The small town, situated over a hundred li away from Kinh Phong Ridge, nestled beside a gentle river. It seemed like an entirely different world compared to the site of the recent blood-soaked battle. The crowds still bustled, the hawkers' cries remained clamorous; no one knew that the tempest which had just swept through Kinh Phong Ridge was already beginning to generate monstrous waves that would crash all the way to the distant Imperial Capital.
Within the most ordinary of inns, in its most obscured corner, Tran Kien sat in silence. He had been here for two days. For the past two days, he neither cultivated nor went anywhere. He merely sat, sipped his tea, and listened.
His hearing, having reached the Foundation Establishment stage and tempered by Dragon Qi, had become incomparably acute. He could effortlessly eavesdrop on every conversation bandied about the tavern, from the mundane domestic affairs of neighbors to the earth-shattering rumors being whispered among merchants and rogue cultivators.
And the name mentioned most often, was precisely "Tran Kien."
"Have you all heard? That fellow Tran Kien is truly a monster! With a single saber strike, he sent Lanh Thien Phong's head flying, and even orchestrated a scheme that caused the Azure Cloud Sect and the Black Dragon Stronghold to slaughter one another!"
"I also heard he's only at the early Foundation Establishment stage! Skipping a minor realm to slay an enemy, and a son of Marquis Vinh An at that. I'm afraid the God-Slaying Roll of the City of Chaos will have to add a new name!"
"But he is far too arrogant. Killing Marquis Vinh An's son right in front of the whole world—this is no different from courting death. I heard Marquis Vinh An has placed an astronomical bounty on his head. Right now, I fear both the Righteous and Demonic paths are scouring the lands for him."
Tran Kien quietly took a sip of tea. The tea still carried a faint astringency, but in his mouth, there was a different kind of bitterness. He knew that although he had won the chessboard at Kinh Phong Ridge in spectacular fashion, it had also thrust him into a predicament even more perilous than before.
Fame is a double-edged sword, he thought inwardly. It can make others view you with awe and reverence, but it can also turn you into the target of everyone under the heavens.
The name Tran Kien, inheritor of the Lac Viet legacy, had now become a torch blazing far too brightly in the dead of night. To continue using this identity, he would never be able to reach the Imperial Capital, let alone stand against an existence with heaven-toppling authority like Marquis Vinh An.
He knew the time had come for a change. He had to employ one of the most profound stratagems: "The Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell". He had to let the name "Tran Kien" temporarily vanish from the mortal realm.
But disappearing did not mean fleeing. It was to prepare for an even more earth-shattering return. He needed a new identity, a new stage, and most importantly, a faction of his own.
Right at that moment, the conversation of several rogue cultivators at an adjacent table caught his attention.
"Speaking of the City of Chaos," a heavily bearded man lowered his voice, his expression shrouded in mystery. "I just received word that in three days, the Myriad Treasures Pavilion in the City of Chaos will hold a special auction. Rumor has it that the penultimate item is something incomparably extraordinary."
"What is it?"
"A 'Demon General Medallion'," the bearded man replied. "Legend says it is the relic of the Blood Hand Demon General, an infamous grand fiend from a century ago. Whoever possesses this command medallion can summon the 'Blood Fiend Guards' he left behind. Although that army has mostly scattered by now, the survivors are absolute loyal elites. Obtaining it is no different from acquiring a private army!"
Tran Kien's heart fiercely pounded once.
A private army! Was this not precisely what he needed the most right now? Even if his individual strength grew further, he alone could not possibly stand against an entire Marquis Estate. But if he held a faction in his hands—a sharp dagger concealed in the shadows of the City of Chaos—the chessboard would become entirely different.
He knew this was a trap. For this information to be spread so widely, someone was definitely trying to stir up a storm. That auction would undoubtedly be a vicious struggle between dragons and tigers, where blood would flow like rivers.
Yet he also knew, this was an opportunity. An opportunity worth a thousand pieces of gold.
Danger and serendipity always walked hand in hand. He recalled all he had experienced. To reap the greatest harvest, one had to dare to wager on the most perilous gamble.
The decision was made.
Tran Kien did not linger any longer. He placed a silver ingot on the table—neither too much nor too little—and quietly stood up. He did not head for the main door. He walked toward the window at the end of the corridor, gently pushed it open, and like a falling leaf, soundlessly dropped into the narrow alleyway below, melting into the night.
When he reappeared on another street, "Tran Kien" was no more.
In his place was a figure draped in a black cloak, wearing a tattered bamboo hat that obscured most of his face. The dull black saber on his back had been tightly wrapped in black cloth, not leaking the slightest trace of aura. His entire person exuded a gloomy, frigid demeanor, completely distinct from his previous upright and unyielding aura.
He walked toward the north. The direction of the City of Chaos.
The name Tran Kien was temporarily buried in the past. From this moment forth, within this Cultivation world, a new name, a new identity, would emerge.
He hadn't yet thought of what he would be called. But he knew that this name, sooner or later, would cause both the Righteous and Demonic paths to tremble in fear.
The wind... had truly begun to howl.