The wind on the summit of Kunlun Mountain was sharp enough to cut through bone, but Chu Ming stood shirtless, his skin bronzed and unyielding. Around him, nine ancient stone pillars glowed with a faint, rhythmic light as he withdrew a final silver needle from his own pressure point.
"Master," Chu Ming said, his voice steady despite the freezing gale. "The 'Heavenly Dragon Art' is complete."
An old man, sitting cross-legged on a withered mat, opened eyes that seemed to contain the stars. "Ten years, Ming'er. You have surpassed me in both the martial path and the divine arts of healing. It is time. Your destiny does not lie in these clouds, but in the red dust of the cities below."
The old man tossed a tattered leather pouch and a faded yellow parchment to him.
"In that pouch are the Thirteen Heaven-Seeking Needles. And that paper... is a marriage contract signed twenty years ago with the Lin family of Jianghai City. Go. Find your seven senior sisters. They have already paved a path of gold and blood for you."
Chu Ming knelt and bowed three times. "I will not disgrace our lineage."
The Gates of the Lin Mansion
Two days later, the humid air of Jianghai City felt heavy compared to the mountain breeze. Chu Ming stood before a sprawling estate guarded by two massive stone lions. He wore a simple, faded grey tracksuit and carried a canvas bag—he looked more like a wandering student than a master of life and death.
"Stop!" a security guard snapped, stepping forward with a baton. "This is the Lin residence. Delivery drivers use the side entrance. Be quick about it."
Chu Ming looked up calmly. "I'm not here to deliver food. I'm here to see Lin Tianhong. Tell him Chu Ming is here to fulfill the engagement."
The guard froze, then burst into a mocking laugh. "An engagement? With Miss Lin Ruo, the 'Pearl of Jianghai'? Look at yourself in a mirror, kid! You look like you crawled out of a construction site. Get lost before I call the police!"
Chu Ming's eyes remained indifferent. "I'll say it once more. Move."
"And if I don't?" The guard raised his baton.
In a blur of motion—so fast the human eye couldn't track it—Chu Ming reached out. Two fingers tapped the guard's wrist.
Clang!
The metal baton hit the pavement. The guard gasped, falling to his knees as his entire arm went numb, his face turning pale with sudden, inexplicable terror.
"You... what did you do to me?"
"I merely silenced a barking dog," Chu Ming said, walking past the gate. "The Lin family's manners are worse than I expected."
The Lion's Den
Inside the main hall, the atmosphere was suffocating. Lin Tianhong, the patriarch, was surrounded by doctors and nervous relatives. His father, the Great Elder Lin, lay on a medical bed in the center of the room, his breathing ragged and shallow.
"The heart is failing," a doctor whispered. "Even a heart transplant wouldn't save him now. The toxins have reached the marrow."
"Is there no hope?" Lin Tianhong gripped his chair so hard the wood groaned.
"None," a cold voice interrupted from the doorway.
Everyone turned. Chu Ming stood there, his hands in his pockets.
"Who let this beggar in?!" Lin Feng, the young heir of the Lin family, shouted, pointing a finger at Chu Ming. "Guards! Throw him out!"
"If you throw me out," Chu Ming said, looking directly at the dying Elder, "you might as well start measuring him for a coffin. He has exactly fifteen minutes before his heart explodes."
The room went silent. The sheer confidence in the youth's voice was like a bucket of ice water over their heads.