When the snow-bright tip of a blade pierced through the wooden planks, Xiao Nanhui’s thoughts drifted for a fleeting moment.
*That blade truly complements tonight’s moon,* she thought.
A waxing crescent. Curved and sharp.
With a loud *crack*, the pierced plank shattered into splinters as two dark figures surged up from beneath the bridge. Why that specific plank? Because it was positioned exactly between Ding Weixiang and Zhongli Jing, effectively cutting them off from one another.
The ambush was positioned with devilish precision. Xiao Nanhui watched Ding Weixiang’s panicked, shocked face through the falling debris and felt a sudden, perverse urge to laugh.
Just moments ago, he had been utterly unwilling to cross separately; now that they had fallen into a trap, they were separated anyway.
In the blink of an eye, Zhongli Jing lost his balance and began to tilt toward the edge. The assassin’s blade followed him like a silver fish leaping from the water.
Xiao Nanhui sighed inwardly.
*Fine, fine.* They had shared enough of the road to develop a certain camaraderie. Even if she was being played, she couldn't truly stand by and watch him die.
A powerful force struck Zhongli Jing’s waist. Fine mist mingled with the starlight, scattering before his eyes as the ink-black sky spun and overturned before finally coming to a halt. The man’s dark pupils trembled slightly, his gaze finally landing on the strands of hair fluttering before him.
The woman’s arm was like a length of rope—supple yet infused with steel—clamped firmly around his waist. A steady voice, tinged with a hint of a smile, reached his ear.
"Hold on tight."
The assassin saw his nearly-captured prey suddenly vanish, replaced by a dark mass hurtling toward him. He swung his blade to meet it, only to be pelted by a shower of mountain ginseng and lingzhi mushrooms.
"What a waste!" Xiao Nanhui cried out in physical pain for the lost goods, but her hands were not idle. Gripping Zhongli Jing with one hand, she lashed out with a kick. Caught off guard, the assassin was sent flying.
On the other side, the assassin engaged with Ding Weixiang turned at the sound, seeing his companion fall. That split second of distraction cost him a wound from Ding’s blade.
The sudden struggle sent the entire suspension bridge into a violent sway. Two of the four iron chains anchoring the ends had already snapped; the remaining two were precarious at best.
If they lingered any longer, they would all die here.
Xiao Nanhui scooped Zhongli Jing up and bolted toward the opposite bank. Before the fallen assassin could scramble up, she stepped squarely over him.
Seeing this, Ding Weixiang leaped to follow. The two assassins pursued closely, their curved scimitars flying through the air one after another.
The whistle of cold wind rushed toward the back of her head. Xiao Nanhui had no hands free and roared at Ding Weixiang, "Block them!"
Ding Weixiang’s mind was entirely on the man in her arms. Without even drawing his sword, he swung his scabbard back to parry. The scimitar was knocked off course, whistling past Xiao Nanhui and shearing off a lock of her hair.
She was fuming, but with their lives on the line, she had no time to argue.
With a sharp *snap*, another iron chain gave way. The bridge instantly lost its balance, tilting sharply to one side. Xiao Nanhui turned to see the wooden planks falling like withered leaves in a gale, plunging into the roaring river below. As the bridge collapsed toward her, she threw Zhongli Jing toward Ding Weixiang.
"He’s your man—catch him!"
Ding Weixiang scrambled to catch the man, searching for a foothold as he leaped toward the end of the bridge.
At the bridgehead, Bolao watched the collapsing structure, her head spinning and her legs turning to jelly. She could only scream at the top of her lungs, "Hurry! The bridge is falling!"
Xiao Nanhui was running for her life while dodging the blades flying at her back. She shouted in tragic indignation, "Do you think I don't know?! The rope! Throw the rope!"
Bolao turned and rummaged through the luggage, pulling out a length of hemp rope used for tying bundles and hurling it with all her strength.
Being closest to the bridgehead, Ding Weixiang intercepted it instantly. Using Bolao’s strength as leverage, he successfully brought Zhongli Jing to the safety of the bank.
Bolao pulled the rope back and threw it again toward Xiao Nanhui. Unexpectedly, the rope was sliced in two mid-air by an assassin’s scimitar. This repeated two or three times until the rope grew shorter and shorter. Xiao Nanhui turned and cursed, "You bastard!"
Her only response was the assassin’s twin blades. Now, all three of them were supported by a single remaining chain. Their attacks and dodges looked like a macabre acrobatic act, but even this chain would not hold for long.
The enemy seemed possessed by a conviction to drag at least one person down with them, refusing to let go. Xiao Nanhui spotted a gap and screamed to Bolao, "Cut the chain!"
Bolao froze, not moving immediately. Xiao Nanhui urged again, "Cut it now!"
Before the words had fully left her mouth, Ding Weixiang’s blade flashed. With a resonant *clang*, the last iron chain of the suspension bridge snapped. The three people still on the chain plummeted into the mist.
Bolao’s eyes went wide with fury as she glared at Ding Weixiang. "He told you to cut it and you actually did?!"
Ding Weixiang pressed his lips thin and said nothing. He grabbed Bolao as she prepared to jump after them, gesturing for her to look where the bridge had fallen.
The three at the bridgehead held their breath and looked down, only to see a silver light pierce through the mist.
*Clang, clang, clang.* Three crisp strikes.
The silver light suddenly expanded several times its length, driving into the cliff face like a bolt of lightning.
Debris tumbled down, and the mist was pushed aside like thin gauze, revealing that the silver light was actually a long spear.
In the next heartbeat, a pair of hands followed the spear. Xiao Nanhui grabbed the shaft she had thrown, her falling body jerking to a halt in mid-air.
The forged steel shaft bent into an incredible arc under the force of gravity, reflecting the bright moonlight like a rising crescent.
Using the rebound of the spear, Xiao Nanhui leaped high against the cliff, pulling the spear free with a backhand motion and thrusting it again into a higher point. After one more cycle, her hand was able to reach the edge of the cliff. Bolao and Ding Weixiang grabbed her from either side and hauled her up.
Xiao Nanhui lay on the ground gasping like a dying fish for a while before using the spear to slowly push herself up.
"We have traveled together for many days, yet I never saw Young Master Yao’s weapon. Seeing it now, it is truly extraordinary."
Xiao Nanhui looked at the culprit of her near-death experience and his feigned amazement, her anger flaring. "And isn't that all thanks to you, Brother Zhongli? If you hadn't attracted these 'brothers' in black, I wouldn't have had to use such a desperate move to save my life."
Hearing this, Ding Weixiang’s sycophantic devotion to his master resurfaced. "If Brother Yao is so capable, why did you need my Master to save you from the mud pit that day?"
Bolao let out a scoff, making no effort to hide the mockery on her face. "Was your master trying to save a person? He was after that damn stone!"
Ding Weixiang was truly incensed now, his usually pale face flushing slightly. "What nonsense are you talking?! Master clearly knew long ago—"
"Weixiang."
Ding Weixiang’s words cut off abruptly. The man who had called his name showed no anger, but with one look at his eyes, the subordinate understood the warning within.
Xiao Nanhui watched the sudden chill settle over the group with confusion. Her fingers tightened and shifted; the majestic silver spear, taller than a person, retracted with a click until it was less than three feet long. When she returned it to her back, it was no longer than a short sword. One could only wonder at the ingenious design required for such a feat.
"There are less than two hours until dawn. Staying here might invite further trouble, but we have no carriage to transport the luggage..."
"There is a carriage." Zhongli Jing walked past Xiao Nanhui with an airy grace, heading straight toward a hidden thicket.
Xiao Nanhui was puzzled at first, but peering closer, she realized a pre-arranged carriage was indeed hidden behind the brush.
Ding Weixiang had already led the horses over to reset the luggage. As he passed her, he gave a soft huff. "The treacherous paths are difficult. If we didn't have such preparations, we wouldn't have chosen this route in the first place."
Her breath hitched in her chest, stifled by the arrogance of the master and servant. She decided to ignore them, flashing past and boarding the carriage first.
When Zhongli Jing entered the cabin, Xiao Nanhui was wiping the head of the spear. Because it had been driven into the cliffside, it was stained with mud. She cherished this spear, which had accompanied her through life and death; it had just saved her life once again.
Zhongli Jing lowered his gaze, lifting the hem of his robe as he sat opposite her.
"I was quite moved when Brother Yao saved me just now."
Xiao Nanhui’s movements paused.
His tone sounded sincere, yet for some reason, whenever she looked into those ink-black eyes, she felt an instinctive urge to retreat. The words "Don't mention it" died in her throat.
Zhongli Jing didn't seem to mind, his gaze sliding to the silver spear.
"This spear is named Pingxian. Am I correct?"
At those words, Xiao Nanhui couldn't help but look up at him.
There were many famous spears in the world, but only one could extend and retract: Pingxian. Anyone who saw it would never forget its uniqueness, but very few actually knew its name. Xiao Zhun had once cautioned her never to reveal the spear's name to anyone; it was the sole request of the craftsman who made it.
She never expected this man, who seemed to have nothing to do with the world of martial arts, to speak the name.
"How do I know? Are you wondering that?" His voice was calm, as if stating a mundane fact. "There are things that not only the Marquis of Qinghuai knows. Besides, he originally sought this spear from someone else."
As he spoke, his hand suddenly reached out. Xiao Nanhui flinched, but then realized he was merely placing his hand upon Pingxian.
Where his hand rested, the surface was uneven, carved with patterns meant to disguise the locations of the internal mechanisms. Those pale fingertips, which clearly had never gripped anything rough, slid gently over the metal as if it were not cold steel, but the warm skin and jade bones of a beauty.
"Xiao Nanhui, do you know the story behind this spear?"
She shivered almost instinctively.
Whenever this man used her real name, she felt uneasy. What was she so afraid of? The man probably couldn't beat her in a fight even if she only used one toe.
At that thought, her expression hardened with renewed bravado.
"People like to compare a husband and wife to the *qin* and *se* zithers; the bond between them is like the strings. This spear was made for a woman’s use. It was named Pingxian—the Leveling Chord—to proclaim to the world that a woman can also go to battle, equal to any man."
Zhongli Jing’s expression faltered for a moment, his elegant lips curving into a slight arc. By the time he withdrew his hand, his face had returned to its usual indifferent mask.
"It seems you only know the half of it. The person who gave you this spear did not tell you much."
Having said that, he closed his eyes.
Outside the carriage, Bolao and Ding Weixiang were still bickering over which path to take, but Xiao Nanhui found she couldn't listen.
To this day, she still believed that Xiao Zhun had gifted her Pingxian because he hoped her martial arts would not be inferior to any man's. She had never considered any other meaning.
She looked down at the silver spear that had been through life and death with her, gripping it tightly. It seemed that only by doing so could the inexplicable trepidation in her heart be stilled.
