Destined Covenant.
Li Guanyi looked at the starlight emerging from his palm. On the bronze cauldron, the White Tiger's dharma image had been fully awakened. It could now leave his body entirely. In its place, the Scarlet Dragon's image had been completely suppressed, forcibly pinned to the cauldron, unable to even extend a claw.
The Little White Tiger perched proudly on the youth's shoulder, head held high and stepping lightly.
This power was not illusory.
Li Guanyi's first instinct was to go back immediately—
To let that Third Prince of Tiele, bearer of the Canglang (Blue Wolf) dharma image, taste the might of a real dharma technique.
But he was far too exhausted now.
He could only resolve to recover and return tomorrow.
As for the beautiful Yao Guang before him, he remained extremely cautious.
There's no such thing as hate or kindness without cause in this world. To gain something is to pay a price. He'd heard many such "destiny" speeches before. Naturally, he was wary.
So he replied calmly and sincerely,
"A destined covenant? Sorry—I'm already bound by another."
"There's an old man named Siming who beat you to it."
"Maybe you can go talk it out with him and see which path I should take?"
Preferably, the two of you can argue it out for me.
The silver-haired Yao Guang's voice remained as serene as still water:
"I am only a helper, not a guide. Your path is yours to choose, not something bestowed by others. According to the ancient agreement, if you become the one to restore order to this chaotic world, I shall assist you."
"But if you become the sovereign who ignites the fires of chaos—then it is Po Jun who shall come to you."
"Whether Yao Guang or Po Jun—they are two sides of the same star."
"Whether you are the king who stabilizes chaos or the overlord who sets it aflame—either could be your destiny."
Yao Guang rose and sat back before the fire, quietly kneeling with downcast eyes.
"This is a secret realm built five hundred years ago by my predecessors and the then-patriarch of the White Tiger. It contains many teachings on astrology and prophecy. I will remain here to continue my studies. You do not trust me—I will not force companionship. But if you ever seek the guidance of the stars again, come find me."
"I know our fates are not yet severed."
Li Guanyi looked at the stars overhead and replied without hesitation,
"It's already late. Then I'll take my leave."
He dressed, lifted his heavy black blade, slung the Suni bow took twelve arrows, and briskly walked off.
The hooded Yao Guang remained kneeling by the fire, eyes calm. The youth who had fled for ten years never looked back. She simply continued to quietly gaze at the fire.
The two brushed past one another.
Later, the ravine returned to silence.
Yao Guang reached out to take the now-roasted bun, flipped through a scroll, and took a bite.
Rustle—
She paused.
"…"
"…So hard."
She switched to the other side of the bun and kept chewing.
"…Something's wrong with this world,"
Li Guanyi moved swiftly through the night outside the city.
"First Siming, now this Yao Guang—Eastern Astrologers…"
Whether friend or foe, they all meant one thing:
Trouble.
The word a fugitive hates most.
Li Guanyi looked up at the bright starry sky.
He had enough of being hunted.
Five days ago, he had submitted his travel permit to the authorities.
Once he entered the martial realm and inherited the Xue family legacy, he would leave the Chen Kingdom.
When the time came, he'd write a farewell letter and inform Old Master Xue of the secret realm, repaying their kindness.
Not now—it was still too dangerous.
All that destiny talk… had nothing to do with him.
In the clarity of the night, the boy felt lighter. He headed quickly toward Guanyi City.
There was no curfew, but the gates would close until dawn. He planned to wait early.
The night was too quiet—sound carried far.
As he hurried toward the city, a sound of weeping suddenly reached him. Then—
Zheng! A shrill, metallic shriek—
Steel tearing through the air.
The ring of a blade!
Li Guanyi's pupils shrank. He hid behind a large tree, pressed his right hand to the trunk, inner energy flowing, leaped up a meter, and climbed quietly into the leaves.
Bronze cauldron energy flowed in his pupils, enhancing his vision.
The White Tiger dharma image on his shoulder also perked up, curiously peeking in the same direction.
Each dharma image had its traits—even without high cultivation, they had practical uses.
White Tiger governs arms and repels foes.
From afar came cries:
"No! Help! Help us!"
Looking down from above, Li Guanyi saw a brawny old man kicked aside and clubbed on the head with a knife hilt until he bled. A cart was overturned, vegetables scattered, and another man's arm was being twisted.
The leader looked like a sack of potatoes hanging on a bamboo stick—a round face covered in pockmarks.
Li Guanyi remembered him—Qian Zheng.
A wanted criminal was mentioned by the patrols that day.
Qian Zheng, once a border sergeant, had turned deserter and led a gang of a dozen men across the countryside, looting and murdering. Ruthless and blood-soaked—he had taken many lives and defiled many women.
The people were warned not to travel alone.
And now, this was the hour before dawn—when villagers brought produce to the city.
A border sergeant—an elite, martial-level warrior.
Li Guanyi remained silent. He slid down from the tree and quietly retreated.
He hadn't yet reached the martial realm, and after being crushed by the Tiele prince, he wouldn't stand a chance.
Better to retreat.
He walked a few steps, but the voices behind grew clearer:
"We're just poor farmers going to market, sir—please, have mercy!"
"Run, girl! Run!"
"Hahaha! Big bro, this little chick's got some looks!"
"Great! Great!"
"Old man, old hag, open your eyes and look at your daughter—HAHA!"
Li Guanyi's steps slowed. The White Tiger on his shoulder drooped, looking dejected.
The youth looked up at the stars and bit his lip.
He tossed a copper coin.
Heads—he'd turn back. Tails—run.
He flicked it up.
Before it landed, he had already grabbed his bow and turned back.
A tribal bloodline that once yearned only to farm would now dig your grave.
There were many reasons to flee—too many foes, too little strength.
But to act required only one—
His heart wasn't at ease.
First, fight. If he couldn't win—retreat!
Li Guanyi climbed another tree and drew his bow.
No sound in the night.
He loosed the arrow. It flew swift and silent—like a diving falcon.
The man reaching for the girl had his throat pierced clean through.
Forged steel wolf-fang arrow—worth a tael of silver each.
Gift from the noble lady.
Twenty per quiver.
Cost: fifteen taels.
First silver—gone.
A full month's salary at the Hall of Returning Spring.
The gushing blood silenced the surroundings.
Qian Zheng, once a soldier, reacted immediately—rolled aside, and drew a large rattan shield.
The rest were common bandits.
Li Guanyi loosed another volley. The arrows whistled.
Second.
Third.
Being a sharpshooter in the war was a nightmare.
With every arrow, the White Tiger dharma grew stronger, fur bristling, breath heavy, eyes glowing fiercely.
Li Guanyi cleared his mind—raining arrows without pause.
Qian Zheng hacked one arrow apart in midair.
But the broken tip kept flying—
He burst inner energy, spun his body, and caught it with his left hand—still, his palm stung.
His face changed.
"This is a strongbow—at least three hundred taels! Only a top noble's weapon can shoot arrows like this!"
Someone tried to grab a hostage.
An arrow to the throat stopped them cold.
Too fast. Too accurate. Too deadly.
Only a noble's son could shoot like this.
From the Xue family?! Guanyi City?!
Qian Zheng roared:
"He's in the southwest tree—get him! Low crawl! Use your shields! Don't grab hostages—he's from the Divine Archery Xue Clan! At least ten years of training! He'll kill you with a glance!"
"Move, move!!"
His men rushed toward the trees with shields.
Li Guanyi's arrows spun, per Xue family archery techniques.
The first arrow would unbalance them—the second would kill.
Nineteen arrows. Fifteen bandits. All dead.
The blood stench was heavy. Only Qian Zheng remained.
He would dodge slightly to deflect arrows and unbalance them.
Then—he rammed his shield into the tree with a roar.
Boom— it snapped clean in half.
Li Guanyi lost balance and leaped down.
Qian Zheng, behind his shield, charged like a rhino—eyes bloodshot.
He prayed this noble son wasn't also a master of close combat.
Li Guanyi drew his last arrow.
Just like when he fought the Tiele prince.
But this time was different.
The White Tiger roared.
The youth's hair flared as he leaped back, drew his bow—
The golden wind wrapped the arrow, his pupils glinting with white-tiger brilliance.
Even the bow itself hummed.
The arrow fired—
A golden streak of light.
Instantly shattered the shield.
Qian Zheng barely dodged, but too slow—
The arrow pierced through his energy shield, through his left arm, tearing his shoulder and exposing white bone. The arrow soared upward, still unstoppable.
Qian Zheng screamed.
He severed his left arm with a slash and gasped for air.
That once life-saving shield now lay broken. He felt like his soul had shattered too.
Gritting his teeth, he drew his blade and stared at the noble youth.
Above—the seven White Tiger stars shone at their peak.
He watched the youth calmly toss the golden-strung warbow aside…
And slowly draw a heavy black blade.
From his body rose the killing intent—
Of a hardened veteran who had survived a hundred battles.