Tan Jin recounted the past event that changed his fate forever.

Tan Jin’s father was a military general who loved blades, and because of that, Tan Jin also developed a fondness for them from an early age. As he grew up, he traveled around collecting them. However, while he had a deep appreciation for blades, he was not obsessed to the point of addiction—until one day, when he unintentionally acquired a curved blade, and everything changed.

While traveling westward, Tan Jin passed by a small forest where he witnessed a fight. Several men dressed in black were attacking a woman. He immediately ordered his attendants to step in and help. The woman appeared to be injured and was growing weaker. As soon as the soldiers arrived, the attackers fled, but strangely, so did the woman.

This puzzled Tan Jin. But the affairs of the martial world were complex, and he chose not to investigate further. Just as he was about to leave, he noticed a blade lying on the ground.

It was a uniquely shaped curved blade, its body resembling a crescent moon. The black leather sheath was ancient and intricately engraved with complex patterns. The hilt was made of high-quality darkwood, perfectly complementing the sheath.

As Tan Jin drew the blade from its sheath, a dazzling red light flashed before his eyes, startling him.

One of his subordinates, having seen it, asked, “Is this blade rusted?”

At first glance, the blade indeed appeared rusted. Its crescent shape lacked a sharp tip, and its surface was a rusty red color. However, upon closer examination, Tan Jin realized that while the blade looked corroded, its surface was unnaturally smooth. He instantly recognized it as a treasured weapon. The blade wasn’t broken—it had been forged in this shape from the very beginning. It was a duan tou dao (a “headless” or “blunt-ended” blade).

Such blades were not typically meant for combat; instead, they were symbolic gifts or commemorative display weapons. They lacked a pointed tip to signify that they did not represent killing. Normally, these kinds of blades were unsharpened, but this one was not only sharpened—it was incredibly sharp.

Tan Jin had no idea who had left the blade behind. He waited for some time, but when no one came to claim it, he decided to take it with him.

As mentioned before, Tan Jin loved blades, but he was not an unprincipled or greedy person. He continued waiting for the blade’s owner to come forward, even posting men near the forest to keep watch.

However, as time passed and the blade’s owner did not appear, Tan Jin himself began to change.

Originally a refined and gentle man, he suddenly became aggressive and irritable over the following days. He was no longer as kind and composed as before.

Tan Jin himself sensed that something was wrong. He became increasingly violent, greedy, and plagued by nightmares. Furthermore, whenever he saw a blade, he found himself unable to resist the urge to take it for himself. His love for blades had suddenly become an obsession, pushing him to the extreme. This eventually led to his infamous act of stealing a blade from the imperial palace.

Realizing that something was truly amiss, Tan Jin began seeking answers—right at the moment when Yang Caisheng broke in to steal the blade from him.

During that incident, Tan Jin was seriously wounded. Yang Caisheng was captured but managed to escape that very night.

However, the matter had already been reported to the emperor. Fearing that the emperor would accuse him of fabricating a story to evade punishment, Tan Jin, in desperation, had a friend in the Ministry of War arrange for a prisoner who was already sentenced to exile at the border to take Yang Caisheng’s place. That was how Yang Caisheng was marked with criminal branding and exiled.

After recovering from his injuries, Tan Jin received a light sentence and retired to his ancestral home to recuperate.

Yet after enjoying a few days of peace, Tan Jin unexpectedly discovered that his “illness” had vanished. From that day onward, his obsession with blades faded, and he returned to normal. This was when he realized that all his afflictions had been caused by that duan tou dao. It was a cursed blade—one that led its wielder into madness.

Determined to uncover the truth, Tan Jin delved into ancient texts to research duan tou dao.

His investigations led him to learn about a type of blade called a xue dao (Blood Blade). These blades had a rust-red or deep crimson hue and were rumored to possess supernatural powers. They were forged from a rare iron ore called chi tie kuang (Red Iron Ore), which was buried deep underground. Driven by his findings, Tan Jin traveled extensively and eventually located a similar red iron deposit in a place called Daofu Town.

So how was the crisis resolved in the end? Tan Jin’s solution was simple: He instructed the villagers to bury the remaining ore and all forged weapons deep underground. Furthermore, the blacksmiths who worked with this iron were required to wear thick cotton robes and masks while forging to avoid direct contact with the metal. Before long, those afflicted by the blade’s influence recovered.

Tan Jin never left the town. He changed his name and chose to remain there, dedicating himself to uncovering the true nature of this mineral.

After hearing Tan Jin’s account, the crowd had a clearer picture of past events. While the matter concerning Yang Caisheng still left some questions, the red iron ore problem seemed to have a solution.

Ouyang turned to Zhao Pu. “Should we have Old He bury the remaining iron ore and weapons?”

Zhao Pu rubbed his chin. “But weren’t all the weapons and ore transported away already? Yet the symptoms haven’t improved…”

“Is the red iron ore perhaps a medicinal ore?” Gongsun suddenly asked.

The others exchanged puzzled glances. “Medicinal ore?”

“It’s not as mysterious as you think—there’s no need to talk about cursed blades and dark magic,” Gongsun explained. “This type of ore is what we call a medicinal mineral. Many such deposits lie buried deep underground, covered by layers of accumulated soil. It’s possible that centuries ago, certain toxic herbs grew in that region and were later buried underground. Over time, the herbs underwent chemical changes, much like medicine brewing in a pot. Their properties seeped into the soil and, in turn, into the minerals. When these minerals were later mined and used to forge weapons, they retained the toxic effects, causing those who came into contact with them to experience aggression.”

The crowd listened attentively, realizing the logic in his words.

Gongsun continued, “It’s similar to a river running through a village. The villagers drink from it for generations without issue. Then one day, a landslide occurs upstream, releasing buried toxic plant remnants into the water. The villagers drink it and, suddenly, they all fall ill.”

He then provided a solution: “The cure is quite simple—just like treating intoxication. We need a stronger dosage of detoxifying medicine and vinegar fumigation. Those most severely affected should be immersed in a vinegar bath to sweat it out.”

With that, Zhao Pu hurried off to the military camp to oversee the preparation of antidotes.

As the others returned to their respective tasks, Bai Yutang remained uncertain about his next steps. The case of Yang Caisheng’s supposed corpse had yielded no new leads. If the severed head was fake and the mysterious woman was now dead, things were only becoming more complicated.

Sitting in the yamen courtyard, Bai Yutang sighed in frustration—only to hear a similar sigh beside him.

Turning, he saw Zhan Zhao perched on a chair, chin resting in his hands, looking just as troubled.

Bai Yutang asked, “What are you sighing about?”

Zhan Zhao glanced at him. “You sighed first, so I sighed in response.”

Bai Yutang raised an eyebrow. “You’re imitating me now?”

Zhan Zhao shook his head. “Not exactly. I was just thinking… If I were Yang Caisheng, I wouldn’t return just to cause trouble.”

Bai Yutang leaned forward. “You think he’s innocent?”

Zhan Zhao rubbed his temples. “Not necessarily innocent, but it seems unlikely that he’d willingly expose himself after escaping from exile. He knows he’s a wanted man, and yet he’s been seen multiple times. Either he’s acting recklessly, or there’s something else going on.”

Bai Yutang mulled over this. “So you’re saying… Yang Caisheng might be involved, but not in the way we assume?”

Zhan Zhao nodded. “Exactly. There’s a missing piece to this puzzle. Every time we think we’re close to solving it, something new comes up and throws us off.”

Bai Yutang leaned back against the wooden bench, staring up at the night sky. “You know what I hate most?”

Zhan Zhao tilted his head. “What?”

Bai Yutang exhaled. “People who play games with us. Someone’s leading us around in circles.”

Zhan Zhao tapped his fingers against his knee. “But if we follow the pattern, we might figure out who’s pulling the strings.”

Bai Yutang narrowed his eyes. “Then let’s stop reacting and start setting traps of our own.”

Just as they were deep in thought, a yamen runner rushed over. “Sirs, there’s been a development!”

Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao immediately straightened up. “What happened?”

“The body of the mysterious woman… it has disappeared!”

A cold breeze swept through the courtyard. Bai Yutang and Zhan Zhao exchanged glances.

“Looks like the game isn’t over yet,” Zhan Zhao murmured.

Bai Yutang smirked. “Then let’s play.”