Feng Jiu’er looked up at Jian Yi, the corners of her mouth lifting into a faint smile.

“Hero Jian Yi, this water is quite good.”

Under the rising sun, the girl’s sweet smile, set against her stunningly beautiful small face, was a pleasure to behold.

Jian Yi gazed down at her for a long moment, and the corner of his lips curved up slightly despite himself.

“Lucky for you I didn’t chop your hand off back then.”

Feng Jiu’er shot the man beside her an exasperated glance and sat down on the grass.

“That’s because you didn’t have it in you.”

Jian Yi filled a water pouch, sat down beside Feng Jiu’er, and gazed off into the distance. He casually picked up the pouch and took a swig.

Feng Jiu’er studied him, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You’re not still scheming to get my hand, are you?”

She hadn’t forgotten—if things went smoothly, they would soon be setting off back to Beimu Kingdom. Once they returned, what awaited them wouldn’t just be large and small battles fought with real blades and real spears—there would also, inevitably, be a battle within the imperial court. And Jian Yi’s benefactor, who was also Feng Jiu’er’s nominal elder sister, Feng Qingyin, held no small amount of power within the palace.

“Of course not,” Jian Yi said, turning his head to look at Feng Jiu’er. “Even to repay you for my life, I wouldn’t touch so much as a single hair on you.”

Feng Jiu’er stared at him, raising an eyebrow. “When you had the chance, you didn’t act. Now that you want to, have you asked my good sister’s opinion?”

She smugly curled her lips, then turned and gave Qiao Mu’s shoulder a light pat.

“Jian Yi, are you looking to die?” Qiao Mu leaned past Feng Jiu’er and glared fiercely at Jian Yi. “Forget about a hand—dare to touch even a single hair of Jiu’er’s, and see what happens to you.”

She wouldn’t care what kind of agreement Jian Yi had with anyone—anyone who dared lay a hand on Feng Jiu’er, Qiao Mu would never let off easy.

“Good sister.” Feng Jiu’er looked at Qiao Mu, smiling with delight.

“You’re no match for him,” Jian Yi said, glancing at Qiao Mu before turning his gaze away.

“But I have a hundred ways to make your life a living hell. Go ahead and try me,” Qiao Mu shot back, not backing down in the least.

When it came to swordsmanship, no one could beat Jian Yi—how could Qiao Mu not know that? But then again, thinking it over, perhaps the Ninth Prince wouldn’t necessarily lose to him either. It was a shame the Ninth Prince wasn’t her man; she didn’t want to keep bringing him up all the time.

“Anyway, don’t you go scheming anything,” Qiao Mu said, shooting Jian Yi another glare before turning her attention back to Feng Jiu’er. “By the way, who exactly does this guy owe a life debt to?”

“My eighth elder sister in the Feng family, Feng Qingyin,” Feng Jiu’er said, glancing at Jian Yi as she spoke. “If it weren’t for the fact that she’s now the Noble Consort Qing, Jian Yi wouldn’t even be here with us.”

“So he’s just a man nursing a broken heart,” Qiao Mu said, glancing at Jian Yi and raising an eyebrow slightly.

Turning her attention back to Feng Jiu’er, Qiao Mu went on, “This eighth sister of yours doesn’t seem to think much of you either—why would she want one of your hands?”

“It’s worse than just not thinking much of me,” Feng Jiu’er said, raising her brows. “As you’d expect, what she wanted wasn’t just one of my hands.”

“Lucky for me, our Hero Jian Yi couldn’t bear to do it, and talked her down.”

“One hand wasn’t enough for her? Someone that venomous—once I’m back in Beimu Kingdom, I’ll be sure to pay her a proper visit,” Qiao Mu said, her face full of indignation.

“People that wicked rarely come to a good end,” Feng Jiu’er said with an indifferent shrug. “Qiao Mu, you should think of a way to save our Hero Jian Yi instead.”

“I really don’t want him throwing away his future at such a young age. This most adorable killer of Beimu Kingdom might actually end up paying Feng Qingyin back with his life once we return.”

“Jiu’er, it’s time to set off,” Mu Mu said quietly, standing behind Feng Jiu’er.

Feng Jiu’er glanced back and stood up.

“Jian Yi, don’t say I didn’t warn you—I suspect Feng Qingyin already knows who you are. Don’t be foolish and go back to your death.”

With that, Feng Jiu’er left together with Mu Mu.

Jian Yi froze for a moment, then stood up as well. Seeing how grave his expression had become, Qiao Mu couldn’t help but frown.

“If you suspect Jiu’er’s right, you can test Feng Qingyin once you’re back.”

“How old is she, anyway? And she was willing to marry an emperor old enough to be her father—you can imagine how greedy she must be.”

“Anyway, I don’t believe for a second that she’s a good person. The only one I trust is Jiu’er. Do as you like.”

If it weren’t for the fact that Jian Yi had such fine, handsome features—and honestly, more than just handsome, downright stunning—Qiao Mu wouldn’t have bothered wasting her breath on him. Thinking of such a bright future, and such good looks, on top of being simple-minded and free of scheming, all about to be ruined at the hands of a cunning consort—she felt a twinge of reluctance.

Shaking her head, she let out a soft sigh and turned to walk back. Jian Yi watched her for a moment, then strode forward on his long legs to catch up.

“Test her? How exactly?”

Qiao Mu turned her head to look at the person who’d caught up to her, her expression carrying a hint of amusement that quickly soured into disdain.

“Can’t you be a little smarter than that? Pretend to die again, and see whether she’ll abandon her wealth and glory to save you. Wouldn’t that settle it?”

Before Jian Yi could even process what she’d said, Qiao Mu had already mounted her horse and ridden off.

The number one assassin of Beimu Kingdom, abandoned by the stream—he didn’t snap back to his senses until the group had already set off and passed by not far from him.

Glancing once at the figure not far away, Feng Jiu’er turned her head toward Qiao Mu.

“What exactly did you say to him?”

“I told him to try dying again.”

Qiao Mu glanced briefly toward Jian Yi’s direction.

“That blunt? I wonder if he even understood.”

Feng Jiu’er let out a soft sigh. “Sigh, that man really is too simple-minded.”

“There’s no use worrying too much,” Qiao Mu said, taking hold of her reins and looking away. “Still, it’d be a shame if someone as handsome as Jian Yi ended up dying.”

“If he were ugly, would he not be worth saving?” Feng Jiu’er asked, narrowing her eyes slightly at her companion.

“Do as you please—he’s not my man anyway,” Qiao Mu said, frowning slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting.

Feng Jiu’er shrugged and said nothing more. Whatever needed saying, she’d already said.

Suddenly, a familiar explosive boom rang out from the horizon. Everyone turned at once to look in the direction the signal flare’s blast had come from.

“Not good.” Zhao Yusheng’s deep, resonant voice carried across the group. “The pursuers have caught up. Move quickly!”

In an instant, everyone tightened their grip on the reins, pressed their legs against their horses’ flanks, and pushed forward at full speed.

This was the first time they had encountered pursuers since entering Yue City. The closer they got to Black Pool, the more anxious everyone became, and by now they had braced themselves fully for what was to come.

The group continued forward, and about a quarter hour later, faint sounds of arrows being loosed came from both sides ahead.

“Everyone, be careful!” Feng Jiang shouted, holding his sword as he shielded the group in front.

Everyone immediately drew their weapons, ready for battle. In a flash, the clashing sound of metal against metal rang out across the entire grassland. Wave after wave of arrows came at them, forcing everyone to slow their pace.

Soon, the pursuers behind them gradually drew closer. From a distance, they could be clearly identified—the one leading the charge was Feng Jin, the eldest imperial prince of the Feng Clan.

After half a month of pursuit, at last, the battle they had been waiting and hoping for had finally arrived.