Ask any seasoned pleasure-seeker in Maple City where to find true bliss. They would give one answer — Tri-Fragrance Tower.
Not some house with only partial charm. A tower that claimed three parts of all fragrance under heaven.
Only a branch location, true. But since its doors opened, it had swept aside Maple City's mediocre entertainment scene like a storm.
Every young noble enjoying its delights owed thanks to the Tower for raising standards across the city.
Much as the Fifth-Rank expert Dean Dong had elevated Maple City Academy's education. Of course, only Zhao Yan dared make that comparison in private.
The Tower's reigning star was a woman called Miao Qing.
Countless men dreamt of her chambers, desperate to crawl beneath her skirts. Yet few ever tasted such fortune.
On an ornate canopy bed, a naked middle-aged man thrusted with desperate ardor — but beneath him lay only a pile of bedding.
A single bead curtain separated them from a soft couch facing the bed. Miao Qing reclined there, chin propped on one hand, her curves draped in languid perfection. Her eyes were misted, distant. Whether the man's self-delusion amused her, none could say.
A figure in black knelt before the couch, reporting in low tones.
"So this Jiang Chen knows a rather advanced sword art, yet never displayed it before?"
Her voice was languid, like a cat just waking, brushing against the listener's senses.
The black-clad figure kept his head bowed. "Exactly so. This subordinate is incompetent — I could not discover where he learned it."
Miao Qing pondered, flicking her fingers. "You may go."
The figure pressed his forehead to the floor. He drew his ring and pinky fingers in, forming a triangle over his heart with thumb, index, and middle fingers. He murmured: "Beneath the River of Oblivion, within the Abyss of Yellow Springs. The Revered God returns, candle-light to the mortal world."
Then he seeped into the floor and vanished.
"A sword art never seen in Maple City Academy? Passed down from some wandering sword master? Or perhaps..."
Miao Qing's gaze drifted.
"Dao Child..."
She thought further, deeper, into realms more distant and strange.
"Beneath the River of Oblivion, within the Abyss of Yellow Springs. The Revered God returns, candle-light to the mortal world."
She formed the same sign, whispered the same words.
On the canopy bed, the naked man still writhed against himself, lost in beautiful illusion, seemingly content to drown forever.
* * *
Far away, in a village of the State of Yong, a fierce-looking bald man tore into something with his teeth. Blood covered his mouth and hands.
From the empty cavity in the fallen villager's chest... he was eating a human heart.
He chewed with gusto until a streak of light shot down, straight at him.
This was no heavenly justice. No righteous flying sword.
The bald man snatched it from the air. The light became an ancient longsword in his grip.
"Damn it! I'll eat your heart one day!" Interrupted at his meal, he was clearly furious.
"Old fossil, what era do you think this is? Still using flying sword messages!" He cursed as he wiped his bloody hands and opened the letter attached to the sword.
The Mohists' Thousand-Li Voice Boxes had been popular for years. But some factions refused them. Who could trust those mechanism-crafters not to build backdoors into their devices?
Even if Mohist engineers swore heart-demon oaths — those oaths had dozens of known loopholes. What good were promises?
"State of Zhuang, Clear River County, Three Mountain City?" He read slowly, then spat. "What backwater hole is that!"
The sword waggled in the air, as if urging him on.
The bald man grew more irritated. But the letter's sender was someone he could not yet defy.
He drew five crude lines on the paper with his bloody finger — a horse. Meaning: going immediately.
He fixed the letter back to the sword. The blade vanished as quickly as it had come.
Only then did the bald man remember something. "Will the boss even understand this?"
He thought a moment, then shrugged it off.
"If he can't read that, what kind of boss is he!"
* * *
Approaching his quarters, Jiang Chen heard voices inside.
Since entering the Inner Academy, he still roomed with Ling Chuan and Du Hu for easy sparring and study. Zhao Yan stayed over occasionally but never long — better rooms made little difference to him.
Hearing Jiang Chen's footsteps, Ling Chuan rushed out. "You're finally back. Your family has been waiting ages!"
Family...
Jiang Chen's heart skipped. He hurried inside and saw, by the window in a set of rosewood chairs that Zhao Yan had insisted on installing, a still-attractive woman.
Du Hu sat nearby, stiff and proper, answering her questions one by one like a wild child on his best behavior before a friend's parent.
Except this "child" had a thick beard and rough features that made him look older than the well-kept woman.
Seeing Jiang Chen enter, the woman rose eagerly, delight in her eyes. "Xiao Wang! It's been so long! You've grown taller, stronger!"
Jiang Chen greeted her. "Aunt Song."
His birth mother had died early. This woman was his father's second wife. He had never been able to call her mother.
She was not wicked. She had never mistreated him. But Jiang Chen had entered the Outer Academy shortly after his father's remarriage. Training consumed his days. Except for festival visits, he rarely went home. They had no conflicts, but no deep bond either.
Aunt Song greeted him while pulling a small girl from behind her. "Say hello!"
The girl was shy. Only when prompted did she part her small lips and whisper: "Brother."
Aunt Song's silk clothes were bright and new, adding color to her appearance. The little girl was also well-dressed, but her delicate features needed no adornment.
She had only just spoken before ducking behind her mother again, peeking out with half a face to study this brother she had not seen in so long.
He loved his sister, of course. Blood ran deep. But his focus on training meant every home visit was rushed. It had been too long since he last heard that word.
The sound was soft, small — like pearls rolling across a jade plate, crisp and sweet.
A heart hardened by killing and bloodshed suddenly felt something melt.
Since Tangshe Town, Jiang Chen finally showed a genuine smile. "An'an!"