The Iron Sword Sect's people withdrew, but no one at the Azure Dragon Escort Agency dared celebrate. Everyone knew this was merely three days of borrowed peace.
Li Qingshan had the gates shut tight and strengthened the defenses before inviting Little Fox into the main hall.
Little Fox showed no restraint at all. She lounged in Li Qingshan's grand chair, her red parasol laid across her thighs, both legs swinging back and forth. She looked nothing like the number-one assassin in the martial world and more like a little neighbor girl who had wandered off and gotten lost.
"Father, is this person really trustworthy?" Li Muwan whispered into her father's ear, her eyes still glaring at Little Fox.
Li Qingshan shook his head and gave a fist-and-palm salute. "Miss Fox, the Azure Dragon Escort Agency will remember today's life-saving favor. May I ask who the benefactor was who paid those hundred taels of gold, so I, Li, may know whom to thank?"
Little Fox propped up her chin, her large eyes blinking behind the mask. "The rules of Dark River forbid revealing client information. But... I can give you a small hint. That person's surname is Sun."
The Sun clan?
Ye Chen was standing in the corner. At those words, his whole body trembled. The Sun clan... Could it be Old Man Sun? But Old Man Sun had died of a chill three years ago.
"Hey, little stable hand." Little Fox suddenly pointed at him. "You still haven't shown me your broken iron shard. Let me take a look, and I'll tell you one more thing."
Ye Chen hesitated. The Broken Sword was the only thing Old Man Sun had left behind, and it was also his only clue to his origins.
Li Qingshan nodded at him, signaling that he should hand it over.
Ye Chen gritted his teeth, took the Broken Sword from inside his robe, and placed it on the table.
The blackened, rust-covered iron shard looked no different from a piece of scrap metal picked up from a forge. It had not the slightest sharpness.
Little Fox picked it up and examined it. She lightly tapped the blade with her fingernail.
Clink...
The sound was faint, but clear and lingering, nothing like the clatter of scrap iron.
Her eyes behind the mask suddenly lit up.
"Just as I thought..."
She suddenly bit her finger, and a drop of bright red blood fell onto the Broken Sword.
The entire main hall held its breath.
The moment the drop of blood touched the Broken Sword, it sizzled and was sucked inside. A dark-red vein suddenly appeared across the black blade, resembling a blood vessel running from the hilt to the broken tip.
Then a faint sword intent, ancient and unbearably lonely, spread throughout the main hall.
Li Qingshan and Li Muwan felt only a tremendous weight in their chests, as though a boulder had been set upon them.
But Ye Chen once again saw a vision.
This time, it was not an old man wielding a sword. It was a grave—a lonely grave atop a snow-covered mountain, with a broken sword planted before it. Eight words were carved into the gravestone: "One sword has broken; one lifetime has withered."
Beneath them was a smaller line of text: "Those with the destined blood will have it acknowledge its master and see Hidden Sword Valley."
The vision vanished.
Little Fox had already returned the Broken Sword to him. Her voice turned serious for the first time. "It has acknowledged you as its master. Congratulations, little stable hand. You now have a ticket into Hidden Sword Valley. But that also means the entire martial world will hunt you down from this day forward."
She stood and stretched. "I'll stay here for these three days. Three days from now, the Iron Sword Sect will return. When that happens, pray for yourself."
With that, she took up her parasol, leaped onto the rafters, and sprawled there to sleep, no longer paying anyone the slightest attention.
That night, Ye Chen did not sleep.
He sat in his room, holding the Broken Sword and lightly nicking his hand with it, letting his blood drip onto the blade.
Drop after drop, the blood was sucked inside. The red veins across the blade grew brighter and brighter.
And inside his head, an aged, hoarse voice suddenly rang out—not another vision, but a real voice.
"...At last... someone has finally come? Are you a descendant of the Ye clan?"
Ye Chen was so frightened he nearly dropped the sword. "Who? Who's speaking?"
"I... am merely a wisp of remnant soul left inside this Broken Sword. You may call me... the Sword Spirit."
The Broken Sword had a spirit!
Ye Chen gripped the sword tightly, his heart pounding like a drum. "You... do you know who my parents are? Do you know who killed my entire village?"
The Sword Spirit was silent for a long while before letting out a sigh, one that seemed to hold a century of loneliness.
"Your village... was destroyed by the Ye family's own people... because of Hidden Sword Valley."
The words struck Ye Chen's ears like a bolt of lightning.
People from the Ye family? His own relatives had killed his entire family?