Chapter 26: Clash of steel

Wang Yiran sat in the candlelit chambers of the Wang Clan's inner residence, fingers tapping rhythmically against the lacquered wood of his desk. The air smelled of incense, thick and fragrant, failing to mask the tension that had settled over the room.

The reports were clear—Jin Ye hadn't just survived the bounty hunters. He had thrived. He had walked into the Golden Crane Pavilion, left with rare materials without so much as peep.

Wang Yiran's grip tightened around the edge of his chair. This was beyond humiliation. This was defiance.

"You're telling me no one was willing to take the bounty?" His voice was quiet, but the danger within it was unmistakable.

A kneeling servant trembled before him, forehead nearly pressed against the floor. "Y-young master, not a single one has returned from going after him."

Wang Yiran inhaled slowly, reigning in his fury. "Enough. Who do we have left?"

A shadow shifted from the corner of the room. Zhen Yan, 8th-stage Qi Refinement, a hired duelist with a history of ruthless kills. His curved saber rested lazily against his shoulder, his eyes carrying the sharp, unwavering confidence of a professional killer.

"You want him dead, I assume?" Zhen Yan's tone was casual, unbothered by the gravity of the request.

Wang Yiran met his gaze. "Not just dead. Broken. I want him humiliated, his name ruined before the entrance exam."

Zhen Yan smirked, running a hand along the edge of his blade. "Then consider it done."

Two more figures stepped from the shadows, Qi Refinement 6th-stage cultivators, mercenaries who worked under Zhen Yan's command.

The Merchant Quarter was still alive with lingering activity as Jin Ye stepped through the narrow streets, the weight of his new storage ring feeling natural against his hand. He had spent the last few hours consolidating his purchases, preparing for the days ahead. The Starfire Essence sat safely within his ring, waiting for the right moment to be used.

He had achieved everything he set out to do at the auction.

Now, it was time to leave.

His senses, honed through countless battles, picked up the subtle shift in the air. A presence. No—three.

Jin Ye continued walking, his pace even, his heartbeat steady. If they wanted to follow him, he would play.

He turned down a side alley, the dim lantern light casting shadows against the stone walls. The perfect place for an ambush.

The moment he stepped into the open space, the presence behind him closed in.

Zhen Yan's voice was smooth, unhurried. "You're quite the difficult man to track, Jin Ye."

Jin Ye turned, his silver eyes settling on the three figures blocking the alley's only exit.

Zhen Yan stood in the center, his curved saber resting casually in his grip, the blade's edge gleaming beneath the flickering light. To his left and right, two 6th-stage Qi Refinement cultivators, both carrying long knives, their expressions sharp and focused.

Jin Ye let out a slow breath, his hand resting on his own sword hilt. "So, Wang Yiran's still not done embarrassing himself?"

Zhen Yan chuckled, rolling his shoulders. "Not my concern. And right now, I'm paid to break you. Publicly."

Jin Ye tilted his head slightly. "That's a shame. I was hoping for someone stronger."

The smile never left Zhen Yan's face, but the tension snapped into place instantly. His Qi surged, thick and unshaken, pressing against the air.

Jin Ye remained still, his own Qi coiling within him like a loaded spring.

He had been waiting for a real fight.

This would have to do.

Zhen Yan moved first.

The moment his Qi flared, his curved saber flashed, an arc of steel cutting through the alley's dim lantern light with terrifying speed. His footwork was smooth, practiced—a trained executioner rather than a reckless brute.

Jin Ye's sword was already out.

The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out as he deflected the first strike, the force behind it enough to send vibrations through his arms. Zhen Yan was strong—stronger than any opponent he had faced in Dawnroot City so far.

But strength alone wouldn't be enough.

The two 6th-stage cultivators flanked him, their long knives lunging toward his ribs and back, aiming for blind spots that would leave him open.

Jin Ye flickered—his body split into afterimages.

The knives tore through empty space.

He reappeared behind one of the mercenaries, his sword cutting a precise line across the man's exposed shoulder. Blood sprayed, and a sharp cry filled the alley as the wounded cultivator staggered back.

The other mercenary spun, slashing toward Jin Ye's throat.

Jin Ye ducked low, pivoting sharply as his sword lashed out. A deep gash opened across the second man's thigh, sending him stumbling.

Zhen Yan didn't pause.

The assassin's saber came from above, a downward strike meant to split Jin Ye in half.

Jin Ye twisted mid-step, activating Shadow Phantom Step at the last second.

His form flickered.

Zhen Yan's blade passed clean through an afterimage, striking nothing but air.

Jin Ye reappeared at his side, his own blade already in motion—a brutal slash aimed for Zhen Yan's ribs.

But the assassin was fast.

Zhen Yan twisted, the edge of Jin Ye's sword cutting only a shallow wound before he countered.

His elbow slammed into Jin Ye's chest, a burst of Qi sending him skidding backward.

Jin Ye's feet dug into the stone, his breath sharp but controlled.

Zhen Yan smirked, rolling his shoulder where the shallow wound bled lightly.

"Not bad," he admitted. "But I expected more."

Jin Ye exhaled slowly, feeling the flow of his Qi. The stolen power from the Iron Butcher, the bounty hunter, and every opponent before them—it was still settling within him.

But now? Now it was being condensed. Just what he needed.

The mercenaries recovered, moving again, but Jin Ye barely saw them anymore.

His mind had shifted. His body had adjusted.

His stolen power was no longer just stored energy.

It was becoming his.

And in that instant, something clicked.

Jin Ye moved.

His presence distorted, his afterimages becoming more than simple illusions—they became something tangible, something his enemies reacted to instinctively.

Zhen Yan's eyes flickered in realization. He could no longer tell which Jin Ye was real.

And by the time he did—it was already too late.

Zhen Yan's smirk faltered for the first time. His instincts screamed at him to attack, but he couldn't tell where to strike.

Jin Ye's new movement technique had fully merged—not just an illusion, not just speed. Shadow Phantom Step was now something else entirely.

He no longer moved in simple flickers. His afterimages twisted with purpose, each step leaving behind a lingering sense of presence, making it impossible for Zhen Yan to track him.

The two mercenaries hesitated, their eyes darting between the multiple figures of Jin Ye, their grip on their knives tightening.

Zhen Yan cursed and made his move.

He lunged at the nearest Jin Ye, his saber cutting through the air in a flawless strike

Only for it to hit air.

The real Jin Ye stepped forward from his blind spot.

His sword gleamed under the lantern light, piercing through Zhen Yan's side before he could react.

The assassin grunted in pain, staggering as his Qi faltered.

Jin Ye didn't stop.

His blade flickered, his strikes coming from multiple angles at once, each one cutting deeper, his movements weaving between shadow and reality.

Zhen Yan had no time to react.

The final stroke came clean—Jin Ye's sword slicing across Zhen Yan's throat in a single, fluid motion.

The assassin's eyes widened as blood gushed from the wound, his hands trembling as he dropped his saber.

He collapsed onto his knees, trying to speak, but only a choked gasp escaped.

Jin Ye watched without emotion as Zhen Yan's body finally slumped to the ground, lifeless.

The two remaining mercenaries—wounded, bleeding, and now terrified—didn't even think of attacking.

One of them dropped his knife and ran. The other, clutching his bleeding shoulder, stumbled after him, disappearing into the night.

Jin Ye let them go.

They weren't worth the effort. His eyes were on bigger fish now.

The alley was silent now. Only the sound of blood dripping onto stone remained.

Jin Ye flicked his blade clean, his Qi settling into perfect clarity.

The battle had condensed his stolen talents to fully integrate. His cultivation had solidified. And now, his movement technique had evolved beyond what it once was. His mastery going one step further.

He looked down at Zhen Yan's corpse.

Above it, the golden-red wisps of fate flickered—his essence, his battle instincts, his mastery of the saber.

Jin Ye reached out and took it.

A sharp pulse ran through him as his mind absorbed Zhen Yan's expertise. His combat instincts improved. His swordsmanship had just evolved again.

And the Wang Clan had lost another assassin.

Jin Ye turned, retrieving Zhen Yan's coin pouch from his belt.

Nine hundred gold taels. A decent prize for a fight he was already going to win.

He tucked it into his robe and stepped out of the alley.

As he crossed the street, a familiar figure stepped into his path.

The auction house's steward.

"You certainly know how to attract trouble," the man remarked, glancing at the faint bloodstains on Jin Ye's sleeve.

Jin Ye shrugged. "A fool and his life was parted."

The steward smirked, lowering his voice. "That fight just caught the attention of people you don't want watching you."

Jin Ye raised an eyebrow.

"The private auction," the steward continued. "The invite you received? You're no longer just a bidder. Now you're a target."

Jin Ye's smirk returned.

Let them try.