The rain fell in a light drizzle.
Spring in Bianjing had always been mild, but this year, the season arrived late, and even now, as the rains came, the chill lingered.
From the window of the riverside tavern, the view outside was muted under the overcast sky—the wooden houses and gray tiles seemed even more somber.
Only the distant stone pagoda, with its brown tiles reflecting glimmers of red and blue from the colored glaze, stood out, along with the tavern’s own banner, made of russet-red felt.
No, there was one more splash of color.
A man leaned out the window and caught sight of a flash of red fluttering in the wind. His eyelids twitched.
The red figure darted through the rain, moving so swiftly it was little more than a blur before vaulting through the window and landing in the seat across from him.
"Lu Xiaoji—"
The man who had been sitting there scowled and lunged for the wine jug, but he was half a beat too slow. His opponent had already snatched it up.
The wine sloshed inside.
The newcomer stroked his rain-dampened mustache with his free hand, then flashed a grin that was both smug and infuriating.
"Sikong Zhaixing, you're slow."
The man who had been there first wore a face so unremarkable it was almost an insult to his name. He rolled his eyes, utterly lacking in dignity. "Slow or not, I never miss when it counts. Unlike you..."
"Where there’s trouble, there’s Lu Xiaofeng."
This was something everyone in the martial world knew.
Lu Xiaofeng, the man with "four eyebrows," had a habit of showing up wherever there was mischief—and he always felt compelled to meddle.
So it was no surprise that Sikong Zhaixing, the "King of Thieves," had ended up as his friend.
And now, here they were, seated together in a tavern in the capital.
The wine was perfectly warmed.
Lu Xiaofeng took a deep swig, finally feeling the cold seep out of his bones. "Rather than saying trouble follows me, it’s more accurate to say..."
"Where there’s trouble, I’m already there."
Ah, heavens.
Who knew why he had ruined two good horses racing to Bianjing before the fifteenth of the second month, all for the sake of a friend who once tricked him into digging for earthworms?
And then, relying on his vast network of connections, he had tracked down Sikong Zhaixing the moment he arrived in the capital.
All because of the note the thief had sent him half a month ago.
His usually playful, handsome face turned serious as he asked, "What did you mean when you said you were going to steal a priceless treasure from a wedding?"
Lu Xiaofeng loved excitement, but he had no interest in getting tangled in life-threatening trouble. That was why, for years now, he’d avoided Bianjing.
In a place like the capital, those without real skill couldn’t even keep their footing, let alone rise to prominence—especially not in the organized factions.
Those who made a name for themselves here were anything but simple.
These days, even the children on the streets knew the saying:
"Six parts Lei, four parts Su."
Lei—Lei Sun’s Six and a Half Hall.
Su—Su Mengzhen’s Pavilion of Heavenly Breeze and Fine Rain.
One was the most powerful faction in Kaifeng, dominating the martial world for twenty-six years. The other was the fastest-rising force in recent memory, commanding respect from both the righteous and the underworld, poised to overtake Six and a Half Hall’s position.
In the struggle between victors and losers, clashes were inevitable.
And so, anyone in the martial world who set foot in Bianjing was bound to get dragged into the mess.
Lu Xiaofeng truly couldn’t fathom what had possessed Sikong Zhaixing to suddenly decide to steal something here.
No—wait!
Lu Xiaofeng cursed inwardly. This guy prided himself on being the greatest thief under heaven, always itching to prove himself against the legendary Chu Liuxiang. His targets were either whimsical or impossibly difficult. He probably thought—
This was the perfect opportunity!
He studied Sikong Zhaixing’s disguised face but saw no trace of nerves—only the reckless confidence of a man who didn’t know the meaning of danger.
If he wasn’t mistaken, the thief’s eyes even gleamed with excitement. "What I’m stealing is a treasure unlike any other in this world."
"Whose wedding?" Lu Xiaofeng tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I’m guessing it’s no ordinary affair. I’ve heard that Lei Sun’s daughter was once betrothed to Su Mengzhen. Don’t tell me this alliance is finally happening?"
"The second half is wrong, but the first part is right." Sikong Zhaixing answered without a shred of guilt, even sounding proud. "It’s the wedding of the Seventh Sage Lord of the Mystic Sky Alliance."
"Oh, that explains—"
Lu Xiaofeng’s voice cut off abruptly, then shot up an octave. "Wait, who did you say?"
Who did he just say?!
The Seventh Sage Lord of the Mystic Sky Alliance?
Sikong Zhaixing met Lu Xiaofeng’s stunned gaze with utter calm. "You haven’t been in Bianjing, so you wouldn’t have heard. The man getting married is the Seventh Sage Lord of the Mystic Sky Alliance—Guan Qi."
Lu Xiaofeng didn’t hesitate. "But everyone knows he’s a madman..."
The Guan Qi Sikong Zhaixing had just mentioned wasn’t just a madman.
The reason the capital’s underworld had split between Six and a Half Hall and the Pavilion of Heavenly Breeze and Fine Rain was precisely because Guan Qi, leader of the Mystic Sky Alliance, had lost his mind, leaving his once-mighty faction in disarray.
Though the alliance hadn’t disbanded, Lu Xiaofeng was sharp enough to guess how many of its members were still loyal to Guan Qi—and how many were spies planted by the other two factions.
The once-dominant alliance was likely little more than a name now.
Guan Qi’s sister, who had married Lei Sun and once held the esteemed title of "Elder Sister Guan" in the martial world, had vanished years ago, as if she had never existed.
Because of this, the alliance between Six and a Half Hall and the Mystic Sky Alliance had crumbled long ago.
Now, to hear that Guan Qi was getting married was about as shocking as hearing that Master Bitter Melon had left the monastery to take a wife.
No—it was even more unbelievable.
What kind of woman could possibly marry a man like Guan Qi?
And on top of that, Sikong Zhaixing claimed there would be a priceless treasure at the wedding.
Had his exhaustion from days of travel made him hallucinate, or had the ever-shifting capital finally become something beyond his comprehension?
Sikong Zhaixing grinned. "Lu Xiaoji, you can’t deny that even if Guan Qi is a madman, he’s still the most powerful martial artist in the world."
Lu Xiaofeng didn’t answer.
After what felt like an eternity, a sigh finally escaped him. "The strongest in the world, huh..."
Outside, the spring rain pounded harder, mingling with the wind in a relentless downpour.
...
As the storm worsened, the streets of Bianjing emptied.
Puddles swelled in the alleys, overflowing into the river beneath the arched bridge.
The rouge-scented waters of Sweetwater Lane carried fallen apricot blossoms downstream, swirling southeast until they reached a stone gate, where the current turned.
Beyond the bend lay another cluster of tightly packed courtyards.
Compared to the revelry and clamor elsewhere, the quietness here among the green-tiled walls and mossy corners was almost excessive—so still it felt oppressive. When Zhu Xiaoyao reached to close the window, she could even smell the damp, deathly chill seeping from the rain-soaked cracks in the walls.
It made it all the harder to believe that this was one of the critical strongholds of the Seven Celestial Masters Alliance.
Then again, perhaps hiding in the shadows of the mundane world was more fitting for this once-mighty martial sect now in decline.
"Aren’t you cold standing by the window?" A voice came from behind her.
"With... with inner strength to rely on, of course I’m not cold."
Zhu Xiaoyao’s thin red robes were hardly suitable for the season, but as she said, her mastery of martial arts gave her the confidence to say so.
So the slight pause in her words wasn’t due to the biting wind slipping through the half-open window—but because of the person who had spoken.
Outside, the gloomy rain cast an eerie pall over the cramped courtyard. Even with candles lit inside, the musty scent of damp vegetation and mildew seemed to permeate every corner.
Yet the moment Zhu Xiaoyao’s gaze turned toward the mirror, all those unpleasant sensations vanished as if swept away.
She couldn’t help but wonder—should such radiance even exist in a place like this?
For in the candlelit mirror was reflected a face of breathtaking beauty.
She didn’t turn around.
All Zhu Xiaoyao could see was the shimmering reflection of those captivating eyes and a profile so flawlessly pale against the dark cascade of hair that it might as well have been carved from jade.
Even so, she dared say that comparing Shi Qingruo to pearls or precious stones would be an insult—too vulgar for words.
Even when the woman was simply gazing at her own reflection... or at the wedding robes laid out before her.
The robes, delivered by disciples of the Seven Celestial Masters Alliance, were a lavish creation completed in just half a month.
Determined not to let the Alliance’s reputation falter, those in charge had practically summoned every renowned seamstress in Bianjing. Yet for all their efforts, the grandeur of the gown paled in comparison to the woman meant to wear it.
"No wonder you’d rather look out the window than at me."
A soft laugh followed the words.
Like moonlight rippling across water, the reflection in the mirror stirred to life, and only then did Zhu Xiaoyao realize she had been holding her breath, as if afraid to disturb the illusion before her.
Then, those eyes turned toward her.
No one with sight could remain indifferent to such a face—especially when it was no mere painting, but a vision of vivid, living color.
The beauty lowered her lashes and murmured, "I know my words carry little weight, but you needn’t avoid me out of pity."
"I’m not—" Zhu Xiaoyao began hastily, only to falter.
When Guan Qi had suddenly appeared with Shi Qingruo in tow, declaring his intent to marry her, it had struck like a thunderbolt.
What could she say?
That Bianjing was a storm of shifting loyalties, and the Seven Celestial Masters Alliance was teetering on the edge of becoming prey? That Guan Qi himself was trapped, and the woman he’d brought into this mess was in even greater danger?
That Shi Qingruo, with her delicate beauty and lack of martial skill, reminded Zhu Xiaoyao too much of her own past—and that was why she couldn’t bear to see her suffer?
But none of those words could be spoken.
When she finally found her voice again, all she said was, "There’s no need for concern, Lady Shi. As long as Lord Guan lives, you are the Seventh Master’s wife, and we will stand guard before you."
Yes.
For now, at least, she was the Alliance’s matriarch—second only to Guan Qi himself, the one they were sworn to protect.
As for what came after... that was another matter entirely.
Anyone familiar with Bianjing’s undercurrents would have heard the uncertainty in Zhu Xiaoyao’s words. But the woman before her had never set foot in the martial world. With hands too delicate to wield a blade, she merely tucked a stray strand of hair—adorned with white pearls—behind her ear and lifted her gaze.
"Very well," she replied. "Then I shall rely on you."
Rely.
Such a simple word, yet from her lips, it carried unexpected weight.
Zhu Xiaoyao nearly took a step back, startled by the sudden intensity in those eyes—like moonlight dancing on water. She quickly turned away to hide her fluster. "N-no need for thanks. It’s late. I’ll have dinner brought to you."
She couldn’t stay any longer.
Day by day, standing guard here, she was beginning to understand why even a madman like Guan Qi had been so determined to marry this woman.
Because...
Because even without martial prowess, Shi Qingruo had a way of disarming people all the same.
But in her haste to leave, she missed the way Shi Qingruo’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as she watched her retreating figure.
...
How amusing.
To this unwilling participant, Zhu Xiaoyao—the Second Master of the Seven Celestial Masters Alliance—bore a glaring label above her head:
"Golden Wind and Fine Rain Tower."
It shimmered brightly alongside her system interface.
