◎The Frostblade Technique, and the Kindness of Sending Money◎
Lan Ling naturally refused to accept the accusation.
“I didn’t kill anyone, and I won’t admit to it,” she declared firmly. “There’s another person involved in this case who’s gone unnoticed—why aren’t you investigating them?”
Xia Huaigu sneered, “Are you referring to your male companion? He’s your man—what difference does it make whether he did it or you did? Besides, we’ve searched the entire building and Blackwind Fort, yet there’s no trace of him. A mere fourth-rank martial artist couldn’t just vanish unless he’s dead. Are you trying to pin the blame on him to save yourself?”
“Bullshit!” Lan Ling couldn’t hold back her temper. “I didn’t kill anyone, and the Tower Master isn’t foolish enough to take the blame willingly or grovel before those idiots at Blackwind Fort. When I left, the Tower Master was still in seclusion—that order you’re waving around is fake!”
Xia Huaigu’s expression turned grave. “Lan Ling, are you truly defying the Tower Master’s command? Think carefully before you answer.”
“I…” Lan Ling hesitated as he brandished the token again.
The token was genuine—to see it was to see the Tower Master himself.
She took a deep breath, her voice trembling slightly. “If a settlement has already been reached with Blackwind Fort, why are they still surrounding us?”
“If you agree to return with me to the Tower, they’ll naturally withdraw,” Xia Huaigu replied, relishing her frustration. “Blame yourself for this mess. Flaunting your indecent affairs with a male companion has brought shame upon the Thousand Miles Tower and made us a laughingstock in the martial world. The Tower Master’s willingness to plead for leniency is mercy enough.”
Lan Ling asked coldly, “What happens if I go back?”
“You’re a senior elder of the Tower—do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
Lan Ling inwardly scoffed.
So this was Xia Huaigu’s game.
No wonder he’d personally come to deliver the message—he just wanted to see her humiliated.
What a delusional old fool.
“Lan Ling, the Tower Master is waiting,” Xia Huaigu declared imperiously from atop his horse.
The sight of him made her sick. Once her subordinate, now he dared to strut before her.
Let’s see how long his arrogance lasts.
“Lan Ling, if you truly intend to defy orders, I’ll oblige you. But don’t blame me for abandoning any pretense of camaraderie.” His tone dripped with schadenfreude.
After a moment of silence, Lan Ling lowered her gaze. “Fine. I’ll return and face judgment.”
With no way to prove her innocence or disobey the command, she had no choice but to comply.
“Smart decision.” Xia Huaigu turned his horse and pulled another token from his sleeve, tossing it to Hei Hou. “This is an order from the Fort Master of Blackwind Fort. You’ve heard what I said—Lan Ling is returning with me, and your men are to stand down.”
Hei Hou recognized the token—it was indeed his father’s. The two factions must have reached a private agreement, though the news hadn’t yet spread.
Not that it mattered. Blackwind Fort wasn’t afraid of the Thousand Miles Tower, even if Xia Huaigu was lying.
He stuffed the token away and barked at his men, “Back to the fort!”
The crowd dispersed from the inn.
Xia Huaigu smirked. “Elder Lan, let’s go.”
“I need to gather my things.” Lan Ling leaped upstairs, returning shortly with her belongings. But after a few steps, she paused.
“Innkeeper Lu, the martial world is vast. If you ever find yourself in Jingzhou, I’ll treat you to a drink.”
Lu Jianwei smiled faintly. “I don’t drink.”
“Jingzhou has plenty of wealthy patrons,” Lan Ling added with a wink. “Perhaps opening an inn there would be quite profitable.”
Lu Jianwei nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lan Ling gave her one last glance, her eyes shimmering with unspoken emotion. “Innkeeper Lu, I’m leaving now. Will we meet again?”
“If fate wills it, we will.”
Lan Ling’s red lips curved into a smile as she turned and strode through the courtyard gate.
“Wait.” Lu Jianwei called after her, stepping into the main hall to retrieve a small, shallow jar from the counter. She tossed it toward Lan Ling.
“As promised—scar ointment.”
Lan Ling caught it, cradling it in her palm with a coy smile.
“How thoughtful of you, Innkeeper Lu. I look forward to our next meeting.”
With that, she followed Xia Huaigu out of the inn.
The courtyard fell silent for a moment before Yue Shu spoke up. “I never thought even a sixth-rank master could be so powerless.”
“Did you really think sixth-rankers could do whatever they wanted?” A’Nai teased. “There are still seventh and eighth ranks above them.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Yue Shu said. “It’s just… Elder Lan was so free-spirited before, but now… Did you see how reluctant she was to leave the innkeeper? It was almost heartbreaking.”
“Reluctant? She was just putting on a show,” A’Nai retorted, poking his forehead. “How could you miss that?”
“What show?”
“She was borrowing the innkeeper’s influence.”
Yue Shu blinked in confusion. “Huh?”
He turned to Uncle Zhang. “Uncle Zhang, why would she do that?”
Uncle Zhang patiently explained, “Think about it—if the inn hadn’t sheltered her, what would’ve happened to Lan Ling under the Hei brothers’ pursuit?”
“She’d have been killed?”
“And if Lan Ling died, would the Thousand Miles Tower seek retribution?”
“Yes.”
“And if the Tower killed Blackwind Fort’s men, wouldn’t the Fort retaliate?”
“Of course.”
“But because the inn deterred the Hei brothers, Lan Ling survived. Yet the truth behind Chai Kun’s murder remains unclear—whether it was Lan Ling or Ping Wu, the blame still falls on her. The Tower has to make concessions.”
“I see… So?”
“Given the Tower’s current stance, Lan Ling might face punishment. She’s trying to secure an escape route by pretending to have a close relationship with the innkeeper—either to intimidate the Tower or to exploit the connection for her own gain.”
“Exactly,” Jin Poxiao chimed in. “Only by proving her usefulness can she stay alive.”
Yue Shu sighed. “The martial world is far too complicated.”
---
The next morning, as dawn broke, the Golden Blade Trading Company’s caravan prepared to depart. Jin Poxiao, mounted on a tall steed, clasped his hands toward Lu Jianwei.
“We’ve imposed on your hospitality long enough, Innkeeper Lu. Though mountains and rivers may part us, fate will bring us together again.”
Lu Jianwei smiled. “Till we meet again.”
After all this time in this world, she’d finally heard that classic line.
“Innkeeper Lu,” Wen Zhuzhi called from the carriage, his face pale from the cold. “Until next time.”
Her smile didn’t waver. “Until next time.”
“Innkeeper, when will you come to Jiangzhou?” Yue Shu asked from horseback, his expression wistful.
Lu Jianwei replied, “When spring arrives.”
“Good! Uncle Zhang and I will find the biggest, busiest plot of land for your new inn. Once it’s ready, I’ll send word.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” She turned to Uncle Zhang. “Uncle Zhang, safe travels.”
The old man bowed solemnly. “Innkeeper, we’ll await you in Jiangzhou.”
“Brother Yan,” Jin Poxiao grinned at Yan Feicang, “keep practicing with that axe. Next time we meet, I’ll see if your blade skills have improved.”
Yan Feicang scowled. “You’re the one who needs more training.”
“Fine, I’ll chop more firewood when I get back.” Jin Poxiao signaled the caravan. “Move out!”
As the procession began, a figure suddenly dashed from the inn, clutching three food boxes. The first was handed to A’Nai, who held the reins of the carriage.
A'Nai was startled and rolled her eyes. "What are you doing?"
Xue Guanhe scratched his head sheepishly. "I was rude yesterday—I shouldn’t have snapped at you. This is a peace cake I made specially for you. It's a local custom to give them to friends and family when they leave, as a wish for a safe journey."
"Well... I suppose I’ll reluctantly accept it, then!" A'Nai hugged the food box tightly before pausing and speaking earnestly, "You’re still young—don’t overthink things. Take it from me, say what’s on your mind. Bottling things up will make you sick."
Xue Guanhe exhaled in relief, his face brightening. "Got it. Safe travels, Wen Nai."
"Thanks for the blessing. See you around." A'Nai placed the box in the carriage, waved, and flicked the reins.
Xue Guanhe then handed out cakes to Uncle Zhang and Yue Shu.
"Uncle Zhang, A'Yue, safe journey to you too."
"Brother Xue, thank you for the peace cake." Yue Shu was so moved his eyes welled up, clutching the box tightly.
Uncle Zhang chuckled. "Xiao Xue, with just you and Hero Yan left at the inn, your workload’s going to be heavier."
"I can handle it!" Xue Guanhe declared firmly.
Yue Shu waved, voice choked. "Manager, Brother Xue, Hero Yan—we’re off."
The caravan slowly set out, splitting into two groups with Wen Zhuzhi, Yue Shu, and others in the middle. Behind them trailed over a hundred martial artists who had "sold themselves" to the merchant company.
They grew smaller in the distance, soon vanishing beyond the horizon.
Lu Jianwei turned back toward the inn and said to the two trailing behind her, "Go do whatever you need to do."
"I’ll go clean the rooms." Xue Guanhe scurried off.
Yan Feicang: "I’ll chop firewood."
The inn suddenly felt emptier, and the quiet took some getting used to.
"Close the courtyard gates. We’re suspending business for now," Lu Jianwei instructed before retreating to her room.
From Fengzhou to Jiangzhou, the journey would normally take over half a month for a merchant caravan. But with snow covering the roads, progress would slow, likely stretching to a full month.
Once Yue Shu and Uncle Zhang reached Jiangzhou, they’d return to White Crane Manor to rest, pay respects, and observe mourning rites—at least ten days.
Securing a shopfront and setting up the new inn would take another two months. That meant the branch wouldn’t officially open for another three months.
It was now the eleventh month. Three months later would be the first month of the new year—too cold for long travels. So, they’d set out in mid-February and arrive in Jiangzhou by the third month for the grand opening.
Perfect!
She still had four months to improve her skills.
Lu Jianwei opened her map. The road from the inn to Moonview City was deserted, not a soul in sight.
An ideal place to train.
With so many eyes around before, she hadn’t been able to practice openly without revealing her true strength. Her lightness skill, swordsmanship, and blade techniques were still rusty.
She pulled up her personal panel:
**Name:** Lu Jianwei
**Age:** 25
**Level:** 5 (1,004,580/10,000,000) (Barely third-rate)
**Skills:** Fleeting Years (3/7), Star-Scattered Swordplay (3/7), Frostwhirl Blade Art (2/7), Spring-Autumn Medicine (Beginner), Traceless Flight (5/9)
**Assets:** 40,329 silver, 865 copper (Keep striving, slacker.)
**Inventory:** A pile of miscellaneous junk
The string of zeros in her level progress bar nearly suffocated her.
Every time she thought about it, she had to thank Song Xian for his "generosity." If he hadn’t self-destructed, she wouldn’t have absorbed so much internal energy, skyrocketing to Level 5.
She’d spent the past days refining that energy, and now her foundation was solid.
But breaking through to Level 6? That seemed a distant dream.
Her skills needed work too. Before leaving the main branch, she had to drill them into muscle memory and raise each by at least one or two levels.
With winter snow blanketing the land, Moonview City’s outskirts were even more desolate. No guests came to the inn for days.
Lu Jianwei relished the peace, focusing on honing her skills. Occasionally, she’d watch Yan Feicang practice his blade techniques, jotting notes in a small book—making him so nervous he nearly dropped his sword.
One clear, sunny morning...
After a hearty breakfast, Lu Jianwei tossed a few sheets of paper at Yan Feicang in front of Xue Guanhe.
"These are my observations from the past few days. Read them if you want. Or throw them away—your choice."
Her cultivation method had hidden perks, allowing her to easily spot flaws in martial techniques and suggest improvements—provided she understood the skill’s principles.
Her Frostwhirl Blade Art was only at the second form, so her grasp of blade techniques might not surpass Yan Feicang’s. But since Frostwhirl was a higher-tier skill, her vantage point let her pinpoint his weaknesses effortlessly.
Those pages were the fruit of days of meticulous effort. She played it cool, but she cared deeply.
If Yan Feicang dismissed them, she’d probably beat him senseless.
Luckily, he knew quality when he saw it.
The moment his eyes scanned the text, he was captivated—more thrilled than if he’d unlocked a new blade form himself.
This was the stuff martial artists dreamed of!
He looked up abruptly. "Are you from Luzhou Academy?"
Lu Jianwei paused, then replied smoothly, "No."
Yan Feicang was stunned. "Then how could you identify the flaws in my technique and propose such precise refinements?"
He’d suspected as much before—only seasoned masters at Luzhou Academy could do this.
Lu Jianwei asked, "Luzhou Academy can do this too?"
Jin Poxiao had spoken of the academy with reverence. Was this why?
Yan Feicang held the papers gingerly, afraid of damaging them.
"Luzhou Academy specializes in refining techniques. Many martial artists at a bottleneck seek guidance there and often achieve breakthroughs."
Lu Jianwei frowned. "Wouldn’t that mean the academy can replicate every martial artist’s skills? Most warriors guard their techniques fiercely."
"What’s the point of hoarding a skill if you’re stuck forever?" Yan Feicang said reverently. "Besides, Luzhou Academy vows never to share the techniques with others."
Lu Jianwei: ?
And people believed that?
Not her concern, though. She asked, "If the academy’s so great, why haven’t you gone?"
Yan Feicang flushed. "My elders said martial skills must be self-realized. Seeking shortcuts is unorthodox."
"Got it." Lu Jianwei cut to the chase. "So your family doesn’t trust the academy, right?"
Yan Feicang: "..."
"Now that I’ve seen your blade techniques, aren’t you worried?"
Yan Feicang shook his head. "You wouldn’t want them."
"I might not, but I could sell them to others for a high price."
Yan Feicang’s eyes widened, torn between belief and doubt.
He trusted Lu Jianwei’s integrity, but her tone was so convincing it left him unsettled.
Lu Jianwei stopped teasing him. "Truthfully, your technique’s mid-tier at best. I’m not interested. Selling it might earn me coin, but I’d lose a good firewood-chopping hand. Not worth it."
Yan Feicang: "..."
That didn’t sound like a compliment.
Xue Guanhe had stayed silent throughout. Once they finished eating, he gathered the dishes and headed off to wash them.
"Xue Guanhe." Lu Jianwei called out to him, "Leave the dishes for Yan Feicang to wash. You’re coming with me."
Xue Guanhe was both surprised and curious. "Where to?"
The excitement on his face was so obvious that Lu Jianwei couldn’t help but smile.
Still young—everything was written plainly on his face.
"Training."
Xue Guanhe’s eyes widened slowly. "I—I’ll be right there!"
He immediately set down the bowls and chopsticks, the dull clatter against the table echoing his eagerness as he practically bounced like a bird freed from its cage.
"Brother Yan, sorry to trouble you."
Yan Feicang: Wasn’t he supposed to chop firewood? Now he’s on dish duty too?
"I want to train too," he said.
Lu Jianwei replied, "Watch the inn. Focus on honing your blade skills. I’m taking Guanhe out to practice lightness techniques."
"Oh."
Lightness techniques? Then he’d rather stay and train with his blade.
Lu Jianwei had checked the map—there wasn’t a soul around, making it the perfect spot for lightness training.
She led Xue Guanhe out, heading in the direction of Moonview City.
"Boss, when are we actually going to train?" Xue Guanhe asked, puzzled. They’d already walked half a mile.
Lu Jianwei stopped.
The reason she’d distanced herself from the inn was to ensure that the energy fluctuations from their lightness practice wouldn’t be detected by Yan Feicang.
Half a mile was enough.
"From here, run toward Linyue Village using lightness techniques. I want to see how you’ve progressed," she said seriously. "I’ll go with you."
Xue Guanhe nodded eagerly. "Yes!"
"Go!"
At her command, two figures shot forward almost simultaneously, their footwork shifting unpredictably, leaving behind fleeting afterimages.
Lu Jianwei used *Unquestioning Years*, while she had taught Xue Guanhe *Traces of the Wild Goose*.
The former was far more advanced than the latter, so Lu Jianwei used the first stance, while Xue Guanhe used the third, purely competing in speed.
The first stance, *Fleeting Years*, emphasized the swiftness of movement. *Unquestioning Years* lived up to its reputation as a top-tier martial art—just the first stance alone was enough to leave Lu Jianwei in awe.
The cold wind howled past her ears, giving her the illusion of speeding at two hundred in an open-top car.
A dozen miles passed in the blink of an eye, like time slipping through her fingers, leaving only a faint sense of unreality.
She came to a stop about half a mile from Linyue Village and turned to look back—Xue Guanhe was nowhere in sight.
This lightness technique was truly a lifesaver!
A deep sense of satisfaction and accomplishment welled up inside her. She wanted to run another lap, and then another.
After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, Xue Guanhe finally arrived, panting heavily, his face flushed red, his breathing ragged like a broken bellows.
Bent over with hands on his knees, he spoke between gasps: "B-Boss… you’re… too fast… I couldn’t… keep up!"
"You’re only at the second rank. It’s normal for your inner energy to be insufficient," Lu Jianwei said. "Rest here for a while. I’ll go and come back."
With that, she left Xue Guanhe behind, her figure vanishing like a streak of light.
Xue Guanhe: "…"
That was *way* too fast!
Lu Jianwei was having the time of her life, practicing from the first stance, *Fleeting Years*, to the second, *Years Astray*, and then the third, *Sigh for the Years*.
She had only grasped the first three stances—the fourth was still beyond her.
*Years Astray* emphasized intricate and elusive footwork. Once mastered, it could create an illusion for the enemy—seemingly strolling leisurely, yet impossible to catch, applying both physical and psychological pressure.
The third stance combined the strengths of the first two, lamenting the passage of time—too fast when busy, too slow when idle.
It created a sensation of alternating speeds. Just when others thought you were dawdling, you’d suddenly "blink" farther away, then "slow down" again, as if waiting for them to catch up.
Like a cat toying with a mouse, the essence lay in the word "play."
Lu Jianwei alternated between the stances, covering dozens of miles in mere moments. After ten laps back and forth, she finally stopped.
Xue Guanhe was left speechless by her speed.
He’d always known his master was formidable, but now that he’d seen it with his own eyes, his competitive spirit was ignited.
If his master was this incredible, her disciple couldn’t afford to embarrass her!
"Pick up a branch. I’ll teach you blade techniques," Lu Jianwei said, uncorking her waterskin for a drink.
Xue Guanhe obeyed, retrieving a smooth stick. Nervously, he asked, "Boss, I’ve only grasped the first stance. Should I demonstrate it first?"
He was also learning *Frostwhirl Blade Art*, the same lineage as Lu Jianwei.
"Go ahead." Lu Jianwei crossed her arms, observing.
Xue Guanhe gripped the branch and began his stance.
*Frostwhirl Blade Art* wasn’t literally about swirling frost—rather, at its peak, one could use blade winds to lift frost crystals from the ground without disturbing the grass or leaves beneath.
It sounded simple, but the precision required was immense.
Frost formed on foliage, and to peel it away intact with nothing but the force of a blade demanded extraordinary control.
The greatest strength of *Frostwhirl Blade Art* was its balance of rigidity and softness—fierce enough to lift frost, yet gentle enough to spare the grass.
In contrast, Yan Feicang’s *Tidal Surge* style emphasized raw power and frontal assault but lacked flexibility in critical moments.
The first stance of *Frostwhirl Blade Art*—*Veil Over All*—was a force that blanketed all living things in silence, beyond mortal comprehension.
Of course, the name was hyperbolic. The blade winds couldn’t *actually* cover everything. Instead, they applied layer upon layer of pressure on an opponent, unnoticed until it was too late.
Its advantage was subtlety; its weakness was time. If countered before the "frost fell," even the strongest force would dissipate harmlessly.
Xue Guanhe clearly hadn’t grasped its essence yet.
"You’re too hasty," Lu Jianwei pointed out. "If your opponent sees your intent before the move is complete and counters, you’ve already lost."
Xue Guanhe tried again.
"Too slow. Without enough momentum, the entire stance weakens. You’ve lost half the battle before it even starts."
Gritting his teeth, Xue Guanhe continued.
"Your expression’s too fierce. Are you slaughtering pigs?" Lu Jianwei didn’t hold back. "Even with a blade, elegance is paramount."
Xue Guanhe: "…"
After correcting a few more mistakes, Lu Jianwei left him to practice on his own and found a secluded spot to train her own blade techniques.
She had only mastered the second stance, *Falling Blossoms*, and was on the verge of grasping the third but hadn’t quite broken through.
The second stance built on the first’s power—where frost had veiled all, now came the withering of flowers and trees, a force of destruction capable of shattering an opponent’s defenses and dealing fatal blows.
As Xue Guanhe focused on his training, a sudden chill gripped his heart. From nearby, a blade’s gleam flashed—ruthless and cold, like an assassin’s strike straight to the core.
*So strong!*
He carefully absorbed the intent behind the second stance, and in that vast comprehension, something clicked. A barrier in his mind cracked open, deepening his understanding of the first stance and even brushing against the second.
This was the benefit of witnessing a master at work.
It was why Yan Feicang loved sparring—he sought deeper insights through combat.
And so, several more days passed.
Winter Solstice arrived.
According to the customs of the Qi Dynasty, the Winter Solstice was a day for ancestral worship, so Lu Jianwei gave Xue Guanhe a day off to return home for a family reunion dinner.
Unexpectedly, the next day, he returned with an extra person in tow.
Fan Mian stepped out of the carriage and hurried straight to the main hall, her face lighting up with joy upon seeing Lu Jianwei.
"Manager Lu, forgive my sudden visit—I hope I’m not disturbing you."
Lu Jianwei replied courteously, "How could the arrival of a distinguished guest ever be a disturbance? You’re glowing today, Madam Fan—has something delightful happened?"
"Manager Lu, it’s all thanks to the medicinal pills you gave me. After taking them, my back no longer aches, my legs don’t feel weak, I sleep soundly at night, and even my monthly pains have vanished. I came today specifically to thank you."
Fan Mian gestured to the maidservant behind her, who presented an exquisitely carved wooden box.
"Earlier, I didn’t realize how precious those pills were—my cart full of clothes and jewelry pales in comparison. Manager Lu, you must accept this gift, or I won’t be able to rest easy."
Lu Jianwei never turned away guests who willingly offered payment.
She wasn’t yet close enough to the Xue family to decline, and besides, she preferred clear accounts in business.
"You’re too kind, Madam Fan. Since the medicine has helped you, I’ll gladly give you another bottle."
Yet Fan Mian hesitated, her expression tinged with guilt.
"What’s the matter?" Lu Jianwei asked.
"Manager Lu, to be honest, I came today to discuss a business proposal with you," Fan Mian said bluntly. "A few of my close friends saw the effects of the pills and asked me to purchase some for them. I was wondering if you’d be willing."
Lu Jianwei: "..."
Was fortune truly smiling upon her like this?
