Those street thugs were already scared out of their wits upon hearing the name of the Great Jiao Gang, but when they learned that the delicate young woman was none other than Gao Tangyan, the daughter of the gang’s leader, they fled in utter panic—likely to burn incense and pray to the gods, begging not to be remembered by this formidable lady.
Though the Great Jiao Gang hadn’t cracked the top ten in the latest martial rankings, failing to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the likes of Huishan Mountain’s Great Snow Terrace and the Golden Saber Manor, it remained a colossal force near the top of the secondary list. This was especially true since the meteoric rise of Gao Biaoyao, who made his name in the late Yonghui era and ascended to prominence by the end of the Xiangfu era. Now, the Great Jiao Gang dominated most of Spring God Lake’s waters, its influence vast and imposing. Gao Biaoyao was hailed by the martial world as one of the “River Emperor, Lake Sovereign, and the Mountain’s Supreme Ruler”—specifically, the “Lake Sovereign.” With thousands of followers under his command, the Gao family’s enterprises spanned sensitive industries like escort bureaus, water transport, and salt-iron monopolies, earning him the moniker “White Dragon King.” That single word—*white*—spoke volumes.
Rumors swirled about Gao Biaoyao’s connections: some claimed he was related to a high-ranking official in Qingzhou’s naval forces, others said his sister had married the former Jing’an Circuit’s military governor Ma Zhongxian, and still others whispered that he had sworn brotherhood with the legendary northern generals Yang Huchen and Han Fang during their southward campaign. Whether true or mere gossip, one fact was undeniable—Gao Biaoyao’s eldest son, Gao Xiangqi, was a bona fide cavalry captain in Qingzhou’s army.
In Qingzhou and the Jing’an Circuit, there were certainly those who could afford to provoke the Great Jiao Gang—perhaps a handful at most. But none could match Gao Biaoyao’s political finesse. He had meticulously cultivated relationships, ensuring that the gang handled all the dirty work for powerful officials and military leaders, maintaining order in their domains while keeping his own hands clean.
Thus, when a wandering warrior capable of catching a blade between two fingers was warmly invited by Gao Biaoyao’s daughter, it should have been a grand exchange of face—a mutually beneficial arrangement where the warrior would leave a chair in the Loyalty Hall on Autumn Water Isle, and in return, the gang would trumpet his name across the martial world. A win-win.
But Gao Tangyan, confident in her plan, never expected the unidentified man to dare reject her offer! After all, a single chair in the Loyalty Hall was now worth *eight thousand taels of silver* to some second-tier masters—such was the price of fame in today’s martial world.
Xu Fengnian initially considered saying something to the young swordsman but ultimately held back. Each man had his own fate; this was but a fleeting encounter, and there was no need for deep words between strangers.
Xu Fengnian and Wang Sheng retrieved their unremarkable horses and rode off.
Gao Tangyan watched their departing figures with a faint, inscrutable smile.
To the untrained eye, the sunlight seemed gentle, but those lacking insight would never perceive the shadows beneath.
The young swordsman, of course, saw none of it. To him, this woman was of good birth, fair looks, decent skill, and commendable temperament—enough that he found himself somewhat smitten.
Yet he didn’t for a moment consider himself beneath her notice. After all, he hailed from the Golden Saber Manor of Nanzhao, one of nine disciples accompanying their master to the Central Plains for training.
In the current martial rankings of Liyang, the top ten sects were still led by Huishan Mountain’s Great Snow Terrace. Though its alliance leader had long secluded himself, the addition of Huang Fangfo—who had broken through to the Heavenly Phenomena realm—and the northwestern swordmaster Mi Fengjie, rumored to be a hair’s breadth from the same realm and even deadlier in combat than Huang, solidified its dominance. The top three also included the rising Southern Dragon Palace and Jiangnan’s Jia Drum Terrace, which had pushed the Dongyue Sword Pool to fourth place. Rounding out the list were the Golden Saber Manor, Taibai Sword Sect, Quick Snow Villa, Youyan Villa, Snow Hut, and the Fish-Dragon Gang. The next ten sects were split between the Central Plains and the former Northern Mang, with the resurgent Gelou Tower being the most enigmatic and the Chess-Sword Music Mansion showing the strongest momentum.
The Great Jiao Gang might have numbers, but compared to the Golden Saber Manor—home to a female saber saint—it lacked a true top-tier master. Only two of the Loyalty Hall’s twenty-plus chairs belonged to first-rank experts: the well-connected “Divine Fist” Feng Zongxi and, thanks to his influence, Lu Jiejun of Jia Drum Terrace’s Misty Peak. The latter’s presence had catapulted the gang to fame overnight, with most chairs filled by those drawn to her reputation.
Gao Tangyan, ever the strategist, had set her sights on the elusive master of the Golden Saber Manor.
Hence today’s bizarre confrontation. Otherwise, given her status, how could the Great Jiao Gang not have hidden experts guarding her? Even if Gao Biaoyao had been careless enough to leave her unattended, with her third-rank cultivation, how could that thug—nearly cleaved in two by the young swordsman—have gotten so close?
Had the swordsman killed the thug, the authorities would have “coincidentally” intervened, and the ever-righteous Great Jiao Gang would have stepped in to “save” the young man from the Golden Saber Manor. A bond forged in adversity—though whether Gao Tangyan would ever reciprocate his feelings depended entirely on whether the manor’s master, Tong Shanquan, deemed him worthy.
In truth, Gao Tangyan’s marriage would be to Tong Shanquan herself—a union of the Great Jiao Gang and the Golden Saber Manor. The young swordsman’s dull personality held little appeal for her. These days, even a future second-rank master barely registered on her radar—unless he happened to be Tong Shanquan’s younger brother.
To her, this well-connected young swordsman paled in comparison to Dou Changfeng, the toad-faced disciple Feng Zongxi doted on, who’d somehow made it onto the list of the Ten Young Masters.
As Gao Tangyan and the young swordsman strolled along the riverbank, debating the unknown expert’s true strength, their opinions diverged. Gao Tangyan guessed he was at most a minor master, while the Golden Saber Manor’s disciple insisted he’d at least touched the threshold of the Finger Mystic realm. Gao Tangyan dismissed this as wounded pride—a *Finger Mystic* grandmaster? Did this Song Qiumu think such legends grew on trees?
Then a cool voice cut through their conversation: “Song Qiumu, what happened?”
Gao Tangyan startled. She’d specifically requested two second-rank masters as hidden guards for today’s scheme. One had been sent to intercept the master-disciple pair, but the other should still be nearby—how had someone gotten so close undetected?
The young swordsman, Song Qiumu, snapped to attention, bowing deeply. “Manor Master!”
Gao Tangyan’s eyes widened, her excitement genuine. Before her stood the woman with twin sabers sheathed at her right hip—Tong Shanquan. Though not classically beautiful, in Gao Tangyan’s eyes, she was the most captivating woman alive, second only to the legendary Violet Robe of Huishan Mountain.
Gao Tangyan was a woman who worshipped power.
In truth, she’d have thrived in the imperial palace.
Tong Shanquan, in her early thirties and still unwed, had brought the Golden Saber Manor’s core disciples to the Central Plains to hone their skills. Once rumored to be the celestial partner of Chen Tianyuan, those tales had faded as he now appeared alongside another woman, even renaming his sword the bizarre “Firewood.”
She was also the one who’d struck boldly on the river’s sandbar earlier. Her saber technique mirrored the intersecting tides of the Guangling River—evident in how her twin blades rested at her hip.
She sought to break through to the Heavenly Phenomena realm but still lacked that final spark, waiting instead for next autumn’s grand tide. Like a warrior’s momentum, the tides had their peak, and Tong Shanquan dared not rush, lest she achieve the realm with an imperfect mindset.
After hearing Song Qiumu’s account, she flicked a finger, and his saber flew from its sheath into her hand. She examined the spot where it had been caught between two fingers, frowning at first, then nodding slightly. A tap on the blade’s tip brought a flicker of surprise.
Returning the saber, she said simply, “You got lucky.”
She didn’t elaborate, but the truth was stark: Song Qiumu’s full-force strike had nearly matched a minor master’s casual blow. For an ordinary second-rank expert to catch the blade between two fingers was impressive enough—but to leave *no mark at all* meant the fingers had never truly touched steel, instead gripping it with pure energy. That alone was extraordinary.
More shocking was the blade’s condition. Even a first-rank or Finger Mystic master’s energy manipulation would’ve left subtle traces, yet this prized saber from the Golden Saber Manor showed *no internal alterations*—proof of a technique so refined it bordered on the divine.
Gao Tangyan couldn’t suppress a tremble. “Manor Master Tong, might I… invite you to our island as a guest? I—I truly admire you. I even abandoned the sword for the saber, though my talent is lacking…”
For once, Gao Tangyan was genuinely flustered. Before her stood Tong Shanquan—once among the Four Minor Masters, now the “Eleventh Under Heaven” after the disappearance of the top ten. In all the lands of Liyang and the Northern Mang, only *ten* stood above her.
How could Gao Tangyan possibly stay calm?
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