The night sky was black. Flames lit it red. Giant fires roared, carrying ash high into the air.
The blaze consumed Yuan Family Fortress, a renowned stronghold in the martial world. Three quarters of an hour ago, masked warriors with supreme skills attacked while the fortress master was away. They set fires and fought the fortress's experts until the master returned.
The invaders were driven back. The fortress master led a dozen trusted men to patrol the grounds.
The master was sturdy, slightly stout. His mustache and sharp, deep eyes gave him a commanding presence. His steps were bold, like a general marching across a battlefield.
Where he walked, lingering flames died as if doused with ice water. They turned to curling smoke.
Servants and warriors cleared corpses. The enemy had been numerous, their leader highly skilled. The fortress suffered heavy losses.
The group reached the rear garden. The patrol was nearly done. A sharp whistle cut the air. A black-clad figure leaped from a banyan tree on the left. His sword glowed purple, slicing through a guard like mist, turning him to blood and dust. The blade aimed for the fortress master.
"Traitor Weiting, today I avenge my second brother."
The attack was relentless. The guards froze in awe.
In this world, twenty-five heavenly levels of power marked a top-tier master. This desperate strike reached thirty-one heavenly levels, a force among the top twenty in the martial world. Blocking it was no simple task.
The thought lasted a moment. Then, Weiting raised his left arm. Two fingers caught the sword's tip.
"Sixth brother, is there truly no other path for us?"
"Vile traitor, I am no brother of yours." The black-clad man thrust harder, but the blade did not move. "The only path is your blood, to honor my second brother."
"Then I must send you to him. For our bond, I will kill you with the technique you most admired."
Weiting's voice boomed. His fingers curled into a fist. He used only twenty-five heavenly levels of power, but his precise skill overcame the gap in power.
"Farewell, Hanmin, my sixth brother."
His fist struck. The black-clad man's eyes bulged. His body shook as if struck by lightning. He screamed in panic.
"Five Limits Divine Fist… his fifth limit…" His words stopped. His body burst into flames. He became a fireball, wailing as he died. The corpse burned to nothing in moments.
The guards behind knelt. They shouted in unison, "We salute Master Weiting's divine skill. The Five Limits Divine Fist is unmatched in this era."
Weiting laughed loudly. His gaze shifted to a lone, thin man standing behind the guards. "Shizhen, how was my fist?"
"Poor."
"Oh? Why?"
"The Five Limits Divine Fist is mighty. If mastered, its force turns foes to ash instantly." Shizhen spoke coldly, without courtesy. "With your current power, you cannot wield it fully. You killed him only by focusing your strength. If he had one more heavenly level, you would have died, consumed by the fist's backlash."
The harsh words made the kneeling guards sweat. They feared their ruthless master's anger. A single swing could take their heads.
Weiting paused. Then he laughed again.
"Ha… well said, Shizhen. You truly understand me."
Shizhen ignored the praise. He turned and walked to a corner of the courtyard.
Weiting stopped laughing. He watched Shizhen's retreating figure, then glanced at the trembling guards. His eyes settled on the black-clad man's charred remains. He sighed, hands behind his back.
"Why do fools always force me to destroy them? Are those around me now incapable of understanding me?"
He looked at the sky. One thought went unspoken.
* Elder brother, this vast land feels empty without you. Perhaps I should not have driven you away * , he thought.
Twenty miles from Yuan Fortress, a carriage sped along a road. A boy of eleven or twelve held the reins. His face was delicate, his skin pale as clouds, his lips naturally red. Panic marked his expression, but a spark of courage in his eyes kept him from being mistaken for a young girl.
"Mother, are you better? Mother…"
The boy called into the carriage. After a long pause, a soft, low voice answered.
"I am better, Zhu. I am fine now. Do not worry."
The boy steered the carriage to the roadside. He leaped into the carriage to check on his mother.
Inside, a beautiful woman sat, her hair disheveled, her face pale. Blood stained her lips. This was Mei, the boy's mother.
In the earlier battle, during their retreat, Mei took a palm strike to the chest to protect Zhu. The injury was severe. Zhu was deeply worried. Seeing her pale and weak, his heart ached.
"Mother, I am sorry. I was useless. I caused you…"
"I am fine. I took our sect's secret medicine and rested. Do not worry too much." Mei comforted Zhu. Her voice choked. "But… your fifth uncle, sixth uncle, and so many brothers… their lives… I…"
At the mention of the fallen, Zhu's eyes filled with tears.
Zhu's father, Jueren, was a master of both martial arts and strategy. A brilliant man with a noble heart, he was a legend in the martial world. As the second leader of Hongmen, the greatest sect in the north, his name was known far and wide.
Hongmen was founded by remnants of the previous dynasty. It opposed the current court. Its vast influence, rooted in every level of society, made the government both wary and fearful.
The current leader, Zhongwu, was a righteous man, beloved by all. He upheld justice in the martial world, defeating countless masters with his self-created Five Limits Divine Fist. Within Hongmen, he and six sworn brothers formed the Seven Heroes, recruiting disciples and secretly training soldiers for a planned uprising.
But fate was cruel. Before the uprising, Zhongwu, disheartened by a great failure, resigned all duties and vanished overseas. He passed the leadership to his second brother, Jueren.
Jueren had barely taken charge when Weiting, the third of the Seven Heroes, betrayed them. Colluding with the court, he assassinated Jueren, slaughtered his kin, and used government forces to crush Hongmen's dissent. His actions were swift and hidden, blaming the court for all. Now, he was not only Hongmen's leader but a powerful military general.
Zhu and Mei escaped the massacre. For over two years, they fled, evading pursuit. Tonight, they had met two of the Seven Heroes.
"Repentant Sky Brush" Shaobo and "Jinling Ink Sword" Hanmin believed Jueren's death was suspicious. They broke with Weiting, left Hongmen, and sought Mei and Zhu. The group attacked Yuan Fortress while Weiting was away, aiming to kill and steal.
The plan went well at first. Shaobo and Hanmin fought like gods. But Weiting, who should have been miles away, appeared. He killed Shaobo with one strike and slaughtered their allies, leaving bodies everywhere.
Mei wiped her tears. "Enough. Take out the brocade box. Our losses were heavy, but the box makes it worthwhile. If you master its secrets, Zhu, you can kill that traitor and honor your uncles' sacrifice."
Zhu nodded, tears in his eyes. He pulled a brocade box from his robes.
Years ago, Zhongwu had recorded the Five Limits Divine Fist in a manual, sealed it in this box, and hid it at Hongmen's headquarters.
Zhongwu sealed the box with his divine power, making it nearly indestructible. The key was entrusted to Jueren.
After Jueren's death, the key was lost. Recently, Hongmen's surviving disciples found it. They planned to steal the box while Weiting was away.
Weiting's martial prowess was unmatched. Only three or four in the world could challenge him. With Zhongwu gone and Jueren dead, Hongmen's hopes rested on the box's manual of divine skills.
Tonight's losses were heavy, but the box was theirs. The cost was worth it.