The Sun Estate, which had been as impregnable as a fortress only an hour ago, was now a crumbling ruin, a chaotic mess of ant-like confusion.
The clashing of steel and the whistling of black-feathered arrows filled the air. Stray arrows occasionally streaked into the courtyards, sending the fleeing family members and servants into fits of wailing terror.
The cavalry guards had long since been deployed. Whether they were currently fighting the Tiancheng army, had been slaughtered, or had simply fled for their lives was unknown; in any case, not a single one was in sight.
The Sun family, who had only ever brought suffering to others, never imagined that such misery would one day visit their own heads.
Governor Sun scrambled out of the dungeon, glanced left and right, and bolted straight for his private rear quarters.
He had actually anticipated this day. His most valuable treasures were already packed and ready; he only needed to grab them to make his escape. As long as he had gold, he didn't believe he’d be left without a path to survival, whether he fell into the hands of Tiancheng or the Bai clan.
However, Governor Sun, who had not seen the flash of a blade in years, had clearly underestimated the severity of a battlefield. Even the few steps from the rear quarters to the back gate were a grueling ordeal. Having lived in pampered luxury and tyranny for so long, he had failed to build the Sun family walls high enough; stray arrows flew over them constantly.
Fortunately, relying on his familiarity with the terrain, he dodged and hid his way through. Just as he caught his breath, he suddenly felt someone standing behind him.
He instinctively turned and swung wildly, but his fist hit nothing but air, failing to even brush the hem of the stranger's robe.
Failing to intimidate, he prepared to cry for help, but the shout died in his throat the moment he saw the person's face.
Dressed in flamboyant purple robes, it was Yan Zi.
"So it is Master Yan. The Tiancheng army is here! Quickly, follow this old man and let us fight our way out..."
Yan Zi’s expression remained unchanged, as if the sounds of slaughter around them had nothing to do with him. He pulled out the parchment scroll again and pointed to the place for the signature.
"Today is the second day. Has Governor Sun sobered up?"
A vein throbbed in Governor Sun’s temple. This brainless blockhead—what time did he think it was, still worrying about signing some damn treaty?
If it weren't for the fact that this man’s martial arts were unfathomable and he might be the only one who could save him, Sun would have loved to kick him aside and trample over him.
Taking a deep breath, Governor Sun silently recited a mantra of patience.
"Master Yan, if you are willing to get me out of here alive, this old man will willingly hand over all the outposts around Three-Eye Pass with both hands. When the time comes, there will be no shortage of benefits for you..."
Yan Zi’s brow furrowed slightly. "Lord Bai did not order me to escort anyone else."
"If you do not comply, I will certainly not sign."
"Then I shall simply take the blank parchment back."
In his desperation, Governor Sun blurted out, "If you refuse to protect my life, I will sign an agreement with the Tiancheng people and hand over the entire Three-Eye Pass region to them!"
These words seemed to act as a curse, pinning the young man’s figure in place. After a long silence, he slowly turned his head.
"What did you say?"
"I said, I will join with the Tiancheng people..."
Governor Sun did not finish his sentence. Halfway through, his head was no longer on his neck.
Yan Zi unhurriedly returned his sword to its sheath; the blade was remarkably free of blood.
"Lord Bai gave instructions," he said softly. "Only this is unacceptable."
He looked down, somewhat troubled by the decapitated corpse on the ground. After a moment's thought, he knelt, took Governor Sun’s not-yet-stiff finger, dipped it in the thick blood pooling on the ground, and pressed a print onto the parchment.
Having finished this, a look of satisfaction finally appeared on his face. He tucked the parchment away and leaped out of the Sun Estate as if no one else were there.
****** ****** ******
By the time Xiao Nanhui stumbled out of the dungeon, the sounds of fighting outside had diminished significantly, but the earth-shaking sensation from moments ago still lingered, and an air of unease permeated the surroundings.
The people who had caused the panic seemed to have withdrawn from the Sun family courtyards. Along the way, she saw only a ground littered with corpses, but rarely a living soul.
She hadn't misheard back in the dungeon; the guard had indeed shouted the name of the Tiancheng army.
Strange. Why would the Tiancheng people be so impatient? Did they know that Bijiang had already sent someone to claim the Three-Eye Pass area?
She had failed quite miserably as a scout; before the news could even be sent out, they already knew.
Who was the commander? Could it be Xiao Zhun?
Could it be... that Xiao Zhun had come to save her?
Xiao Nanhui’s heart began to thud again, though she couldn't tell if it was from blood loss or anxiety. Even knowing it was nearly impossible for Xiao Zhun to appear here, she relied on that humble sliver of hope to force herself to rally.
Pingxian scraped harshly against the ground as she used it for support. She tried not to look at the white bone protruding from her ankle, focusing only on the direction of the valley exit, dragging herself forward with every ounce of strength.
Occasionally, a stray arrow whistled past. she didn't even bother to dodge, leaving it entirely to luck, and somehow managed to reach the vicinity of the Gobi desert.
The road split into two here. The path to the right was the way she had come; an hour’s travel would lead back to Three-Eye Pass. The path to the left led deeper into Bijiang. She didn't know what lay at the end of that road, nor if she could return if she encountered trouble.
Her mouth was parched, yet cold sweat poured down her skin.
The choice became harder and harder to make as her mind grew clouded. She could only pray that she wouldn't regret this moment in the future.
Of course, that assumed there would be a "future."
Xiao Nanhui shifted her weight and painfully dragged herself toward the left-hand path.
After only three steps, she regretted it.
A man stepped out from behind a rock and removed his face cloth. It was Kesan, the leader of the caravan from before.
"Woman, we meet again."
Xiao Nanhui forced herself to raise a hand in a wave. "What a pleasure. Uh, Governor Sun is still back there. If you rush now, you might still be in time to save him."
Kesan laughed, a harsh, rasping sound. "I'm not looking for him. I'm looking for you."
Xiao Nanhui pretended not to hear and continued to limp forward. Her head felt wooden; the man before her was like a demon-suppressing pagoda that she simply couldn't bypass.
Looking down, she saw Kesan’s foot stepping on the hem of her already tattered robe.
With a sudden wrench, the fabric tore in two. This time, what greeted her was a heavy blow from a staff.
Xiao Nanhui only had time to tilt her head slightly. The staff landed squarely on her shoulder, the impact so heavy she could almost hear her collarbone shatter.
When no one was attacking, no one was; but when they started, they all came at once. How could she be this unlucky?
She spat out a mouthful of blood in grief and indignation, barely having the strength to wipe her mouth. "Why do you have to make things difficult for me?!"
"Woman, I told you before, I remember your face." Kesan’s gaze shifted to Pingxian, his eyes gradually filling with an excited, greedy light. "Such a fine thing is wasted in the hands of a woman like you. Better to give it to me."
Since there was no avoiding this ordeal, Xiao Nanhui instead broke into a reckless laugh.
"You certainly have an eye for quality. But I have no intention of giving it away. As long as it is in my hands, even if I use it as a mere walking stick, it has nothing to do with you."
Kesan didn't speak. He slowly lifted one foot, pulled something from his boot, and with a "creak-crunch" sound, screwed it onto the long staff in his hand.
The sound was so grating it felt as if it were being twisted into her own bones.
Her legs were shaking uncontrollably, and the wound on her ankle had gone numb. That was just as well; it saved her from distraction. As long as the hand holding her spear didn't shake, nothing else mattered.
The sound of steel scraping against coarse sand approached, accompanied by a heavy wind, like an angry bull charging at her.
This was the sound unique to the clash of heavy weapons.
In the past, Yao Yi always used this to mock her, saying it sounded like "the bleating of sheep and the panting of oxen," incomparable to the clear, crane-like ring of a famous sword leaving its scabbard. She hadn't agreed then, arguing back that he simply didn't understand the craft.
Now, she was beginning to understand.
A sword’s killing intent wasn't as heavy; it didn't possess the suffocating pressure of a spear. Furthermore, sword techniques often left room for maneuver, but once a spear was thrust, it carried the momentum of a thunderbolt, leaving no retreat for either the wielder or the target. By that measure, spears were indeed less "likable."
The thought lasted only a fleeting moment. By the time she snapped back to reality, the iron spear in Kesan’s hand was already at her face.
Blood loss made her heart beat like a drum. Though there were no thousands of troops or ranks of soldiers around her, this was no different from a battlefield.
With no room to retreat, she could only stop killing with killing.
She couldn't tell how many rounds had passed. Her reactions grew slower, and the opponent's movements became a blur. She felt a surge of frustration, and by the time she realized what was happening, she was kneeling on the desert floor.
"Woman, end it yourself. Don't waste your strength."
Xiao Nanhui acted as if she hadn't heard, slowly wiping her hands on her clothes one after the other.
They were covered in too much blood, slick and greasy, nearly causing her to lose her grip on the spear shaft.
Kesan watched for a moment and sneered. Holding his spear in one hand, he walked slowly toward her.
A weapon taken from a living person was far more interesting than one taken from a corpse.
The exquisite, ancient patterns were now soaked in their master's blood, yet they remained snow-bright.
Truly a fine spear.
His hand reached out for it carelessly, but the woman who had been kneeling suddenly looked up. Her elbow shifted, and a cunning horizontal sweep whistled out, aimed straight for his throat.
Pingxian’s sharp side-blade sliced across Kesan’s jaw, leaving a trail of blood.
The strike missed its mark, and Xiao Nanhui quickly pulled Pingxian back, holding it level in her hands as she tried to mask her ragged breathing.
"I began practicing the spear at age seven. The first lesson I learned was how to hold it. As long as I have a single breath left, no one can take this spear from me."
What a pity. If she weren't at the end of her tether, her strength spent, that move might have taken his life.
The expression on Kesan’s face finally shifted to one of humiliated rage. She was familiar with that look.
A fierce wind, laden with sand, buffeted her face. Xiao Nanhui closed her eyes.
The world went dark for that instant, but a clear sound lit up her ears.
The note was crisp, the resonance deep, the aftertaste long.
It was the sound of a zither—the note of *Biantzhi*.
Immediately, that lingering resonance somehow transformed into the sound of something tearing through the air, traveling from afar and coming to a violent halt right beside her ear.
Xiao Nanhui opened her eyes. A drop of crimson seemed to fall from her eyelashes.
Kesan’s face was only a palm’s width away, but the pitch-black arrow tip protruding from between his brows was almost touching her forehead.
Kesan’s lifeless body slumped to the ground, his heavy frame kicking up a cloud of dust. Only the long spear in his hand remained, leaning slanted against the earth.
The wind seemed to pick up.
The wind brought that eerie zither music again.
This time, it was the note of *Gong*.
Before the sound could even settle, a small cloud of black arrows rained down, instantly turning Kesan’s corpse into a sieve.
The fletching of the arrows, still vibrating with residual force, quivered before her eyes like a crow bowing its head to feed on carrion.
Xiao Nanhui looked past the arrows toward the distant cliffs behind her. Amidst the crimson rock was a square patch of black, which, upon closer inspection, shimmered with points of light—the reflection of sunlight on black armor.
Three layers of black-armored warriors were deployed in sequence. The first layer held repeating crossbows, the second held iron-tipped royal bows, and the third held "Sunset" longbows as tall as a man. The only commonality was that the fletching on all their arrows was as black as ink.
Ten thousand arrows fired at once, like a flock of crows crossing the sky. Thus, they were called the Black Feather Camp.
She finally understood why the Sun family guards had been shouting "the Tiancheng people are here," yet she hadn't seen a single Tiancheng soldier on her way out—only corpses and arrows.
The Black Feather Camp, the most elite force of Tiancheng—why would they appear at Three-Eye Pass?
Countless thoughts swirled through her mind, but she couldn't grasp a single thread.
From behind a collapsed wall nearby, a dusty figure came stumbling out. It was Wu Xiaoliu.
Xiao Nanhui didn't have time to think; she let out a hoarse roar.
"Don't move!"
Wu Xiaoliu’s round body came to a screeching halt, freezing just a few steps away from Kesan’s corpse.
He, too, realized something was wrong. A subtle sound held the air in a tense standoff.
It was the sound of thousands of bowstrings pulled taut, like a giant beast with its jaws open, ready to snap its sharp teeth shut at any moment.
After an unknown amount of time, the long zither note sounded again, low and gentle, like a feather slowly drifting down.
Only then did the tension of the bowstrings relax. The phalanx shifted from offense to defense, the sound of armor rubbing together echoing through the valley, so synchronized that not a single discordant noise could be heard.
She finally looked at Wu Xiaoliu, her anger flaring. "What are you following me for? Do you have a death wish? Don't think I won't kill you..."
"Didn't you say you wanted to see the Pan family's stronghold?"
"...I have my own legs."
"Your legs aren't working right."
"What does it matter to you whether they're working or not?"
Xiao Nanhui’s voice was cold and hard, intentionally trying to kill the conversation right there.
But Wu Xiaoliu ignored her and walked over. Before she could react, he hoisted her onto his shoulder.
"You can't walk. I'll carry you."
Xiao Nanhui was stunned. She struggled against the fat man for a few moments, but because her legs were bleeding and her body was stiff, she felt like a fish on a chopping board that had been smacked on the head.
She hadn't entirely let go of her anger, but now was not the time for it. In her current state, it was hard to say if she’d even have a next breath.
Wu Xiaoliu’s thick body turned around, and he began to walk laboriously toward the western road.
Xiao Nanhui’s head was facing the cliff wall behind them. Amidst the jolting, she managed to look up and saw the black mass of soldiers part to the left and right, revealing a glimmer of brightness.
It was a man, wearing no armor, his robes fluttering in the wind.
He stood there in the wind, his figure thin yet upright, perched high upon that stone wall. Like the great deity statue of Three-Eye Pass, he looked down upon the living beings struggling in the yellow sands below.
Though his features were a blur, his aura was not diminished in the slightest, even from a thousand miles away.
That familiar coldness and arrogance were exactly as they had been that day when he sat atop the Tower of Reaching Skies, watching the slaughter on the sacrificial altar.
If there truly were gods in this world, they must look down upon all living things in just such a manner.
Who... exactly was he?
Xiao Nanhui stared with trembling lips for a while, then suddenly realized the jolting had stopped for some time. She slapped the back of Wu Xiaoliu’s head.
"What are you looking at? Let's go."
Wu Xiaoliu turned back to glare at the woman on his back, unable to hide his dissatisfaction. She had clearly been staring just as intently a moment ago.
Wu Xiaoliu resumed his heavy steps. Xiao Nanhui lay on his back, her mind groggy as she pondered.
Regardless of who this man named Zhongli was, he certainly had some nerve. Not only did he dare to steal the Prime Minister’s medallion, but this time he had even stolen his way into the Black Feather Camp! This was no small matter.
He was likely more than just a mere retainer; he must be some profligate son of a noble house. An event as significant as the Black Feather Camp appearing would surely be heard of once she returned to Chizhou. Should she give him a hand when the time came?
After all, counting the incident in Huozhou, this haunting fellow had already saved her twice.
Her thoughts drifted for a while longer before sinking completely into a deep sea. Xiao Nanhui trustingly placed her life in Wu Xiaoliu’s hands, as if all the previous unpleasantness had never happened.
****** ****** ******
The seven-stringed zither was long and slender, its color a deep ochre. The cracks in its finish were as fine as ox hair, like spring wind and fine rain.
Such a zither, worth a thousand pieces of gold, was now placed casually on the coarse sand, with no sign of the player.
Watching the two figures huddled together slowly move away, the man’s straight back remained motionless.
A figure landed silently behind him, dropping to one knee with his scabbard touching the ground—the highest form of greeting for a swordsman.
The man by the cliff turned slightly, revealing half of a dispassionate face.
"Have you tracked Yan Zi’s whereabouts?"
"I have not. Please forgive me, Master. That man’s martial arts are unfathomable; I underestimated the enemy."
The man said nothing, his gaze still fixed on the distance.
Ding Weixiang did not dare to rise, a lingering worry clouding his eyes. They shouldn't have come here.
"Master, although the remnants of the Sun family have been cleared out, the Three-Eye Pass area is still dangerous. If the Bai clan hears word of this, they will surely come to investigate. We should not stay long."
The figure in the distance remained still, as if he hadn't heard a word.
"Master?"
The man finally withdrew his gaze, his voice so light it carried no emotion.
"No matter. We shall meet again in the future."
With that, he turned and left the edge of the cliff. Ding Weixiang finally saw where the man had been looking, but he saw only a small grey speck of a back, vanishing into the dust in an instant.
"Who is Master referring to...?"
The cold profile of the man swept past him like the wind, without the slightest intention of answering.
Ding Weixiang fell silent and turned to follow.
***
**Glossary**
