Tianfeng City, Dragon Gate Port.
Thick smoke billowed from a deep pit at the port, the remnants of Dream Pills incinerated by Lin Ze, the Border General of Baiyun Province.
As Baiyun’s Border General, Lin Ze was perhaps the only man in the province who didn’t cower before Governor Wan Ben.
Upright and fierce, he despised evil with a passion.
His stance on the Ninja Clan clashed starkly with Wan Ben’s.
This time, burning the Dream Pills at Dragon Gate was a direct order from the Northern Han court, but without Lin Ze’s stubborn push, it’d never have happened in Baiyun.
On the day of the incineration, young warriors from Tianfeng City came to watch.
Lin Ze made an announcement: given their support, he’d pick a few to join him in Baiyun Prefecture, training them under the Border General’s Mansion.
The news hit harder than the pill-burning itself.
Right there on the dock, he set up a ring, pitting one of his young warriors against challengers.
That warrior was Lin Chen.
A Martial Vein Sixth Layer peak fighter at just sixteen, a prodigy with a bright future.
The rule was simple: last a hundred moves against Lin Chen, and you’d go with Lin Ze to Baiyun.
Lin Ze sat at the judge’s seat, clad in military garb, radiating vigor, his tall frame imposing, his foot-long beard swaying.
Over fifty, he looked robust, a terrifying power simmering within.
Just sitting there, he exuded pressure.
Yet, oddly, no matter how you looked, Lin Ze seemed an utterly ordinary warrior.
Where did that overwhelming aura come from?
Only those above Martial Master could grasp his true terror.
He appeared ordinary because his cultivation had reached a level of inner restraint so profound he didn’t need techniques to conceal his true energy.
His fearsome presence stemmed from his years as a general—battlefield slaughter, countless foreign warriors felled by his hand.
That aura was killing intent, forged not through practice but through blood.
Rumors said at thirty, Lin Ze hit Martial Vein Ninth Layer, unlocking all nine veins.
That year, he’d stormed through an army alone, beheaded an enemy general, and saved a royal prince of the Holy Dynasty.
In that fight, he cut down over a dozen peers, stunning the court and routing the enemy.
Later, as Border General, he once chased a Ninja Clan assassin who’d infiltrated Baiyun to kill the prior governor.
With one slash, he split a ninth-level beast’s skull and took the assassin’s head.
His legends were endless, spawning folk tales and storytellers’ yarns across Northern Han and the Human Holy Dynasty—few hadn’t heard of him.
This time, at Dragon Gate to torch the cursed Dream Pills, he’d soloed three Ninja Clan Ninth Layer masters, killing them all.
Without that, the pills wouldn’t have been seized.
His arrival drove Dragon Gate and Tianfeng’s warriors wild.
Tianfeng’s strongest, Ling Clan ancestor Ling Xiaotian, was only Martial Vein Seventh Layer peak—next to Lin Ze, a babe in arms.
Now Lin Ze offered a shot to follow him!
Who wouldn’t leap at it?
Sadly, Tianfeng’s warriors disappointed him.
Since the trials began, no one lasted three moves against Lin Chen.
Over a hundred had tried, and Lin Ze’s patience waned—he questioned his decision.
He had a reason for this.
He’d heard the Ninja Clan’s Tiannin Academy scouted Tianfeng, snagging Li Xinghui and Shi Yulian.
He’d seen them—raw talent, moldable into assets.
That sparked this selection.
Reality let him down.
“Is Tianfeng so big yet so barren of gifted young warriors? Did Tiannin take them all?” Lin Ze shook his head, eyeing the darkening sky, ready to end this farce at nightfall.
Then, someone leapt onto the ring.
“Junior Ling Feifan greets the Border General!”
“Ling Feifan?”
Lin Ze vaguely recalled—hadn’t the Ling Clan survived a siege from the Ninja Clan, Shi Clan, and Li Clan?
There might be talent there.
“Sir, I’ve heard of him,” Lin Chen whispered. “I visited Tianfeng once, stopped by the Ling Clan. Ling Feifan was hailed as their top young talent, one of Tianfeng’s Four Princes alongside Li Xinghui!”
“Oh?”
“It was a year ago, and he looks even stronger now,” Lin Chen added.
“If so, let him try. But don’t hold back, kid. If he lasts a hundred moves, we take him. If not, we end this dull selection,” Lin Ze said.
He had logic.
If Ling Feifan matched Li Xinghui as a Tianfeng Four Prince, he’d be the city’s best youth. If he failed, the rest were hopeless.
“Understood!” Lin Chen wouldn’t go easy. Same age as Ling Feifan, serving Lin Ze—if beaten, he’d shame himself and his general.
“This kid’s not bad. Seventeen or eighteen, already Martial Vein Sixth Layer—rare, especially in a backwater like Tianfeng,” Lin Ze mused, hopeful.
Ling Feifan outshone the prior challengers by miles.
Facing Lin Ze, Ling Feifan’s heart raced.
He’d returned to Tianfeng long ago but hid during the Ling Clan siege, fleeing to Dragon Gate to escape by ship.
He thought the clan was doomed, staying meant death.
Fate twisted—he’d stumbled into Dream Pills at the port, boosting him to Martial Vein Sixth Layer peak fast.
But the pills’ curse forced him under the Ninja Clan’s thumb.
This ring appearance was their order: infiltrate the Border General’s Mansion as their wedge.
