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Since the fire, security has been heightened in the Shilin area.

The City Garrison Department had few personnel stationed in the Upper City because it was heavily guarded. Each of the sixteen families had their own guards, and ordinary thieves wouldn't dare to cross the line. Internal disputes among the nobility were beyond the intervention of common soldiers. The main tasks of the Ninth Squad of the City Garrison were to prevent fires, refill streetlamp oil, clean up broken wine bottles to avoid damaging horses and carriages, and patrol Shilin.

There wasn't much to patrol in Shilin. During the day, it was visible at a glance, and at night, it was brightly lit. After the last fire, all the underbrush had been cleared, leaving only hard, dried grass stubble on the ground. The branches of the trees along the way were pruned, leaving foliage only a yard above the ground. The treetops were crowded with hundreds of night birds, causing a cacophony at the slightest disturbance.

"Fuck this!" A small squad walked leisurely into the forest, the captain leading and swearing, "Night shifts for the same pay as day shifts! Is there any justice? Fuck this! Patrolling the Upper City is so humiliating. Even the gatekeepers can order you around like a dog! Fuck this! What's the point of working so hard to get assigned here? No perks, no leisure!"

"What's the point? To save your life! Is it any better down there? Old Lei just made a comment about someone peeing on the street and got beaten to death by the Old Southern Camp folks," someone behind the captain chimed in.

"That was Lei's own fault! They weren't peeing in his house, why meddle? I'm telling you, Dawa, they don't beat the diligent or the lazy, just the foolish ones. Anyone who dares to pee in public has backing. When that happens, you should get as far away as possible. Fuck this! The little pay you get isn't for managing the Old Southern Camp!" The captain grumbled as he took down a wind lantern from a tree, snuffed it out, and signaled for someone to replace it with a full one.

The captain expertly opened the lamp, took a small copper flask from his waist, squinted, and poured the remaining lamp oil into the flask. When it was almost empty, he held his pose, waiting for the last few drops.

"Aren't your hands tired?"

"Tired, Fuck this!" The captain squinted at the last drop of oil stubbornly clinging to the lamp. "Why light a lamp in this wretched forest? Are we lighting the way for mice? I tell you, you all better stop scheming. I know what you're up to. Once I fill my flask, the rest is yours. There has to be some fairness, right? Finally, it drips down..."

The oil was done. The captain crouched, moved his sword to his back, sealed the flask, pulled out an oil paper, and carefully wrapped the remaining wick. This was his daily routine. The lamps in the Upper City used Pingye oil, saving enough could be exchanged for a gold coin. The wicks were made of premium white dragon tendons, better than eight ordinary wicks combined. Everyone knew about this little perk, as long as he kept his subordinates' mouths shut, everything was fine.

His subordinates were difficult to manage; their thoughts were clear. The forest had few lamps, so after he filled his flask, there was little left. With such small benefits, no one was happy. He hated sharing the spoils. After much deliberation, he finally decided to forego the white dragon tendons. Ordinary wicks would suffice. What couldn't wait until daylight?

"Fuck this! Greedy devils! Here, take this—don't say your brother doesn't look out for you!" He generously handed back the small oil paper packet.

No one took it.

Huh? He turned around, no one was there.

These bastards must be stealing oil behind my back, he thought. This was his first and only thought before a thin blade sliced his throat.

He fell, still clutching the copper flask, under the bright new lantern, illuminating the scattered corpses.

From behind him, a ghostly shadow emerged, sheathed its blade, and reported, "Commander, forty-nine, not one less."

Qi Jiafu was just a yard away, hidden in the shadows, watching without expression. As the last person fell, he wiped his hand, a ring on his finger emitting a barely audible vibration, summoning dozens of shadows.

These were the elite "Shadows." No one had seen their true faces before.

Qi Jiafu pointed at forty-nine of them. They stepped forward, stripped their clothes, revealing hairless, thin bodies with only a thin layer of muscle, their skin dull like cloth on flesh. Each bore a brand on their wrist, belonging to different families.

They approached the corpses, donned their clothes, including undergarments. After dressing, they scalped the bodies, treated the scalps, and wore them like wigs.

Meanwhile, a man beside Qi Jiafu sat cross-legged, pulled out a small round box, divided in two, ignited a blue flame, and poured two vials of liquid into the halves. The box turned into two boiling pots. He then produced another substance, divided it, and placed it in the pots. The flame quickly burned out, and he nodded to Qi Jiafu.

The "cooked" material was thin transparent rubber. Forty-nine portions were in one pot, the rest in the other. Each person received a piece, adhering it to their arms and necks, erasing their brands.

"Clean up," Qi Jiafu ordered. He received his piece too, inspecting it on his arm.

This material, called "human patch," was incredibly expensive, used only for the most critical missions by the Wind Shadow Riders. The patches, infused with poison, were harmless unless torn off without an antidote, causing immediate, fatal decay.

The forty-nine used mild poison, while Qi Jiafu and others had the potent kind. Success or failure, their identities must remain secret to avoid disaster for the Qi faction.

His men meticulously buried the corpses. He pressed a tree, leaped up, carved a section, revealing a hidden cavity. He stashed the discarded clothing inside, resealed it, and returned.

On the ground, the scene was restored, indistinguishable from the surrounding terrain.

"Fuck this, this doesn't belong here," Qi Jiafu muttered, placing the copper flask back on the "captain," tucking it in securely. "Go."

The forty-nine started staggering out of the forest, quickly adopting a more natural gait, like demons learning to mimic humans.

Becoming human wasn't hard.

"Let's go." Qi Jiafu signaled his group.

They pulled up masks, blending into the night.

The night horn sounded, lasting about fifteen minutes. It was the giant horn atop the mountain, its low, deep sound penetrating the endless night down to the foot of the mountain.

When the night horn sounded, the curfew began. Unauthorized night wanderers faced severe penalties, and those caught with weapons were executed. The rules of the night were even more rigid and brutal than those of the day. This was a world ruled by those with blades and those with seals.

The "Shadows" moved swiftly, with Qi Jiafu leading them. To the east of the forest was a wide carriage road, and beyond it lay the rear wall of the He family estate. About thirty guards, armed with halberds, stood in a line, including two armored men spaced roughly ten paces apart.

Qi Jiafu raised his hand, signaling the Shadows to spread out according to the guards' intervals. They held short, one-foot-long swords in their palms.

Qi Jiafu drew two weapons from the sheath at his back: a thumb-thick, three-edged spike and a two-finger-wide, paper-thin, slightly curved blade. He quickly assessed the heights of the two armored guards. Using the tree trunk for leverage, he leaped, his body parallel to the ground, with his spike and blade forming a cross aimed at one guard's throat. The speed of his attack was tremendous. As he spread his body in mid-air, the curved blade left his hand, spinning towards the second armored guard's throat, grazing the edge of his helmet with a sharp "ding" before spinning back.

Qi Jiafu landed, caught the spinning blade, and without a second glance, scaled the wall. He trusted his team entirely; in a two-to-one confrontation, they would not fail.

However, nearly a hundred men engaged in close combat would inevitably make some noise.

They had to find the He family father and son before the night horn stopped.

The rear courtyard was quiet, the air filled with the faint scent of cosmetics. It appeared to be the women's quarters. The courtyard was empty, save for a piece of clothing moving behind a cluster of trees.

A pair of lovers were there. A young maid with double buns on her head held a copper basin with a towel draped over its edge, while a young man was handing her a box of flowers. They were whispering to each other, completely absorbed.

They were so engrossed that they didn't notice the presence of a person just a short distance away.

As their conversation grew more animated, the girl's voice rose.

"Don't always give me this useless stuff! Do you think I've never seen anything better?"

The young man gripped the box of roses tightly, lowering his head.

"Say something!"

"What should I say..."

"Do you dare to take me away? Give me an answer! If you dare to leave, I'll follow! I'm willing to go to the ends of the earth! Even if we're caught and skinned alive, I'll accept it!"

"I... in the future..."

"What future? There's no such thing as the future! I'm not asking if you can do it, I'm asking if you dare!"

"…"

"Do you dare?"

...

"Do you dare?!"

...

"Useless!"

The girl, frustrated, raised her hand and slapped the young man across the face. It wasn't a particularly hard slap, but it wasn't gentle either. However, the young man collapsed as if struck down by her hand, falling like a felled tree.

The girl was shocked and was about to call out when another hand pressed against the back of her head, delivering a light blow.

The hand was gentle, cradling her head as it laid her down among the trees, placing the basin carefully beside her without spilling a drop of water.

A voice sighed in her ear, "He does dare."

The girl fainted, not understanding what had happened. The last thing she saw was dozens of dark shadows landing in front of her, like large bats folding their wings onto the branches.

Qi Jiafu's gaze was fixed twenty yards away. At the end of a pebbled path was a moon gate, with the shadows of two long halberds cast on the ground outside.

He made a gesture - I'll take a look.

He sneaked over, sticking close to the wall, moving like a gecko up to the top of the moon gate, cautiously peeking over - two guards stood facing each other outside. Not far off was an open area, at the end of which was a broad road wide enough for two horses to pass side by side. The road led to a series of high mansions, the heart of the He family estate.

He nodded, beckoning with his hand. With the curved blade clamped in his mouth, he moved forward along the narrow stone beam, adjusting his body with each step to ensure his entire body became an extension of the short spike, maximizing his force in a single strike.

As the night horn blower took a breath, his arm shot forward, light and fast, like a mosquito piercing the skin. The spike in his hand slid through the skin between the skull and neck, avoiding the hard bone, cutting through soft blood vessels, and emerging from the jaw, piercing out from the mouth.

As the spike left his hand, Qi Jiafu's body shot forward, his shoulder ramming into the person's back with full force, driving them forward into the other guard. The second guard opened his mouth, but before he could shout, he saw a three-inch spike protruding from his comrade's mouth, embedding itself in his own throat.

Blood gushed from the terrible wound as the barely living body twitched slightly. The more distant guards still seemed unaware.

It was impossible to get any closer now; crossing the open area unnoticed was nearly impossible. The bodies couldn't be hidden, and most importantly, the night horn was about to stop.

Qi Jiafu raised his hands level, pointing to the roof, then swung his arms forward like wings, making a downward stabbing motion with his thumb. The bat-like figures on the ground understood, dispersing to flank the open area and heading towards the rooftops, resembling the spines of wild beasts silhouetted against the night sky.

He retrieved the short knife from his mouth, took a deep breath, and charged towards the patrol team.

This dark courtyard was like a cold, hard net spread before them. Their task was to silently slip through the net's holes, while his task was to cut the impossible knots and draw attention.

Close combat ensued.

Being known as "the fastest blade in Changxiang City" was not by chance; this title was built on countless bloody corpses, including those of renowned quick blade fighters. Qi Jiafu's sheer speed with his blade wasn't miraculous—certainly slower than the lion slave he had seen that day—but his every transition was rapid. His straight rush and spins were executed almost simultaneously, allowing for two strikes mid-leap, and at his peak, even three. His low leaps were exceptionally well-timed, completing all fatal strikes in the space above knee level. He could turn and strike with ease in the narrow gaps among crowds because most people's eyes, legs, and bodies didn't move at the same speed, especially in group fights where they had to judge both the enemy's and their comrades' positions, leading to unavoidable conflicts and eventual chaos.

He charged straight into the center of the patrol. Against ordinary people, there was no difference between one-on-four and one-on-ten—only four individuals could effectively attack simultaneously in a group fight. Even the most rigorously trained Wind Shadow Riders could only increase this number to five.

Seeing the patrol's formation, Qi Jiafu relaxed. They were just a regular patrol without the ability to layer their defenses instantly, let alone control both air and ground. In a melee, the result would only be slaughter, a pure physical task.

His blade danced, an almost uncontrollable sprite. The blade was too thin and too soft to parry any weapon, aiming only for the soft blood vessels beneath the throat. The spike thrust out with cold, unyielding precision, like it had always existed in the dark, waiting for a chest to collide with it.

The combination of blade and spike was perfect. The blade effectively covered the brief gaps between each spike thrust. Qi Jiafu moved through the crowd, stepping over knees, flipping over shoulders, finding his path through every fallen body, every heated breath, and every pause caused by shoulder bumps. His speed increased while his eyes grew calmer, as if he no longer saw living people with emotions. He felt neither fear nor excitement, guilt nor pity. He was like a gardener, plucking ripened fruit along his path, knowing that if he faltered, the last fruit to be plucked would be his own life.

Everything happened in a flash.

Only a few brief cries and the clattering of bodies hitting the ground.

Qi Jiafu was quite satisfied with tonight's results; everything had gone smoother than expected. He even felt a slight disdain for the He family, thinking that He Peiyu wasn't much after all.

"What's going on—"

"What's happening over there—"

The fight had made enough noise, drawing the attention of distant guards who shouted warnings and ran over, torches and lights appearing in the distance.

A black copper ring on his little finger buzzed.

Qi Jiafu looked up—

One of his men had made a discovery, crouched on a nondescript wooden house, listening intently, then drawing a spike and stabbing through the tiles. The first stab signaled the discovery of the target; the second confirmed exposure and acceptance as a decoy; the third broke a small hole in the roof, through which he unhesitatingly tore off the "human patch" on his arm and neck, and jumped in.

The ring buzzed again, signaling that the house was now everyone's target.

From rooftops, treetops, beams, and bushes, shadows emerged, flying towards the building like moths to a flame.

"Assassins—" Guards saw the bodies and shouted, breaking the He estate's tranquility.

The night horn ceased amid the cries.

A bloody battle of the night had begun.