The next morning, as the sun rises, Merin steps into the small open space beside his house, sword in hand. He begins to practice the Cloud Sword Technique, each movement slow but precise. However, after only a few minutes, he stops, frowning.

“The space is too cramped. I need somewhere wider.”

Sheathing his sword, he leaves the house and heads toward the city gate, only to find it still closed for the morning. With a sigh, he turns and walks toward the Oouchi River instead.

By the riverbank, the open space is perfect. He draws his sword again and resumes his practice. His form is fluid, each strike slicing through the air with growing confidence.

While training, his eyes are drawn to a large building near the river. One after another, drunken men and women stumble out of it, laughing and swaying as the dawn light touches their faces. From their attire and behaviour, it’s clear the place is some kind of pleasure house. Merin watches briefly, curiosity flickering in his eyes—but he quickly pushes it aside and refocuses on his training.

Eventually, the sun rises higher. Judging by its position, it’s almost time to open the clinic.

Merin ends his practice, wipes the sweat from his brow, and walks back into the city. On the way, he stops at a small street stall to have a quick breakfast of rice porridge and steamed buns.

When he arrives at the clinic, he finds Sora and Ren already waiting outside, along with the Mori family carriage parked nearby. Seeing him, they both bow politely.

“Good morning,” Merin says.

“Good morning, Sir,” Sora replies with a smile.

He unlocks the door and leads them inside. Without another word, he heads upstairs to clean up, while Sora and Ren begin preparing the clinic for the day.

An hour later, after checking a few patients who came early, Merin boards the Mori family carriage and sets out to visit the second patient on his list. By the end of the visit, he had successfully healed her. The following day, however, he fails to cure the third patient, an elderly man suffering from an incurable condition even beyond Merin’s current abilities.

On the third day, he visits the fourth patient and, after examining her, determines that she cannot be healed immediately. Instead, she must take a specially refined potion for a week to fully recover.

Returning to the clinic in the late afternoon, when no more patients usually arrive, Merin begins preparing the ingredients for the potion. Realising this is a valuable opportunity to pass on knowledge, he decides to teach Sora how to refine it.

Merin calls out, “Sora, come here.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replies, stepping into the back of the clinic.

“I’m going to teach you how to refine a healing potion. From tomorrow, you’ll be the one making it. Pay close attention.”

Sora nods seriously. “Understood.”

With that, Merin begins the lesson, explaining each step with calm precision as she watches and listens carefully, eager to learn.

Late at night, the Oouchi River glistens under the moonlight, its slow current whispering against the reeds. A small fishing boat glides quietly across the water, rowed by a solitary man. His wide straw hat casts a shadow over his face, hiding his features from the night and from prying eyes.

Without a sound, another man appears, walking atop the river’s surface. He steps onto the boat with practised ease. The vessel barely rocks.

The boatman speaks, his voice low and steady.

“Sky Sword Sect members will stop at the city for one night, three days from now.”

The man stands still. “And?”

“They’re coming to suppress your family,” the boatman says, continuing to row. “They want to let the Mori family take control of the city.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

A chill runs through the standing man’s spine.

Sky Sword Sect…?

The top sect of the Saika Prefecture? What are they doing here, so far south?

Why is a sect from Saika involving itself in Susa City’s politics? That’s at the southern tip of Oouchi Prefecture. And their sect is in the mountains where the Oouchi River begins—miles away.

The man frowns and says, “Don’t the River Gang or the Dread Python Sect oppose them? Local forces don’t take kindly to outside interference, especially not from another prefecture.”

The boatman lets the oars drag slowly through the water. The silence that follows feels heavier than the mist blanketing the river.

Then he speaks again, calm, almost indifferent.

“The River Gang’s leader is nearing the end of his life. A power struggle has already begun over who will succeed him. As for the Dread Python Sect—they’ve aligned with the First Prince.”

He pauses to adjust the angle of the oar, letting the current nudge them forward.

“And the First Prince wants an alliance with the Sky Sword Sect. Your city… It’s the price the Dread Python Sect is willing to pay to secure that alliance.”

The man standing on the boat lowers his gaze. His name is Seiko Kanturo—a high-ranking samurai and patriarch of the Kanturo clan, one of the ruling families of Susa City. A name that once made bureaucrats hesitate and rival clans think twice.

But now…

Even as a high-ranking samurai, he knows what it means to be targeted by a sect like Sky Sword. Their elders are high-ranking samurai. Their inner circle—legends who have touched the threshold of the Great Samurai Realm. It wouldn’t take their whole sect to crush his family. Three high-ranking samurai would be enough.

His hands curl into fists at his sides. His voice, when it comes, is thick with frustration.

“Why the Mori family? Why choose them?”

The man says quietly, “Because the Mori family’s daughter awakened the Crimson Yin Serpent bloodline. She’s now the personal disciple of the Sky Sword Sect’s master.”

Kanturo’s brows knit. “I live in Susa City. I’ve heard no such thing.”

The boatman doesn’t stop rowing. “She’s from a Ryokuzan branch family—hidden until now.”

Kanturo freezes. His thoughts spiral, but no solution comes. His family is caged, with powerful hands closing in from every direction. No one in Susa can stand against a sect’s will—not when it’s backed by imperial ambition.

The boatman continues, his voice low, cutting.

“The First Prince practices the Burning Yang Technique. It’s strong, aggressive… but dangerous. At the threshold of the Great Samurai Realm, it becomes unstable—fatal, even.”

Kanturo’s face darkens. He knows what that means.

“So, he wants her Yin energy… to stabilise the breakthrough.”

The man nods. “He plans to marry the Mori girl, use her Yuanyin to break through safely. It’s mutually beneficial. Her Crimson Yin Serpent bloodline thrives through dual cultivation with a powerful Yang body. The Sky Sword Sect won’t object. If anything, they’ll support it.”

Silence grips Kanturo. The snow drifts gently overhead, untouched by the river’s turmoil below.

The man adds, “If your family wishes to survive, there’s only one path—ally with my master.”

Kanturo looks up slowly. The fire of pride has dimmed in his eyes, replaced by grim understanding.

After a long pause, Kanturo speaks, his voice low. “Then what does your master want me to do?”

The man replies, “Three days from now, you and your supporters will join us in ambushing the Sky Sword Sect members when they pass through the city.”

Kanturo stiffens. “Are you insane? Do you want my entire family slaughtered?”

The boatman remains calm. “Nothing will happen to your family. You’ll be under our protection—and attacking them will benefit you more than you think.”

Kanturo narrows his eyes. “How?”

The man’s voice lowers. “Our intel says the Sky Sword members are returning from the Verdantveil Wilds. They’re carrying a Blood Pearl. If you claim it and use it to break through to the Great Samurai Realm, even the Sky Sword Sect would hesitate to act. Your family would become the undisputed rulers of the region around Susa.”

Kanturo says nothing, but his expression shifts—greed, fear, and calculation flash in his eyes like stormlight.

The man leans forward slightly. “So… what do you say?”

Kanturo takes a breath, then steps off the boat, his foot landing atop the river’s surface. “I’ll think about it,” he says, and without another word, walks away toward the shadowed outline of Susa City, the moonlight casting long ripples in his wake.

—

Merin sits at the front desk, fingers lightly drumming the wooden surface, while Sora moves quietly beside him, tending to a patient with practised ease. The clinic smells of herbs and ointment, the low murmurs of the sick mixing with the creak of old wood and the soft rustle of parchment.

Today, there are no house calls. Sora delivered the message that morning—orders from the central hall to halt external visits for a few days.

Merin accepted it without argument. In truth, it’s a relief.

For the past several days, he’s felt eyes watching him from alleys, from rooftops, from behind passing carts. The feeling had grown so persistent that he stopped going out after dusk, choosing instead to remain indoors or in crowded streets where he was harder to isolate.

The next day passes quietly. So does the next. And the next after that.

By the fourth day, the pressure of those unseen gazes seems to vanish. No shadow lingers too long. No strange footsteps echo behind him. No tension in the air. Merin senses the change, subtle but sure. The watchers are gone.

That evening, as twilight bathes the city in hues of copper and violet, Merin dons a plain cloak, steps beyond the clinic doors, and lets himself drift down the street.

He walks slowly, letting the night wind touch his face for the first time in days. A simple stroll, without purpose—yet with each step, a quiet vigilance still stirs beneath his calm expression.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep