The Nameless Region Chapter Three: Zhou Xuanhong
As night descended, darkness took hold of the world. Yet within Luo River City, lights blazed brilliantly; roving youths wandered the pleasure quarters, and refined ladies strolled through bustling markets. With the Immortal Sect’s recruitment looming tomorrow, the city was alive with excitement.
The throngs of people, caught up in their revelry, remained oblivious to the impending second earthquake destined for Luo River City. Beneath the surface of lively streets, dangerous currents stirred; in the shadows, countless cold eyes gleamed in the darkness like vengeful spirits.
Luo River City was ablaze with light, but beyond its walls stretched endless darkness. Zhou Xuanhong stood by the window, gazing into the distant gloom in silence. Gone was the daytime frivolity and roughness; an invisible aura now surrounded him, casting him as the master of Luo River City, his ambition unmistakable.
Xiaona had fallen into an unusually deep sleep; Zhou Xuanhong had added something to her meal. He didn’t want his woman embroiled in this coming battle—this was not her concern. Let her sleep; by the time she awoke, all would be over.
“Xiaona, for you, I’ve given up a tremendous opportunity.”
As time slipped by, the city’s lights dwindled. Eventually, curfew fell, and Luo River City was swallowed by the darkness beyond its walls, plunged into silence.
On a distant city turret, a flicker of firelight appeared. Zhou Xuanhong smiled, let a nail drop from his sleeve, and hurled it upstairs with lightning speed. With a dull thud, a corpse collapsed, its eyes wide in disbelief.
Zhou Xuanhong donned a mask, leapt from the inn's lofty balcony, and vanished into the night as a shadow.
Inside the Wang family estate, a tall man paced the hall, uneasy for reasons he couldn’t name. As the moon rose higher, his anxiety intensified.
He climbed onto the roof, surveying the pitch-black city, feeling something was amiss but unable to say what.
“Strange! Why haven’t the night watchmen passed by tonight?”
Startled, he shouted, “Someone! Gather all the enforcers, summon the guest elders—something’s not right tonight!”
But after several moments, there was no sign of anyone—not even a dog’s bark. Only the echo of his own voice bouncing from distant walls. The tall man fell silent, knowing something was terribly wrong.
“Where is everyone? Where have they all gone? Come out, at once!”
Suddenly, a cold voice sounded from outside the Wang gates: “Stop shouting. Apart from your Wang family, everyone else is dead.”
Masked Zhou Xuanhong vaulted into the Wang courtyard. Two figures appeared at his sides, swords in hand, their blades stained with fresh blood—a testament to recent slaughter.
The tall man drew his supple sword, pointing it at Zhou Xuanhong with a fierce shout: “You arrogant brat! Do you think bribing two of my Wang family guest elders will be enough to wipe us out?”
Zhou Xuanhong sneered, “Is that so?”
As he spoke, dozens of masked figures leapt over the estate walls, wielding various weapons. Their formidable presence marked them as skilled martial artists.
“Greetings, Master!”
The tall man’s expression shifted, realization dawning. He asked in disbelief, “Master? You’re the leader of Hong Sect in Luo River City! That makes sense—Hong Tonghong, just founded a few years ago. Zhou Xuanhong, take off your mask—I know it’s you. Only you possess such skill and cunning. Not of the Zhou family, yet you became their heir at eighteen—frightening, really. Thank heavens your Zhou clan was reduced to ashes overnight; otherwise, you’d have dominated Luo River City in the future!”
Zhou Xuanhong didn’t remove his mask, shaking his head. “I could revive the Zhou family now, but there’s no need. The Zhou clan of Luo River is not my home. Wang family master, you don’t seem very afraid. Do you think you still have means to escape my vengeance?”
The Wang master grinned savagely: “You’re celebrating too soon. The Wang family has stood for a century; we won’t be destroyed by a mere youth. With these petty mortals and two low-tier cultivators, you think you can shake us? The Wang family has produced dozens of cultivators—our foundation runs deep. Today you walk into your own trap—none of you will escape!”
Zhou Xuanhong burst out laughing. “Cultivators? Your Wang family’s so-called talents are rubbish at best, barely reaching Foundation Establishment. If you had produced a Golden Core, I wouldn’t dare covet your family’s fortune. Or are you referring to last year’s Wang Li, whom you treat as a prodigy? In my eyes, he’s nothing but trash.”
The Wang master was unfazed. “You’re unaware—the so-called ‘trash’ you mention has been accepted as a personal disciple by a Golden Core elder of Xingyuan Sect, who declared he has the talent to reach Golden Core himself. And you should know, my estate now boasts an immortal formation—deadly and defensive, ensuring none of you leave alive!”
Zhou Xuanhong shook his head. “Wang master, if you think I’m a man of consequence, why assume I don’t know about your formation?”
“What do you mean?”
Upon Zhou Xuanhong’s words, unease surged again in the Wang master’s heart. For all his power, he was no Immortal Sect member; before Zhou Xuanhong’s calm, he felt as if facing a creature from the abyss.
“I mean nothing. I just think your formation may not obey you as well as you hope. Why not try activating it?”
The Wang master steadied himself, withdrawing a circular disc from his inner pocket, inscribed with dense, strange runes radiating extraordinary power.
As he prepared to act, a Hong Sect disciple, unable to restrain himself, leapt forward to decapitate the Wang master.
Clang!
To his surprise, a golden shield erupted from the Wang master’s body, repelling him.
The Wang master laughed. “I thought you had some clever plan—turns out it’s just a sneak attack. You overestimate yourself.”
A middle-aged man, brimming with inner strength, knelt before Zhou Xuanhong. “Master, this one is new to the sect—young and impulsive. Please forgive him!”
“We’ll discuss this later.”
The middle-aged man wondered why the usually cold master hadn’t immediately vented his wrath; killing the young man would require but a word.
Zhou Xuanhong looked at the Wang master. “Go on.”
The Wang master snorted, sliced his sword to draw blood, and pressed it to the disc. Instantly, brilliant light flared. White lines emerged across the Wang courtyard, forming intricate patterns.
These lines shot beams skyward, forming a cylindrical barrier that enveloped the Wang estate.
The Wang master laughed triumphantly. “Zhou Xuanhong, the formation is triggered. Let’s see how you break it!”
Zhou Xuanhong sneered. “Break it? Why would I? You’re wasting your spirit stones to activate the formation—I should thank you.”
“What do you mean?”
Without another word, Zhou Xuanhong produced a similar disc from his own pocket.
“You know Wang Hu, right? The disciple from your family at the Immortal Sect recruitment three years ago—one of the architects of your formation. Suppose your main branch’s oppression drove him to defect, letting me ally with him to overthrow the main branch today and elevate the collateral line?”
The Wang master erupted in fury. “That bastard! Such treachery—I don’t believe it. Try activating your disc, if you dare!”
“Some only see the truth at the end. Watch closely, old man!”
Zhou Xuanhong sneered, infusing his disc with spiritual power. Instantly, the formation reversed, while the Wang master’s disc shattered with a crisp crack.
“No!”
The Wang master collapsed onto the roof, nearly falling off, his eyes filled with despair. He knew his fate was sealed.
Zhou Xuanhong coldly declared, “Had you not triggered the formation, I wouldn’t have wasted so many words. Your time has come—prepare to be executed!”
Before his words faded, Zhou Xuanhong, two cultivators, and two more hidden in the shadows struck together. In seconds, they shattered the Wang master’s golden shield, revealing a talisman—a common defense among cultivators.
Zhou Xuanhong severed the Wang master’s head with a single stroke. He and the four cultivators exchanged nods, then stormed off in five directions, targeting the Hong Sect members.
In an instant, more than a dozen Hong Sect members were slain. None could comprehend why their master and these cultivators were slaughtering their own.
“Run!”
“The master wants to kill us all!”
“How cruel, master! We served you faithfully, and this is how you repay us!”
“There’s no escape—the formation traps us here.”
The middle-aged man realized why the master hadn’t punished the impulsive youth: they were all to be killed, so it mattered not who died first.
Screams, curses, venomous words, and final laments mingled together. Through it all, Zhou Xuanhong’s expression remained utterly impassive, as if he were slaughtering livestock in a market, not his own trusted followers.
In less than a minute, Zhou Xuanhong and his four allies had wiped out every Hong Sect member on site—none survived.
A gray-haired old Taoist stroked his beard and addressed Zhou Xuanhong: “Master Zhou, impressive methods. These men served as your knives—you severed them without hesitation. Such resolve, once matured in the cultivation world, will surely make you a dominant force.”
A woman over fifty, leaning on a staff, sneered: “Though they showered me with gifts as guest elders, mortals are mere ants. Master’s choice is wise—there’s no need to risk exposure for a few ants.”
Zhou Xuanhong smiled faintly. “You flatter me. Now that I’m a fifth-layer Qi cultivator, my perspective transcends the mundane. If not for the treasures in the Wang family vault, I wouldn’t waste time with these Wang family ants.”
“Let’s go, esteemed elders. It’s time for me to fulfill my promise. You’ll receive every item you requested.”
The five entered the family master’s bedroom. A surge of sword Qi shattered it, revealing a secret chamber—a treasury filled with rare treasures.
These were not worldly goods—they scorned such trash. What they sought were cultivation treasures: spiritual herbs, ores for forging immortal tools, spirit stones, and so on. This vault housed them all.
As they selected their prizes, the voices of the city guards echoed from the nearby street. Zhou Xuanhong turned to the four, saying, “Time’s up. Here’s what we’ll do—let me store the rest in my pouch, and we’ll divide it later. Agreed?”
The four exchanged glances. They doubted Zhou Xuanhong could keep it all for himself, and if any other veteran cultivator held it, distrust would run deeper. They decided to let Zhou Xuanhong safeguard the treasures for now.
Storage rings are used by cultivators, employing the great Sumeru technique to store far more than their apparent capacity—weightless, as if placed in another dimension.
Zhou Xuanhong discreetly exited the treasure chamber, produced a small array disc, and turned to the four cultivators with a smile: “Thank you for your aid. Now, it’s time to part ways!”
The four were shocked, unleashing their power in a desperate bid to escape. But it was too late. Zhou Xuanhong had already activated the array within the chamber, and as he stepped out, the formation sealed them inside.
Their wild attacks nearly destabilized the array, but Zhou Xuanhong was unconcerned. He became a shadow, leaving the Wang estate. From afar, he watched as city guards approached, coldly crushing two array discs.
“No!”
The four let out a final roar. An earth-shattering explosion followed. Two arrays unleashed violent spiritual energy, sweeping in all directions. The four within were annihilated by the self-destruction, dying with boundless hatred for Zhou Xuanhong.
Nearby, hapless guards were obliterated, and many ordinary residents perished or were injured.
And the architect of all this strolled leisurely through the dark streets, muttering, “With the blood of thieves in my veins, my methods, style, and cunning grow ever more like theirs. Am I still myself?”