Be ruthless.

“May I ask what advice you have, brother?” Qin Hao sensed that his opponent’s strength was not inferior to his own and grew wary.

“I am Feng Han, son of Elder Feng Ji of the Evil Sect’s Death Gate. I would like to play a game of chess with you all.”

“Oh? And why should we play with you?”

“I believe your powers have waned considerably. How about joining me to pin down one person? Of course, I am not unreasonable. If you lose, you hand over the Corpse Pill to me. If you win, I will give you a finely forged steel saber. Brother, what do you say?”

“Alright, I’ll play with you,” Qin Hao said without hesitation, taking a seat opposite Feng Han. He then willingly entered the chessboard. Instantly, the board expanded greatly, and a contract materialized out of thin air—an agreement binding both players. Qin Hao immediately realized this was a special miniature world. He recognized the chessboard as the eleventh-ranked weapon on the Armory Manual—the Binding Chessboard.

This chessboard held no inherent lethality, but once a contract was formed between two players, it gained power. The nature of the game could vary wildly—chess, Go, even military strategy—while the board itself served merely as a vessel. After a brief discussion, Qin Hao and Feng Han agreed to play Chinese chess. Feng Han took the red pieces and opened with the pawn advancing three steps and the “Immortal’s Finger” formation. Qin Hao responded with a pawn and cannon formation from the bottom.

Back and forth, the game was fiercely contested; neither side could gain a clear advantage. Midway through, Qin Hao took a risky move, sacrificing a piece to seize the initiative—not a minor piece, but a major chariot. During the match, the pieces were vividly embodied, flesh and blood incarnate, a divine ability granted by the weapon. When Qin Hao’s horse captured Feng Han’s cannon, it was like a real horse trampling the enemy’s piece.

In the final phase, Qin Hao checkmated Feng Han with a single pawn. Both withdrew from the board. Feng Han accepted defeat gracefully, handing over the steel saber to Qin Hao. Then he asked, “May I inquire your name and who your master is? Your chess skill is extraordinary.”

“Qin Hao. No master—I simply enjoy playing chess in my spare time.”

“I am Feng Han. We shall meet again another day.” With that, Feng Han vanished before Qin Hao’s eyes.

Feng Lan could not help but ask, “Since when did the Evil Sect become so easy to talk to?”

“I don’t know, but this weapon is fascinating. It not only ignores differences in cultivation but can also hold someone in place. A valuable tool,” Qin Hao replied.

The three of them then headed to a tavern, finally able to relax. Meanwhile, the academy’s instructor overseeing the mission—Lu Hedao—was engaged in a heated battle with none other than Feng Ji.

It turned out that just as Qin Hao defeated the corpse puppet, Feng Ji intended to swoop in and reap the rewards. Lu Hedao happened upon the scene, and the two clashed fiercely. Thus, the only obstacle remaining was Feng Han.

...

When Lu Hedao’s subordinate reported that the enemy was a corpse puppet rather than a zombie, he fretted like an ant on a hot pan, fearing for the students’ safety. Especially Princess Gongsun—if anything happened to her, he would be held responsible. Though she was guarded by experts, what if?

“Xiao Hu, help me tidy up the clutter. I’m going out to check on the academy members.”

“Yes, Instructor.”

Lu Hedao donned the academy uniform and headed toward the mission town.

...

Feng Ji boasted loudly to his son along the way, recounting his past feats—how he had escaped sieges by several major sects, how he had bled for the Dao Alliance and so forth. Feng Han could only listen in silence.

Suddenly, a group of masked men leapt out from both sides, blocking their path.

“Do you know who I am? How dare you block me?”

“I don’t care who you are! If you don’t leave money here today, you’ll die!” The bandit leader threatened, ready to attack. Yet his men did not move. Turning back, he saw severed heads scattered about and immediately panicked, “What’s going on?”

“Still want to block my way?” Feng Ji sneered at the clowns before him.

“Please, sir, I didn’t recognize you. Let me go, please,” one pleaded.

“Heh,” Feng Ji prepared to strike, but Feng Han interjected, “Maybe we should let them go. They look pitiful. Besides, I think...” Before Feng Han could finish, blood splattered across his face.

“Son, you’re too kind. The Evil Sect thrives on making others fear us.”

“But...” Feng Han began.

“But what? Do you know how your eldest brother died? Because he was too foolish, too naive, not greedy or ruthless enough! Do you think those bandits turned to crime out of necessity? Their blades are stained with blackened blood! Their calloused hands show they’ve killed many! What’s the difference between them and us? It’s better they died—it’s like doing a good deed.” Feng Ji’s harsh words silenced Feng Han, leaving him speechless.

...

When the two arrived at the town entrance, coincidentally, Lu Hedao also appeared. Feng Ji saw Lu Hedao clad in his yellow academy instructor uniform, while Lu Hedao noted Feng Ji’s bloodied appearance. Without hesitation, they prepared to fight.

“You go in first. If the corpse puppet is dead, bring back the Corpse Pill.”

“Understood.”

“Who are you? I, Feng Ji, am a nameless one who won’t die from poison!” Feng Ji shouted at Lu Hedao.

“I am your Lord Lu!” Lu Hedao retorted, brandishing his war hammer. Without further words, they clashed. Feng Ji drew his paired sword and engaged him fiercely, secretly hiding poison in his sleeves, occasionally striking at Lu Hedao’s face.

The duel was intense until reinforcements arrived. The corpse puppet had been eliminated, and several Yellow-clad squads prepared to leave. Hearing the commotion, they came to investigate. Left with no choice, Feng Ji called off the fight.

On the way out, Feng Ji spotted Feng Han and asked if he had secured the prize. Feng Han replied no. Feng Ji did not blame him.

“It’s fine, it was just a corpse puppet—nothing important.”

“Are we heading back now?”

“Why be reluctant? Then stay in Yanjing a few more days. Remember, be ruthless! Don’t be kind! The martial world is full of people pretending to be pitiful—you never know when they’ll stab you in the back! Trust no one!”

“Understood.” Feng Han parted ways with his father.

Having lived all his life at the Evil Sect headquarters in Jiangxin Province with his father, Feng Han had never been to Yanjing before. Everything he saw along the way fascinated him, and he decided to stay a few days longer. However, he soon forgot his father’s advice. He squandered all his money in a brothel, simply to make the entertainers laugh.

Penniless and struggling, Feng Han faced the grim prospect of missing his next meal. Theft was unthinkable—though part of the Evil Sect, why, he did not know, he still had a conscience. So, recalling a trick he’d learned from a playbook, he took a piece of cloth and wrote on it: