Outside Huánzhēn Temple, before the fresh grave, Jiang Wang opened his eyes.
The small silver crescent had fallen into his right palm, branded as a silver moon-mark, then vanished.
But Jiang Wang could still clearly sense its presence. It carried no offensive power — it would simply reappear when he willed it, connecting to the Lunar Star and drawing his spiritual consciousness into that unfathomable Great Void Illusion.
He hadn't explored the Great Void Illusion for long. The outskirts where he found himself were not a safe place for exploration.
Putting aside whether cultivators from Fenglin City would come to investigate the aftermath of the battle between powerful cultivators — Jiang Wang himself had more pressing matters.
If he hadn't lost track of time, the Fenglin Dao Academy's Inner Court selection was in three days.
If he missed this window, he would struggle to find another opportunity — an opportunity for revenge.
Because only Inner Court students were officially recognized Dao Academy disciples of the Zhuang Kingdom. And Dao Academy disciples could not be humiliated, let alone killed!
With one last look at the ruined temple where he had lingered on the edge of death, Jiang Wang strode into the moonlight.
Before the temple gate, weeds grew thick. A breeze passed, letting the moonlight fall upon an old plaque that had lain on the ground for years. Its text was blurred, but the characters "Huán Zhēn" could be faintly traced.
Moonlight on a ruined temple and a new grave. Wind through leaves, rustling.
Like someone's sigh — sorrowful, yet relieved.
---
Fenglin City was not actually small. For many whose families had lived there for generations, it was the entire world.
Besides the City Lord, who represented the Zhuang Kingdom's authority, three surnames — Zhang, Fang, and Wang — ruled this corner of the world.
In the deep of night, the back door of Yicui Brothel swung open. Amid the laughter of a curvaceous courtesan, a man in a side-slit long robe swaggered out, reeking of alcohol and radiating self-satisfaction.
His name was Fang Decai.
This surname "Fang" had not come easily. Since his grandfather's generation, his family had served the Fang household for three generations before being granted this surname. It was precisely because the Fang family trusted him as a confidant that he could afford to visit a pleasure house like Yicui every month.
He gave his regular courtesan one last squeeze, then laughed his way down the alley.
The woman watched him go, annoyed, muttering a few words of complaint. Once his back disappeared around the corner, she spat: "Dog riding on its master's coattails." And slammed the door shut.
She therefore didn't notice the ragged figure that had already pressed close behind Fang Decai.
Fang Decai had some martial training. When he sensed something wrong, he whipped around with a fist — but a casual slap scattered his stance.
Then a hand closed around his throat, lifted him off the ground, and slammed him against the wall.
More frightening than the swelling pain in his face, more terrifying than his constricting breath — was that face.
Gentle. Composed. Jiang Wang's face.
"Jiāng... Jiāng..." Fang Decai wheezed, terror and struggle in his voice.
"Who gave the order? The Fang family, or Fang Pengju? Who else was involved? What poison was in the wine? How did you contact the Western Mountain bandits?"
Jiang Wang asked these questions slowly, one by one. Just before Fang Decai suffocated, he released his grip. "Now. Tell me carefully."
He glanced up at the moon. "We have plenty of time."
The night breeze nudged clouds across the sky, half-covering the moon. In that alley, the quiet words exchanged were as soft as a demon's whisper.
That night, the bright moon hung high, the night drum of wind sounded — the man who had not died had returned to the city.
---
At full daylight, Jiang Wang stood before the gate of Fenglin City's Dao Academy.
The Zhuang Kingdom had made Daoism its state religion; its strongest extraordinary power naturally flowed from Daoist origins. The Dao Academies established in every city across the three commanderies were proof.
The Dao Academy was not merely the preferred cultivation destination for Zhuang's youth — even officials at every level needed Dao Academy credentials to command respect.
Thus, in all of Fenglin City, the most prestigious place was perhaps not the City Lord's mansion, nor the estates of the three great families — but the Fenglin City Dao Academy.
The Zhuang Kingdom's Daoist lineage belonged to the Jade Capital Mountain tradition, which placed great emphasis on ceremony. The academy was accordingly magnificent. The pair of jade lions flanking the main gate alone radiated authority and nobility.
Jiang Wang's clothes were still ragged, with a faint sour stench. He had only splashed water on his face and tied his tangled hair back.
He stood before the academy's wide-open gates, spine straight as a pine.
The Outer Court disciple on duty rubbed his eyes again and again before crying out in disbelief: "Brother... Brother Jiāng!?"
Jiang Wang nodded. "Good morning, Brother Wu."
As the most hard-fighting Outer Court disciple in Fenglin City's academy, he had completed countless academy missions. Any disciple who had been enrolled for more than a year knew him.
Brother Wu turned and ran into the academy, shouting: "Brother Jiang Wang is back! Brother Jiang Wang is back!"
In no time, Outer Court disciples swarmed the gate, calling out to each other, "Brother!" this and "Brother!" that. Such was Jiang Wang's reputation among them.
Among the dozens of disciples, several stood out. Even in the crowd, people instinctively parted for them.
"You bastard Jiāng! Where the hell have you been hiding? I thought you were dead!"
The one bellowing from afar was Du Yehu. When he ran, the muscles beneath his training clothes seemed ready to burst through. His face was distinctive — a full beard that made him look a decade older than his peers. Standing there, he resembled a bandit chieftain more than a youth of eighteen.
Because of his precocious development, he was known as "Premature Beard."
Like a bear pushing through the crowd, he threw his arms around Jiang Wang, ignoring the sour smell, repeating: "Damn it! Damn it!"
"Good that you're back!"
Saying "good that you're back" — yet with tears in his eyes and trembling lips — was Ling He.
He had a dignified face, a broad forehead, the look of a steady, composed young man. He stood behind Du Yehu in a faded training uniform, simply watching Jiang Wang.
Only one handsome youth came close, looked Jiang Wang up and down, then pointed at his rags with a grin: "How did you end up looking like this?"
His name was Zhao Rucheng. The most attractive of them all, his smile seemingly frivolous. But only those who truly knew him could see the hidden tears in his charming eyes.
These few were different in appearance and temperament, but all shared bonds of life and death with Jiang Wang.
In many Outer Court trials, they had fought side by side, surviving countless dangers, forging deep camaraderie.
But Jiang Wang's gaze passed over all of them — straight to a handsome youth in the crowd whose eyes seemed faintly red.
He stood there without speaking, without moving — yet he was faintly the center of the crowd.
"Pengju. Fifty-seven days." Jiang Wang nearly bit off each word. "I thought about you every day."
"Only Pengju? Don't you miss your second brother?" Du Yehu grabbed Jiang Wang's shoulders, shaking him, wailing.
Ling He and Zhao Rucheng both fell silent.
Fifty-seven days was a very specific, very sensitive number — exactly the duration of Jiang Wang's disappearance.
Fang Pengju, dressed in fine brocade, stepped forward with a smile. "Good that you're back. We were all worried."
"Yes." Jiang Wang smiled too. "Without a body to prove it, how could you not worry?"
Fang Pengju's expression changed. "What do you mean? After you went missing, I was sick with worry! I sent people everywhere to find you!"
Jiang Wang said softly: "That's why I only dared to show myself today."
"Jiang Wang! The ones who attacked you were remnants of the Western Mountain bandits — everyone knows this! Are you actually suspecting me?" Fang Pengju's face flushed red, appearing shocked and furious. "The Five Heroes of Fenglin are as close as brothers! Have you been listening to rumors?"
Ling He, Du Yehu, Jiang Wang, Fang Pengju, Zhao Rucheng — these five were the most outstanding Outer Court disciples. Because they were kindred spirits who often banded together to suppress bandits, they were known as the Five Heroes of Fenglin.
Feeling the sudden tension, the disciples who came to greet Jiang Wang grew uneasy.
"Did Fang Pengju really harm Jiang Wang?"
"Don't talk nonsense. Fang Pengju has always been generous and righteous. It must be a misunderstanding!"
"I don't think so... Brother Jiang isn't the type to be fooled."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"We're all brothers — don't say things like that!" Du Yehu stared at Jiang Wang, visibly anxious. His instincts screamed that something was wrong, but he had no way to stop what was coming.
Ling He thought for a moment, then urged: "Third Brother, you must have been through a lot. You've suffered. Why not settle down first? The Inner Court selection is in a few days — it's the matter of a lifetime. We must be careful. The Western Mountain bandits have been wiped out by our combined forces. If there's more to the story, we can sort it out slowly. If you've been wronged, we brothers will help you — even if we have to take it to the Commandery Academy or the National Academy!
But Pengju is a brother we swore an oath with. I believe there must be some misunderstanding. Perhaps someone sowed discord..."
"Big Brother." Jiang Wang cut him off. "When have I ever spoken carelessly? I cherish our brotherhood no less than you. So when I say this today, it's because it is the truth."
"Fang Pengju!" Jiang Wang turned to the brocade-clad youth and pointed. "I hope that after you open this chest, you can still be so self-righteous!"
Only then did the crowd notice the large chest sitting behind Jiang Wang.
"No matter what happens, I, Fang Pengju, would never harm a friend!" Fang Pengju paused only a moment before declaring boldly: "I will personally see what so-called evidence could make Third Brother doubt his own brother!"
He strode out, drew the sword from his waist, and in one motion flipped open the chest's lid!
Inside, a man lay bound and gagged, eyes wide with panic, making frantic muffled sounds. When he saw Fang Pengju, he struggled desperately.
Du Yehu and Ling He both fell silent. They recognized him — Fang Decai, Fang Pengju's trusted servant.
"That day, your servant delivered a message saying you'd invited me to drink at Wangyue Tower. When I arrived, you hadn't come yet. He urged me to try the fine wine you'd specially sent. The poison in that wine... was Dual-Separation Yin-Yang Powder.
The moment the poison took effect, bandits broke in... I had personally exterminated the Western Mountain bandits — yet here in Fenglin City, I was nearly killed by their remnants!"
Jiang Wang's voice floated in: "So the first thing I did after recovering was find Fang Decai."
Fang Pengju was silent for only a heartbeat. Then his sword thrust forward!
"Beast! The Fang family treated you well. You dared collude with bandits, forge letters, and harm my Third Brother!"
The strike was fast and precise. Blood splattered. Fang Decai convulsed, wheezed a few times, and went still. From start to finish, he never had the chance to utter a single word in his own defense.
"Fang Pengju!" No one present was a fool. Du Yehu, though rough, was not stupid. His eyes blazed, fury rising.
"Second Brother." Fang Pengju lowered his bloody sword, face full of shame. "I... I was overcome with rage. I only wanted to kill this beast to avenge Third Brother!"
"It's fine." Jiang Wang watched Fang Pengju's performance to its end, then drew a paper from his robes — dense with writing. "This is Fang Decai's confession, with his mark. Would you like to see it, Pengju?"
*Clang!*
Fang Pengju cast aside his sword and dropped to his knees. "I don't need to see it to know what's written. I can only say the Western Mountain bandits' hatred for me knows no end — who knows what price they paid to make Decai so loyal! But Third Brother, believe me — I have always been open and honest. When have I ever acted like a petty man? Regardless of the cause, the Fang family will give you justice. I will post a bounty of ten thousand coins and exterminate every bandit within a hundred li to cleanse your hatred!"
Other Outer Court disciples chimed in: "Yes, Brother Jiang! The Five Heroes of Fenglin are all heroes. Don't be divided by a petty schemer!"
"When my mother was ill, it was Brother Fang who generously helped. I believe he's not that kind of person."
Some spat on Fang Decai's corpse: "This evil servant deserved death! He even smeared Brother Fang's name and sowed discord among the Five Heroes. If he were still alive, I'd cut him to pieces!"
"Enough, fellow disciples!" Fang Pengju raised a hand, silencing the crowd. He walked on his knees toward Jiang Wang, sincerity in his eyes: "After Third Brother disappeared, I led search parties everywhere. I wept openly more than once! My bond with Third Brother is known to all — heaven and earth bear witness! But even though my conscience is clear — if I hadn't trusted Decai, and Third Brother hadn't trusted me, how could this beast have found his opening? The fault is mine. I bear it fully!"
"I will empty my personal treasury to compensate Third Brother's suffering. I will submit to the whip for my failure of judgment. I will single-handedly exterminate the Western Mountain remnants — and until they are eradicated, I will not return to the city!"
"I do this not as compensation — Third Brother nearly died, and this grudge cannot be repaid! We are brothers, and I cannot forgive myself!"
"And if..." Fang Pengju's voice broke, tears streaming: "If Third Brother's hatred remains unquenched... then pick up this sword. Kill me with one strike. I, Pengju, will have no complaint!"
Every eye fell on the blood-stained sword lying on the ground.
"Brother Fang, don't do this!"
"I believe it's not your fault! How can a great man speak so lightly of death?"
At this scene, none who watched were unmoved. Voices urged restraint from all sides.
Even Ling He, after a silence, spoke again: "Third Brother, Fourth Brother, this matter..."
Jiang Wang swept his ragged sleeve and stepped forward, spine straight. "Pengju. I once took wounds for you. You once threw yourself into danger for me. The five of us — we've lived and died together."
Ling He, Du Yehu, Zhao Rucheng — all had red-rimmed eyes. The blood and tears they had shared, the days of struggle, the joy they had known... only they themselves truly understood.
The bonds forged in life and death — how could a few words capture them?
"Third Brother..." Fang Pengju bowed his head, tears and snot flowing freely. "Every wrong is my wrong. I should not have trusted that evil servant. I nearly caused irreparable harm!"
"But since you've said so, Pengju..." Jiang Wang said slowly: "Then I'll take you at your word."