Pancheng was an ancient city with a history spanning over eight hundred years. Nestled among the mountains, it was renowned for its martial atmosphere—one could see wandering swordsmen and pugilists performing their arts on every street corner.
Li Qingqiu strolled leisurely through the streets, holding a hot sesame bun in one hand and a wine flask hanging from his waist. He looked perfectly at ease, savoring the sights and sounds of mortal life.
He mused to himself, wondering whether Qingxiao Mountain should also establish a small commercial system. It would not only boost trade but make the sect appear more prosperous.
The only thing he disliked about Pancheng was how muddy the streets were. Splashes of brown had already stained the hem of his robes.
After wandering for nearly one hour, he eventually arrived in front of the county office. A large crowd of townsfolk had gathered there, shouting angrily and gesturing toward the front steps.
Curious, Li Qingqiu made his way forward through the crowd, and the voices of their complaints reached his ears one after another.
"It's utterly heartless! Forcing people down a dead-end road like this!"
"Poor woman... how's she supposed to live after this?"
"Yeah! The County Magistrate won't lift a finger—he's too scared of offending the Cui family and losing his hat of office."
"The Cui clan's head holds the title of Grand Commandant now—his power reaches all corners of the court. Who would dare to cross them?"
"What a miserable world. Husbands can't protect their wives and children. Wives can't seek justice for their husbands. No one knows when misfortune might fall upon them."
Li Qingqiu slipped deeper into the crowd until he could see the scene clearly. A middle-aged woman knelt at the foot of the county hall's steps, clutching her young son—perhaps six years old—who knelt beside her. The government runners standing above them looked uneasy, whispering among themselves, unsure what to do.
Suddenly, the woman raised her head and cried out in despair, "If the Magistrate won't give justice to me and my son, then I'll end my life here and now! Even in death, I'll never forgive you!"
Before anyone could react, she scrambled to her feet and ran straight toward one of the heavy stone lions flanking the gate.
The runners gasped in alarm, but before she could hit the statue, a figure burst out from among them—swift as lightning—and intercepted her after only three steps.
It was a young runner, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, tall and straight with sharp brows and bright eyes. Blocking her path with his arm, he gritted his teeth and said loudly, "I'll stand up for you!"
The woman froze, startled, then looked at him with trembling hope. "Truly?"
A middle-aged officer hurried forward, face tense. "Bo Zhao, don't talk nonsense!"
The young man—Bo Zhao—turned his head sharply. "Master, if we don't help her, how will she and her son survive? The Cui clan will only retaliate harder! If all of you fear trouble, then I'll go alone. I don't believe that the sword in my hand can't cut through the corruption of Pancheng!"
He looked back at the woman, eyes blazing. "Show the way. We'll go right now."
The woman no longer cared about his age. Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded repeatedly and took her son's hand, leading him toward a side street.
The townsfolk, eager for drama, followed in a noisy throng, while the government officers hesitated. The middle-aged one stamped his foot and ran back into the county hall, probably to report the matter.
The Cui clan had branches in many cities, and Pancheng was no exception. Even though this was only a branch family, they ruled the city like tyrants. Even the county magistrate bowed low before them.
Li Qingqiu followed the crowd casually, curious to see how the scene would play out.
He studied Bo Zhao's figure ahead. The boy's spirit was admirable—righteous and brave—but his martial strength was clearly limited. Marching into the Cui estate like that was almost certainly a death sentence.
'Chang Wu supposedly consumed a Martial God Pill,' Li Qingqiu thought calmly, his gaze sharp. 'And the Cui clan has holdings in this city. Could there be a connection? Perhaps they're hiding more of those pills here.'
He didn't desire the pill for himself. According to Chen Huilan, the Martial God Pill could grant monstrous power—making the body impervious to blades and arrows, doubling a warrior's inner energy—but the cost was steep. Anyone who took it would live no more than ten years.
Such a thing had no place in Qingxiao Sect. Li Qingqiu was simply intrigued by its effects—and if the Cui clan possessed it, perhaps they also kept rare herbs used in its refinement.
With that thought, he continued following the crowd toward the Cui estate.
If battle broke out again at Martial God Pass, Xiao Ba would sense it and come for him—so he wasn't in a hurry.
After about three li of walking, they reached the Cui family residence.
The estate's grand gates were tightly shut. Without hesitation, Bo Zhao strode up and kicked the heavy doors open with a loud bang. The crowd erupted into cheers.
But before he could take two steps inside, a blur shot out from within. Bo Zhao was struck squarely in the chest and hurled backward, slamming into the cobblestones. The onlookers gasped and stumbled away in fright as he hit the ground hard, barely conscious.
Everyone turned toward the open gate. A group of armored guards poured out, led by a massive, broad-shouldered man whose robe strained against his bulging muscles. None of the other guards even reached his shoulders. He commanded immediate attention.
"That's Cui Yong! What happened to him—how did he get so big?" someone whispered in disbelief.
Cui Yong's face was fierce, his eyes bloodshot like those of a beast. Rage and bloodlust radiated from his body. He stared down at Bo Zhao lying on the ground and said coldly, "Little brat, you dare to kick open the Cui family's gate? You're courting death. I'll make you watch your loved ones die before your eyes, so you understand what it means to defy the Cui clan!"
Bo Zhao coughed up a mouthful of blood, his expression twisted with pain and fury.
'Impossible... he crushed me with one kick...'
He tried to rise but couldn't. His whole body throbbed with pain, his ribs felt shattered, and every breath was agony.
Cui Yong began walking toward him—not quickly, but deliberately, step by step, letting the boy drown in fear.
The woman and her son froze, terrified. She hadn't expected Bo Zhao to be defeated so easily.
As the scene unfolded, Li Qingqiu suddenly heard something that made his brow crease. He handed the half-eaten sesame bun in his hand to a little boy nearby who was wiping his nose, then gently pushed through the crowd and began walking forward.
Cui Yong's eyes narrowed as he spotted Li Qingqiu emerging from the mass of onlookers.
He hadn't expected anyone else to dare step forward.
Bo Zhao's heart sank into despair. He knew he was going to die right there on the street, under the gaze of the crowd. Never in his life had he imagined that his end would be so pitiful, so humiliating.
Just as he prepared to close his eyes and accept his fate, he saw someone step past him. He looked up weakly, and the back of Li Qingqiu came into view.
Seeing Li Qingqiu walking toward Cui Yong, Bo Zhao's throat tightened. He wanted to shout, to stop him.
"There really are people who don't fear death!"
Cui Yong's mocking voice echoed coldly. But the next instant, before Bo Zhao could even blink, he heard a loud bang. Cui Yong's towering frame jerked—and his massive body suddenly flew backward, his forehead caving in as if struck by divine force.
Bo Zhao turned his head, eyes widening in disbelief. Cui Yong had been sent hurtling through the air and crashed straight into the Cui family's courtyard.
The Cui family guards froze, stunned. None of them could believe that Cui Yong had been defeated—let alone with a single kick.
The townsfolk who had gathered to watch were struck dumb, staring blankly at Li Qingqiu.
Li Qingqiu didn't stop. He sped up, walking straight toward the Cui residence.
Snapping out of their stupor, the guards rushed him all at once. Bo Zhao, barely conscious, witnessed something he would never forget.
Dozens of guards charged at Li Qingqiu like wolves. But before he even lifted a hand, the guards all spat blood and were flung backward as if struck by invisible force.
The young man couldn't understand what he was seeing. His mind struggled to make sense of it, but the power before him was beyond comprehension.
Within moments, half the guards were down, writhing and groaning. The remaining half turned pale with fear and fled toward the inner courtyard. Li Qingqiu continued forward, unbothered, striding directly into the Cui residence.
The townsfolk surged forward, surrounding Bo Zhao and helping him up, checking if he was still alive.
Meanwhile, inside the mansion—
Li Qingqiu stepped past Cui Yong's lifeless body without even glancing down. His attention was fixed on a faint crying sound deeper within the estate.
As he walked, more Cui family guards and servants appeared along the way. Any who dared to block him were struck unconscious by a burst of his vital energy.
Not long after, he reached a small courtyard and pushed open the door to one of the rooms. Inside, sitting on the edge of a bed, was a young girl dressed in plain homespun clothes, crying quietly.
Startled by the sudden sound of the door, she looked up—and froze when she saw the stranger standing there. Her eyes widened in fear, and she scrambled backward until her back hit the wall.
"Don't be afraid," Li Qingqiu said gently. "I'm here to save you."
The girl hesitated, still trembling. From within the mansion, Li Qingqiu could sense faint life signs and muffled weeping—other girls imprisoned in different rooms, most likely for alchemical purposes.
The girl shook her head desperately. "Don't save me… please. If I escape, they'll kill my mother and cripple my little brother. They said if I even try, they'll make them suffer horribly…"
Her voice broke as she spoke. Though she looked barely twelve years old, there was a grim, self-sacrificing determination in her tone—one that belonged to someone far older.
Li Qingqiu nodded slightly. "It's fine," he said calmly. "I'll just kill them all. Then there'll be no one left to hurt your family."
And with that, he turned and walked out.
The girl froze completely, unsure whether she should believe him or not.
A moment later, screams echoed from the courtyard. Terrified yet hopeful, she rushed to the doorway and peeked outside.
No one was there. The yard was eerily silent except for distant shrieks.
After a moment of hesitation, she gathered her courage and stepped out of the room.
Li Qingqiu continued deeper into the estate. Servants he merely knocked unconscious; those dressed in finery—clearly members of the Cui family—he slew without hesitation.
As he passed the locked rooms that held the captive girls, he broke open the doors one by one, freeing them as he moved through.
The strongest person in this entire mansion had been Cui Yong. Having consumed a Martial God Pill, he had become a monstrous fighter—stronger than any peak martial artist in the Jianghu. But his strength meant nothing. Against Li Qingqiu, he hadn't even had time to draw a weapon before being kicked to death like a stray dog.
Within moments, the Cui estate echoed with screams. Even the crowd outside the main gate could hear them clearly.
"What's happening in there? That man actually went in and started killing them?"
"Sounds like it. I can hear women's voices too!"
"Who is he? How dare he challenge the Cui family?"
"Good! About time someone punished those beasts!"
"It's over though—Pancheng will be in chaos after this."
Supported by a few townsfolk, Bo Zhao looked toward the open gate, his eyes flickering between confusion and awe.
No matter what came next, the fact that someone had dared to stand up for justice was enough to make his heart burn with emotion.
Before long, terrified guards and servants began fleeing the mansion, confirming the truth of what everyone feared—and hoped for.
The onlookers erupted in cheers, hurling vegetable leaves and pebbles at the escaping servants of the Cui clan.
Inside, Li Qingqiu had already slain more than dozens of people when he sensed something unusual—a faint but distinct spiritual energy emanating from a distant courtyard. His curiosity was immediately piqued.
Following the trail, he came to another chamber and pushed the door open. A sweet herbal fragrance wafted through the air. Inside the room were several large wooden chests, some of them open, overflowing with medicinal herbs.
He walked up to one that was still sealed, lifted the lid, and brushed aside a layer of dried herbs—revealing beneath them a single bright red lingzhi fungus, glowing faintly with spiritual light.