Chapter One: Shangguan the Swordbearer

A fine drizzle fell from the sky.

In Jinnan, at the entrance of a narrow alley.

“Old man, you’ve lost your horse.”

Ye Yan, playing red, sent his cannon flying over the river pawns, landing in a corner of the endgame and sweeping away the black side’s last remaining horse, leaving the solitary general alone.

Across the chessboard, the old man widened his eyes and tossed his pieces down in frustration. “Enough, I’m done.”

Ye Yan set his piece down with a smile and teased, “Old man, this is the third game you’ve lost to me today.”

“Talking about winning and losing is so vulgar. I’m showing you grace, indulging the young,” the elder huffed, then changed the topic. “Back in my day, I was unbeaten in every alley around here. Now a kid like you has me at your mercy. The younger generation really is something—no use denying age.”

“I wouldn’t say at your mercy—at best, we’re evenly matched,” Ye Yan replied with a polite grin. “Besides, Uncle Li, with your constitution, you’ll live another twenty or thirty years, no problem. Don’t talk about death—it’s bad luck.”

“Don’t jinx me.”

Ye Yan took out a cigarette and offered it.

Uncle Li took it without hesitation, scolding with a smile, “You’ve got a silver tongue, kid.”

He held the cigarette to his nose and inhaled, his wrinkled face blooming like a chrysanthemum.

“Ah… Hua Zi.”

He lit the cigarette with the flame Ye Yan offered, then lounged back in his chair, taking a few contented puffs before saying, “Xiao Ye, have you thought about what I mentioned last time? Have you made up your mind yet?”

Ye Yan paused, flicking his ash, and turned, confused. “What was that again?”

Uncle Li put down his cigarette and winked suggestively. “You know, my granddaughter—about your age. Top student at South Open University, studying medicine…”

At that, Ye Yan felt his head swell to twice its size.

“Uncle, I’m still young, not at the age for marriage, and honestly, I haven’t thought about it.”

Uncle Li’s expression soured a little. “So, what, you think you’re too good for my granddaughter? Let me tell you, with her looks and figure, I wouldn’t offer her to just anyone.”

“It’s only because you’re good-looking, kind-hearted, and can afford these cigarettes that you even have a shot at this…”

He took a satisfied drag, glared, and snorted. Ye Yan, obedient as ever, didn’t argue and kept buttering him up.

“Yes, yes!”

“Uncle Li is always right.”

“Uncle Li the Magnificent.”

“Uncle Li the Just.”

And so on.

They sat by the chessboard, chatting idly for a good while. Eventually, Ye Yan checked the time, got up to say his goodbyes, and disappeared into the rain with his black umbrella.

Not long after Ye Yan left, a passerby who’d been watching their conversation sidled up and asked, “What’s going on, Old Li? Who was that young man you were chatting with?”

Uncle Li folded up his stool, put his hands behind his back, thumped his chest, and beamed, “Old Yang, that’s my grandson-in-law. Handsome, isn’t he?”

“My goodness, Old Li. Your grandson-in-law is something else—looks like a banished immortal.”

“Aha! Old Yang, I like hearing that. Come, come, let’s go have a drink at my place. I’ll have my wife cook up a couple of her specialties to warm us up.”

“Sounds great, Brother Li.”

…

With an umbrella and a cigarette dangling from his lips, Ye Yan strolled unhurried through the rain, leaving the alley for a nearby open-air parking lot.

The pedestrians hurried by, their brisk steps shattering their reflections in the puddles.

Reaching the lot, Ye Yan stopped in front of a white Audi.

Through the rain-speckled window, he could see his own reflection clearly.

Black hair, jade-green eyes, wearing a hooded sweatshirt bought at a street stall for less than two hundred yuan—yet his grace was impossible to hide.

“Hmm. Not bad looking,” Ye Yan thought, deadpan.

Lost in thought, he suddenly noticed two or three flashes of silver reflected in the window. The images moved with startling speed, splintering into dozens of streaks in the blink of an eye.

Ye Yan spun around, snapping his black umbrella across his chest. Pure black qi surged along the shaft, swiftly enveloping the entire umbrella.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

A series of metallic impacts rang out, and the qi-coated umbrella shuddered in the rain.

Clatter—

The silver light vanished.

A dozen silver needles fell to the ground.

The cigarette’s ash grew long, but Ye Yan remained unmoved. He closed the umbrella, letting the black qi flow back along the shaft and rejoin his body.

With the umbrella no longer shielding him, the view cleared. He saw, perched atop a utility pole, a man in a studded jacket and leopard-print pants, iron-clad ankles exposed, face masked, a long blade at his waist.

That was his assailant.

“To withstand my Silver Twelve Darts—you truly live up to the title of Night Watchman!”

“Is that so? Do you think you needed to tell me?” Ye Yan’s dead-fish eyes rolled. He wasn’t surprised by the ambush.

“You people are a real nuisance—can’t let anyone live in peace. Hotheads like you pop up every year, but this year there’s a bumper crop. At this rate, even Liang Jingru will be drained dry by you lot.”

“Alright, I’m in a hurry to get home for dinner. Show your hand already. Don’t waste my time,” he said, beckoning with a bored flick of his finger.

Ye Yan’s manner wasn’t arrogant, but it still irked the masked man, who drew his sword and declared, “My name is Shangguan. Please, instruct me!”

Hearing the name, Ye Yan paused.

Then he noticed the sword in the man’s hand.

After a long moment, he finally gave a thumbs up and said something that left Shangguan utterly baffled:

“You must be a killer at headbanging.”

Shangguan: “…”

Ye Yan didn’t care whether Shangguan understood. By now, green-blue flags had already flown mysteriously from his pocket.

The “Radiant Demon Banner.”

The flags circled him, fluttering.

A ghostly wind howled.

One after another, blue-faced phantoms emerged from the banners, cackling with villainous delight.

Ye Yan flicked his cigarette butt into a distant puddle, then raised his hand and smacked Ma Lao Wu on the back of the head.

“Quit the cackling… make it quick. Finish up so I can get home for dinner—I’m starving.”

Why only Ma Lao Wu? Because the others couldn’t be hit even if he tried.

“As you command!”

At once, Lu Dashan, Ma Lao Wu, Jin Erpeng, and Mo Liza straightened up, then charged toward Shangguan atop the utility pole without hesitation.

In the distance, Shangguan’s expression shifted, but he wasn’t frightened by such strange methods. In the world of the Awakened, bizarre sorcery was commonplace.

A few souls—nothing remarkable.

And standing before him was the Night Watchman, whose fame among the Awakened had soared in recent years.

If he could defeat him, he could replace his reputation, maybe even use it as a stepping stone to join the Complete Path.

With these thoughts, Shangguan’s blood ran hot.

Instead of retreating, he advanced, dodging the flying Jin Erpeng, landing, and rolling toward the nearest, Lu Dashan.

As he moved, silver light flickered—

“Idiot. Is living so bad?” Ye Yan shook his head, not bothering to watch the fight, and simply took out his car keys.

With two beeps, a rusty Wuling van beside the Audi suddenly flashed its lights.