She didn’t know what had come over her—she could clearly have run away, yet her two legs simply refused to listen. Before her mind had even caught up, she found herself back at the cave, and was even hurrying inside at a quick pace. The man was about to cut off her hand—why was she still being so soft-hearted? If Jian Yi’s mind broke, wouldn’t that be a good thing for her? If he lost his sanity, he would naturally forget about whatever he owed Feng Qingyin, and forget about cutting off her hand too. Wasn’t that a good thing for her? So why was she still heading back to this house of death? No—not a house of death. A house where hands get cut off. She truly couldn’t tell whether she was being too kind, or simply too foolish.
Standing at the cave entrance, Feng Jiu’er stared into the pitch-black interior, hesitating over whether to go in. Suddenly, a noise came from within. Feng Jiu’er’s heart clenched, and this time, without thinking, she rushed straight in. The light was too dim; Jiu’er couldn’t adjust right away and instinctively shut her eyes. The moment she caught the scent of blood, she panicked: “Jian Yi, are you alright?” No one answered. The cave was bitterly cold, the chill seeping deep into the bones.
Once Feng Jiu’er’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, she immediately drew out her silver needles and clasped them between her fingers. She had expected to find Jian Yi being devoured by a swarm of snakes, but instead, what she saw was Jian Yi standing in the middle of a pile of severed snakes, sword in hand. This cave really did have a nest of water snakes—and far more than she had imagined! The ground was littered with the corpses of water snakes, some still twitching. Even someone as bold as Feng Jiu’er couldn’t help covering her mouth at the sight, nearly retching.
Suddenly her wrist was seized—Jian Yi gripped her hand and pulled her back at a rapid pace. “Don’t cut off my hand!” Feng Jiu’er cried out in fright, and the silver needle between her fingers instinctively jabbed into one of Jian Yi’s acupoints. Jian Yi gritted his teeth, his thick brows knitting tightly. Though his arm hurt badly, he still pulled her out of the cave, leaving that damp, gloomy place behind entirely. Feng Jiu’er felt her body grow weightless as he carried her, leaping through the treetops, covering a great distance in one breath. At last, Jian Yi’s steps halted. He leapt down from the trees and landed steadily on the ground with her.
He released his grip, and Feng Jiu’er immediately retreated several steps, putting distance between them. Looking at him again, his whole body reeked of blood—though it looked rather ghastly, thankfully, he wasn’t injured. Except his arm still had her silver needle lodged in it, right in one of his acupoints—such a painful spot, and yet he’d managed to carry her this far without faltering. “Were you planning to knock me out and run off on your own?” Jian Yi stared at her, his cold eyes thick with suspicion. Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together and said nothing. What was done was done—all because she’d been too soft-hearted. He’d come out of it completely unscathed, while she was the one now staring into the abyss. For an assassin, the moment suspicion fell on someone, wasn’t the next step to take their life immediately? Either way, what Feng Qingyin wanted from the start was her life.
Jian Yi’s grip on his sword tightened, and he suddenly stepped toward her. Feng Jiu’er’s brows furrowed, and she instinctively backed away. His gaze was cold, cold as if quenched in ice. She knew that by drugging him and fleeing, she had thoroughly exhausted whatever trust he’d still held for her.
Feng Jiu’er kept retreating, until she stumbled and slammed her back against a tree trunk behind her. In the blink of an eye, Jian Yi had closed the distance and stood right before her. There was nowhere left to run. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword, the chill in his eyes growing deeper. Just as his gaze flickered, Feng Jiu’er blurted urgently: “You said you’d cut off my hand only after finding a physician—you’re a man who keeps his word!”
Jian Yi kept staring at her, his cold gaze sinking lower, fixed on her trembling hand. Feng Jiu’er’s breathing was ragged, but this was a critical moment, and she didn’t dare let up. “Don’t you assassins value your word above all else? If you break a promise, no one will dare make deals with you again.” He still said nothing. Feng Jiu’er truly began to hate herself. If she’d just run when she had the chance, with a forest this vast, she might well have escaped. Besides, she’d already left markers for Jiuqing and Aunt Xue—if she could just hold out until they arrived, she might be safe. Aunt Xue might not be able to save her, but Jiuqing certainly could. Jian Yi was no match for Jiuqing—if she could just hold out until Jiuqing came…
Jian Yi suddenly raised his hand. Feng Jiu’er’s breath caught, and she immediately drew both hands behind her back. “If you want to cut off my hand, you might as well just take my life!” Jian Yi extended his arm toward her and narrowed his eyes: “Your silver needle—do you still want it back, or not?” Huh? What did he mean? Silver needle? Feng Jiu’er, who had already shut her eyes waiting to die, opened them slightly into a narrow slit. There, in her line of sight, Jian Yi’s arm—sure enough, her silver needle was still lodged in it.
Feng Jiu’er’s heart fluttered nervously. Not knowing what he was thinking, she instinctively extended her slender fingers and pulled the needle out of his arm, one careful tug at a time. She tucked it carefully back into her needle case. But why had he told her to take it back? What did he mean by that? Feng Jiu’er still couldn’t make sense of him. Once the needle was put away, Jian Yi’s expression gradually softened, no longer carrying that bloodthirsty chill from before.
He stepped back twice and glanced down the path ahead: “Did I frighten you just now? My apologies—I’d simply lost myself in the killing.” Feng Jiu’er was stunned all over again, unable to fathom what was going through his mind. A moment ago—he really had killed a great many snakes, and the ground full of snake corpses had truly been horrifying, the kind of thing that chilled the soul. But wasn’t he angry that she’d abandoned him there? Especially since he’d ended up in that situation precisely because she had lured him in and used a snake to knock him out in the first place.
“Let’s go.” Jian Yi headed south, retracing the very path Feng Jiu’er had walked earlier. The sun was now high in the sky; it was no longer early. After steadying herself, Jiu’er raised a hand to wipe her forehead—the back of her hand came away covered in cold sweat. She’d really been terrified just now; her hand had nearly been gone… She composed herself and walked behind Jian Yi. Walking on, there was no telling how much farther they’d have to go to leave this dense forest, but at least this direction led toward Fenghuang City. There was no telling whether they’d run into Jiuqing and the others along the way—if they didn’t show up soon, this hand of hers really wouldn’t be saved. After walking a while, Feng Jiu’er leaned against a large tree, appearing to rest, when in truth, she had a silver needle clasped between her fingers, ready to carve a marker into the trunk.