"This person?" Ye Xiu looked up in utter astonishment as a figure clad in pale blue launched himself from beneath the Moon-Gazing Tower, landing right before him. The descent was silent, ending with a mere touch of a single foot against the ground.

"Brother Ye, isn't the moonlight lovely tonight?" Lang Taotian waved cheerily at Ye Xiu before turning to salute the Third City Lord.

"Please, sit down, Your Highness, the First Prince," Qing Lin inclined his head respectfully to Lang Taotian and invited him to take a seat.

"The First Prince? Just what is your relationship?" Ye Xiu was utterly bewildered, feeling adrift in the strange space between the two men.

"Lang Taotian is, and always has been, the First Prince of the Water Clan. This is common knowledge within the Three Swords Realm; only a boor like you, raised in the wild fields, remains ignorant," the Third City Lord smiled faintly and nodded to Ye Xiu. This was, of course, an insinuation; the fact that Qing Lin referred to Ye Xiu as a country bumpkin in front of Lang Taotian showed that he was deeply suspicious and trusted no one, not even Ye Xiu.

Ye Xiu shook his head, fully grasping Qing Lin's meaning, yet he still clapped Lang Taotian on the shoulder with genuine surprise: "Damn it, you’re the Water Clan’s First Prince? My apologies, my deepest apologies."

"Brother Ye, no need for such formality. Let's stick to calling each other brothers, hah!" Lang Taotian truly considered Ye Xiu a brother. "Truthfully, I should thank you for looking after my sister, A'jiao. She’s quite mischievous; few in the Water Clan Palace can keep her in line."

"So A'jiao is a Water Clan Princess as well!" Ye Xiu couldn't believe his luck. Since reaching the Three Swords Realm, everyone he'd met was either a princess or a prince, a lord or a governor. Was this the legendary stroke of fortune where one meets a benefactor upon setting out?

"Haha! Since you two are already old acquaintances, we must drink until we drop tonight! Cheers!" Qing Lin was clearly a man of robust nature; despite all his careful planning, the untamed spirit of youth could not entirely be suppressed.

After a few drinks, Ye Xiu’s mind was still churning with questions. "Both City Lord Qing and Brother Lang are men of insight, so I won't mince words. The Four Swords forged by Elder Bing Ao—which the Great City Lord mentioned—each represent a different race. So why do the Water Clan and the Wing Clan never use swords?"

Qing Lin understood Ye Xiu's point but genuinely had no answer. "The forging of the swords by Elder Bing Ao is likely legend, and the fact that no one in the Water or Wing Clans wields a sword is based on centuries of observation."

"That’s right. I can’t speak for the Wing Clan, but from my earliest memory to this day, I have never seen a single Water Clan member use a sword," Lang Taotian vowed, thumping his chest.

"Young Master Ye, don't overthink things. Dwelling too deeply on every issue tires a man," Qing Lin advised kindly. "What you need to focus on now is winning the First Martial Arts Tournament. That is how you will claim the Desert Sword of the Beast Clan. As for what comes after, I will make arrangements."

Ye Xiu was uninterested in Qing Lin's counsel. He wasn't the only one thinking too much; perhaps only the sheltered Shen Ying in the Ten Thousand Swords Royal Family was guileless. The other three were undoubtedly plotting their own courses. Yet, thinking it over, taking things step by measured step was the ultimate path to victory. "It seems this tournament is entirely within the Third City Lord's control. I suppose I have no choice but to win this championship."

"Haha, Brother Ye, rest assured. During the final showdown, I will certainly lend you my full support," Lang Taotian seemed genuinely eager for Ye Xiu’s triumph.

Ye Xiu nodded and toasted him, wondering what benefits the Third City Lord could possibly offer the Water Clan’s First Prince to secure such loyal service. If his suspicions were correct, Qing Lin’s ambition was the Ten Thousand Swords City, while Lang Taotian’s sights were set on the entire Water Clan Palace, or perhaps even farther afield.

Qing Lin was delighted by Lang Taotian's pledge, perhaps feeling the effects of the wine. He carelessly draped an arm over Ye Xiu’s shoulder, disregarding his status as the Third City Lord: "In the final three days from now, you two only need to put on a show—a bit of showy fighting. Better yet, use your supreme lightness skills so no one can even see you move."

"City Lord Qing jokes. Brother Ye might manage that, but Lang Taotian isn't that skilled," Lang Taotian admitted with self-awareness, though a thought struck him as amiss. "My performing with Brother Ye isn't the issue, but I fear the other two might interfere, making it hard to control the outcome. Why don't we each take one? With Brother Ye’s skill, matching up against Zhan Fengyue or Yi Tiannan shouldn't be a problem, and I will give my absolute best; victory will follow naturally."

"Alas, it seems the First Prince hasn't grasped the City Lord's true intent," Ye Xiu handed Lang Taotian a full cup, gesturing for him to down it before continuing.

Lang Taotian shot a resentful glance at Qing Lin, who merely narrowed his eyes and offered a strange, knowing smirk.

Seeing Lang Taotian drain the cup, Ye Xiu laughed. "Actually, the Third City Lord already deduced the affiliations of Zhan Fengyue and Yi Tiannan. Given the irreconcilable animosity between the Beast Clan and the Wing Clan, those two are bound to fight each other to the death in the final round. At that point, the two of us brothers only need to play along, waiting until they are both severely wounded, or perhaps until one barely wins, then we take that person down together. Wouldn't victory then be assured?"

"Sigh..." Lang Taotian slapped his forehead in annoyance. "How did I miss such a simple point? I really am drunk—truly drunk."

"You ask how deeply I love you, and how much love I possess!" Ye Xiu was also quite tipsy, rising to his feet to belt out a popular, catchy ballad. Yet, the more passionately he sang, the deeper the sorrow in his heart grew.

"City Lord Qing, look, Brother Ye is also drunk. He’s singing to himself," Lang Taotian chuckled with drunken haze, swaying precariously.

Wan Jian Qing Lin took another sip. Honestly, there were times he wished he could be as carefree as Ye Xiu, unburdened by the constant need to conceal secrets. This was fate—the unfairness of destiny had forced him into the position of a subordinate Third City Lord, and he would fight against it.

The cold and warmth of the north wind are known only to the lonely heart; the waxing and waning of the flowers and moon leave the solitary master alone. Wan Jian Canglong, too, carried a profound melancholy. The Ten Thousand Swords City, left behind by his ancestors as a chaotic mess, was now orderly under his management. But the undercurrents beneath this stability were turbulent. Years ago, he had single-handedly pushed through the decree establishing humans as the superior caste, despite the strenuous objections of Xuan Hu, Qing Lin, and all the civil and military officials. This seemingly harmonious, ironclad rule—forbidding the Beast, Wing, and Water Clans from openly displaying their racial martial arts within the city—had stoked the ire of the other three Royal families. Yet, without that law, the Human Clan could never have regained its dignity and stood tall. Governing a small dispute was easy; governing an entire world was impossibly hard. More often than not, he longed to cast aside the Ten Thousand Swords City, take up his peerless sword, Jue Tian Jing Hong, and wander the lands as a mere swordsman, pointing his blade toward the world.