Little Pink Starfish

To gain fame in the martial world, one must do something truly thunderous.

Naturally, Six Doors wouldn’t put all their eggs in one basket. Besides Hua Rongyue, they had also dispatched Jiang Lianhuan and a young woman who had made it onto the Heroic Youth Ranking in her previous life. The goal? Compete for spots on the newly refreshed ranking.

Their mission began with a half-month “publicity tour” through Jiangnan. During this time, they were required to stay in close contact with Six Doors and monitor any shifts on the ranking.

Since all three lived near each other, their designated meeting point was the same—a small wooded area on the outskirts of town.

Jiang Lianhuan arrived with his personal attendants. The young woman brought a stockpile of weapons and several carts full of luggage.

And Hua Rongyue?

She brought… the “screenwriters,” “directors,” and “makeup artists” that Six Doors had assigned.

It was obvious their missions were different. Jiang Lianhuan and the girl were clearly there to fight their way onto the ranking with real skill. Hua Rongyue, by contrast, had the vibe of a well-funded state-sponsored con artist team.

She wasn’t surprised. Within certain circles of Six Doors, people didn’t really see her as the real Yi Linglong. So the higher-ups had come up with all sorts of ways to “make up for that gap.” After all, understanding the value of hype and paid promotions wasn’t unique to the modern world—the ancients had their own version, just a bit rougher around the edges.

Jiang Lianhuan, as a noble son of a renowned Jiangnan family, naturally received top-tier treatment—even if he did nothing. Meanwhile, Hua Rongyue, the penniless wage slave, had to walk there on her own.

In the woods, she met another Six Doors agent—Zhang Yue, a seemingly honest and simple man.

He chatted with her the whole way, telling endless stories. Clearly, Six Doors didn’t only recruit elite fighters; they had a few chatterboxes too.

Apparently, Zhang Yue was new. “You know why Six Doors picked this place as our starting point?” he asked. “It’s actually one of our secret training grounds… I trained here back in the day—it nearly killed me.”

Hua Rongyue thought to herself: So this is like the Forest of Death from Naruto, huh?

Chatting as they walked, the two arrived at a clearing with several carriages. Most of them were simple—standard Six Doors vehicles. Two large, one small.

Also present were Jiang Lianhuan’s personal carriage and another, unknown one.

People bustled about, but no one spoke loudly. Still, the scene carried a certain vibrant energy.

Jiang Lianhuan’s carriage was easy to spot—no need for confirmation. Two snowy-white horses were hitched in front, with tiny red markings on their foreheads—eerily similar to Jiang Lianhuan himself, who always wore white and sported a red earring.

Most other people would be riding in Six Doors’ standard carriages, drawn by plain horses that wouldn’t attract attention. These would leave in staggered groups to avoid notice.

Hua Rongyue couldn’t help but stare at Jiang Lianhuan’s horses, which looked so much like their owner it was almost funny.

Zhang Yue, meanwhile, was fixated on the unknown carriage. “Holy crap—透骨龙 (Bone-Piercer)!” he exclaimed.

Turns out, others were also subtly watching that carriage. Hua Rongyue, not knowing much about horses, had overlooked it entirely—it just looked skinny and sickly, like a pile of ribs on legs.

“This horse is good?” she asked Zhang Yue, curious.

He reluctantly tore his gaze away. “You have no idea. It looks scrawny, but it could run a thousand li a day. Who uses this kind of horse for pulling a carriage? Its owner must be insanely rich.”

Hua Rongyue chuckled. If this had been about clothes, figures, or snacks, she might’ve felt a pang of envy. But horses? She couldn’t care less. Modern or ancient, she’d never even driven one—let alone appreciated them.

“That carriage’s with us?” she asked.

“Must belong to someone from Six Doors,” someone replied nearby. “This area’s a training ground—some officer probably left it here.”

Jiang Lianhuan nodded and disappeared back into his carriage. Zhang Yue whispered, “See? Even he couldn’t help asking. He thought he had the best ride, and now someone else shows up with an even better one. I don’t like that guy. When he joined Six Doors, people treated him like a god. We’ve been here ages and he hasn’t even said hi.”

Hua Rongyue smiled and tried to soothe him. Truthfully, they had been there for quite a while, and no one had acknowledged them. They were told only to wait, and then follow the carriages on foot. Clearly, they were the nobodies of the operation.

Hua Rongyue, dressed plainly, was easily overlooked. Even in this training camp, no one recognized her. Not even Zhang Yue had known who she was until they chatted. Her low-key behavior meant most people in Six Doors didn’t realize how skilled she was with a blade. So she blended quietly into the group, barely making a ripple.

Jiang Lianhuan’s carriage left first. As the others began to board, Hua Rongyue noticed an open seat in one carriage and moved to get in.

But just as she approached, a middle-aged man blocked her path.

“Sorry, this one’s full,” he said with a smile.

Zhang Yue had already boarded. Seeing the empty seat beside him, he looked down, puzzled.

“It’s reserved,” the man explained. “Why don’t you check one of the other carriages?”

Hua Rongyue glanced around. The other two were packed.

She turned back to the man. “When will that person arrive? I can sit here until then.”

“That won’t do,” the man replied kindly but firmly. “What if they show up later—would we throw you out mid-trip?”

No matter how polite his tone, his refusal was clear.

The people nearby began to quiet down. Many were now watching the interaction with interest.

Everyone in Six Doors was sharp. They could tell something was off.

Hua Rongyue instantly remembered the warning Jiang Lianhuan had sent her the night before—about “others.” So this was the ambush—right from the start.

She smiled. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“Well, this small carriage is full. You could try the larger one. It might be cramped, but you’re good at light footwork, right? If standing’s too tiring, I can find you something to sit on.”

Ancient carriages were nothing like modern vehicles. Drivers were wild. If she had no proper seat, she’d get jostled to death.

Worse, she wasn’t just anyone—she was “playing” Yi Linglong. In the current climate, where Yi Linglong’s reputation was still building, appearing disheveled could ruin everything.

For a second, she was reminded of her past workplace struggles. So much for the fantasy of martial world freedom—it turned out there were office politics here too.

The trick wasn’t vicious—but it was slimy. And very effective. As the saying goes: It’s easy to see the king of hell, but hard to deal with the little devils.

People watched her silently. Some looked amused, some worried, others sympathetic or mocking—but no one spoke up.

This was still the Jianghu, after all. As much as people imagined it as a place of righteousness and blood-oaths, this was a mini version of the real world.

Clearly, the middle-aged man was taking the lead in ostracizing her. No one wanted to stick their neck out and become the next target. Not even Zhang Yue spoke.

“If you’re unhappy with it, you can go on foot,” the man added with false concern. “Time’s short. We really should get moving.”

“You’re not letting her on, and you want her to walk next to the packed carts?” a voice suddenly called from afar.

Everyone turned, stunned. Even Hua Rongyue was caught off guard. The voice was familiar—but who would speak up now?

A moment later, the once-idle carriage rolled forward.

One of the skeletal horses stopped before Hua Rongyue, its eyes calm and docile.

Then someone pulled back the curtain.

Li Huai appeared, waving cheerfully to Hua Rongyue.

Everyone’s eyes widened.

Even Hua Rongyue froze.

That gesture… was clearly an invitation to board.