The Fang clan lands lay in the west of the city.
Or, to put it more precisely, every wealthy and noble household of Fenglin City was gathered in the western district. The Zhang clan lands leaned east, closer to the City Lord's Mansion. The Wang clan lands faced north, near the arsenal. The Fang clan lands were the southernmost of the three great clans, and the closest to the Pavilion of Three Parts Fragrance, the Great Thoroughfare Gambling House, and other dens of consumption.
The lesser clans were scattered among the three great ones, serving as buffers.
Jiang Wang's current position meant the shortest route to the Fang clan lands was to cut straight through in front of the City Lord's Mansion. But the bald-headed man would never agree to that, and Jiang Wang would not even suggest it.
He proposed they go by the southern gate, pass through the commonfolk's quarter, reach the Great Thoroughfare Gambling House, then cut past the Pavilion of Three Parts Fragrance and go straight to the Fang clan lands.
It was a long detour, but for the bald-headed man it was certainly the safest.
The journey went smoothly. When they encountered the city garrison on patrol, Jiang Wang even helped the bald-headed man conceal himself.
Now they had finally arrived before the Fang clan lands.
The sky was gradually darkening.
...
At the Jiang family home in Flying Horse Lane, Ling He shot to his feet. "We can't wait any longer!"
They all knew that on a day as important as Jiang An'an's birthday, Jiang Wang would not fail to appear. At first they thought he might be preparing some other surprise. But now it was nearly nightfall. However he prepared a surprise, he could not miss the time. Something must have happened to Jiang Wang.
Zhao Rucheng grabbed Ling He's arm. "Boss, you stay here with An'an. My family has many people — I'll go look."
The Zhao family was wealthy and had no shortage of hands. For going out to search, he would be far more useful than Ling He. And someone had to stay with An'an — if Jiang Wang came back and found her in trouble, he would never forgive them.
Ling He knew this too, and so he had no choice but to acquiesce.
The aroma of food had been wafting for a long time. An'an was very hungry, but she had no appetite.
"Where did my brother go?" she asked.
Zhao Rucheng shot Ling He a look, then said: "He must have gone to Fengxi Town to buy you sugar figurines. Haven't you always said you wanted those from that Grandpa Zhang's place?"
"Grandpa Zhang's!" An'an chirped in confirmation.
"Right!" Zhao Rucheng said. "But it's getting dark, and I'm afraid your brother can't see the road. I'll take a lantern and meet him."
...
The "Fang clan lands" had no clear boundary, no wall or fence to separate them from the outside. It was a large, informally recognized area where the Fang clan had lived for generations, gradually becoming their ancestral territory.
"We'd better sneak in without alarming anyone," Jiang Wang suggested. "Otherwise, if they ask about you, I won't have a good explanation."
There was no reason to bring a stranger to a friend's home. His suggestion was perfectly reasonable.
"This courtyard you mentioned — which direction is it?"
Jiang Wang pointed with practiced familiarity.
His mind, however, was spinning.
His greatest disadvantage was that he had not yet established his foundation, while the bald-headed man was a sixth-grade Dragon Ascension cultivator. The gap in cultivation was like a chasm.
But his greatest advantage was also that he had not yet established his foundation. Relying on his extraordinary sword art and the military body-tempering technique, he was stronger than the average Meridian Traveling cultivator. This was something the bald-headed man could not know in advance, and would certainly catch him off guard.
Jiang Wang had one surprise, one opportunity to spring upon his enemy.
Only one.
Throughout the walk, the bald-headed man had kept his arm around Jiang Wang's shoulder. Now he gave a light tug, and the two of them transformed into a patch of shadow, merging into the shadow of a passerby ahead.
They followed this person for a stretch, then the bald-headed man pulled Jiang Wang out. "Now where?"
Jiang Wang did not hide his amazement at such a secret art. He glanced at the road and pointed again.
The bald-headed man laughed softly. "This Shadow Concealment Art is not hard to learn. If you do as I say, I can teach you."
Then he pulled Jiang Wang back into the shadows.
After several such transitions, night had fully fallen. They drifted into the courtyard where Fang Pengju had once brought Jiang Wang.
The near-soundless method of movement only made Jiang Wang more wary.
Fortunately, the courtyard had indeed been left empty, exactly as he had hoped. No one else had been assigned to live here.
This courtyard had been left to Fang Pengju by his deceased father. Because of its special location, almost no one ever came here.
Of course, even if the Fang clan had reassigned the courtyard, Jiang Wang had a fallback story. His friend hardly ever came back to stay — it would be perfectly normal to let a clan member use it. And Jiang Wang had not been here in a long time; it was reasonable that he would not know.
The bald-headed man sniffed the dusty air of the long-uninhabited courtyard and nodded with satisfaction.
By his habits, he would have killed and cut out the heart immediately.
But Jiang Wang had already begun to give him a tour, quite naturally. "Three rooms ahead is a large dining hall. You can steal food there."
Jiang Wang pointed toward the dining hall, his back to the bald-headed man.
"My friend finds the clan's rules too restrictive. He hardly ever stays here."
Then he turned in another direction. "The Fang clan guards' patrol schedule is..."
A sword light flashed!
Without a moment's hesitation, without a shred of doubt, Jiang Wang suddenly drew his sword!
The first stroke of the Purple Qi from the East Sword Art's killing forms — the fastest of the five.
But this sword was not meant to strike the bald-headed man. It carried Jiang Wang up and over the high wall, into the neighboring courtyard!
The bald-headed man was no dilly-dallier, but Jiang Wang had been in the middle of explaining the Fang clan guards' patrol schedule — information vital to hiding here. The last thing he expected was for the young man to erupt in the middle of a sentence.
Even less did he expect that this unfounded boy would have a sword so swift. It far exceeded his judgment of the boy's cultivation level, and his grasping hand closed on empty air.
"Who dares trespass on the Fang Ancestral Hall?"
The moment Jiang Wang landed in the adjoining courtyard, a furious shout rang out. An old man with white hair and beard leaped out of a room.
Yes — the courtyard where Fang Pengju had once lived was right next to the Fang Ancestral Hall. This was the leverage Jiang Wang had been counting on!
Fang Pengju's father, after giving up hope of cultivation, had been assigned here as the Fang clan's hall keeper. Of course, he was not a true guardian — his job was merely to sweep the courtyard and clean the ancestral tablets. It was a form of humiliation. He had endured it in silence, pinning all his hopes on his son.
Fang Pengju had grown up in this very courtyard. When his talent began to show, he had refused to move to any other.
Jiang Wang had long since planned this. He exchanged a glance with the white-haired old man, then turned and fled, at the same time channeling his Dao essence and shouting: "The Swallow-Heart Human Demon! Today he pays his debt here!"
Xiong Wen, who had pursued Jiang Wang into the Fang Ancestral Hall, was startled, and so was the white-haired old man.
The former was shocked that his identity had been exposed. The latter was shocked by the fearsome reputation of the Swallow-Heart Human Demon.
But the thought only flickered through their minds. Now they stood face to face, and there was no way to avoid testing each other.
The white-haired old man, who had guarded the Fang Ancestral Hall for years, would never abandon his post because of a loudly shouted name. He had already begun to prepare a Dao art as he leaped from his room. Intended for the sword-wielding little thief, his hands now came together, and arrows with feathered tails streamed through the air.
The Fang clan's inherited Dao art — Thousand Feather Arrows.
To be honest, this art was no more refined than those taught at the Dao Academy. It was even somewhat crude — the hand seals were cumbersome, and the feathered tails were more for show than function. The daily innovations in Dao arts at the academy were precisely why the family-style cultivation was gradually fading.
But the old man had practiced this art for decades. He was intimately familiar with every nuance, and backed by his eighth-grade Circumfluence cultivation, it was not to be underestimated.
Xiong Wen merely roared. The powerful Dao essence driving his voice scattered many of the feathered arrows. He casually shattered the few arrows aimed at his vitals and charged straight into the old man, reaching for his heart!
With Jiang Wang's shout, his whereabouts were now exposed. He had to finish this quickly and flee. So he moved with thunderous force, willing to take a minor wound to kill his opponent in a single blow.
Xiong Wen looked at the withered heart in his hand and tossed it to the ground. "Unsightly."
The white-haired old man had not expected to last even a single exchange. But he was determined to give his enemy one more surprise.
Staring at his own aged heart as it fell away, he used the last of his strength to channel every shred of Dao essence from his Heavenly Connection Palace into the command seal in his hand.
A brilliant light burst forth.
The entire Fang Ancestral Hall was enveloped in a layer of clear radiance. At the top of this light, a crane's phantom image hovered.
It stood tall and slender, its gaze icy.
The white-haired old man, with the last of his life, had activated the protective formation of the Fang Ancestral Hall.
He thought he heard a crane's cry.