Now that fate had spoken, only action remained.
It would be half a month before Wei Xuan could send a reply from the Wang family in Shendu.
That meant at least fifteen days without access to elixirs or spirit stones—fifteen days of idleness if she did nothing.
But if she intended to take something, she needed the power to back it up.
She tidied her small home, then sat cross-legged on the floor. Closing her eyes, she began circulating her breath, preparing to practice the Yi Shen Jue—the Divine Mind Technique.
The Yi Divine Art contained nine ultimate archery forms:
Blood Seals the Throat, Piercing Rainbow, Falling Meteors, Turning Clouds, Overturning Rain, Regretful Gaze, Inviting the Bright Moon, Falling into Yu Abyss, and Living with Regrets.
Each level of technique aligned with a stage of cultivation: Acquired, Innate, Golden Elixir, Nascent Soul, Transformation, Tribulation Crossing, Mahayana, and Celestial Being.
Upon reaching the Celestial Realm, however, came the trial of the Five Degenerations of Celestial Being—a test few ever survived.
Legend claimed that passing it led to the fabled Ninth Realm of True Immortality, a state beyond life and death, transcending heaven itself.
But Zhou Man had never known if such immortality truly existed. In her previous life, she had barely reached Mahayana before her sword bone was taken. It had taken her an entire month then to draw even a thread of Qi into her body.
Now, as she settled her hands upon her knees, palms upward, her mind cleared like the still surface of a pond.
The flame in the oil lamp stilled. The air seemed to hush.
Then, as though called by something divine, the world’s spiritual energy stirred—rushing toward her from mountain peaks, river mist, and the whispering blossoms beyond her window.
It flowed through the bamboo fences, through the cracks in her wooden gate, converging toward her brow like rivers returning to the sea.
The Qi entered her body and coursed through her meridians, vibrant and alive.
After a few breaths, Zhou Man opened her eyes and looked down at her right hand, awe and sorrow mingling in her gaze.
“So this… is what it means to possess a natural sword bone.”
Her voice trembled with realization. “No wonder everyone covets it.”
A single thought—and the Qi of heaven and earth answered her call.
She remembered the old man’s warning from Nipan Street, his words echoing faintly in her mind.
With a bow in her grasp and a sword bone in her veins, Zhou Man smiled faintly — what in this world could she not conquer?
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