Was it an illusion? Or not?
Lu Sheng narrowed his eyes, pushing aside the thoughts that clouded his mind.
"It's okay," he said, straightening his posture and answering with calm resolve.
"Sir... Lord Xu and his family, they were such good people, such good officials. How could something like this happen?"
Xiaoqiao's eyes welled with tears again, her voice trembling as she fought the urge to cry.
Lu Sheng said nothing. His gaze lingered on the Xu family’s lifeless bodies sprawled on the ground.
Their skin had turned a blue-gray hue, and distinct strangulation marks encircled their necks.
The prefect cast a few cursory glances, then quickly departed, leaving the matter to the chief constable of the criminal department.
Several other officials in the government office gathered around, discussing the case quietly with the constable, their voices low and troubled.
Just then, a servant approached Lu Sheng, speaking in a hushed tone.
"Sir, the master asked you to come over."
As he spoke, his eyes briefly rested on the corpses, sorrow flickering in his expression.
"I'll go right away," Lu Sheng replied. Then, after a pause, he glanced at the young man. "Aren’t you afraid?"
"Of course I am," the servant answered without hesitation.
Though he appeared only eighteen or nineteen, his demeanor held a gravity far beyond his years.
"I’m a refugee from Jurong Country in the east. There's famine there now—bodies lie everywhere. Some families have even resorted to eating their own children. I’ve seen many such horrors... alas..."
He sighed, catching himself too late. Realizing he’d spoken too freely, he lowered his head in embarrassment.
"A lot? Are there many such cases in Jurong Country?" Lu Sheng asked, his tone casual but probing.
The servant hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly.
"Not a few."
At that, Lu Sheng’s chest tightened, an unspoken weight pressing down on him.
But he didn’t stop walking. Soon, he approached his father in this life—Lu Fang.
Lu Fang, also known as Lu Quan’an, held the courtesy name Golden Yuan Elder. His wealth and influence were well known across Jiulian City. In fact, the news of a marriage alliance between the Lu and Xu families had stirred such excitement that even people from Zihua City, west of Jiulian, had come bearing gifts.
But now, that joyous occasion had turned into a tragedy.
Lu Quan’an’s face was ashen, etched with deep fatigue and worry.
"You should tell Captain Zhao about what happened yesterday."
He stepped aside, making space for a bearded man approaching them—Captain Zhao.
Lu Sheng couldn’t stop replaying Xu Daoran’s words from the day before in his mind. He had a strong feeling that the water ghost incident was tied to the death of the Xu family.
Without holding anything back, he recounted everything Xu Daoran had told him.
Captain Zhao listened, his brows furrowed in thought, but no clear clues emerged from the tale.
Seeing there was nothing more to discuss, Lu Sheng respectfully took his leave.
Before departing, he noticed the local government office officials beginning to collect the bodies. He lingered a moment longer, watching solemnly. When he saw Xu Daoran’s body being lifted onto a wooden stretcher, a sigh escaped his lips. He stepped forward and approached a constable.
"Brother, are there any surviving members of the Xu family?"
He was already thinking that if there were any survivors, he would take care of them in Xu Daoran’s place—and perhaps gain some useful information from them as well.
The constable shook his head with a low sigh.
"No... it’s all over. Even the in-laws were implicated. Maybe there are a few distant relatives in Zihua City, but that’s all."
Lu Sheng quietly slipped a dime of silver to the constable, then guided Xiaoqiao and her family onto the carriage.
One by one, the carriages departed, heading back home.
Yet the tragedy of the Xu family still lingered in everyone’s minds like a heavy shadow.
As the head of the household, Lu Fang—also known as Lu Quan’an—gathered the entire family for a meeting. There, he solemnly announced the dissolution of the engagement with the Xu family. He urged the female relatives to offer comfort to Yiyi, then quietly returned to his room, heavy with sorrow.
The younger members of the family scattered not long after. Some wandered into wine shops across the city, others into brothels or music houses. In the face of fear and unease, they sought comfort in indulgence.
The women, on the other hand, made their way to Red Lotus Temple nearby, lighting incense and praying to the Buddha for safety and peace. Some hoped to receive a talisman from Taoist at Red Lotus Temple—something, anything, to protect the family from further misfortune.
The entire Lu household was gripped by unease.
Lu Sheng, however, did not join the others in their escapism.
Instead, he took Xiaoqiao with him to the family’s large study, where generations of books were stored.
The room was silent and still.
He pushed open the door and stepped inside. A plump maid was dusting the tall bookshelves within.
The red-lacquered shelves, dark wood furniture, and dim light filtering through the windows gave the space a somber, almost eerie atmosphere.
Lu Sheng walked further in, circling past a carved wooden screen decorated with birds and flowers. A faint scent of aged wood hung in the air.
"You can leave now. I’ll read and rest here by myself."
He gave the order calmly.
"Yes," Xiaoqiao replied obediently before leaving the study with the plump cleaning woman.
Lu Sheng remained alone, standing in the quiet room, his eyes scanning the rows of towering bookshelves. A soft sigh escaped his lips.
He began searching the shelves methodically, one book at a time.
Before long, he found the local county annals—volumes that recorded the region’s history and incidents in detail. Pulling them down, he sat and began flipping through them one by one under the faint light filtering through the window.
One entry after another, strange and gruesome events leapt out from the yellowed pages.
"In the 72nd year of the Song Dynasty, a man appeared in the suburbs of Jiulian City. In a mad frenzy, he killed twelve people with a knife before being slain by the authorities."
"In the 85th year of the Song Dynasty, a man walking in the heart of the city suddenly collapsed—his head separated from his body. Cause of death: unknown."
"In the 91st year of the Song Dynasty, tourists began vanishing near a ruined temple outside the city. When the number of missing reached fifteen, the case was abandoned—unsolved to this day."
"In the 95th year of the Song Dynasty, the owner of the Jiulian Music Hall went missing. His limbs were discovered in four different locations outside the city. Though only dead for four days, the body had already rotted down to bone."
"In the 116th year of the Song Dynasty, a baby’s cries were heard outside the city every night. Everyone who went to investigate vanished. The crying continued for three nights, then stopped abruptly."
…
As he read case after case—some major, some minor—Lu Sheng’s unease grew.
The deeper he delved into the annals, the more the chill in his spine intensified.
Such a world… a world riddled with danger, shrouded in fear at every turn. That people could survive here—live without falling into madness or despair—was nothing short of miraculous.
He opened another booklet.
This one was even more astonishing than the last.
"In the 119th year of the Song Dynasty, nine consecutive snowstorms struck the region. It was said that the Dragon King appeared in a certain place, and within three days, the heavy snowfall ceased—ending what had lasted for dozens of days."
"In the 128th year of the Song Dynasty, a strange fog enveloped the road to Zihua City. Travelers who entered would lose their way and mysteriously reappear on the shores of the White Ice Ocean, miles away. Ten days later, the fog vanished on its own."
Reading this, Lu Sheng felt a chill run down his spine. It was becoming increasingly clear that this world wasn’t as ordinary as he once believed. Demons… ghosts… supernatural forces might truly exist here.
At the very least, from where he stood in the current social order, there seemed to be no logical way to explain the bizarre natural phenomena recorded.
He quietly dragged a chair over, picked up a flint, and lit the candlestick on the table.
The warm yellow glow danced across his face, throwing shadows that flickered with his shifting thoughts.
"If this world really is as dangerous as I suspect... what do I need to survive? What can I use to protect myself?"
He asked the question aloud, though no one was there to answer.
He sat in silence for a long moment, deep in thought.
Then, slowly, Lu Sheng rose to his feet, blew out the candle, and carefully returned each book to its place on the shelf.
With that, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the hallway.
"Young Master, have you finished reading?"
Xiaoqiao had been leaning against the doorframe, half-asleep. Startled by the sudden creak of the door, she quickly straightened and greeted him.
"Mm. Do you know where Uncle Zhao is right now?"
Lu Sheng asked casually, his tone calm but thoughtful.
There were many elders in the Lu Mansion with the surname Zhao, but only one was known to all as “Uncle Zhao.”
That man was Zhao Dahu—the most skilled and powerful martial artist in the Lu family. Even Lu Fang, the family head, respectfully called him Uncle Zhao, a testament to his status.
“Uh… Uncle Zhao usually spends this time in the martial arts field, exercising and training the servants,” Xiaoqiao said. She had a good rapport with the other servants and was always well-informed.
“Let’s go find him,” Lu Sheng replied after some thought.
He had been mulling it over for a while and finally decided—if there was anyone he could approach for help, someone who could teach him how to protect himself, it was Uncle Zhao.
Following the stone paths of the mansion, Lu Sheng quickly passed through two residential courtyards and arrived at the rear of the estate.
There, in the wide open training ground, an elderly man with gray hair was moving powerfully through a series of strikes and kicks, his energy undiminished by age. Around him, a dozen servants followed his lead in disciplined formation.
The morning sunlight slowly pushed back the heaviness of the tragic news from earlier.
Zhao Dahu wore a fitted martial robe: a black tunic, gray trousers, and the signature thick-backed broadsword strapped across his back—an extension of himself that never left his side.
Lu Sheng stood quietly to one side, observing.
After drilling the servants for a while, Zhao Dahu allowed them to practice in pairs. Then he turned and approached Lu Sheng, clearly having noticed him from the start.
“Young Master, what brings you to the training grounds today? Do you need something from me?”
Zhao Dahu’s position in the mansion was exceptional—nearly equal to that of the family patriarch. Among the Lu household’s few elite martial artists, his respect and authority rivaled that of any noble-born member.
Lu Sheng’s gaze swept over the practicing servants nearby before he met the old man’s eyes.
“Uncle Zhao, I want to learn martial arts.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the smile on Zhao Dahu’s face stiffened, and his expression froze.
“Brother Sheng, are you kidding me?”
“I’m not kidding,” Lu Sheng replied, shaking his head.
He had thought long and hard about it. At this moment, the most straightforward way to acquire the power of self-defense was to seek out a martial artist within the family. And among them, Zhao Dahu was the most skilled—his mastery of swordsmanship was unmatched, with only a few in all of Jiulian City who could rival him.
Zhao Dahu stared at Lu Sheng for a moment, then slowly shook his head.
“If Brother Sheng truly wants to learn martial arts, it’s not impossible for this old man to teach you,” he said seriously. “But… you’re already too old. Your bones have set. Many foundational movements will be hard to master, and without proper form, the power behind the techniques will be greatly diminished…”
“It’s alright. Just teach me, Uncle Zhao,” Lu Sheng insisted.
He wasn’t only seeking strength for protection—he had another reason. A theory he needed to test.
Zhao Dahu fell silent for a few moments, deep in thought, before finally nodding.
“Alright then. I have no children of my own, and I’ve lived a good life here in the Lu family for many years. The old master has always treated me well. By tradition and proper etiquette, you should formally become my disciple if you’re to learn my skills.” He waved his hand dismissively. “But with the relationship I have with the Lu family, let’s forget about that formality. Just promise me one thing—don’t pass what I teach you on to anyone else.”
As the heir to the Lu family, Lu Sheng was expected to inherit the family's affairs eventually. Zhao Dahu, loyal and pragmatic, saw no harm in drawing closer to him now.
“However, Brother Sheng, there’s something I need to tell you first.”
“Go ahead,” Lu Sheng replied seriously.
Zhao Dahu stroked the beard on his chin, his voice turning deep and deliberate.
“I know the tragedy with the Xu family this morning has shaken you. You want to learn martial arts to protect yourself—12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwc61SgtSzQ
but let me be clear: even the strongest martial artists cannot stand against those strange and unnatural forces.”
Lu Sheng remained silent for a beat, then nodded slowly.
“...I understand. I just feel uneasy. I want to do what I can.”
“As long as Brother Sheng understands.”12Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpGWlvY4wk9
Zhao Dahu paused, then reached into his robe and pulled out a small, cloth-wrapped booklet. The yellow fabric was worn but carefully layered.
He slowly unwrapped it, revealing a booklet within. Bold characters were scrawled across its surface:
Black Tiger Saber Technique.
ns216.73.216.224da2
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