As the words fell, dozens of black-clad men emerged from the surroundings of the path. Their faces were covered with black cloth, and they wielded long swords. The leader held a young girl captive—it was none other than Gu Feiyan!
"Save me—please save me—mmph!!!"
Gu Feiyan's mouth was muffled by the man, who then greedily inhaled the fragrance of her jade-like neck. "The daughter of Chancellor Gu truly smells divine!"
Chu Ruoyan frowned.
The assailants clearly knew their identities yet acted so brazenly—this was undoubtedly an attempt to silence them.
Chu Ruolan cried out, "Don’t hurt Sister Gu! I’ll give you anything you want!" She hastily pulled hairpins and jewelry from her head and tossed them forward.
The black-clad men paused, then burst into laughter. "This Third Miss Chu is quite the fool. Who wants a turn with her later?"
"Me!"
"I do!"
"We can take turns!"
Lewd laughter erupted from the group. Chu Ruolan, who had never faced such a scene, paled in terror.
Chu Ruoyan took a step back, moving closer to Yan Zheng. "My lord, surely you have a backup plan?"
She refused to believe he would venture here alone. Yan Zheng, amused by her rare caution, teased, "What if I don’t?"
Chu Ruoyan hadn’t expected him to jest at such a moment.
Before she could retort, one of the black-clad men sneered, "Enough with the sweet talk, Lord of Annin. We’ve followed you all this way and confirmed you brought no reinforcements. Rest assured, after your death, we’ll take good care of your wife—"
Before he could finish, a stone shot through the air.
With a sharp whistle, it pierced his throat.
The man collapsed without a sound.
The leader roared, "Attack! He’s just a cripple with two women—they won’t escape!"
The black-clad men surged forward. Chu Ruoyan tightened her grip on the hidden weapon in her sleeve, ready to act if necessary.
But suddenly, warmth enveloped her left hand—Yan Zheng had taken hold of it. "Don’t be afraid."
As he spoke, countless arrows rained from the darkness, streaking toward the assailants like shooting stars.
The black-clad men panicked. "It’s a trap! Retreat!"
Yet escape was impossible. Soldiers emerged from all directions, nearly a hundred strong, encircling them completely.
In moments, the attackers were annihilated.
Chu Ruoyan exhaled in relief as a man in his fifties, clad in official robes, stepped forward. "Former lieutenant of the Yan family army, now commander of the Western City Garrison, Mo Zhongcheng, greets the Third Young Master!"
He knelt, and the soldiers behind him followed suit, their unified motion stirring the blood.
Yan Zheng gestured for him to rise. "Uncle Mo, please stand."
Mo Zhongcheng had followed the general into countless battles, risking life and limb. Despite merits deserving a higher rank, he had remained a mere lieutenant out of loyalty.
Had his daughter-in-law not been in labor during the Hangu Pass campaign, he would have accompanied them—and thus avoided the massacre.
Yet he remained kneeling. "Though the Third Young Master does not blame me, this subordinate cannot forgive himself. When you were imprisoned, I hesitated to act for fear of endangering my family. I have failed the general’s kindness!"
Yan Zheng’s gaze flickered. "His kindness was his own. You owe me nothing. Rise."
Only then did Mo Zhongcheng stand. He turned to the surviving black-clad men. "Who sent you to assassinate a marquis of the court? Speak the truth!"
The man remained defiant, refusing to answer.
Mo Zhongcheng beheaded one without hesitation. Another, terrified, screamed, "I’ll talk! It was the Marquis of Pingjing who sent us!"
Mo Zhongcheng stiffened. "Impossible! The Marquis of Pingjing is dead. Don’t spout nonsense!"
The man pleaded, "It’s true! The one who gave the orders said they came from the Marquis! Spare me!"
Mo Zhongcheng looked to Yan Zheng, who remained silent, instead turning to Chu Ruoyan. "What do you think?"
The woman chuckled softly. "The dead can’t defend themselves. Anyone can smear their name now."
Her implication was clear—someone was using the Marquis’s name as a cover.
Yan Zheng nodded. Mo Zhongcheng ordered, "Take them away!"
Suddenly, Chu Ruolan shrieked, "Sister Gu! Your face!"
Gu Feiyan, who had kept her eyes shut in fear, now felt a searing pain on her left cheek. She touched it—her fingers came away wet with blood.
"Ah! My face!"
A long gash ran from below her eye to the corner of her mouth, the flesh torn and bleeding. It must have happened during the chaos.
For noblewomen of the capital, beauty was everything—especially for an unmarried girl like her. With her face ruined, she might never show herself in public again.
The thought overwhelmed her, and she fainted. Chu Ruolan tried to help but found herself immobilized by a twisted ankle.
Mo Zhongcheng called, "Quick, escort Miss Gu and Third Miss Chu down the mountain for treatment! And First Miss Chu—" He turned to her, his gaze intense with something unreadable, "—please descend as well. This subordinate has urgent matters to discuss with the Third Young Master."
Chu Ruolan stared at her sister pleadingly, as if seeking guidance.
After a brief pause, Chu Ruoyan nodded. "Miss Gu and my sister’s injuries cannot wait. We’ll trouble you, Commander Mo."
Mo Zhongcheng assented, thoughtfully assigning elderly soldiers to assist, preserving the girls’ reputations.
Chu Ruoyan glanced at him gratefully. "Commander Mo, your timely arrival today saved us..."
But he waved her off, approaching Yan Zheng instead.
Under the moonlight, his hand seemed to hover protectively over his chest...
"Third Young Master, there is one more matter I must report—privately."
Yan Zheng looked at Chu Ruoyan. "She is no outsider. Speak freely."
Mo Zhongcheng knelt once more, retrieving a scroll from his robes. "It concerns the truth behind the Hangu Pass defeat. I learned this from a highly confidential source—the entire scheme was orchestrated by the eldest young master—"
As he uttered the word "scheme," a glint of steel flashed.
Chu Ruoyan saw it clearly—a dagger hidden within the scroll, aimed straight at Yan Zheng’s heart.
"Watch out!!"
Her warning came too late—yet Yan Zheng, as if prepared, caught the blade barehanded.
A sickening tear.
Blood gushed from his palm, yet Yan Zheng remained composed, staring at the once-loyal subordinate now twisted with murderous intent. "So it was you, Uncle Mo."
This man, who had followed Yan Xu through decades of war, whom Yan Xu had saved multiple times—had betrayed the Yan family in the end.
Mo Zhongcheng, failing to kill with one strike, leaped back.
Simultaneously, his soldiers encircled them, forming an impenetrable ring.
Mo Zhongcheng sneered, "How did you know it was me?"
Yan Zheng dropped the dagger, his left hand drenched in blood yet seemingly numb. "Aside from Meng Yang, only you, Old Xu, and Shadow knew of my trip to Guardian Temple."
"So you suspected me for leaking your whereabouts? But Meng Yang told me you were in danger and needed reinforcements!"
Yan Zheng’s lips curved, though no warmth reached his eyes. "I had Meng Yang notify all three of you. Only you arrived first."
