The grand hall was spacious and brightly lit, decorated with mahogany chairs that lined both sides, exuding an understated yet undeniable luxury.
Calligraphy scrolls and landscape paintings hung on the walls, making the Tower Master seem like a man of refined taste at a passing glance.
As they continued forward, a large, ornate armchair came into view. Li Yuezhou looked up and saw a middle-aged man reclining upon it. The man had a burly build, dark skin, and a weather-beaten face carved with a tough, rugged air. This was none other than Qin Lie.
True to his name, which meant "fierce and burning," the aura he emitted was akin to a violent gale or a harsh, searing liquor.
Qin Lie wore a black brocade robe that caught the light, emitting a subtle, golden sheen. A jade belt was fastened around his thick waist, and a massive jade thumb ring on his hand was particularly eye-catching. He watched the approaching trio with a cold, unbothered expression.
The moment Li Yuezhou saw that ostentatious thumb ring, he secretly mocked in his heart: What a textbook image of a corrupt tyrant.
"Are you the old acquaintances Zhou Hu mentioned?" Qin Lie spoke, his voice dropping into the quiet room. "Why do your faces look so very unfamiliar to this old man?"
His tone wasn't loud, yet it carried the unquestionable weight of a dictator. The air in the grand hall seemed to solidify.
Lu Zhaoye remained neither haughty nor humble. Standing below the dais, he replied, "Three years ago at the Martial Arts Alliance's grand banquet, I was standing off to the side. It seems Tower Master Qin is a prominent man with a remarkably short memory."
"Li Xiaolian sent you?"
Qin Lie slightly raised his brows, a flash of impatience crossing his eyes as he spoke in a cold, mocking tone. "So you are guests from the Martial Arts Alliance. Why? Is Li Xiaolian injured, crippled, or dead, that he resorts to sending a few wet-behind-the-ears brats over to drop in on me?"
His tone was incredibly disdainful. He clearly didn't take these three seriously at all. He figured that since he was so far from the center of power, it would take Li Xiaolian days to ride here anyway, what kind of waves could a few young brats possibly make in his domain?
Hearing him belittle and despise his father so casually, a surge of fury ignited in Li Yuezhou. The hand held by Lu Zhaoye suddenly clenched tightly, but it was quickly met with a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
He turned his head slightly to look at Lu Zhaoye. Meeting his companion's composed, calm gaze, Li Yuezhou forced himself to suppress the boiling anger in his chest.
Lu Zhaoye let go of his hand and slowly stepped forward. His expression remained placid, but a chilling, suffocating aura began to radiate from his posture.
"Tower Master Qin, we are not here to casually drop in. Today, we happened to pass by the Qingfeng Ferry crossing and saw men from the Black Tiger Stronghold oppressing the commoners and tyrannizing the innocent, yet no one dared to intervene. Upon further inquiry, we learned that it was actually your Fenglei Tower backing them."
As soon as the words left his mouth, Qin Lie's face darkened fiercely. He slammed his palm onto the mahogany armrest, the wood groaning under the force.
"You greenhorn brat, spewing absolute nonsense! Since when is it your turn to question the affairs of my Fenglei Tower? Guards!"
At this point, there was no need for further words. Qin Lie's nerve had been struck; humiliated and enraged, he intended to silence them directly.
From the previously empty alcoves of the hall, over a dozen guards dressed in dark blue martial attire darted out. Brandishing sabers and glaring viciously, they surrounded the trio in an instant, awaiting a single command from Qin Lie to hack them down.
Seeing this, Jin Duanhong uncoiled the flexible sword wrapped around his waist. With a lethal flash of silver light, he stepped protectively in front of Li Yuezhou.
Lu Zhaoye likewise drew his famous sword, Duyun. With a perfectly calm expression, he swept his eyes over the guards encircling them, casually evaluating their stances.
Caught in the middle, Li Yuezhou felt his pulse race, a natural sense of fear rising in his chest. Yet, he still clenched his fists tightly, his gaze firm and vigilant as he looked for openings, striving not to become a liability to the other two.
"Why get so angry, Tower Master Qin? It seems my words hit the mark," Lu Zhaoye taunted softly.
Qin Lie bellowed in a rage, "You spout nothing but slander, boy! Even if Li Xiaolian came here himself, he still wouldn't have a damn say over the affairs of my Fenglei Tower!"
He was utterly drunk on his own local power. Having been flattered and put on a pedestal over the years until the power went to his head, he had grown arrogant enough to make wild, treasonous claims against the Alliance Leader.
Lu Zhaoye committed every single word to memory, his expression remaining breezy and nonchalant.
Being stared down so disrespectfully by a mere youth made Qin Lie explode. With a wide sweep of his arm, he roared, "All of you, attack! Break their limbs!"
The guards roared in unison, brandishing their heavy weapons as they lunged.
Mindful of Li Yuezhou's safety, Jin Duanhong didn't dare move too far away. He anchored his position, using his whip-like flexible sword to violently repel any guard that dared step into their immediate perimeter.
Lu Zhaoye, on the other hand, went on the offensive. The sword in his hand was like unsheathed frost, its blade fierce and blindingly fast.
With a light tap of his toes, his figure moved as gracefully as a startled swan, effortlessly evading a heavy saber slashing toward his temple. With a flick of his wrist, Duyun pierced cleanly right into the attacker's shoulder. Blood spurted instantly, and the guard fell to his knees in agony, dropping his weapon.
Seeing this, three more guards rushed forward to assist, their long sabers aiming to box Lu Zhaoye in. Yet he remained unhurried. He twirled Duyun, spinning to evade the incoming blades, but the trajectory of his own weapon heavily contradicted his fluid evasion, striking sharply and rapidly at the blind spots of his attackers.
Before the others could even register the movement, Lu Zhaoye had closed the distance. The momentum of his sword abruptly shifted, becoming dangerously swift as he fiercely and systematically dislocated the wrists of several more men.
The elite guards of Fenglei Tower were beaten to the point where they couldn't even mount a defense. Lu Zhaoye wove among them like a gently falling leaf in autumn, yet with every precise twist of his blade, bones popped and weapons clattered to the floor.
As the cold edge of his steel finally pressed against the throat of the last remaining guard, the man fell to his knees with a heavy thud, his entire body going rigid, unable to move a single muscle.
In the span of just a few breaths, over a dozen hardened martial artists had been utterly decimated at his hands.
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