As for the state of the nation, in Henry Blake’s view, it was far from stable—unruly wanderers roamed everywhere, in the south there were many enclaves relying on natural barriers to proclaim themselves kings, beyond the Liangzhou Pass the Northern Liang eyed the land covetously, and even in the Central Plains, it was rumored that hidden, ill-intentioned forces lurked beneath the surface.

Henry Blake had always lived in small frontier towns—poor and isolated. Hearing about the undercurrents and the turbulent state of the world, he naturally believed that Great Wei was far from a prosperous golden age.

But only after truly arriving in the capital did he realize how much he had underestimated this world.

The capital was vast in scale, with eight horizontal and six vertical main avenues, totaling fourteen main streets, branching into thousands of alleys. The permanent population likely exceeded a million. Infrastructure such as drainage and greenery was quite complete; on both sides of the main streets, there were even paved ‘walkways’ of blue bricks for the people to use. It could be called a large metropolis—just without neon lights.

A light rain had just stopped, the weather was cool, and many people were strolling the streets. Along the roadsides were elegantly dressed young ladies and gentlemen, as well as women with children in tow. From the shops by the street, enticing aromas would occasionally waft out, along with the vendors’ cries:

“Authentic kiln-roasted chicken, a family recipe, rich but not greasy…”

The fluffy big bird, never having been on such a crowded street before, was a bit timid. It obediently squatted on his shoulder, staring fixedly at the golden roasted chicken, gently nuzzling Henry Blake’s cheek:

“Jiji~”

Henry Blake paused, took out two taels of broken silver from his sleeve and looked at them—this was all he owned, leftover pocket money from his days as the young master of the escort agency. He had left not a single coin of his family fortune, having given it all to the Pei family.

Two taels of broken silver—let alone renting a house in the bustling capital, even just eating and staying at a cheap inn wouldn’t last him many days.

In the morning, he was still a wealthy young master worth a million; by dusk, he had become a penniless wanderer. Such dramatic ups and downs inevitably stirred feelings in his heart.

But no matter how hard things got, he couldn’t let the bird suffer. As a dignified man, he thought about how to make money, not how to save it.

Henry Blake raised his hand to rub the bird, then went to the roast chicken stall by the street, bought a roast chicken, and casually asked:

“Boss, for outsiders coming to the capital, where do they usually go to make a living?”

“Aiyo! Young hero, you look so distinguished—clearly from an extraordinary background. Asking me is giving me too much credit… There are many outsiders in the capital. When they first arrive and look for a place to settle, they usually go to Mingyu Tower in the east of the city. The big families in the city all hire managers, guards, and stewards there. As long as you’re interested, finding a job is easy…”

“Thank you.”

“You’re too polite, young hero. Here you go, take care…”

…

Henry Blake took the roast chicken, went to a small tavern, ordered some food and wine, and, together with the bird, enjoyed a hearty meal. As the sun set behind the hills, he made his way to Mingyu Tower in the west of the city.

Yun’an City was a city that never slept. Though night had not yet fallen, the streets were already ablaze with lights, and there were even more pedestrians than during the day.

Near Mingyu Tower, Henry Blake dismounted and strolled along the street. On the way, he came across a large government office with doors painted entirely black and no signboard at the entrance.

At first, he thought it was some unknown government office, but after asking around, he learned that this was the infamous ‘Black Yamen’ of the martial world—its function roughly equivalent to the Six Gates. Inside were six chief constables, known as the ‘Six Fiends of the Black Yamen’, whose very name struck fear into the hearts of all in the martial world.

Being an escort was a standard martial profession—not afraid of mountain bandits, but always wary of officials in tiger-skin uniforms setting up roadblocks.

Out of professional habit, when Henry Blake found himself at the ‘King Yama Hall’ entrance, he immediately detoured and headed to the street market where talents were recruited.

Great Wei did not prohibit weapons, so people carrying swords and spears could be seen everywhere on the street. But there were rules: ‘swords sheathed, bows unstrung’. Anyone who brandished a blade in public—fifteen days’ detention and a fine of five thousand coins.

Henry Blake knew the rules. The sword passed down from his adoptive father hung at his waist, covered by his outer robe to avoid alarming others.

He was careful not to disturb others, but he couldn’t prevent others from disturbing him.

As Henry Blake was leading his horse and strolling down the street, he suddenly heard a voice behind him:

“Huh?”

Something moved at his waist—someone had reached from behind and grabbed his sword hilt!

A sword is an escort’s livelihood and lifeline. If it’s taken, you’re as good as dead. To train a warrior’s ‘instinct’, Henry Blake’s adoptive father used to ‘steal his sword’ when he was young—he’d been beaten countless times for it.

The moment he felt the movement at his waist, Henry Blake’s left hand was already raised.

Clang—

On the brightly lit street, a cold flash!

The passersby behind had been casually glancing over, but suddenly a silver dragon leapt forth, sweeping a crescent of cold light through the night.

The street instantly fell silent.

Everyone was startled by the sound of the blade being drawn and turned their heads in unison.

In the middle of the crowded street, a young swordsman in black held an old sword in a reverse grip.

The sword was three feet three inches long, two and a half fingers wide, the blade straight, the hilt wrapped in black cord, the guard and pommel made of brass, all carved with chi dragons.

The blade was not smooth and mirror-like; the front half was covered in fine scratches. Anyone with an eye for weapons could tell at a glance how many storms this old sword had weathered in the martial world!

At this moment, the blade was perfectly still, resting against the right side of a man’s neck behind him.

The man behind was slightly hunched, his left hand on the scabbard. The blade had only been drawn half an inch, but his whole body was stiff, his face deathly pale, and a bead of sweat could be seen rolling down his forehead.

Drip—

Though the bead of sweat was small, its sound could be heard across the street.

The people on the street, seeing this scene, looked on in shock—amazed at Henry Blake’s lightning-fast skills, and equally stunned by Henry Blake’s daring.