At nineteen, Xie Zhensheng was carried out of a pile of corpses in the fighting pits.
His mouth was full of blood, yet he kept saying he could still fight. Sheng Xuanqiu held him down and told him, “No one is asking you to fight anymore. Sleep.”
Xie Zhensheng remembered those words for four years.
For four years, he infiltrated enemy sects and ambushed secret messengers for Sheng Xuanqiu, taking care of all the things that couldn't be done in the open. When he succeeded, he brought back what he had taken. When he failed, he returned injured to accept his punishment.
His name was never entered into the sect register. In private, he could call Sheng Xuanqiu his master. In public, he could only address him as Lord.
Sheng Xuanqiu promised to give him an official place in the sect once the old case was solved. So Xie Zhensheng saved up spirit stones, prepared his disciple's robes, and went into danger time and time again.
Then, during one mission, he found the price paid for him in an old transaction ledger, along with the mark of the sect his benefactor belonged to.
The buyer from his past was reaching out from the shadows. The healer who had treated his wounds was concealing an unspeakable history. And the master he trusted most was still waiting for him to bring back the next piece of evidence.
Xie Zhensheng was good at killing, and good at escaping with his life.
But every time he got away, he knew only one place to return to.
