Chapter One: Schemes and Deceptions (Part One)

Huff... Ye Xin suddenly sat up from the grass, his shirt already soaked through with cold sweat, his body trembling, limbs weak, an overwhelming sense of exhaustion washing over him.

He sat in silence for a long while before finally regaining his composure. Letting out a long breath, a bitter smile tugged at his lips.

It had been over four years since he’d found himself inhabiting this body. He had fought tooth and nail to survive, doing countless things over the years that, by the universal moral standards of his previous life, would be considered crimes—grievous sins, every one of them.

But he had no other choice. Unless he was willing to surrender his life, he could only keep going forward.

Although his mental fortitude had been ironclad in his previous existence, even he could not bear the weight of what had happened today. It had left a lingering sickness in him—frequent nightmares, the echo of wailing screams ever-present in his ears. There was no cure for this; only time and his own will could help him adjust.

Perhaps he simply wasn’t strong enough. Or perhaps this world was simply too cruel.

At last, Ye Xin’s mind settled into calm. He slowly raised his head and gazed at the horizon. He had a strikingly handsome face, though his features were still a touch youthful and gentle. He appeared to be sixteen or seventeen years old at most. Of course, this was merely a façade—one he found very useful.

A carriage appeared in the distance. Ye Xin narrowed his eyes, reached for the cloak slung over his shoulder, and draped it over his head.

His features vanished into shadow, a chill radiating from him, seeping outward into the night.

The Black Cloak—first among the mercenaries of Destiny City—was but one of Ye Xin’s many identities.

The carriage came to a stop more than twenty meters away. Several warriors leapt down, their gazes deliberately avoiding Ye Xin, as if fearful of even meeting his eyes. They hurried to the back of the carriage, untied several horses, mounted up, and sped off, leaving the carriage behind.

Night slowly descended. On the road more than ten miles north of Destiny City, a lone carriage sped toward the city.

Destiny City stood isolated, its back against a sprawling ancient forest that stretched for tens of thousands of miles, its face toward endless marshlands. Countless savage beasts roamed the forests and swamps, making the place alive with peril.

In the wilds, night was far more dangerous than day. Daytime belonged to the great beasts, whose territories were clearly marked—trespassers would hear a warning roar before being attacked, giving them a chance to withdraw. But at night, the cunning, vicious smaller beasts emerged, creatures with strange and deadly abilities that were almost impossible to guard against.

Anyone traveling at this hour was either driven by matters of life and death, or possessed extraordinary skill and courage.

Before long, the carriage neared Destiny City. The walls were dark, no lights visible. At the city gate stood a stone monument, carved with ominous words: "Life and Death Are Fate."

The moon had risen above the treetops, its pale light illuminating the monument. The blood-red characters were stark and chilling.

The carriage rolled to a halt. The coachman in the black cloak slowly removed his hood, revealing a pale face—Ye Xin himself.

His eyes lingered on the monument, his expression complex. Barring the unexpected, this would be his last entry into Destiny City.

After nearly twenty minutes, the carriage entered a brightly lit alley and stopped before a grand door adorned with a large, vertical red lantern.

Two men with swords strapped to their backs stood guard. As soon as the carriage stopped, they hurried over. The one on the left caught sight of the oppressive black cloak, then the executioner’s blade embroidered across the chest. He drew a sharp breath, his rigid posture shrinking, and forced what he thought was a friendly smile.

“You’re here...”

“Is Fei Chuan inside?” Ye Xin asked quietly.

“Yes, yes, he’s waiting for you,” the man replied, nodding eagerly. “The boss has been waiting for you.”

“Good.” Ye Xin jumped down from the carriage, opened the door, and reached inside, pulling out an enormous coffin—almost a meter and a half in height and width, weighing several hundred pounds. Yet Ye Xin lifted it with one hand and carried it inside with long, steady steps.

The lighting was dim, and with Ye Xin cloaked in black and his body hidden behind the coffin, from a distance it looked as though a great coffin were floating through the air—a sight sure to make anyone’s skin crawl.

Soon, Ye Xin disappeared from sight. The man on the right couldn’t help but whisper, “Who is that? He dares keep Boss Fei waiting?”

“Boss Fei isn’t necessarily waiting for him,” the other replied, hesitant, lowering his voice. “That’s the Black Cloak.”

“He’s the Black Cloak?!” The man on the right was shaken. He’d been in Destiny City long enough to know all the major players and rumors.

The Black Cloak had appeared two years ago. No one knew his face or origin—only that his voice was male and he didn’t seem very old. He only ever entered Destiny City at night, always leaving before dawn.

Most warriors came to Destiny City seeking experience and fortune, hoping to make their mark fighting the beasts outside the walls. The Black Cloak, on the other hand, seemed intent only on clashing with people—often killing at will and refusing to join any faction.

Most strikingly, the Black Cloak had only been around for two years, while other warriors had earned their fearsome reputations through decades of bloody struggle.

By now, the Black Cloak youth had entered the inner hall. Four warriors stood watch at the door; recognizing him, they sensibly opened the door wide and stepped aside.

Carrying the massive coffin, Ye Xin entered. At the center, seated on a couch, was a burly man—Fei Chuan, master of the Dragon’s Maw Hall.

Before Fei Chuan stood a table covered with money bags. He was meticulously counting the gold coins within. As the boss, he had no need to care about such sums; it was simply a peculiar fondness—he loved the sound of gold coins colliding.

Anyone who knew Fei Chuan would have found the scene amusing. Every one of his habits, from the way he walked to his personal quirks, were inherited from his elder brother, Fei Qi.

If Fei Chuan was a rebellious jackal, then Fei Qi was a true tiger. Fei Chuan idolized his brother and had unconsciously adopted all his ways.

When Fei Chuan saw the Black Cloak youth enter, he barely spared him a glance before returning his attention to the gold.

Ye Xin set the coffin down carelessly, took a seat to the side, head down and silent.

At last, the coins were counted. Fei Chuan stood up, his gaze settling on the half-open door, as if waiting for something.

After a moment, seeing no movement outside, a trace of suspicion crossed his face. He cleared his throat softly.

This, too, was a habit picked up from his brother—a prelude before speaking, signaling everyone to shut up and listen.

“Where is Qiao Shentong?” Fei Chuan asked slowly.

“Dead,” Ye Xin replied succinctly.

Fei Chuan was taken aback. The man he’d sent to contact Ye Xin was dead—and Ye Xin offered no explanation. But more pressing matters demanded his attention. After a pause, Fei Chuan spoke again: “What’s in there?”

“What you asked for,” Ye Xin said, just as curt.

Fei Chuan walked slowly to the coffin, about to touch it when he stopped, glanced back, and signaled with his eyes.

One of his bodyguards hurried over, lifted the coffin lid.

Fei Chuan didn’t distrust Ye Xin, nor did he lack confidence in his own strength. But his brother had always warned him: a man of worth does not risk himself needlessly. He had a reputation to maintain—no need to court danger in person.

The coffin lid opened, revealing the corpse of a woman. In life, she had been beautiful; now her skin was blue, her face frozen in terror and despair, her body covered in wounds, one leg grotesquely twisted—a sign of a desperate struggle.

Fei Chuan could not contain his excitement. He strode forward, seized her collar, and tore it open.

On her navel was a tattoo, now split down the middle by a deep, bloody gash. Though the tattoo was distorted, it was clearly a scorpion.

“The Black Widow, eh? Even you met your end!” Fei Chuan burst out laughing, his voice echoing, his hand running through his hair with wild delight.

“My payment?” Ye Xin asked abruptly.

“I always keep my word. You’ll get what you’re owed,” Fei Chuan replied, a look of admiration in his eyes as he gazed at the youth. “You’re very capable, Black Cloak. Why not join my Dragon’s Maw Hall? In Destiny City, my word carries weight. No matter your purpose for coming here, with me you’ll find many conveniences.”

“No. I prefer things as they are,” Ye Xin answered, shaking his head.

“No need to answer now.” Fei Chuan smiled faintly. “I’ll give you time to consider. Besides, in my eyes, there are only two kinds of people in Destiny City—those who are with me, and those who are my enemies.”

“I don’t like being constrained.” This time, Ye Xin’s tone was resolute.

“A pity,” Fei Chuan said, turning slowly, a flash of murderous intent glinting in his eyes.