The Ling household was newly bereaved, with white funeral banners hung in the dead of night, and a crowd gathered at the gate, murmuring among themselves.
"That Ling Family Eldest Son had a tragic end—so young, yet already gone."
"Indeed. For the elderly to bury the young—Old Madam Ling was so overcome with rage she fainted and still hasn’t woken! I heard the funeral arrangements were handled by their Eldest Daughter-in-law."
Someone sneered, "That Jiang Yueyao, the fox-spirit who can’t stay in her place? She’s the one who caused Ling Family Eldest Son’s death, yet she dares show her face!"
"She even had the gall to pretend to wipe tears before the coffin, that seductive face of hers putting on a show—disgusting! She’s already latched onto someone higher, hasn’t she? Killing Ling Family Eldest Son just clears the way for her to marry into another noble family."
"Marry into nobility? She’s dreaming! At best, she’ll be taken as a cheap plaything—a concubine at most. Once they tire of her, who’s to say she won’t be tossed into a brothel?"
"Now that would be justice! Ling Family Eldest Son was too kind-hearted, and frail besides, letting that vixen manipulate him. If Second Young Master Ling had been here, she’d have met a far worse fate!"
No sooner had the words left their lips than the rapid clatter of hooves approached.
The villagers turned to see a man in dark riding attire galloping toward them. He reined in sharply at the gate, his horse rearing with a piercing whinny before its hooves slammed back to the ground.
The man on horseback stared fixedly at the white banners above the gate, his handsome, chiseled face darkening inch by inch into something icy and lethal.
The villagers scattered in fear, dodging the massive warhorse. Only when they regained their senses did someone gasp in recognition—"Is that… Second Young Master Ling?"
Ling Xiao spurred his horse forward, his retinue swiftly following.
—
The main hall held a single coffin at its center, surrounded by cold, desolate funeral drapery. The only sound was the faint, choked sobbing of a woman.
Ling Xiao strode inside, his gaze locking onto the coffin and the memorial tablet inscribed with "Ling Chen." His heart clenched so tightly he could scarcely breathe.
He had been away for ten years, fighting tooth and nail on the battlefield—not just for ambition, but to earn honors for his family’s sake. Now, having finally returned in glory, he was met with his elder brother’s funeral.
The hand gripping his sword hilt trembled with tension. His sharp eyes flicked to the right of the coffin, where a slender woman knelt in white mourning robes.
She stared back at him, dazed, her red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears. Her long lashes, like delicate fans, still glistened with droplets. Though her face was pale and gaunt, free of adornment, it held an allure impossible to ignore.
Truly, as the rumors claimed—a born temptress.
"You’re Jiang Yueyao?"
His oppressive, battle-hardened aura made her quiver. She nodded weakly, her voice hoarse from weeping. "You are…?"
With a metallic shing, Ling Xiao unsheathed his sword, its tip lifting her chin. His dark eyes bore into her tear-streaked face, murderous intent flaring.
"A face that brings ruin—you deserve death."
Jiang Yueyao froze, petrified. The cold blade pressed against her throat; the slightest shift would pierce her flesh. Her already pallid face drained of color. A teardrop trembled on her lashes before rolling down her cheek.
Her lips parted, her whisper faint but firm. "I didn’t—"
"Second Brother?!"
Third Young Master Ling emerged from the inner chambers, eyes widening in shock. Once certain, he rushed forward. "Second Brother! It really is you—you’ve finally returned!"
Ling Xiao barely glanced at him before glaring back at Jiang Yueyao. "Did you kill my elder brother?"
Realization dawned—this fearsome man was the younger brother her late husband had often spoken of. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she retorted, "No."
"You dare lie to me?!"
Rage surged through Ling Xiao, his aura suffocating.
Third Young Master Ling hastily interjected, "Second Brother, Eldest Brother died from a sudden illness. You know his health was always poor. Sister-in-law and he were devoted—she wouldn’t harm him."
Ling Xiao’s expression remained stormy. "Three months ago, I received a letter from him saying he was in better health than ever. How could he suddenly die without cause? I refuse to believe it."
"But… but…" Third Young Master Ling faltered, intimidated.
Even as a child, Second Brother had been formidable, known throughout the village. Now, after a decade away, he carried the blood-soaked aura of the battlefield—more terrifying than ever.
Jiang Yueyao’s eyes were red-rimmed, but her pale face hardened with defiance. "My husband saved my life. Had he not rescued me, I’d have fallen into unspeakable misery. I would never harm him!"
Ling Xiao studied her clear, unflinching gaze—so open it irritated him.
"Yet the entire village claims you conspired with another man to murder him. Rumors don’t arise from nothing. You know what you’ve done." His grip on the sword tightened, veins bulging.
Jiang Yueyao’s lips curled faintly, her misty eyes glinting with scorn. "My husband often spoke of your military exploits, praising your courage and wisdom. I never thought you’d rely on hearsay."
Ling Xiao’s face darkened further. On the battlefield, his blade had claimed countless lives, and many had begged for mercy beneath it. Yet today, a woman dared challenge him?
"What did you say?!"
She straightened her kneeling posture, meeting his gaze squarely. "I never betrayed my husband. That prefect’s son, Rong Shichang, coveted me. To force me into becoming his concubine, he spread vile rumors of an affair, hoping my husband would cast me out."
Bitterness rose in her chest—how easily this world destroyed a woman’s reputation.
"Everyone believed Rong Shichang’s lies, but my husband never wavered. He shielded me, defying power and slander."
"Now that he’s gone, I’d gladly follow him. If you seek vengeance, kill me—but do not tarnish my honor!"
She held her spine straight, unflinching as the blade grazed her neck.
So slender—he could snap it with one hand. The edge left a thin crimson line.
Ling Xiao’s gaze faltered, fixating on that streak of red. For the first time, the sight of blood unsettled him.
