Six months had passed since the long, chaotic night at the Myriad Treasures Pavilion.
The City of Chaos remained the City of Chaos; the wind still carried the scent of blood and an endless sense of disorder. However, in the eastern district—once the undisputed territory of the Crazy Sand Gang—a new order had quietly been established.
The streets were still bustling, but the scenes of open plunder and public slaughter had vanished. The gambling dens and taverns still operated, yet they now adhered to a new, unspoken set of laws. The master of these laws was no longer a gang, but a name that commanded both reverence and terror: The Vô Sect.
No one knew where the headquarters of the Vô Sect lay. No one knew who their Lord was. People only knew that the Nameless Tavern, once an insignificant little shop, had now become the unofficial center of power for the entire region. Every piece of news and every dispute was resolved here—not through the edge of a blade, but through rules that were incredibly clear and fair.
They also knew that anyone who dared to break those rules would vanish without a trace by the following morning.
The Blood Demoness of the Phantom Shadow Pavilion and Blood Shadow of the Black Dragon Stronghold—the two remaining tigers—felt incredibly ill at ease. They felt as though they were facing a colossal shark concealed beneath the surface of the water. They knew it was there, and they could sense its danger, yet they could never see its true form. The silence of the Vô Sect was more terrifying than any provocation.
They had no idea that while they were still probing and wary of one another, the master of the chessboard was quietly executing a plan of even grander proportions.
Within a secret valley on the outskirts of the City of Chaos, a place cleared and refurbished by the Blood Fiend Guards.
Over two hundred children—scrawny and sun-darkened, both boys and girls, aged seven to fifteen—stood in neat rows upon an open clearing. These were orphans and beggar children the Blood Fiend Guards had recruited from the filthiest corners of the City of Chaos. Their gazes no longer held fear or dullness; instead, they bore a spark of hope and fanaticism.
Standing before them was a figure draped in a black cloak and a bamboo hat. The Faceless Lord.
"I have given you food, clothing, and a place to stay," Faceless's raspy voice rang out, not loud, yet clear in every syllable. "I do not require your gratitude. I only offer you an opportunity. An opportunity to seize your own destiny, so that you never have to kneel before anyone again."
"But to earn that opportunity, you must undergo training even more grueling than hell itself."
He did not teach them to cultivate spiritual energy. He did not teach them high-level cultivation arts. He taught them the most fundamental of things.
He taught them to read and write. For he knew that knowledge was the sharpest of weapons. He taught them how to conceal themselves, how to track, and how to gather information from the most trivial details. He taught them how to survive in the harshest environments. And finally, he taught them how to kill. Not with flowery stances, but with guaranteed kills—one strike to snatch a life.
He was using the most brutal yet effective method to turn these blank sheets of paper into the sharpest daggers and his own absolutely loyal intelligence net.
These were the seeds he was sowing.
Right at that moment, Thiet Phu stepped forward, respectfully presenting a deep crimson invitation permeated with a woman's fragrance.
"Lord, the people of the Phantom Shadow Pavilion just sent this."
Tran Kien opened it to read. Upon it were elegant lines of calligraphy, inviting the "Lord of the Vô Sect" to the Rouge Pavilion three days hence to sip tea and discuss cooperation.
"The Rouge Pavilion?"
"To answer the Lord, it is the largest courtesan house in the City of Chaos, and one of the most important secret strongholds of the Phantom Shadow Pavilion," Thiet Phu explained.
Tran Kien sneered. Sipping tea? Or is it a Hongmon Banquet?
He knew the old fox Blood Demoness had finally lost her patience. She dared not attack head-on, so she had resorted to the "Stratagem of the Beautiful Woman", wanting to use a banquet to probe his strength and background. If he didn't go, he would be deemed weak and indecisive. If he did, he would be riding a lone horse into the tiger's den.
"Lord, this matter..." Thiet Phu was slightly anxious. "The Rouge Pavilion is undoubtedly laid with traps. Perhaps this subordinate should go in your stead?"
"Unnecessary," Tran Kien shook his head. "Since she has the refined interest to invite me, how could I not give her face?"
"But..."
"Worry not," Tran Kien said, his eyes glinting with absolute confidence. "She wants to put on a play, so I shall act along with her. I just wonder, in the end, who will be the actor, and who will be the audience."
He gazed toward the City of Chaos, the corners of his mouth curling into a cold smile.
"Inform Thiet Phu. Tell him to prepare a generous 'introductory gift' for me. It is time to let that fox know that my Vô Sect is not a soft persimmon anyone can squeeze at will."
Three days later, at the Rouge Pavilion.
An entire street had been placed under martial law. Outside, the guards of the Phantom Shadow Pavilion—figures lithe and enchanting, yet with eyes as sharp as blades—stood in strict sentinel. Inside, the sound of music and singing remained melodious, but the atmosphere was incredibly heavy.
The Blood Demoness sat in the head seat on the highest pavilion, a vantage point that allowed her to overlook the entire street. She was not wearing her usual red dress, but rather a set of palace robes white as snow, looking incredibly refined and transcendent. Yet, the dangerous aura radiating from her had grown even more dense.
She was waiting.
When the sun reached its zenith, a figure draped in a black cloak and a bamboo hat, riding a lone horse, slowly approached from the end of the road.
No subordinates. No guards. Only one man, one horse.
Was this absolute confidence, or the height of stupidity?
The Blood Demoness narrowed her beautiful eyes, a bizarre light flashing within them.
The psychological chessboard... had begun even before the opponent stepped through the door.