The following days of the journey passed in rare tranquility. The Van Bao Merchant Caravan had fully entered the central territory of Thanh Prefecture. The scenery flanking the road gradually gave way to gently sloping hills blanketed in withered yellow grass. In the distance, jagged limestone mountain ranges undulated like the teeth of a saw, faintly discernible amidst the morning mist, bearing a beauty that was both majestic and somewhat desolate. The air was no longer purely the scent of mud and earth; it was now intermingled with the aroma of medicinal herbs and mineral ores transported from all directions toward Thanh Prefecture City, the largest trading hub of the entire region.
Tran Kien no longer sat upon the cargo carriages. Van Tam Thong had made an exception and provided him with a sturdy black steed, riding parallel right beside his own horse-drawn carriage. Every day, aside from the time spent bitterly cultivating the Thiet Dot Mnemonic late in the night, Tran Kien devoted the majority of his time to learning. He learned from Van Tam Thong how to read maps and how to identify medicinal herbs. He learned from the veteran guards how to tie a secure knot and how to listen to the wind to divine the weather. He was like a dry sponge, greedily absorbing every drop of knowledge that could help him survive and grow stronger.
One afternoon, as the sun slanted towards the west, the caravan halted to rest by a vast waterside known as Luong Long, so named because two small rivers converged here. The crossing was quite bustling, with many other merchant caravans also resting there; the clamor of people and neighing of horses created a raucous atmosphere. A rustic teahouse had been erected beneath an ancient banyan tree, its luxuriant foliage casting a wide shadow over a large swath of land.
Van Tam Thong invited Tran Kien to join him at the teahouse. Yet, instead of ordering tea, he brought out an antique rosewood chessboard, the pieces worn smooth by the passage of years.
"Care for a game, Little Brother?" Van Tam Thong smiled kindly, his profound gaze resting upon Tran Kien.
Tran Kien was slightly surprised but nodded in agreement. He knew that chess was not merely an idle pastime; it was a miniature formation, a battlefield that displayed one's strategy and foresight.
Van Tam Thong took the first move, an incredibly aggressive Central Cannon opening. Tran Kien was in no rush; he calmly advanced his Knight, establishing a sturdy defensive posture. Van Tam Thong's moves were overbearing and decisive, much like how he commanded the entire caravan. However, Tran Kien defended with watertight precision. Every move was meticulously calculated, silently weaving an impregnable formation, biding his time.
After more than twenty moves, Van Tam Thong slightly furrowed his brow. He realized that despite his relentless assaults, he could not pierce through Tran Kien's defensive lines. On the contrary, the youth's two Knights had silently crossed the river, coordinating with two Chariots to form a terrifying pincer movement.
"Excellent!" Van Tam Thong burst into hearty laughter, setting down his piece and conceding defeat. "Watertight defense, sharp counterattacks. You don't just rely on brute strength; you know how to use your head. I have lost."
Tran Kien merely offered a modest smile: "It is only because Elder Van yielded to me."
"I did not yield," Van Tam Thong shook his head, his expression turning solemn. "I am trying to impart a principle to you. The Thanh Prefecture City we are about to enter is just like a chessboard. There, brute strength alone is not enough to roam unimpeded. The truly terrifying factions never foolishly expose their power like the bandits of Blue Sand Valley. They conceal themselves in the shadows, laying out elaborate and insidious traps."
Van Tam Thong pointed towards a luxurious caravan resting in the distance. The caravan consisted of only three carriages, yet it was escorted by martial artists clad in full black armor. Their faces were concealed by iron masks, revealing only cold, apathetic eyes. The aura radiating from them was incredibly Yin-cold and deathly, causing other merchant caravans to subconsciously keep their distance. Their banner was purely pitch-black, embroidered with a ghastly silver centipede.
"Do you see the Black Panther Guards of the Black Dragon Stronghold?" Van Tam Thong lowered his voice. "They are one of the three largest underground factions in Thanh Prefecture City. Their Stronghold Master, Old Demon Black Dragon, is a Peak Foundation Establishment stage cultivator, but what is truly terrifying is his scheming, ruthless mind. He never strikes directly; he merely employs venomous stratagems to make other factions slaughter one another, while he sits idly and reaps the benefits."
Tran Kien looked towards the Black Panther Guards' caravan, his gaze sharp. He did not sense any powerful spiritual energy, but he sensed something even more terrifying: iron discipline. Every single guard stood motionless like a stone statue; not a single one twitched despite the sweltering heat.
Just at that moment, a little girl of five or six, engrossed in chasing a bamboo dragonfly, stumbled towards the Black Dragon Stronghold's caravan. The girl's mother screamed in panic: "Little Thuy! Come back quickly!"
But it was too late. The little girl tripped and fell right at the feet of a Black Panther Guard. That Black Panther Guard did not utter a word. He merely bent down slowly, picked up the bamboo dragonfly, handed it to the child, and gently patted her head.
Just as everyone around breathed a sigh of relief, a horrifying scene unfolded. Another guard of the Black Dragon Stronghold stepped forward without a shred of hesitation. With a snikt, he drew the saber at his waist in a motion as fast as lightning. A cold saber-light flashed.
Thwack!
A sharp, crisp sound rang out. The head of the Black Panther Guard who had just patted the child's head was severed from its neck, rolling across the ground as fresh blood sprayed out like a fountain. The guard who struck sheathed his saber, his face remaining as cold as ice. His chilling voice echoed out loud enough for everyone to hear: "The rules of the Black Dragon Stronghold: while on a mission, absolutely no superfluous actions are permitted. Violators shall be executed without mercy!"
The little girl shrieked in terror. The mother hurriedly scooped up her child and fled. The entire bustling Luong Long waterside instantly fell into a dead silence; only the whistling of the wind through the leaves could be heard.
Tran Kien tightly clenched his fists, his joints cracking as a flame of fury surged within his heart. Cold-blooded! Ruthless! Inhumane!
Van Tam Thong sighed, slowly clearing away the chessboard. "Do you see now, Tran Kien? That is the true Thanh Prefecture City. A chessboard where the price for a single wrong move is your very life. Your strength might allow you to kill a Black Wind Wolf, but to survive and emerge victorious on this chessboard, you will need much more than that. You need a razor-sharp intellect, extraordinary patience, and a thorough understanding of their rules of the game."
Tran Kien said nothing, merely listening in silence. He looked at the corpse of the Black Panther Guard, then gazed towards the distant Thanh Prefecture City, shrouded in the blood-red twilight. The twilight cast a terrifyingly resolute gleam upon his youthful face.
On this chessboard of Thanh Prefecture City, he absolutely had to win.