Martial Arts Master: The Lin Family Sword God, who swept through the Five Mountains and Four Sects

Lin Tian looked up again, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he swallowed back the words, "You're probably a shill."

He is now absolutely certain of one thing—Han Fei is all talk and no action, and he's a ruthless conman.

Lin Tian had already deduced in his mind: the Seven Constellations of the Azure Dragon correspond to the Seven Luminaries, the Seven Kingdoms, and the Seven Lifeline Keys. Those who held the keys throughout history were invariably the purest direct descendants of their respective kingdoms. Whoever possessed all seven keys held the reins of power over the world. Han Fei was the sole heir of the Kingdom of Han, personally recognized by the Seven Constellations of the Azure Dragon—he had only briefly glimpsed that power that could tear through time and space during a chance encounter.

There is no other explanation that holds water.

"Brother Lin..." Han Fei tentatively began.

"Shut up." Lin Tian gritted his teeth and hissed, the veins on the back of his hand throbbing slightly. "If you utter another sound, Honglian will come to your mansion tonight to 'help' you stretch your muscles and beat you until you can only walk with crutches next month."

Han Fei shuddered, recalling his younger sister's smooth and skillful beating techniques. He immediately pursed his lips and even softened his breathing.

Ying Zheng, however, remained calm. He had already achieved his goal—the Seven Mansions of the Azure Dragon were not just empty talk.

"The wind is rising," Ying Zheng suddenly said, his voice calm and even.

"The wind leaves no trace," Han Fei replied quickly, a hint of interest flashing in his eyes. "But this wind has clearly stirred up waves in Your Majesty's heart."

"What makes you say that, sir?" Ying Zheng asked with a smile.

"The wind sweeps across the water, creating a thousand waves—all because undercurrents are already surging beneath." Han Fei's gaze was intense. "The Qin court is unstable, and Your Majesty yourself is in a precarious situation. To leave the country alone and travel to a foreign land to meet a complete stranger is to tread on a knife's edge at every step."

"Though we have never met, reading your writings is more valuable than a thousand words." Ying Zheng's smile deepened. "It is worth taking some risks for these weighty words."

"Your Majesty is the sovereign of a nation. An ancient proverb says: 'Even a son of a noble family would not sit under a dangerous roof.'" Han Fei said solemnly. "Now, for Your Majesty to step out of the country is like a dragon trapped in a shallow bay. In my opinion, this journey is truly pushing yourself to the edge of a precipice."

Ying Zheng laughed loudly, stood with his hands behind his back, and his gaze pierced the sky like a blade: "Without climbing the precipice, how can one know the magnificence of the peaks bowing in submission?"

"Your Majesty's courage reminded Han Fei of a former ruler of the Zhao state."

"Are you referring to King Wuling of Zhao?" Ying Zheng nodded.

Han Fei nodded: "Exactly. Not long after he ascended the throne, he rode alone deep into the lands of the Hu people to observe their sentiments and the military situation. After returning to the country, he vigorously promoted the adoption of Hu clothing and cavalry archery. Even though he faced criticism from the entire court and attacks from the court based on etiquette and law, he still implemented it with great force. Once the order was issued, the state of Zhao underwent a dramatic change—it suppressed mountain bandits internally and expanded its territory to the Hu people externally. In just a few years, its military strength was enough to rival the powerful Qin."

Ying Zheng's lips curled slightly, a hint of disdain in his smile: "King Wuling of Zhao certainly possessed the qualities of a tiger and wolf, but ultimately his reputation crumbled in his later years, making it impossible for him to become the ruler of the world. You yourself are in a precarious situation, as if walking on thin ice, as if a thousand pounds are hanging over you, barely able to take care of yourself, so what makes you think you can help others out of their predicament?"

"Oh? I've heard so much about you." Han Fei's eyes lit up, his interest piqued.

"In his work 'Solitary Indignation,' the gentleman frankly stated: 'The greatest calamity for the nation lies in the power of ministers who erode the monarch's heart, and in the abuse of power by close attendants who disrupt the order of the court. From my observation, the state of Han is currently in a state of power slipping away and the monarch's orders being ignored—in the court, each official harbors his own ambitions; within the palace, the king's commands are repeatedly thwarted. Not to mention, externally, the ironclad army of Qin is pressing in, its advance already reaching Hangu Pass; internally, there is a complete lack of strategic planning, not even a single plan to repel the enemy can be devised.'"

Ying Zheng's gaze was sharp as a blade, piercing Han Fei's eyes: "Sir, you have long been exhausted in the court and troubled by both internal and external affairs, so how can you talk about sharing the burdens of others?"

Han Fei laughed heartily: "Your Majesty sees through my predicament so clearly... Perhaps you wish to weigh whether Han Fei is merely a silver-tongued talker or a true strategist capable of turning the tide?"

"Indeed, I am curious." Ying Zheng nodded, his tone calm yet sharp.

……

In the shadows of the corner, Lin Tian rubbed his forehead and shook his head, feeling utterly helpless.

These two people probably already recognized each other's importance long ago.

Look at this tit-for-tat, back-and-forth confrontation—even if Han Fei later dies in Xianyang prison, it will certainly not be at the behest of the King of Qin. He couldn't bear it, he really couldn't bear it.

At this moment, on the roof of the wall, Gai Nie and his fellow disciples Wei Zhuang stood side by side, their eyes sweeping across the surrounding fields, whispering to each other.

Wei Zhuang crossed his arms and said in a voice as cold as frost, "When the world is about to descend into chaos, the martial world will surely be thrown into turmoil first."

"You already know them," Gai Nie said calmly, without any emotion.

"The Eight Dragons have entered Xinzheng. Though they have vanished like smoke, their footprints are still very deep." Wei Zhuang's eyes were cold and gloomy.

Zilanxuan's intelligence network was always airtight, especially within Xinzheng City—the clamor of the streets, the idle chatter in the taverns, and the rumors circulating in the city all reached Wei Zhuang's ears the next day. Moreover, in the past few days, several people had died suddenly in the city, their blood still wet and their bodies still warm.

"They are knives, deadly weapons that draw blood as soon as they are drawn," Gai Nie said.

"A knife has only one use—to kill. So, who will they cut this time?" Wei Zhuang asked, the answer already on his lips before he finished speaking.

"Last time, the Eight Linglongs went out together to hunt down Chang'an Jun Chengjiao. This time, the target will only be more valuable and more troublesome than him." Although Gai Nie was taciturn, he never hesitated to speak his mind to his junior brother.

He paused, then added, "And behind this knife, there's an even deeper, darker hand gripping it."

Wei Zhuang frowned: "That organization is entrenched in the shadows of the seven kingdoms, its roots have spread to the imperial court and entangled the martial world. We have long heard rumors about it."

"Their roots in Korea are incredibly deep and complex. You've already clashed with them several times before," Gai Nie said calmly. As Ying Zheng's swordsmanship teacher, he was closest to the center of power and had the most reliable information.

"Nightfall...interesting." Wei Zhuang raised an eyebrow and sneered, "Nightfall will definitely fan the flames and even personally hand over the knife to the Eight Linglongs as they attempt to assassinate Han."

He abruptly changed the subject, letting out a soft chuckle: "However—we needn't worry about it."

"Hmm?" Gai Nie frowned slightly, puzzled.

Having spent a long time in Qin, he knew all too well the ruthlessness of the Eight Linglong – they were not ordinary assassins, but eight poisoned short blades that, when combined, formed a formidable array, capable of both offense and defense, making them impossible to defend against.

He was confident that his swordsmanship was unparalleled in the world, but he dared not boast that he could fight eight people alone.

More importantly, he knew Lü Buwei too well.

For Lü Buwei, Ying Zheng's departure from Qin to Han was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to turn the tide. He would undoubtedly exert all his strength to deliver a fatal blow.

As for the Eight Linglong, they were merely a sharp blade in the hands of the Luo Wang (Net of Heaven).

The true sharpest weapon of the Net is the Black and White Mystic Blade.

Gai Nie once encountered him on a narrow road outside Xianyang City. In that battle, he was defeated decisively and also soberly.

"It seems he won't let Ying Zheng die," Wei Zhuang said, his gaze slowly shifting downwards to the figure strolling leisurely in the courtyard.

That person was Lin Tian.

Gai Nie frowned deeply: "Is this person truly unfathomable? You've fought him before?"

Wei Zhuang remained silent for a moment, his expression turning slightly gloomy.

After a long silence, he slowly spoke: "It's been handed over, but it doesn't really count as having handed it over."

"What do you mean?" Gai Nie was taken aback.

If you hand it in, you hand it in; if you don't hand it in, you don't hand it in. Where does the ambiguity come from?

"My sword is not yet drawn, but my heart has already surrendered." Wei Zhuang's voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of barely perceptible hesitation.

Although he could face his defeat with equanimity, he would find it extremely difficult to openly reveal this humiliation in public, especially since the other party was his senior brother Gai Nie, whom he regarded as his lifelong nemesis.

As soon as Wei Zhuang finished speaking, Gai Nie's pupils suddenly constricted, as if he had been pierced by a cold needle.