Sun Yanwan didn't know who these people were, but he was almost certain they were after him. "They must be related to Master somehow. But are they friends—or enemies here to wipe me out?"
Curious, he trailed them quietly, even taking time to disguise himself—grabbing a hat from a clothesline, changing into a half-worn outfit, and smearing mud across his face.
It had only been a couple of days since he developed true qi, and though still new to it, he could already feel the difference. As he followed the gang of martial men at a fast pace, every movement felt light and powerful. Things that once seemed difficult were now effortless. "If just a few days of inner strength makes me feel like this… wouldn't people who've trained for decades be like real-life superheroes back on Earth?"
"Somewhere between Wolverine and Captain America…"
The group eventually gave up searching and slipped into a large mansion.
He glanced at the plaque above the entrance: Sun Residence. "So many martial men under his roof, and the owner's surname is Sun? Must be that Xiang Master of the Liuyang Sect—Sun He—the inn boy mentioned."
As he wondered whether Sun He was friend or foe to Miao Youxiu, another group appeared. Over ten men in mourning garb approached, heads wrapped in white cloth. The bearded man leading them carried a visible bundle on his back. Sun's heart jumped. He recognized that man—one of Hu Fengwei's strongest lieutenants, wielder of the twin-headed spear.
"How did he track us?" Sun wondered. Then it clicked. "Master must be waiting for them!"
Miao had been cautious throughout their journey. There were no tracking devices in this ancient world. It was near impossible to follow them. But Miao Youxiu must have predicted where Hu's men would take his corpse—and gone ahead to ambush them.
"Is Master okay? Is he in danger?"
Just then, a youthful voice rang out from within: "Situbao Wei! Bet you didn't expect me to catch up so soon!"
The bearded man and his men rushed out in panic. Miao Youxiu followed with a single saber, killing several in seconds. His presence radiated authority and death. Sun's blood boiled with admiration—he wanted to charge in and fight beside his master.
But there was no need.
Miao's blade was so fast that in the blink of an eye, all but one were dead. The last—Situbao Wei—tried to flee, but Miao's blade was already upon him. In a flash of precise cuts, the man's arms were sliced clean off, followed by his head.
The young swordsman let out a sharp whistle and vanished into the streets.
Sun, watching it all, felt a chill. "Good thing I didn't run out to help. Master had it under control. If I'd gone, he might have been distracted protecting me and lost his edge. Or worse—maybe he wouldn't have protected me at all…"
Murder in broad daylight was terrifying. The street had cleared long ago. No one from the Sun Residence dared to show their face.
Sun Yanwan's days as an inn servant had taught him something important: poverty is terrifying.
He'd robbed a corpse once—but left the loot behind. He was still broke.
He couldn't resist. He dashed toward the bearded man, snatched the bundle, then searched the corpses. Five money pouches—one especially heavy.
With his loot secured, he sprinted away. Soon, the inn came into view.
But just before reaching it, a hand grabbed his collar from behind and pulled him into an alley.
He almost shouted—until he saw Master's familiar face.
Miao Youxiu smirked. "You've got guts—robbing the bodies too?"
Sun hesitated, then chose honesty. "I've just been poor too long."
Miao chuckled at his frankness. "I killed Situbao Wei and wiped out the Sun clan. The Hu clan's top fighters will come soon. We need to leave immediately."
They weren't the kind to hesitate. Their belongings weren't worth much. They didn't even go back for the carriage. They fled the city and walked half a day before finding an abandoned temple.
The structure was half-collapsed, but the main hall still stood.
Sun dumped the bundle, gathered dry grass to make bedding, and helped Miao settle down before slumping into the pile himself, gasping for breath.
The past few days had been a whirlwind. He'd seen more death here than in an entire year back on Earth.
He finally calmed down and opened a money pouch—then noticed something odd sticking out of the bundle.
He pulled it open—inside were stacks of palm-sized paper notes, some old, some new.
He took one out. The printing was fine, stamped with an official seal. The characters were different from Earth's—but somehow, he understood them.
They were flying cash—government-issued notes from the Great Lang Dynasty.
The Great Lang economy used mostly copper coins and silver ingots, but because they were heavy, the court issued flying cash—notes that could be exchanged for real money at official banks. Though rarely used in daily life due to large denominations, they were common in big transactions.
Just like jiaozi in the Song Dynasty, or silver notes in classic wuxia tales.
Sun didn't know why that bearded man had so much.
He couldn't help but grin.
"Master," he said, "looks like we just struck it rich."