"What so-called noble sects—they're nothing but a gang of bandits."
"We merchants should unite and show them we're not to be trifled with."
"We ought to cut off their trade routes and teach them a lesson!"
"Exactly! Why should they oppress us like this?"
"Why, you ask?" A man in luxurious robes stepped forward, his expression stern and posture unshakable. "Because they are friends of my daughter and son-in-law—and I am the head of the Merchant Guild!"
Chu Sheng swept his gaze over the most vocal complainers and scoffed.
"Zhang Family Bank—your infighting over inheritance has become the talk of the town. Customers no longer trust you and are withdrawing all their silver. You borrowed from me to stay afloat, yet you still haven't repaid your debt, have you?"
"Wang Family Silk—I heard the southern merchants' new shipment arrived, and the cloud-patterned gauze you gambled your fortune on is now unsellable. It was only through borrowing my northern trade routes that you managed to clear your stock. Do you no longer intend to reclaim the shops you mortgaged to me?"
"And the Feng Family Escort—ha! Last month, the salt shipment you were guarding was completely robbed mid-journey. Can you even afford the compensation? Have you forgotten how you knelt before me, weeping and begging for a loan?"
...
Wherever Chu Sheng's gaze landed, the offenders shrank back into the crowd, silenced.
"The importance of trade routes to merchants needs no explanation," Chu Sheng said coldly. "And the extent of the Chu family's trade network—well, that speaks for itself."
"Master Chu, you speak too arrogantly!" Old Master Li stepped forward, his long-standing rivalry with Chu Sheng flaring up. "Yes, trade routes are vital, and in the Jiangnan region, you have no equal. But if we ally with the Zhao family and cut off your northern business, even you would suffer dearly!"
"That's where you're mistaken."
A soft voice drifted from above, drawing everyone's attention.
The window on the second floor of the inn swung open, revealing Zhao Rongyue bathed in candlelight, her figure graceful despite the visible curve of her pregnancy. Behind her stood Zhao Shuxing, watching curiously, and a silent, black-clad bodyguard.
Zhao Rongyue first nodded slightly to Chu'he and Fang Songhe, then smiled at the crowd. "Master Chu and I have had most pleasant discussions. The Zhao and Chu families are allies, not enemies."
Old Master Li's face darkened. Seeing Chu Sheng's triumphant smirk, he flicked his sleeve and stormed off.
Chu'he's connections were simply too formidable—far beyond what ordinary people could match.
As for the man pinned beneath Fang Songhe's foot, those who had hoped to seize the treasure now left one by one, resentment simmering in their hearts.
Chu Sheng approached Chu'he, doing his best to ignore the terrifying presence looming behind her. "Miaomiao, let's go home."
Bai Lian, standing beside Chu Sheng, paled at the sight of the indescribable entity behind Chu'he and nearly fainted against Fang Songhe—who promptly sidestepped, still gripping the subdued man.
Chu'he remained still. Chu Sheng reached for her hand, but suddenly, her fingers twitched.
She looked down. The cut on her finger had vanished without a trace. In that instant, a spark of life flared in her dull, lifeless eyes.
"Ninth!"
She turned and ran. Chu Sheng's hand closed on empty air as he cried out, "Miaomiao!"
The moment living warmth drew near, the swarm of gu insects at the periphery erupted into frenzy, lunging for Chu'he. A massive toad leaped into action, spewing venom alongside a large-eyed creature, dissolving a wave of the insects.
From the shadows, scorpions and centipedes emerged, locked in brutal combat with the crimson gu.
Chu Sheng was frantic, torn between rushing forward and holding back. "Chu'he, don’t throw your life away! Come back!"
"Ninth is alive—I have to find him!" Chu'he pressed on. A small green snake darted out, snapping up an insect about to land on her face.
Fang Songhe knocked out the captive man and was the first to charge after her, his sword cleaving through bloodthirsty swarms.
Chu'he's voice was hoarse. "Brother Fang."
His gaze was unwavering. "Keep moving. Don’t look back."
Next came Heart Knife, taking position at her other side, his blade flashing coldly. He sighed theatrically. "Well, he did call me his dearest friend. Can't very well not help, can I?"
Then came Sang Duo and Cang Yan, followed by Murong Meifei and Murong Meixin.
Murong Meifei spared a glance at Cang Yan mid-fight. "Your puppet swordsmanship is impressive. Does he use a blade?"
Sang Duo bristled protectively. "Cang Yan doesn’t use swords! Don’t challenge him!"
Murong Meixin nodded vigorously. "Yes, no duels!"
Chu Sheng was beside himself until someone nearby remarked, "Master Chu, our reward won’t be reduced this time, will it?"
His throat tightened. "Once we return, I’ll open the vault—take as much as you can carry!"
Black Goose's eyes lit up, "Wife, I finally have money to give your father a birthday gift!"
White Dove swung her long blade and leaped forward, "No matter how lavish the gift is, you still need to sweet-talk my father to make him happy!"
Black Goose shouted, "Wait for me!"
Amidst the corpses of the insect tide, a foul stench filled the air. A single misstep could mean death from a venomous bug.
Yet the young warriors charged forward relentlessly. Blades flashed, sword energy crisscrossed, and blood and ichor splattered onto their robes—but not a single one retreated. They carved a bloody path through the swarm.
Chu'he wiped her eyes, her voice thick with emotion, "Thank you."
These youths acted purely on passion, reckless and unthinking of consequences.
But it was precisely this fearless spirit that made the world so wonderfully alive.
Shangguan Huanxi's lips curled slightly before her gaze hardened as she looked into the distance.
The aura of danger hadn't faded—the faint, rotting stench was nauseating.
Gripping her sword, she turned away, her figure gradually distancing from the clamor before vanishing into the night.
"Ninth! Ninth!"
It felt like she was back in the Poisoned Ones' Den, back to the moment when the boy who once fought for her over a steamed bun had perished in the insect tide.
Chu'he plunged into the heart of the swarm. This time, no matter how badly her hands were torn by the venomous bugs, she felt no pain. The wounds healed as quickly as they appeared, fueling her hope.
"Ninth!"
"Chi Yan!"
"I know you're alive!"
"You have to be alive!"
"Where are you?!"
"Say something!"
A moment passed.
"…Squeak—"
Chu'he froze, then frantically clawed through the corpses of insects. A pale face emerged from the sea of carnage—one crimson eye shimmering like a gem, a smile blooming like spring itself.
Drip. Drip.
Tears, hot and unstoppable, rolled down the boy's pallid cheeks, their searing heat scorching his very soul.
With great effort, he lifted a skeletal hand—still devoid of flesh, bones stark white—reaching to touch her face. But it hovered midair, stained with filth and blood.
Chu'he grabbed his "hand" and pressed it against her cheek. "Ninth… Ninth… I knew… I knew you weren’t dead. You can’t die. You can’t leave me…"
Perhaps her tears held magic.
The surrounding insect swarm dissolved into a viscous substance, crawling over his skeletal, tattered body, slowly reforming into flesh and sinew.
The newly formed flesh writhed restlessly, yet under the influence of her tears, it settled into calm.
Then, skin spread rapidly, covering all fragility in moments.
The boy's lips twitched into a faint smile, his damp crimson eyes misty with emotion.
"Don’t cry, A'he."
"I heard you call my name."
"And… I heard many others… so many voices."
His gaze flickered as he reached for her.
"Sorry… I came back late."
Chu'he threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
The wind stilled.
On the rooftop, Wuya remarked, "The young master foresaw this."
Su Lingxi sat cross-legged, watching the spectacle below before his eyes settled on the pair embracing amidst the sea of corpses. His lips pressed into a thin line.
"Wuya, the story is nearing its end."
Yet whether the ending would be happy or tragic—even he couldn’t say.
