The burly man felt an overwhelming surge of killing intent. Though the terrifying young man before him hadn’t even moved, a bone-deep fear seized him, followed by an intense wave of nausea.
It was as if thousands of insects were writhing and gnawing at his insides. He collapsed to the ground, clawing at his throat, retching uncontrollably.
The methods of the Miaojiang people were always impossible to guard against.
Just as the man felt death closing in, a girl suddenly appeared.
"My Ninth is one of a kind, the most perfect person in the world! How dare you mistake him for someone else!"
Chu'he stood protectively in front of Ninth, pointing fiercely at the man on the ground. "Apologize right now to my incomparably handsome, brilliant, dashing, and extraordinary Ninth!"
Her arrival was like an incongruous spring breeze sweeping through a blood-soaked battlefield, bringing with it a strange glimmer of hope.
The man, grasping at this lifeline, gasped out between labored breaths, "I’m sorry… I’m sorry…"
Chu'he turned back, clinging to the young man’s arm and leaning against him affectionately. She tilted her face up, beaming. "Ninth, he apologized! Does that make you feel even a little better?"
Despite the crimson-robed, silver-haired youth radiating an aura of lethal menace, she acted as if oblivious, treating him with the same warmth as always. When she looked at him, her beautiful eyes shimmered with unmistakable adoration.
Ninth’s lashes flickered slightly as he gazed down at her in silence.
Chu'he suddenly sprang up. "Fine! I knew this man deserved to die for daring to anger my beloved Ninth. I’ll slap him a few times to avenge my most favorite, most precious Ninth!"
Rolling up her sleeves, she charged forward with a fierce expression. Just as her palm was about to strike the man’s face, Ninth’s cool fingers caught her wrist.
Chu'he blinked. "Ninth?"
The young man gently stroked her soft, delicate hand. Under the pale moonlight, his features looked even more ethereal, like a painting. His eyes, which had seemed demonic moments ago, now sparkled with starlight as they settled on her face.
In that instant, he was pulled back from hell into the world of the living.
"Such pretty hands should only ever hold onto me."
Chu'he grinned, her eyes crinkling with joy. "Mm, I understand."
She interlaced her fingers tightly with his, their grip unyielding—unless they chose to part, no one could separate them.
The man suddenly gasped as the sensation of being torn apart from within vanished. He lay on the ground, panting heavily, dazed with the relief of survival.
"Hunter Ma, we have some questions for you."
The man lifted his sweat-drenched face at the sound of her voice.
The girl stood close to the young man, her smile kind. "Don’t be afraid. Ninth is a good person. He won’t kill without reason."
Ninth reached out, smoothing the slightly tousled ribbon in her hair. His fingers trailed down, lightly twirling a lock of her black hair around his pale fingertips, as if playing an amusing game.
Good or evil, he cared little. Which side of the line he stood on depended entirely on her words.
His colors were painted by her alone—so much so that it was hard to tell who truly depended on whom.
Under the bright moon, the crisp clang of blades echoed through the night wind, startling crows from the branches into frantic flight.
Sang Duo, carrying the unconscious Li Furong, darted ahead while Cang Yan stayed behind, blocking Fang Songhe’s relentless pursuit.
Cang Yan’s blade moved like the wind, his dark figure weaving through the night like a ghost.
A flash of cold steel—Fang Songhe’s sword gleamed like frost under the moonlight, its movements steady as a mountain yet capable of transforming into a streak of light in an instant. The two warriors’ strikes intertwined, their silver and black afterimages crisscrossing in a dazzling display.
Their figures blurred as they clashed, their gazes locking in silent understanding of the lethal intent between them. The force of their collision sent shockwaves rippling through the air, like thunder exploding invisibly through the forest.
Fang Songhe had no desire to prolong the fight—his only goal was to rescue Li Furong. But Cang Yan shielded the Miaojiang woman behind him flawlessly. Unless he incapacitated Cang Yan completely, reaching her would be impossible.
Yet the woman was clearly his weakness. Even if Fang Songhe couldn’t harm her directly, disrupting Cang Yan’s focus was still an option.
His stance shifted abruptly, and he feinted to the side.
Cang Yan pursued without hesitation.
Their movements were too fast to follow, leaving only afterimages in their wake. Sang Duo could only hear the relentless clash of steel and see the sparks flying around them.
She wanted to aid Cang Yan with her gu, but fearing she might target the wrong person, she hesitated.
Just then, Li Furong’s eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, she found herself high in the trees, surrounded by the chaos of battle, with a Miaojiang woman gripping her tightly. Instinctively, she struggled.
"Let me go!"
Sang Duo lost her footing but held on stubbornly. "Quiet down!"
A sharp crack—the branch snapped, sending both girls plummeting.
Cang Yan’s reflexes kicked in. He lunged, catching Sang Duo in his arms.
But the motion left him exposed. Fang Songhe’s blade, unable to retract in time, sliced across Cang Yan’s back.
A dull thud—Li Furong landed in a pile of dry leaves, groaning in pain as she tried to recover.
Fang Songhe helped her up. "Miss Li, are you alright?"
"I’m not!" Li Furong ducked behind him. "Who are these people? What’s happening? Am I being kidnapped again to extort ransom from my father?"
"Are all you Central Plains people this unreasonable?" Sang Duo, seeing Cang Yan injured, seethed with anger. "If not for Cang Yan saving you, you’d have fallen off the cliff and died!"
Li Furong peeked out from behind Fang Songhe, eyeing the black-clad man skeptically. "You… saved me?"
Cang Yan remained silent. As he bent to set Sang Duo down, Fang Songhe suddenly noticed the torn fabric on his back—revealing a crimson plum blossom birthmark on his tanned skin.
Fang Songhe’s expression shifted. He glanced back at Li Furong.
"You foolish Central Plains idiots!" Sang Duo’s silver bracelets chimed as a swarm of insects buzzed ominously around them. "You’ll pay for hurting my puppet!"
"Stop!"
A breathless voice cut through the tension. A young woman, bent over with her hands on her knees, gasped for air before shouting, "None of you are enemies! Stop fighting!"
Sang Duo froze, nearly choking on her own breath—not from the feeble woman’s interruption, but from the sight of the crimson-robed youth standing beside her.
