Jin Yuyuan had always believed himself to be the master of the chessboard, but tonight, he realized with a start that he was merely a pawn being led along.
“Aren’t you afraid…” His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice hoarse with emotion, “afraid that this act will become too real, and you’ll end up trapped in your own game?”
Shangguan Huanxi met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “From the very beginning, I knew exactly what kind of ending my plan would bring.”
Those words were the final straw, crushing all of Jin Yuyuan’s pride.
He erupted in fury, his eyes filled with unprecedented desperation and obsession. “But I trusted you, Shangguan Huanxi! You were the first person I’ve trusted in twenty years!”
“Is that so?” Shangguan Huanxi raised her longsword, the cold glint of the blade reflecting in her dark eyes. “Then I’m truly honored.”
With that, she moved like lightning, darting toward Jin Yuyuan. The sword sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, its deadly edge aimed straight for his face.
Jin Yuyuan’s pupils contracted. Instinctively, he leaned back to evade, snatching a sword from one of the black-clad men nearby. He barely managed to parry—steel clashed, sparks flying.
Shangguan Huanxi twisted her wrist, her strikes growing fiercer, forcing Jin Yuyuan into retreat.
Her swordplay was like a fleeting swan’s grace—each move precise, lethal, and deceptively effortless. The blade moved so fast it left only a trail of cold light in its wake.
This was the world’s greatest swordsman, the culmination of the Shangguan lineage’s martial arts. Her sword, driven by an untainted heart, was unstoppable.
Her strikes carried an unshakable purity. To interfere would be nothing short of blasphemy.
Wenren Buxiao’s gaze flickered faintly as he recalled the first time he had met her—challenging her, only to be defeated.
Time and again, he had lost to her, yet he kept returning, drawn by the unfathomable depths hidden within her swordplay. Resentful yet inexplicably captivated.
She had never changed.
Chu’he didn’t understand, but she could sense something extraordinary. Clutching her cheeks, she couldn’t contain her admiration. “Such an amazing sister!”
Ninth snorted, displeasure flashing in his eyes.
Heart Knife clutched his head, muttering in disbelief, “I’m the dashing gentleman who flits through a thousand flowers without a single petal sticking to me! Falling in love? Impossible! Absolutely impossible!”
Jin Yuyuan was no match for Shangguan Huanxi. He had already suffered several wounds, yet they healed unnaturally fast.
Shangguan Huanxi frowned slightly.
Jin Yuyuan still had his trump card. Knowing he couldn’t hold out much longer, he activated the puppet parasites he had planted in his subordinates. One by one, the black-clad men threw themselves in front of him as human shields, buying him precious seconds—but not enough.
With a venomous glare at Shangguan Huanxi, he barked toward the direction behind her, “Now!”
The maid standing beside Luo Qiaoqiao suddenly went blank-eyed. In a flash, she snatched the child from Luo Qiaoqiao’s arms and hurled it outward.
Heart Knife reacted swiftly, knocking the maid unconscious.
“No!” Luo Qiaoqiao screamed, her voice breaking.
Shangguan Huanxi’s sword aura dissipated. She pivoted mid-motion, catching the falling child in one swift motion. At the same time, Jin Yuyuan seized the opportunity to vanish into the night.
Luo Qiaoqiao rushed forward, sobbing uncontrollably as she took the child back from Shangguan Huanxi.
“Why cry? He’s not dead yet.”
Luo Qiaoqiao froze, lifting her tear-streaked face. “Miss… why… why did you save… save Yan’er?”
“He is also a child of Canghaizhou.”
Shangguan Huanxi turned away, her toes lightly tapping the ground as she pursued Jin Yuyuan into the darkness.
Luo Qiaoqiao stood motionless for a long moment before finally bending over, clutching the child tightly. Amid the infant’s innocent cries, she pressed her forehead hard against the cold ground.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
Wenren Buxiao’s eyes suddenly hardened with resolve. Gripping his blade, he followed Shangguan Huanxi’s path—just as he had countless times before.
In the eastern district, Murong Meifei and Murong Meixin moved in a dance of flashing steel, the latter’s incessant shrieks of “Filthy! Filthy!” ringing through the air.
Murong Meifei finally snapped. “If you don’t stop screaming, I’ll knock you out!”
In the southern district, Left-hand Knife and Right-hand Knife fought back-to-back, their seamless coordination leaving no opening for their enemies.
Left-hand Knife: “Why hasn’t Third Brother returned yet?”
Right-hand Knife: “Did he go off to commit arson again?”
In the western district, Su Lingxi crouched at the mouth of an alley, protected by crows. Every time a stray fiend tried to slip past, he kicked it back.
He couldn’t help but grumble, “Why are there so many people on the other fronts, but only a few stragglers here?”
In the northern district, Zhou Xian and the Demon-Slaying Guards were cutting down enemies left and right when another wave of black-armored reinforcements arrived unexpectedly.
“Jia Yi?”
Jia Yi shot him a glance. “Didn’t expect you to be this slow. Is this the army Wenren Buxiao trained?”
Zhou Xian bristled. “Watch your tone! I’ve already killed thirty-two fiends!”
Jia Yi smirked. “Only thirty-two? I’ve got thirty-three.”
Zhou Xian fumed. “Fine! Then let’s see who can kill more!”
More and more people surged into the streets, weapons in hand, beating down the fleeing masked figures. Not a single fiend was spared.
Jia Yi spotted a familiar face. “Hey!” he called out. “Weren’t you locked up in prison?”
It was the thief they had captured not long ago, his eyes still bruised from the scuffle. He thumped his chest proudly. “What prison can hold the Phantom Moon Thief? Don’t worry, once we’re done with these fiends, I’ll go back to my cell.”
The next moment, the self-proclaimed Phantom Moon Thief charged forward with a wooden pole. “If you fiends destroy Canghaizhou, where am I supposed to rob the rich to feed the poor?!”
The civilians who had been hiding now poured into the streets, a sea of furious voices clamoring for blood. Years of resentment against the fiends who had plagued Canghaizhou fueled their merciless strikes.
Sang Duo hid in a tree, observing the chaos. She nudged Cang Yan beside her. “With Lady Shangguan’s strategy, it seems we won’t need to lift a finger.”
She nearly slipped, but Cang Yan silently steadied her with a hand.
The tides had turned completely. The one who had thought himself the mastermind, Jin Yuyuan, was now the one with nowhere to run.
Though he couldn’t die, his strength was nearly spent. Staggering and disheveled, he still clutched the bookcase strapped to his back.
Gritting his teeth, he darted toward the tower, climbing to the highest floor. He carefully placed the bookcase beneath the altar table, draping a curtain over it.
Now, he had to escape.
But as he reached the door, a chill crawled up his spine. Turning, his gaze collided with a flash of crimson.
“This doll is just as ugly as Wenren Buxiao’s.”
A youth held up the swaddled “child,” examining it under the moonlight with innocent curiosity. No matter how his silver ornaments jingled, the “child” in his arms remained fast asleep.
"Let me see, let me see!"
A girl in green robes popped up behind the red-clad, white-haired boy, tugging at his arm as she stood on tiptoe, eager to get a closer look at the "child" he was holding high above.
But he deliberately teased her, refusing to lower his hand, letting her cling to his arm and bounce around in frustration. A mischievous grin played at the corners of his lips.
"Chu'he is so silly. I won’t let Chu'he see."
Chu'he pressed her lips together, cheeks puffing up, and kicked him. "Ninth is the silly one!"
Ninth staggered from the kick, his raised hand tilting slightly—crack—and the "child’s" arm snapped off.
Chu'he froze, then panicked. "Ninth, you hurt him! What do we do now?"
Seeing her genuine distress, Ninth patted her head reassuringly. "Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’ve got this."
He lowered the figure and, with practiced ease, twisted its other arm—crack.
Chu'he shrieked, clutching her head. "It was his right arm that was hurt! Why did you mess with the left one?!"
Ninth covered his mouth with one hand, feigning realization. "Ah, you’re right. His right arm was hurt, so why did I touch the left?"
Then, his ruby-like eyes curved into crescents, shimmering with wicked amusement as the pale-skinned, white-haired boy flashed a thoroughly devious smile.
"It’s all because this puppet you made is so ugly—it made me mix up left and right. And now you’re all worked up over nothing."
Jin Yuyuan’s arms now hung at grotesque angles, fingers twitching faintly as cold sweat beaded on his forehead. His furious glare burned into the Miaojiang boy.
