The central region of the Tianhua Domain. White River City.

White River City was built on water — a city that had stood for thousands of years at the exact center of the three-way war between the Radiance, Rage, and Revenge Domain Emperors.

What made it remarkable was a rule that everyone obeyed, somehow, without anyone enforcing it. No fighting inside the city walls. Any warrior who entered — whether a soldier retreating from the front or an independent adventurer — automatically accepted this without being told. Bitter enemies could sit at the same table and eat together inside White River City. The moment they stepped outside, they could reach for their weapons and try to kill each other. But inside, nobody fought.

No city lord had ever governed the place. No formal authority had ever maintained order. And yet for thousands of years, in the bloodiest domain in the entire Tianhua region, this one floating city on the water had somehow kept the war outside its gates.

By any honest accounting, it was a miracle.

White River City was the safest place in all of Tianhua Domain.

The White River outside it was the most terrifying.

How many soldiers and adventurers had been killed there over the millennia and sunk to the bottom — if the water were drained and the bones stacked, the pile might well exceed the famous Floating Mountain Range in height. Anyone who had visited understood that the White River was not a river at all. It was a vast inland sea, essentially without a visible far shore.

This sea had swallowed a third of Tianhua Domain’s land beneath its surface. Its name came from the peculiar milky-white mist that drifted across it constantly, and from a phenomenon called the Hidden Fog — said to be capable of consuming anything that entered it. The sea’s depth was beyond measurement. An entire floating continent had vanished into it ages ago, leaving only the highest peaks of the Floating Mountain Range protruding above the waterline as a collection of miserable little islands, on which later generations had built their cities.

White River City was one of them.

A narrow crescent-shaped merchant vessel emerged from the hazy distance, cutting through the mist. Its deep waterline and full-bellied sails announced that it was a supply ship, heavily loaded. Its owner’s flag had been taken down — in the current confusion of unconfirmed rumors about dead domain emperors and a mysterious new empress nobody had heard of, every vessel arriving at White River City had quietly removed its allegiances from the mast.

When your master’s fate was uncertain, continuing to fly his colors was a particular kind of foolishness.

“Welcome to White River City — you’re safe here!” Old Iron Anchor shouted from the eastern dock, catching the steel hawser the ship threw and wrapping it around the massive bollard in a motion so practiced it looked involuntary.

Greeting and reassuring new arrivals was White River City’s custom. No one remembered when it had started. It had simply always been done, and over thousands of years had become part of the city’s character.

Old Iron Anchor was the finest dock worker here. There was no second candidate for the title. He had been working this dock for several hundred years. He knew everything about this place and everyone who passed through it. Rumor had it he had personally handled the mooring lines for all three domain emperors — Radiance, Rage, and Revenge — at different points in their careers. No one else alive could claim that.

“Well, the gentleman seems to be tipping.” Old Iron Anchor collected the standard fee as always, then noticed the elaborately dressed fat toad-clan merchant extracting a small additional purse. He gave an exaggerated shrug. “Another one hoping to buy interesting information from my mouth.”

“Just three questions,” the rotund toad merchant said pleasantly, shaking the purse in an inviting manner. “Very simple. Answer honestly — whether or not you can answer — and it’s yours.”

Old Iron Anchor performed an excellent pantomime of a man powerless before the appeal of money, letting the other man see the gleam of anticipated success in his own eyes — and then switched abruptly to complete sincerity. “I’m afraid I have to ask — may I refuse?”

His colleagues, who had watched this routine many times, were already reacting. A burly figure covered head to toe in coarse fur, built along the lines of a large primate, was pounding his own chest with both fists — apparently the only way he could fully express how funny he found this. “Outsider, put away that reliable trick of yours! Money is completely useless on our Iron Anchor. You thought he’d collapse in front of you and become some pitiable slave of coin? He only collapses in front of good wine. Wine is the one thing in the world that can defeat him! Hahahaha—”

A creature with eyes mounted on stalks above its head, resembling a large shrimp, waved its spindly arms and adopted an expression of solemn concern. “Not to interfere, wealthy gentleman, but in White River City you can do almost anything — make money, empty everyone’s pockets, that’s all fine. However, if you happen to learn too many secrets you shouldn’t know…”

“Precisely my point,” Old Iron Anchor said. “A gentle word of warning, dear gentleman: in this city, the ignorant are the safest.” He broke into a broad grin.

“I see!” The toad merchant took no offense. His smile remained entirely pleasant.

His two escorts looked slightly less relaxed about the exchange.

“Fengji, Jinyun — go back and report to the young master and the ladies. Tell them we’ve arrived at White River City.” The fat merchant waved a dismissive hand.

Someone had already emerged from the ship’s cabin.

Yue Yang, and alongside him, two figures wrapped in cloaks with veils across their faces — Fengxian and the Southern Wilderness Demon King, disguised thoroughly enough that their extraordinary appearances were concealed. Behind them came Liuye, who had kept her normal look, her beautiful eyes moving constantly as she took in everything around her with the uncomplicated curiosity of someone for whom the whole world was interesting.

Anyone who didn’t know better would have assumed she was Yue Yang’s handmaid.

The rotund toad merchant was, of course, Jude — Yue Yang’s most skilled money-maker, a step above even the versatile Baoguo in the specific art of commercial maneuvering. Fengji and Keen-Eye Jinyun served as forward guards. Behind them came Zhongguan, Heitu, and Baima, the three-man surrender group now in Yue Yang’s service. Spotted Pattern and Flying Locust had stayed aboard to watch the cargo, along with the Wild Bull Brothers, who could not be made to move anywhere voluntarily as long as food and drink were within reach. Gray Wolf was greedier than the Wild Bull Brothers in its way, but it had genuine self-discipline about one thing: wherever Yue Yang went, it followed. The moment its master stepped off the ship, it fell in behind him, and no amount of food on board could have changed that.

“Young master, perhaps a sedan chair?” Jude suggested, nostrils already working. “The damp here is severe.”

He was right that something was in the air. Beyond the salt-laden sea moisture, there was something else — faint, partly masked, but unmistakable to someone paying attention. The particular residue of blood. The kind that remained after rain and time had worked on a mass casualty site for a few days.

Yue Yang said nothing.

With the Heavenly Eye of Wisdom, he could read the situation more clearly than the others. The blood smell wasn’t coming from the White River at all. It was coming from inside the city.

And it wasn’t animal blood.

“Ritual blood sacrifice,” Fengxian said — not aloud, but through the Heart-Link bond connecting her with Yue Yang and the Southern Wilderness Demon King. “That’s my read.”

“So White River City is a good deal more interesting than the legends suggest,” the Southern Wilderness Demon King replied through the same channel. “Blood sacrifice to open what, exactly? The Water God Palace? Some other ancient ruin?” She was sharper than her playful exterior suggested — Princess Qianqian, after all, had identified her as the most notable talent among the Eastern Demon Clan’s younger generation.

Yue Yang’s analysis ran quickly through the available information. “They must have just received word that the Radiance and Rage Domain Emperors are dead and the Revenge Domain Emperor has left. If they had no connection to the Central Divine Hall, this wouldn’t be happening. They knew about the Solar King’s scheme against the three domain emperors — but they’re not the Solar King’s people. If they were, they’d have done this openly long ago rather than waiting for the right moment. Their relationship to the Water Palace Master Cang Long is unclear. We go in and look. A city where the dock workers are hiding Sky-rank tier six cultivation is worth examining carefully.”

He kept his face still behind the silver mask he’d made for this trip, communicating only through the Heart-Link bond.

As for Liuye — the less she knew, the better. Her heart was too transparent. Anyone who looked at her face could read what she was thinking. Better to tell her nothing until the moment came when she was needed to act.

Yue Yang didn’t look back at Old Iron Anchor as he led the group forward into the city.

But Fengxian and the Southern Wilderness Demon King both understood exactly which hidden master he meant.

The old drunk.

Jude was an expert at commerce and completely blind to concealed cultivation — the only person in the group who had caught even a hint was Keen-Eye Jinyun, who had glanced at Old Iron Anchor with a trace of puzzlement, then shaken his head and let it go. But what Fengxian and the Southern Wilderness Demon King could only partially sense and couldn’t accurately measure was not something Jinyun’s level of perception was going to penetrate regardless of his title.

The group walked on.

The moment they were past, Old Iron Anchor put down his bottle.

His bleary eyes sharpened into absolute clarity. He watched Fengxian’s retreating figure with the focused attention of someone making a careful judgment.

“What’s the matter? Just a group of merchants. We get dozens of boatloads every day.” The stalk-eyed creature tilted its head.

“That woman in the middle has some real ability. The others are all Ground-rank, not worth thinking about.” The large furry figure had shed the rough simplicity he’d shown a moment ago — underneath it was a mind that noticed things carefully.

“The woman in the middle is definitely stronger than I am,” Old Iron Anchor said, with a cold smile that had nothing genial in it. “As for the young man — his surface level reads weak. Looks like someone coasting on the women around him. But something feels wrong. We’re too close to success for any sloppiness now. Everyone needs to be at full alertness. No problems at this stage.” He paused. “If someone has a chance, send someone to find out why this group is here. If they’re genuine merchants, welcome them. If they’re here for anything else — deal with it early.”

“Send Fuyu,” the stalk-eyed creature suggested. “That boy is quick.”

“I hope they really are merchants,” Old Iron Anchor said, with a quiet sigh. The sharp light in his eyes dimmed back into the unfocused haze of a man who had drunk too much, the air of effortless threat folding itself away. He tilted the bottle back and finished what remained.

In the distance, several more ships emerged from the mist — their waterlines dangerously low, their hulls full — moving heavily toward White River City through the fog.

Old Iron Anchor raised one weathered hand.

Everyone around him became, once again, a cluster of wine-smelling dock workers scrambling cheerfully toward the incoming vessels.

“Welcome to White River City — you’re safe here!”

(End of Chapter)