Who the hell had a death wish? Who dared to scrawl a message right on their doorstep?
A hot flash of anger shot through Jiang Dao.
But Pang Lin's face went pale with terror. "Young Master," he stammered, "we were up all night. There's no way a person could have done this. There isn't a master in all of Hengzhou City who could accomplish this. Even with incredible skill, writing something like that would've made a sound. We heard nothing. That wasn't a person."
"What?"
A fresh wave of terror washed over the servants, their faces draining of color as a collective tremor ran through them.
An evil spirit.
It was another damn evil spirit.
"That's it, I'm done!" one of the servants suddenly shrieked, his voice cracking with fear. "I'm not staying in the Jiang house anymore. You can have it. I'm out!" He turned and bolted.
Panic erupted. The other servants scrambled to grab their things and run for their lives.
But Jiang Dao was faster. He launched himself forward, his long saber clearing its sheath in a single, fluid motion. A flash of cold steel sliced through the air, passing cleanly over the fleeing servant's head. Blood sprayed, and the man's head tumbled from his shoulders, hitting the ground with a wet thud.
His eyes were still wide open, frozen in a look of confusion, as if his brain hadn't yet processed that he was dead.
The other servants screamed, their escape plans instantly forgotten as they froze in place.
"Anyone else who tries to start a panic dies," Jiang Dao snarled, his voice low and dangerous. A murderous aura rolled off him as he gripped the steel saber, his gaze so sharp it felt like it was stabbing into each of them.
In that one moment, every servant and guard was pinned by the sheer force of his will. They stood motionless, their hearts hammering in their chests.
"What evil spirit?" Jiang Dao's voice boomed like thunder, making their ears ring. "I don't buy it. If it's a spirit, tell it to come find me. I just killed two of them last night. You think they're crawling all over the city? It's just someone trying to spook us. What's there to be afraid of?"
He had to get them under control. He couldn't let them scatter. If they ran, the Jiang family was finished. He'd keep them here by force if he had to.
Pang Lin's expression shifted as he caught on. He nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, I was wrong. It can't be an evil spirit. It has to be a person. Maybe we were just exhausted and let our guard down…"
"Alright, everyone," Jiang Dao announced, his tone like ice. "To prove I'm right, I'm going to step over this red line. Let's see if anyone dares to try and kill me." He held his saber ready and strode toward the gate.
"Dao'er, be careful," his father, Jiang Dalong, called out. He understood immediately what his son was doing—putting on a show of strength to restore order.
"Don't worry, Father. I will be." Jiang Dao glanced back and nodded.
His Eagle Claw Iron Shirt technique was at a level equivalent to 120 years of training. His skin was like tanned leather, his muscles and sinew tough enough to repel blades. He refused to believe some spirit could kill him in an instant. If it were that powerful, it wouldn't have wasted time with cryptic messages; it would've just stormed the house last night.
Besides, he'd never heard of a spirit that could write.
No, this wasn't a spirit. This had the fingerprints of the Spirit Child Palace or one of the other cults that used these creatures. Their goal was simple: to make them panic and tear themselves apart.
Jiang Dao tightened his grip on his saber and walked forward, his broad frame a picture of confidence.
Every eye was locked on him.
He crossed the red line. He took five more steps. Then ten. Nothing happened. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the crowd.
"All for show," Jiang Dao muttered, his eyes cold as he stared down at the red line and the bloody words. Then, with a sudden, violent movement, he stomped his foot onto a stone paver. The ground cracked under the force. He dragged his foot through the dirt and stone, gouging a deep furrow in the earth like an iron plow, obliterating the red writing in a spray of dust and gravel.
The raw display of power left them speechless once again. Pang Lin and the others looked at him as if he were a god. That kind of strength was beyond imagination. Could you even achieve that after a hundred years of training? It was inhuman.
"See? It's over," Jiang Dao said, turning back. "Father, Master Pang, we're fine."
"Good, good, that's a relief," Jiang Dalong said. "Dao'er, you've been up all night. Get some rest today. We can decide whether to leave this afternoon."
"I'm not tired," Jiang Dao replied, shaking his head. "You all go eat. I'm going to take a look around the city."
The writing on the ground had connected the dots for him. From the 'Death' lantern the night before to this bloody line today, it was clear: someone had the Jiang family in their sights. Only two spirits had ever attacked them directly: the Spirit Child and the one from last night.
He had to change his plans. He needed to scout the city, get the lay of the land, and make sure it was safe before they made a move.
The streets were a ghost town.
Normally, the morning air would be filled with the smells of street food—stir-fried noodles, sweet rice cakes, steaming buns. Now, a suffocating silence hung over Hengzhou City. Even in broad daylight, the streets were empty. The few people he saw scurried along the walls, their faces tight with anxiety, disappearing as quickly as they appeared. Most residents were locked away, peering nervously from their upper-story windows.
After about half an hour of walking, Jiang Dao reached the city gate.
A crowd of wealthy merchants was packed against the southern gate, shouting and pleading to be let out. But the gate was sealed, and the walls were lined with heavily armed soldiers, their faces grim. No one was getting through. These were the same merchants who had bribed Magistrate Wang, the ones who had been promised safe passage out of the city.
Too bad for them. Magistrate Wang was dead, killed by Jiang Dao's own hand, and someone else was in charge now.
"Nobody leaves!" a massive, barrel-chested general bellowed from the wall, his eyes sweeping over the crowd like a tiger's. "The magistrate is dead, which means I'm in charge of Hengzhou now! Without a direct order from the court, anyone who tries to leave this city will be executed on the spot! I don't give a damn what deal you made with Wang. It's over. Nobody is going anywhere!"
"General Gongsun, please! Think of our years of friendship! Just let my family send one child away, to carry on our name!"
"Please, General, have mercy! Just open a side gate for a moment. Let us get our children to safety!"
"We're begging you, General! Please!"
The pleas fell on deaf ears.
"Insolence!" the general roared. "I gave my order! Anyone who keeps running their mouth will be arrested!"
Just then, a figure emerged from the top of the wall and began to descend. He was dressed head to toe in black. Black hair, black clothes, black eyes. Even his fingernails were long, sharp, and unnaturally black. An invisible aura of darkness and decay seemed to cling to him.
As he moved, he became the center of all attention.
The moment they saw him, a primal chill snaked its way up everyone's spine. A deep, instinctual fear bloomed in their chests. It was like looking at a walking corpse. In fact, a faint, sickly-sweet smell of rot drifted from him on the breeze.
"Who," the eerie young man asked, his voice flat and calm, "wants to leave?"
He trailed a hand along the stone wall as he spoke.
Hssssss…
The solid rock seemed to die at his touch. It blackened and decayed instantly, leaving a perfect black handprint behind. Within seconds, white mold blossomed in the center of the print, and the stone around it began to crumble and flake away as if it had weathered a thousand years in a single moment.
The merchants stared, mouths agape, completely horrified by the impossible sight.
Then the young man slowly scanned the crowd with his eyes—two pits of pure, featureless black. As his gaze passed over them, they felt an icy hand clench around their hearts.
They trembled, backing away from the gate as one. All thoughts of escape were gone.
Jiang Dao's blood ran cold.
What is this guy? he thought, his martial instincts screaming. Is he even human?
From this distance, even with all his training, he could tell. He wasn't looking at a man. He was looking at a corpse.