The Old City, The Familiar Faces

The night of the Western Wastes stretched endlessly beneath the cold moonlight.

Two streaks of sword-light cut across the sky, one ahead of the other, moving so quickly that anyone standing on the ground and looking up would have seen only two long trails of light before they vanished beyond the horizon.

Hao Nhien stood atop the Tieu Dao Sword, his robes pressed tightly behind him by the wind. Quan Nha flew to his right, less than two zhang away.

From the moment they left Lac Van, the two had deliberately abandoned the usual route.

If they traveled from the area near Heavenly Eye City back toward Tien Thanh along the main trade road, Trung Thanh was almost impossible to avoid. And that was exactly the region where Hao Nhien wanted to leave no trace at all right now.

The information from the prisoner only told him that Duong Long would soon be sent to Tien Thanh. The exact timing could still change at any moment.

A military convoy carrying supplies obviously could not move as quickly as two Foundation Establishment cultivators flying on swords. But if Hao Nhien continued traveling at the pace of an ordinary merchant couple, that advantage would disappear.

So once they left the heavily traveled routes behind, the two immediately circled south and accelerated.

The journey became considerably longer, but in exchange they avoided most checkpoints, patrols, and places where too many eyes might see them.

The fewer people who spotted Giai Nhien and Tieu Nha near Tien Thanh at this time, the safer those identities would remain.

After four consecutive days of travel, Quan Nha’s speed began to slow.

Hao Nhien noticed before she was willing to say anything.

He tilted his head slightly.

“You’re tired?”

Quan Nha kept looking ahead.

“Not yet.”

Hao Nhien laughed.

“You’re almost half a sword-length behind me.”

She turned toward him.

“You were counting?”

“I’m flying right beside you. It would be stranger if I didn’t notice.”

Quan Nha pursed her lips slightly, clearly still unwilling to stop.

Hao Nhien shook his head and guided the Tieu Dao Sword closer.

“Come over.”

“No need.”

“Are you planning to have both of us lying in the desert tomorrow?”

Quan Nha glanced at him.

“Who are you calling weak?”

“Me.”

Hao Nhien answered immediately.

“I’m scared.”

Quan Nha burst out laughing.

That brief moment of distraction was enough for Hao Nhien to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her over.

“Brother!”

Quan Nha let out a soft cry.

The flying sword beneath her feet immediately slowed without its master’s control. She had no choice but to store it away and sit behind Hao Nhien.

Hao Nhien swallowed a Qi Recovery Pill.

Its medicinal power quickly dissolved, replenishing the spiritual energy expended through his meridians, while the Tieu Dao Sword beneath them accelerated once more.

Behind him, Quan Nha took out a spirit stone, held it in one hand, and began circulating her breathing method.

Hao Nhien did not continue teasing her.

This journey was not training.

He had no need to exhaust himself just to force his cultivation forward.

Foundation Establishment layer eight had completely stabilized after nearly two months of adjustment. The spiritual energy in his dantian had grown increasingly condensed, and his explosive power had clearly improved as well.

That was precisely why Hao Nhien had even less desire to disrupt his current rhythm of adaptation merely to gain a little cultivation speed.

At dawn on the eighth day, the two landed behind a long ridge of sand dunes.

Tien Thanh lay ahead.

Hao Nhien put away the Tieu Dao Sword while Quan Nha adjusted her robes.

The two changed into ordinary ash-gray outer garments, altered their hairstyles, lowered their hats, and suppressed their auras to levels suitable for the identities they had prepared.

They did not cover their faces completely.

A pair of cultivators trying too hard to hide themselves would sometimes attract even more attention.

At a glance, they merely looked like a married cultivator couple who had endured a long journey.

Hao Nhien stood atop the dune and stared ahead for a long time.

Tien Thanh.

He had returned.

Compared with the last time, the city had changed greatly.

Sections of wall that had once been unfinished were now fully connected. Stone watchtowers stood at elevated positions, while dark-gold runes ran in lines across the walls.

They were not particularly bright, but any cultivator with spiritual sense could feel the formations operating within.

The area outside the gates was no longer filled with the chaotic mixture of laborers, stone carts, Sand Beasts, and merchants that Hao Nhien remembered.

Everything was more orderly now.

But it was also noticeably colder.

There were far fewer people entering the city than before. Only a small merchant caravan, several lone cultivators, and three people from some tribe carrying bundles of beast hides waited nearby.

Soldiers appeared in far greater numbers.

They stood along the walls, inside the watchtowers, and even outside the gate, where a patrol squad was currently passing.

Quan Nha observed for a while before asking,

“Has it changed much?”

“Quite a lot.”

Hao Nhien answered.

“The city is more complete, but the military presence is also much heavier.”

He did not say anything more.

At least one thing was certain.

Tien Thanh was not at peace.

The two walked toward the gate.

Entering the city caused no major difficulty.

They registered their identities, paid the fee, received temporary tokens, and passed through the usual procedures.

No one questioned them too deeply.

Hao Nhien and Quan Nha walked calmly through the gate.

The moment they entered, Hao Nhien paused slightly.

The streets that had once been covered in stone dust were now almost fully paved.

The buildings lining both sides were taller, and there were more merchant signs than before.

But at every major intersection, the number of soldiers had clearly increased.

Several new notices had been erected along the roadside.

Identity inspections.

Restrictions on gatherings.

Weapon control in certain districts.

Reminders regarding obligations for members of registered tribes.

Tien Thanh had clearly matured.

But the feeling it gave him had not become any more pleasant.

Hao Nhien observed as they walked.

Quan Nha remained beside him without asking too many questions.

At one intersection, Hao Nhien pointed slightly to the left.

“The military camp.”

Then to the right.

“The commercial district.”

Ahead.

“The administrative quarter.”

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Quan Nha looked at him.

“You remember all of that?”

“The last time I was here, I wasn’t only drinking.”

“Oh?”

She drew the sound out.

Hao Nhien turned toward her.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

Quan Nha smiled.

Hao Nhien knew she was about to tease him again, so he did not continue.

Near midday, the two stopped in front of a restaurant.

The wooden sign above had grown older, but the three characters remained clear.

Sa Hoa House.

Hao Nhien stood there for a while.

Quan Nha noticed immediately.

“You’ve been here before?”

“Mm.”

Hao Nhien walked inside.

“A few things began here too.”

The interior of Sa Hoa House had not changed much.

The smells of roasted meat, cactus wine, and sweat blended together.

The clink of cups, laughter, curses, and overlapping stories from different tables formed a familiar layer of noise.

Some of the furniture had been replaced.

But the atmosphere remained the same.

Hao Nhien chose a table near the corner.

Quan Nha sat opposite him and ordered a flask of cactus wine with dried meat.

The wine arrived quickly.

She poured two cups and pushed one toward him.

Hao Nhien accepted it.

They lightly touched cups.

Quan Nha took a sip, and her eyes immediately narrowed slightly.

“Spicy.”

Hao Nhien laughed.

“Not good?”

She took another sip.

“Good wine.”

Hao Nhien looked at her.

Quan Nha looked back.

He drained his cup and placed it on the table.

“Good wine.”

Quan Nha burst out laughing.

Sa Hoa House was indeed still an excellent place to hear news.

They had not been seated long before the conversations around them began connecting into a larger picture.

To their right, two merchants were speaking quietly.

“…Duong Quang really is dead.”

“How could that be fake? So many people in Hoa Van saw it.”

The other man lowered his voice.

“I heard he even used a forbidden pill.”

“He did.”

“A peak-Foundation cultivator used a forbidden pill to force his combat strength close to the Golden Core threshold, and he still died.”

The other man shook his head.

“People outside are calling Hao Nhien invincible among Foundation Establishment cultivators now.”

“Isn’t that exaggerated?”

“Exaggerated?”

The man laughed.

“Then find me another Foundation Establishment cultivator who can kill Duong Quang in that state.”

The other fell silent for a while.

“I heard Hao Nhien almost died too.”

“That part is true.”

“He was badly wounded.”

“But he lived.”

“Duong Quang died.”

“That is enough for people to talk.”

Hao Nhien drank his wine as though he had heard nothing.

Quan Nha glanced at him again, the corners of her lips already curving upward.

Hao Nhien pretended not to notice.

Another table was discussing Hoa Van.

“Someone from my family just came back from the east.”

“Hoa Van is crowded now.”

“Do newcomers actually have work?”

“I heard they do. Those with land can rent it. Those without can work for wages. Contributions are still required, but everything is clearly calculated.”

Someone asked,

“They don’t get dragged away for forced labor?”

“It’s not that there are no obligations.”

The man shook his head.

“But at least you don’t hear stories about someone farming one day and then receiving an order sending them away for months without knowing when they’ll return.”

Another person cut in,

“More merchants are going there too. There’s even a Treasure Pavilion now. Pills are easier to buy, and people with merit can exchange for resources.”

“Really?”

“How would I know everything?”

The man shrugged.

“But people who go there rarely come back.”

He took a drink.

“So it probably isn’t bad.”

Hao Nhien showed no reaction, but inwardly he liked hearing stories like these.

Hoa Van was not a place where people no longer needed to work.

Nor was it somewhere people contributed nothing.

The difference was simply that they knew what they were working for, knew how much they had to give, and knew what they would receive in return.

Sometimes that alone was enough to change many things.

Near the entrance, several soldiers were drinking.

One sighed.

“Drink. In a few days, we might not even know which unit we belong to anymore.”

Another frowned.

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

“What nonsense?”

The first man laughed.

“Duong Quang is dead. The people above are all trying to place their own men. The old units refuse to hand everything over. The eastern storehouse is still locked. The two deputy commanders look at each other like they want to draw swords, and now Duong Long is coming.”

Hao Nhien set his cup down very lightly.

Quan Nha noticed immediately but did not look at him.

The soldier beside the first asked,

“Duong Long is really coming?”

“You didn’t know?”

“The advance team entered the city yesterday.”

“Duong Long is still behind them. I heard it will be at least two more weeks before he arrives. The army is carrying supplies, so they can’t move quickly.”

The first soldier raised his cup.

“Soldiers like us only hope that when the people above fight over the seat, we don’t get dragged out to catch the blades for them.”

The group drank together and stopped talking.

Hao Nhien kept his eyes lowered.

But he remembered every word.

The advance team had already entered the city.

The main force was still at least two weeks away.

That meant they had not merely arrived in time.

They had arrived earlier than Hao Nhien had expected.

Just then, a woman’s voice sounded from behind him.

“Do you all still remember that day?”

Hao Nhien paused almost imperceptibly.

The voice was not loud, but the table was directly behind him, so he heard every word clearly.

Seven people sat there.

Two women and five men.

Most were still young.

Only one man, in his thirties, appeared to be the leader.

The woman who had spoken was holding a cup.

“The day Hao Nhien stood outside.”

The person beside her immediately looked around.

“Keep your voice down.”

The woman did not care.

“Did I say anything wrong?”

“At the time, he was only early-Foundation, and Duong Quang was standing right in front of him. If it had been any of you, who would have dared say those things?”

No one answered.

The woman drained her cup.

“I can’t forget it.”

“People of the Western Wastes want to live freely. They want to choose their own road. They want to work for their own families instead of spending their whole lives bowing their heads simply because someone else says it is an order.”

The young man beside her tugged lightly on her arm.

“That’s enough.”

“Enough what?”

She pulled her arm away.

“I wanted to leave that day.”

“But I was afraid.”

She gave a faint, self-mocking laugh.

“I stayed. Looking back now, I still think I was a coward.”

Hao Nhien stared at the cup in front of him without turning around.

Old images slowly surfaced in his memory.

The square that day.

Duong Quang standing in front.

Countless eyes below, hesitant and uneasy.

At first, only one person had stepped out.

Then ten.

Then groups one after another.

Until more than a thousand people had chosen to stand behind him and leave.

At the time, even Hao Nhien had not known where he would take them.

He had only known that once they stepped out, he could not let those people go back and kneel as though nothing had happened.

The second woman said,

“He’s different now.”

“Duong Quang died by his hand too.”

Someone nodded.

“Invincible among Foundation Establishment cultivators.”

“Still hard to believe.”

The first woman answered immediately,

“What’s hard to believe? Someone like him should be that strong.”

A young man laughed.

“You really worship him now.”

“Yes.”

The woman replied bluntly.

“There are many strong people in the Western Wastes. But not many become strong and still remember where they once stood.”

Several people laughed.

At another table, someone had overheard them.

A young man turned.

“You’re talking about Hoa Van?”

“Mm.”

“I’m planning to go.”

The middle-aged man at the rear table looked at him.

“Because of Hao Nhien?”

“Partly.”

The young man smiled frankly.

“Mostly because I’m tired of living here.”

Both tables laughed.

Someone else said,

“I want to see whether that place is really like the rumors.”

“If it is, I’ll stay.”

Hearing that, the corner of Hao Nhien’s mouth curved upward slightly.

That was the Western Wastes he knew.

If they liked a place, they went.

If they did not, they left.

No one needed to make them swear an oath before taking the first step.

Quan Nha looked at him.

This time, Hao Nhien caught her.

“What are you looking at?”

She sent him a voice transmission.

“I regret something.”

“What?”

“Not being there that day.”

Hao Nhien shook his head.

“There was nothing worth seeing.”

Quan Nha disagreed.

“There was.”

She glanced toward the table behind them.

“I want to hear more.”

Hao Nhien was just about to say something when Quan Nha lightly closed her eyes.

A very faint ripple spread outward.

Hao Nhien helplessly shook his head.

The middle-aged man at the table behind them, who had remained silent the entire time, suddenly placed down his cup.

“I was standing pretty far away that day. In the end, I didn’t follow him because I thought—what could an early-Foundation cultivator possibly do after saying those things?”

He gave a self-mocking laugh.

“But Hoa Van was actually built. Duong Quang is dead, and Hao Nhien is still alive.”

“The people who followed him were never said to have been enslaved or sold either.”

Someone laughed.

“Senior Brother, are you regretting it?”

The middle-aged man was silent for a moment.

“Yes.”

The answer was direct.

The woman immediately asked,

“Then shall we go?”

He seemed about to say something.

His lips moved, then stopped.

But only a breath later, he answered,

“Let’s go.”

The whole table froze.

Even he seemed slightly surprised that the answer had come so quickly.

Then he laughed.

“What is there left to think about?”

“We were already planning to leave Tien Thanh.”

“If we’re leaving anyway, we may as well go somewhere.”

“Let’s go see Hoa Van.”

The woman’s eyes immediately brightened.

“Really?”

“Really.”

Another table overheard.

The young man who had said he also wanted to go immediately raised his cup.

“If you’re leaving, let us join your group.”

The middle-aged man looked over.

“You?”

“Three of us.”

“All Foundation Establishment.”

“Traveling in a larger group is safer.”

“Fine.”

Someone farther away laughed loudly.

“Count me in!”

His companion immediately pulled him back.

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“I’ve wanted to leave since last month!”

His companion laughed.

“You say that every day. Then the next morning you still report for duty.”

The entire tavern laughed.

The man flushed.

“This time I mean it!”

Quan Nha opened her eyes.

Her smile was more obvious now.

Hao Nhien looked at her.

She sent another voice transmission.

“See?”

“You didn’t put that thought into their heads.”

“I only made what was already there slightly harder to hide.”

Hao Nhien smiled.

“Slightly?”

Quan Nha blinked.

“Perhaps a little more than slightly.”

The tavern grew louder.

Not everyone wanted to go to Hoa Van.

Some argued against it.

Some laughed at those people for being naive.

Others believed Hoa Van would eventually be forced back under Heavenly Eye’s control anyway.

Someone else said,

“That’s even more reason to go see it.”

An old cultivator drinking alone finally spoke.

“There is nothing strange about people of the Western Wastes following the strong.”

He took a slow sip.

“But if strength alone were enough, Duong Quang was once very strong too.”

Someone asked,

“Then why is Hao Nhien different?”

The old cultivator looked at the wine in his cup.

“I don’t know.”

He thought for a while.

“Perhaps because he said out loud what many people wanted to say but were too afraid to.”

That sentence made Hao Nhien fall silent.

Quan Nha looked at him as well.

Behind them, someone else said,

“I want to meet him.”

“Me too.”

“If the rumors are true, following someone like that might be worthwhile.”

Another voice said,

“If he is still the same man he was that day, I’ll follow him.”

The sentence was simple and direct.

Yet to Hao Nhien, it carried far more weight than many elaborate promises.

Quan Nha still wanted to keep listening.

Hao Nhien stood.

She looked up.

“Brother?”

“Let’s go.”

“I haven’t finished—”

Hao Nhien took her hand and pulled her up.

Quan Nha laughed.

“I still want to listen.”

“That is exactly why we should leave.”

“Why?”

Hao Nhien looked at her.

“I’m afraid if I listen much longer, I’ll start believing I really am invincible.”

Quan Nha burst out laughing.

The two placed spirit stones on the table and left Sa Hoa House.

Outside, the afternoon light had already begun to slant.

The wind carried sand along the street.

Quan Nha was still smiling.

“I really do regret it.”

“What now?”

“That day.”

She looked at him.

“Brother Hao must have looked very imposing back then.”

Hao Nhien gave a bitter laugh.

“Imposing?”

“At the time, all I was thinking was that if Duong Quang really attacked, which direction would be the fastest way to run?”

Quan Nha laughed even harder.

“I don’t believe you.”

The two walked a little farther.

The smile on Hao Nhien’s face gradually faded.

Quan Nha noticed immediately.

“You’re thinking about what they said in the tavern?”

“Mm.”

“The people who want to go to Hoa Van?”

Hao Nhien shook his head.

“Duong Long.”

Quan Nha became serious as well.

Hao Nhien lowered his voice.

“The advance team has already entered the city, but Duong Long is still behind them. The people Duong Quang left behind haven’t united. The two deputy commanders are at odds, and the other factions have already begun inserting themselves.”

Quan Nha thought for a while before saying,

“So the prisoner wasn’t lying.”

“No.”

Hao Nhien looked toward the streets ahead.

“Tien Thanh really is vacant. But what it lacks is not people. It lacks someone powerful enough to make everyone listen.”

As the two crossed an intersection, a squad of soldiers on the opposite side was changing shifts.

Farther away, Tien Thanh’s administrative district rose above the lower rooftops.

Hao Nhien slowed his steps.

His eyes remained fixed ahead, but he was thinking about another group of people.

The members of the Hoa Ky Clan who had left the clan years ago and followed Duong Quang.

Some had done it for profit.

Some out of fear.

Some simply because Duong Quang had been stronger at the time.

And perhaps some, even now, still did not know whether they had a road back.

Hao Nhien narrowed his eyes slightly.

This might be one of the rare periods when those Hoa Ky people in Tien Thanh could ask themselves again where they truly wanted to stand.

Once Duong Long arrived, they would have to make that choice again with a powerful man standing in front of them.

And by then, it would be difficult to know which decisions truly belonged to them.

Hao Nhien wanted to meet those people before that brief window closed.