Iron Ridge City's bustling market was a cacophony of bartering cultivators and clattering carts—until the crowd parted like waves. A young man in opulent silk robes strolled through, flanked by six armored guards. His name was Luo Feng, heir to the Thunderclap Clan, known for his cruelty and unchecked arrogance.
"Out of my way, worms!" Luo Feng snapped, kicking a merchant's stall. Pottery shattered, and the merchant cowered, too terrified to protest.
Xiao Mei tugged Li Wei's sleeve. "Let's go. That's the Thunderclap Clan's spoiled brat. Even the city lord fears him."
But Li Wei lingered, his gaze sharpening. Luo Feng's eyes locked onto a young girl selling spirit herbs—her hands trembling as he snatched her pouch. "These are mine now. Consider it tax for breathing near me."
Li Wei stepped forward, his voice calm. "You dropped something."
Luo Feng turned, sneering. "And what would that be, beggar?"
"Your dignity."
The crowd gasped. Luo Feng's face flushed crimson. "You dare mock me?!" He gestured to his guards. "Break his legs. Leave his tongue—I want to hear him scream."
Li Wei's cultivation pulsed at the 4th Stage of Qi Gathering—pathetically low in the eyes of Luo Feng's Foundation Establishment guards. But Zhao Tian's mind raced, analyzing their stances, weapons, and breathing patterns.
First Guard: Charged with a spiked mace.
Li Wei sidestepped, whispering, "Tiger's Weakness—third vertebrae." His palm struck the guard's spine, and the man collapsed, paralyzed.
Second Guard: Swung a chain whip.
Li Wei ducked, yanking the chain's loose link—a flaw only ancient blacksmiths knew. The whip unraveled, ensnaring the guard's legs.
Third Guard: Lunged with dual daggers.
Li Wei flicked a pebble, hitting a pressure point on the guard's wrist. The daggers clattered harmlessly.
Luo Feng watched, his arrogance crumbling into rage. "You—you're using tricks! Fight me yourself, coward!"
Luo Feng unsheathed his sword, its blade crackling with lightning—a Thunderclap Clan heirloom. "I'll carve your name on your tombstone!"
Li Wei smirked. "Make it 'The Fool Who Challenged a Shadow.'"
The heir attacked, his technique flashy but predictable. Li Wei deflected with the rusty phoenix sword, exploiting gaps Zhao Tian had seen in a dozen similar styles centuries ago.
"Your Storm Severing Strike," Li Wei said casually, "is missing the severing." He spun, his blade tapping Luo Feng's elbow. The heir's sword clattered to the ground, his Qi disrupted.
"Impossible!" Luo Feng spat. "That move is flawless!"
"Flawless?" Li Wei snorted. "Your fourth ancestor invented it while drunk. He forgot to align his footwork with his meridians. You've repeated his mistake for generations."
The crowd murmured in awe. Who is this boy?
As Luo Feng fled, humiliated, a woman in scholar's robes approached Li Wei. Her eyes gleamed with curiosity. "You fight like someone who's studied the Celestial Archives. I'm Mei Ling, a historian. Let's talk… strategist."
Meanwhile, atop a nearby roof, a shadowy figure observed the scene—Jin Rou of the Black Cloud Clan. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Li Wei's movements. "Who are you?" she muttered, her voice a blend of suspicion and intrigue. "No ordinary vagrant moves like that…"
That night, Xiao Mei scolded Li Wei. "You practically handed Luo Feng a map to your secrets!"
Li Wei sharpened his sword, unfazed. "Let him think I'm a scholar with a grudge. The Thunderclap Clan will waste years scouring libraries instead of hunting us."
"And Mei Ling?"
"She's useful. Historians know where relics are buried."
The Thunderclap Clan's humiliation became legend, but the "Nameless Strategist" remained an enigma. As Li Wei's reputation grew, so did the shadows trailing him—allies seeking wisdom, enemies craving vengeance, and curious eyes like Jin Rou's, watching… waiting…