When the Yao Bell Tower chimed ten times, Yanjing fell completely silent. Although the streets were bright as day, most places, except for the clandestine gambling dens, had already closed. Even the legitimate gambling establishments had closed — in this sun-worshipping nation, gamblers believed that noon was the luckiest time, and patrons felt that daytime provided the best value for engaging in such activities (indeed, one's stamina was better during the day).

Northeast of the Imperial Academy, as a Patrol Execution Guard team rounded a corner, Le Yin swiftly darted across the street, climbing to reach a gloomy courtyard overgrown with weeds. Contrary to his expectations, the courtyard was not quiet; instead, it was filled with a clamor.

Two martial artists were fighting in the courtyard. One wore a robe, a top hat, a gun holster strapped to his pants, and a terrifying saw blade at his waist; the other wore a black and red hooded outfit, seemingly weaponless, yet giving off the impression that his whole body was a weapon.

However, they were not engaged in combat; they were merely brawling — without using any Combat Techniques, relying only on their fists and feet, trading blows back and forth.

Le Yin felt like rushing over and shouting, 'Stop fighting! You won't kill each other this way!'

Others seemed to have the same idea, as voices of provocation emerged from the shaky trees, dried-up well, shadows of the large house, and the dry pond:

"Gouge his eyes! Kick his groin! Break his fingers! Smash his nose! Nuojia, aren't you from the Rift? How can you not even beat a Skyrim person? If the Food as Immortal boss returns and sees you're bad at cards and can't fight, you'll be eaten alive by the boss!"

"That Skyrim guy has a weak lower body, with an old injury on his left knee. Bone Spike, aim for his left leg! When he falls, pierce his throat directly!"

"Is this how the Skyrim and Canglan people fight? In Youyun, you'd be dog food before you even grew up!"

"Youyun dogs, come down here and fight!"

"Who's the dog barking at!"

"The dog is barking at 'who's the dog barking at'!"

The courtyard was in an uproar, yet besides the two fighting below, there was no one else visible. As the night wind blew through the dim courtyard, the rustling sound made the scene even more eerie.

Le Yin casually found a place to hide, wondering what had happened here.

"It's all caused by gambling."

Le Yin was startled, slowly turning his head to find a middle-aged man in nightwear lying beside him. He had been as still as a corpse before speaking, making it impossible for Le Yin to determine when he had hidden there. Although the moonlight was thin, it was clear that the man's face was terribly scarred, even more disfigured than Niruo's.

"What do you mean?"

"They arrived too early, got bored, and started gambling. The losers were upset, and the winners taunted them, which led to the fight," the middle-aged man laughed. "Isn't it childish?"

"It is childish."

"But quite normal. Despite their willingness to come, everyone knows tonight is a life-or-death situation. Gambling, mating, fighting — these are the ways people living on the edge relax. Death is terrifying; without relief, people would go mad. How about you? How do you relax? Do you play cards?"

"I never play cards. I unwind by writing novels. I'm a writing fanatic; I can't sleep unless I write at least ten thousand words a day," Le Yin replied.

"That's pretty crazy."

As they were chatting, the fight finally had a victor: the top-hat man with the saw blade was caught by the ankle and spun around by the hooded man, slamming into a wall and nearly creating a dent.

The courtyard erupted in cheers and curses. Le Yin asked, "Who won and who lost?"

"The victor is Brotherhood Death Vow 'Nuojia', and the loser is Curse Hunter 'Bone Spike'. After all, most Curse Hunters are weapon users, rarely fighting barehanded, whereas a Brotherhood Death Vow must master bare-handed assassination and dagger skills. Even without using Combat Techniques, based on combat experience alone, Curse Hunters who frequently battle mountain monsters find it hard to beat those whose profession is killing, like the Brotherhood," the middle-aged man explained, demonstrating his familiarity with these secret organizations.

"Their names are quite peculiar."

"They're all codenames. Most people take a name fitting their organization's style after joining, abandoning their original name to avoid implicating family. Brotherhood codenames must relate to 'sin', whereas Curse Hunters relate to 'pain'. The Scythe Messenger's code is tied to skill, while the Three Gun Sect has no such requirement, but every disciple is inevitably an orphan," the man said, glancing at Le Yin. "Isn't it the same for you Hidden Sword Assassins? What's your codename?"

"I am called Yin Yin Yin." Le Yin effortlessly used his alias as the second machine. "And you?"

"Generally, codenames match personal traits. Nuojia, the Brotherhood Death Vow, looks extremely fierce, so people think he's always angry; the Curse Hunter 'Bone Spike' likely has curses related to cold, hence the name…" the middle-aged man explained.

"I'm very chatty, and when I talk, the scars on my face become even more terrifyingly ugly, so people call me…"

Le Yin guessed, "Ferocious Biao?"

The middle-aged man glanced at him. "So they just call me 'Shut Up'. "

Standing up and leaving the bush, he clapped his hands and raised his voice, "Alright, stop playing around. It's time for the planned operation. Get ready for the final preparations for battle, synchronize your time tools, and stick to the plan..."

"You're not in the plan." From the shadows, someone coldly questioned, "Moreover, the people here are almost twice the number than at the Goldfinger Lodge... Are you cockroaches? Doubling your numbers in a few days?"

"A minor hiccup," the middle-aged man shrugged. "To better accomplish the mission, several unpredictable benefactors were willing to donate manpower, and our National Relief Association had to stretch its resources. You could say we put in the effort and the money..."

As expected.

Le Yin knew that after Cha Huan's commotion, the enemy numbers tonight would increase, but he hadn't expected it to double. Probably the same happened on Cha Huan's side, and who knows if his old bones could handle it.

"According to the latest intel, after 9 pm, the Qin Le Yin has already gone to the Platinum Tower for the night. For safety and to complete the task faster, better, and stronger, tonight's operation needs a commander," the middle-aged man declared, "and that commander is me."

"Why you?" someone immediately questioned.

"Because I'm the wealthiest."

The courtyard suddenly quieted, then sparse laughter arose, "Can you crush enemies with money?"

"No, but I can buy allies."

The middle-aged man snapped his fingers, and a chilling aura enveloped the courtyard, even causing Le Yin's Ice Blood to react — at least a dozen Integration and Mastery level martial artists exuded killing intent simultaneously!

"Two-thirds of the people here will follow my lead. The rest of you don't have to, but if anything happens, don't expect us to save you," the man stated, "By the way, it's not that we look down on the remaining third; your contact info is simply problematic. We didn't have a way to get money to you."

The questioner fell silent, maybe pondering a response or regretting the missed money opportunity — Le Yin regretted not having the right contact info and missing out.

"Which member of the National Relief Association are you?"

The questioner's tone gained respect, seemingly swayed by money, hoping to rectify missing out.

The middle-aged man shrugged, repeating, "I'm very chatty, and when I talk, the scars on my face become even more terrifyingly ugly, so people call me..."

"The ugly and nagging Grand Steward,"

Boom!

At that moment, a thunderous sound resounded in the world.

Boom!

Everyone looked up at the sky. The night sky was flawlessly clear, not a cloud in sight — where was the thunder coming from?

Boom!

On the third sound, some people leaned down to listen to the ground, but there was no vibration — it wasn't an earthquake!

Boom!

On the fourth sound, everyone finally realized it wasn't thunder.

These were footsteps!

And they weren't footsteps on the ground but reverberations from the air!

"It's Cha Huan."

In the courtyard's tallest tree, a silhouette appeared, with eyes glowing gold, staring intently into the distance, a hint of fear in his voice:

"He's walking on the sky!"

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