In the inn, everyone except Yu Sanniang had collapsed to the ground. Even the waiters had long since slumped over, making it clear who the mastermind behind this incident was.
Yu Sanniang no longer appeared as delicate and meek as before. An intangible shift had taken place in her aura. She was still the same person, with the same face, but her demeanor had grown sharper, her beauty now edged with a hint of aggression.
"Originally, I thought the Three-Day Drunk would stir up enough resentment and anger among you to make you turn on each other, saving me the trouble. But every time conflict arose, you stubbornly held back. In the end, you’ve forced me to take matters into my own hands."
From the moment these people entered the inn, they had been enveloped in an odorless, colorless mist. At first, it wasn’t poisonous—only when emotions ran high did it transform into a toxin that silently clouded judgment.
This was why, not long ago, the slightest friction had been enough to provoke violent outbursts among them.
"It’s all because of that Miaojiang man."
Yu Sanniang’s tone shifted slightly, laced with resentment as she turned her gaze toward the figure sprawled on the staircase.
The red-robed, white-haired youth lay motionless on the cold floor like the others, his slender frame appearing fragile enough to be cut down with a single stroke.
Yu Sanniang recalled how she had once feared this Miaojiang man, constantly on edge, unable to sleep soundly at night, terrified he might uncover her scheme. Seeing him now, helpless as fish on a chopping block, filled her with satisfaction.
The Three-Day Drunk truly lived up to its reputation—a poison painstakingly developed by the city lord after years of research into Miaojiang texts. In this room were Miaojiang natives and prodigies from various sects, yet none had realized they were being steeped in poison day after day.
So much for the so-called righteous factions.
Yu Sanniang touched the corner of her eye, careful not to let laughter crease her skin.
Meanwhile, in a corner, Ninth’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at the girl’s face mere inches from his, utterly oblivious to Yu Sanniang’s words.
Chu'he pressed a finger lightly to her lips, signaling him to stay silent.
Ninth’s lips curved, and he brushed a featherlight kiss against her fingertip.
Chu'he’s hand trembled, and she shot him a glare.
Jia Yi refused to accept defeat. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to grip the table and haul his body upright. "You’re from the Eternal City of Yunhuang. You knew we’d pass through here and prepared in advance."
Yu Sanniang smirked. "Once news of the treasure in Canghaizhou spread, which of you could resist staying put? Just as the city lord predicted, even you self-righteous, so-called noble factions couldn’t help but scramble for a share."
"So your goal was to wait here and wipe us all out in one stroke."
Most of the people in this inn were elite disciples of their sects. If they perished here, the righteous factions would suffer a devastating blow—tipping the scales in favor of darkness.
"Lord Jia Yi, you misunderstand. I never intended to act against you here. My mission was merely to gather intelligence. But you pressed too hard, leaving me no choice."
Jia Yi frowned. "You’re the other black-clad figure? No—when the Black Swans fought the assassin, you were still in the inn. It wasn’t you."
In an instant, realization struck. "That assassin must still be in the mountains. You attacked to protect them!"
Yu Sanniang’s playful demeanor vanished. "What does it matter how much you deduce? You’ll die here regardless."
She casually drew a long blade from the scabbard of a fallen Demon-Slaying Guard and advanced toward Jia Yi. "If not for your relentless probing, these people wouldn’t be meeting their end today."
"Lord Jia Yi, grand commander of the Demon-Slaying Guards—tell me, what demons can you slay now?"
"In the end, you’ll still die by the hand of darkness."
Yu Sanniang laughed, but as she swung the blade down, Jia Yi reached out and caught the edge bare-handed. The steel sliced through flesh, exposing bone, and blood gushed forth.
Yu Sanniang’s eyes widened in shock.
Slowly, agonizingly, Jia Yi pushed himself up from the table, his movements unsteady but resolute.
"Do you think the Demon-Slaying Guards’ oath—to purge evil and restore peace—is just empty words?"
He bellowed, "Demon-Slaying Guards! Evil stands before us, harming the innocent. What is our duty?"
"Eradicate the wicked! Uphold righteousness!"
In that moment, the sound of blades piercing flesh erupted throughout the room. The fallen guards drove their own weapons into their bodies, using pain to claw back clarity.
Blood dripped in steady rhythms from all directions as one black-armored figure after another rose, their gazes locked on the demon before them, burning with the will to destroy her.
Yu Sanniang took an involuntary step back, scanning the room. Suppressing her shock, she forced a smile. "You’re just delaying the inevitable. In the end, you’ll all become my bone puppets."
"What if you add us to the count?"
Zhou Xian stepped forward to stand beside Jia Yi, followed by his fellow Spirit-Patrol Guards—equally bloodied, equally unyielding.
Jia Yi shot him a sidelong glance. "Slaying demons is the Demon-Slaying Guards’ duty."
Zhou Xian unsheathed his blade. "No time for divisions. If we don’t kill her, none of us leave alive."
Jia Yi grunted but didn’t argue further, drawing his own weapon. "If you die, I won’t bury you."
Zhou Xian smirked. "Don’t worry—I’ll outlast you."
Before the words faded, they lunged like arrows loosed from a bow.
Yu Sanniang, who had believed the situation firmly under control, seethed at their defiance. "If you’re in such a hurry to die, I’ll send you to the underworld myself!"
A gale howled through the inn, slamming doors and windows shut. The clang of steel and the stench of blood thickened the stifling air.
Yu Sanniang moved like a specter, weaving effortlessly through the onslaught. A thrown blade impaled a Spirit-Patrol Guard’s shoulder before she spun, her hands flashing—countless silver needles, forged from lethal poison, scattering like deadly petals.
The metallic ping of needles deflecting off blades filled the room, but more and more figures crumpled under the assault.
"I told you—you’ll all die."
Just then, a sword swept through, clearing the air of needles.
Murong Meifei stood at the forefront, her robes still fluttering from the motion, her presence as cold and untouchable as a mountain goddess.
Su Lingxi peeked out from behind her guards. "Murong Meifei is the most gifted disciple of the Murong Manor. With her here, we’re safe."
Wuya, however, muttered, "The stronger one’s cultivation, the worse the poison’s effects. Forcing qi will only amplify the backlash."
Sure enough, a trickle of blood escaped the corner of Murong Meifei’s lips.
