With Zhan Haoting on his back, Zhan Haochen couldn’t move quickly. Instead, he was repeatedly jostled and nearly knocked off balance by the clan members fleeing around like headless chickens.
Zhan Haoting forced himself to raise a hand and reached toward his waist, where he kept a dagger. But the movement tugged at his wounds, and cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. His hand paused.
An assassin seized the opening. Slipping past the hidden guards’ defenses, he thrust the narrow blade in his hand straight toward Zhan Haoting’s heart!
Cheng Yao’s pupils contracted sharply. There was no time to think. Acting on instinct, she shoved Zhan Haochen, who was carrying Zhan Haoting, to the ground. At the same time, a dagger appeared in her hand with a flick of her thoughts, and she drove it toward the assassin’s chest!
The assassin twisted aside to evade it and punched toward her vital point.
Cheng Yao’s figure blurred. She appeared behind him, and the dagger plunged deep into his back.
“Go!” she shouted.
Zhan Haochen forced himself to his feet and summoned every ounce of strength to support Zhan Haoting. Taking advantage of the assassins and hidden guards desperately holding off the other enemies, he carried Zhan Haoting deeper into a dark corner.
Cheng Yao followed close behind.
Behind them, the battle raged with utter disregard for life. The hidden guards had clearly resolved to die. Their attacks were relentless, their defenses nonexistent; they fought as if exchanging their lives for their enemies’, clinging desperately to every assassin and buying their master that slim chance of survival.
Blood sprayed through the air, staining the ground and splattering the walls.
Carrying Zhan Haoting, Zhan Haochen staggered into a dead corner behind a shrine. Broken odds and ends were piled there, and the light was at its dimmest.
The fall had torn open several of Zhan Haoting’s wounds. His fingers, gripping Zhan Haochen’s hand, had turned white at the knuckles from the force.
They couldn’t wait any longer!
Cheng Yao’s gaze swept rapidly over the surroundings. After confirming that no one had noticed this corner at the edge of the chaotic battlefield, she told Zhan Haochen to set him down.
Zhan Haochen knew what she intended to do. He laid Zhan Haoting down in the darkness, then stood guard around them, his eyes filled with vigilance.
Cheng Yao crouched down and wrapped her arms around Zhan Haoting’s waist. In the next instant, the two of them vanished into thin air!
Inside the space, all the fighting, screams, thunder, and rain from the outside world were instantly cut off.
In their place was a tranquil stillness that soothed the heart, along with the rich fragrance of grass and trees.
It was a strange world. The sky was a soft milky white, without sun or moon, yet it radiated a uniform, gentle brightness.
Beneath their feet lay soft, fertile black soil. A clear spring bubbled up from the ground, forming a small pond no larger than a wooden basin. Several herbs grew beside it, appearing ordinary but all far older than any found in the outside world.
Of course, Zhan Haoting could not see any of this.
The sudden change in surroundings caused his tense body to stiffen for an instant, but he asked no questions.
Cheng Yao moved him onto the bed and swiftly undid his clothes.
The wounds that had already scabbed over were exposed once more. The flesh had split open, grotesque and terrible. After being soaked by rain and aggravated by intense movement, the edges had grown pale and swollen.
“Don’t be afraid,” he rasped soothingly. After uttering those two words, cold sweat once again beaded his forehead.
Cheng Yao pressed her lips together, her expression calm and focused.
She went to the spirit spring and scooped up half a spoonful with a small ladle, then dripped a few drops onto his wounds. The moment the spring water touched his flesh, Zhan Haoting’s body trembled almost imperceptibly. A strange power was contained within the cool sensation, and the burning pain slowly faded as the wounds began to heal.
Cheng Yao let out a quiet breath of relief, only then realizing that her back was drenched in cold sweat as well.
When she casually lifted her head, she discovered that he had been watching her all along. His deep, fathomless eyes were filled with complicated, unreadable emotions—scrutiny, shock, and finally, as they slowly settled, an expanse of calm.
“What is this place?” he finally asked, unable to hold back any longer. His voice was still hoarse, but much steadier now.
“It’s my place.” Cheng Yao had no intention of explaining too much. “It’s safe. Rest assured and recover. Outside… it should be over soon.”
Zhan Haoting gave her a long, penetrating look but said nothing more. He slowly closed his eyes and circulated his inner energy, cooperating with the spirit spring’s miraculous effects as he worked to regain his strength.
After roughly the time it took to burn a stick of incense, Cheng Yao sensed that enough time had passed and drew a deep breath.
“We should go back out.”
Zhan Haoting opened his eyes and nodded. His face was pale, but the cool, keen composure he was known for had returned to his gaze.
Cheng Yao took his hand and turned her thoughts.
…
Damp, clammy air, the heavy stench of blood, and faint sobs and groans instantly enveloped them.
They were still in the dead corner of the side room, not an inch from where they had been before, as though that brief moment of peace and healing had been nothing more than an illusion.
The fighting outside had stopped.
Cheng Yao cautiously poked her head out.
What met her eyes was utter devastation.
The bodies of the black-clad assassins lay scattered across the center of the hall. Every one of them had died horribly, a clear testament to how brutal the battle had been.
Two hidden guards were still alive. One was half-kneeling on the ground, leaning on his sword, his entire body drenched in blood as he breathed heavily. The other sat against the wall, a deep wound across his chest still pouring blood. He had plainly lost the ability to fight.
They were alive, but both were gravely injured.
Constable Wang wore a grim expression as he led several men who were likewise shaken to inspect the assassins’ bodies, trying to uncover some clue to their identities.
Most of the people in the group had withdrawn to the far end of the room. Their faces were filled with terror, their spirits utterly shaken.
Cheng Yao made two soft “shh” sounds toward Zhan Haochen. Relief flashed through his heart, and he came over to carry Zhan Haoting on his back.
The moment they appeared, everyone’s attention was drawn to them.
The hidden guard who had been worried sick about his safety was especially delighted. The instant the tension left him, his body crumpled to the floor with a thud.
Cheng Yao quietly asked Zhan Haoting, “Should I treat them in front of everyone?”
He was a convicted criminal, and he was forbidden from maintaining a private force.
If she treated the hidden guards, it would amount to admitting that they belonged to him, adding another charge to his record.
But if she left them untreated, it felt rather heartless.
Before Zhan Haoting could respond, Cheng Yao suddenly thought of a compromise.
“Tell them to withdraw. I’ll bring them medicine later.”
“No need,” Zhan Haoting said in a low voice. “They have medicine for their wounds.”
He raised a hand and made a strange gesture. The two hidden guards struggled to their feet, supporting each other as they left.
Constable Wang looked at the bodies of the assassins covering the floor, then at the villagers bound together in a line in the corner. When he remembered that there were still several dead men in the woodshed, his frustration boiled over.
“What are you all standing around for? Anyone who’s still alive, get your asses up! Take a head count! See if anyone’s missing!”
The constables immediately set to work, shouting and urging everyone along while the villagers searched for their families.
Second Madam Zhan and the old madam had already been seriously injured. After being soaked by the heavy rain all day and suffering one fright after another, their wounds had become inflamed and they had developed high fevers. Even after drinking ginger soup, they kept making demands—asking for water one moment and food the next—and were impossible to settle.
Feng Xianxian was gray-faced and filthy herself, covered in grime and looking utterly wretched. After being viciously berated by Second Madam Zhan and the old madam, she turned around and came face-to-face with Cheng Yao, whose complexion was rosy and whose clothes were clean.
The contrast between them could not have been more striking.
The other woman looked like a noble lady, while Feng Xianxian looked like a beggar!
Why? They were both exiles. Why did Cheng Yao get to eat well and dress well, while she was left in such a miserable state?
Heavens, how could you be so unfair?
The jealousy and hatred in Feng Xianxian’s eyes nearly burst into flames. She wished she could bore a hole through Cheng Yao’s back with her stare.
Shao Yutong was kneeling on the ground, her head bowed and her shoulders trembling slightly. Amid the surrounding commotion, her muffled sobs sounded especially mournful and desolate.
Anyone who didn’t know the truth might have thought she was kindhearted, grieving over the loss of life. But only she knew that she was crying for the black-clad man who had died.
That man in black had appeared when the haunting in the house was at its worst, when she was most terrified and helpless. He had been like a ray of light, guiding her out of the darkness.
Yet when the dawn was clearly just ahead, someone had knocked her unconscious, sending her plunging into an even deeper abyss!
And that man in black had never appeared again.
There was no need to guess. He had almost certainly met with disaster.
He had been the secret guard Gu Li had sent to protect her. Now that he was gone, how was she supposed to continue on the road ahead?
Could she really die on this journey into exile?
The thought sent a tremendous wave of fear surging through her.
No, she wouldn’t!
When she was born, extraordinary signs had appeared in the heavens. Two renowned fortune-tellers in the capital had read her destiny, and both said that her fate was so noble that she was destined to become the empress. How could she possibly fall before reaching her prime?
As long as she held on, won over her older cousin, and helped the heir ascend to the throne, the fortune-tellers’ predictions would come true. Then she would soar from a humble branch and become a phoenix!
That’s right. It had to be so!
Shao Yutong, you must hold on!
Shao Yutong cried as she encouraged herself, but the terror in her heart refused to subside. She was dazed and lost, like a small beast wandering alone, cut off from its kind.
