Perhaps what attracted Cai Liantang was not the human-skin mask covering Feng Jiu’er’s face.

Beautiful as that mask was, it still paled in comparison to Feng Jiu’er’s true appearance.

Feng Jiu’er’s petite body, like the short blade in her hand, didn’t look particularly strong.

Compared to the mountain bandits—wielding broadswords, with sturdy builds and vicious faces—she should have been far too weak.

Yet the light now radiating from the woman’s body, the aura she exuded, was impossible to ignore and impossible to look away from.

With a clang, Feng Jiu’er blocked a broadsword weighing over a hundred jin with the short blade in her hand.

And this was only the beginning.

She swung her hand with force, sending the burly man staggering backward several steps with his broadsword still in hand.

The burly man finally managed to steady himself, glaring at Feng Jiu’er. “Who are you?”

“I don’t care who you are. I just want to help my friend get his goods back, so stay out of it.”

“What goods?” Feng Jiu’er looked at him unhurriedly. “Do you mean the poison? My apologies, but that’s my merchandise.”

“Cai Liantang,” Feng Jiu’er raised an eyebrow, “has the money been returned yet?”

Taking money without delivering goods was robbery—that much she understood.

“It’s been returned, along with half the silver as compensation,” Cai Liantang said, coming to stand beside Feng Jiu’er, shoulder to shoulder.

“Kou Yurong and I have already reached an agreement. What business is it of yours? If you’re trying to muscle in for a share, you’ve picked the wrong person.”

“Hahaha…” the burly man laughed loudly. “Look around you—who’s calling the shots here right now?”

All around, Cai Liantang’s men were either wounded or lying on the ground; the situation wasn’t looking good.

More importantly, they had already been fighting in the forest for nearly two days, with two or three more days of sleepless fighting ahead.

If not for noticing this weakness, the bandits wouldn’t have dared make a move against Cai Liantang, who held sway in this territory.

Cai Liantang glanced around, then let his gaze settle on Feng Jiu’er.

“Miss Long, you and your people should leave.”

His side outnumbered the bandits, but in their current state, escaping safely would already be quite an achievement.

“Go quickly! Take the poison back to complete your task.”

Feng Jiu’er hadn’t expected Cai Liantang to have such a strong sense of loyalty.

He couldn’t even guarantee his own life, yet he still looked out for them.

“If we leave, what about you?” Compared to Cai Liantang, Feng Jiu’er wasn’t worried in the slightest.

It wasn’t that no one had tried to help him—but whoever approached was struck down by a single sword from Jian Yi, and the bandits closing in behind could only cower behind the burly man.

“As if he’d dare kill me,” Cai Liantang said, turning his gaze toward the burly man.

“If I die here in your territory, Lianxi Town, you won’t be able to stay here either.”

“Heh heh… what is Lianxi Town to me?” The burly man threw his head back and laughed.

“All this poison, and top-grade poison at that—do you know what price it fetches over there?”

“Kou Yurong refused to return the goods no matter what, because this poison alone could earn him five times the money.”

“Once I’ve collected my payment, what reason would I have to stay in this godforsaken place?”

“If you’re smart, take your people and leave now, or else…” The burly man, unafraid of Jian Yi, licked his lips while staring at Feng Jiu’er.

He had hundreds of brothers behind him—why should he fear just one or two people?

“Miss Long, just go.” Cai Liantang had seen through the burly man’s intentions.

“Even if you don’t bring the poison back, you won’t escape death either—don’t worry! I, Cai Liantang, am not so easily defeated!”

The words had barely left his mouth when Cai Liantang raised his broadsword.

Feng Jiu’er looked at this man—the same one she had defeated days ago without even using a full move—and there was no doubt she didn’t believe his words.

“Cai Liantang, are you really not afraid of dying?” Feng Jiu’er asked calmly, completely ignoring the dozens of men surrounding her.

“Miss Long, if you don’t leave now, it’ll be too late.” Cai Liantang, broadsword still raised, glanced sideways at her.

“How many brothers do you have under your name?” Feng Jiu’er remained standing there, perfectly composed.

Not just the burly man—even Cai Liantang couldn’t read her at all.

Cai Liantang’s thick brows furrowed, and Feng Jiu’er’s voice continued.

“It’s nothing much. I was just thinking, if you die, I could take your brothers under my wing.”

“Don’t worry! I won’t let them go hungry or cold.”

As Feng Jiu’er said these heartless words, Feng Jiang landed steadily beside her, one hand dragging Qin Anzhuo along.

He had just tossed Qin Anzhuo to the ground when Qiao Mu also arrived.

This girl never bothered to hide her ambitions—Qiao Mu knew that perfectly well, yet she still loved him just as much, even more so. What could he do about it?

Feng Jiu’er’s bluntness left Cai Liantang even more stunned.

But he quickly composed himself.

“More than five thousand,” Cai Liantang declared, and generously pulled out a token from inside his robe.

“Miss Long, I respect you, and I believe you have the ability to lead everyone toward a better life. Take this token—from now on, my men will follow your orders.”

“Good.” Feng Jiu’er stepped forward and accepted the token from him.

The motion was neither hesitant nor reluctant.

Not a hint of embarrassment, not even out of breath—frankly, it almost seemed too easy.

“What is this? Did I say the little beauty could leave?” The burly man, having been ignored, wore an ugly expression.

“Little beauty.” He glanced at Cai Liantang, then turned his gaze to Feng Jiu’er. “Why don’t… ah…”

Without an order from Jiu’er, Jian Yi hadn’t intended to act, but he truly couldn’t hold back any longer.

Before the burly man could finish his sentence, he lost an eye.

“How dare you offend my woman?”

The words had barely left his mouth when Jian Yi drew his long sword in one motion, slitting the burly man’s throat. The man collapsed.

“Cai Liantang, if I save your life, you’ll be my underling from now on,” Feng Jiu’er said, turning her head toward Cai Liantang, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Having witnessed Jian Yi’s true strength, Cai Liantang dropped his broadsword in fright, propping himself up with trembling arms.

It turned out their true strength went far beyond what he’d seen that day.

Who exactly were these people? How could they possess such profound swordsmanship?

The bandits guarding the burly man, seeing this, fled in terror if they could still run, and dropped straight to their knees if they couldn’t.

In this remote, desolate place, no one had ever witnessed a true master at work.

When Jian Yi had drawn his sword moments ago, the entire sequence of motions—drawing, advancing, striking—no one had been able to follow with their eyes.

In the blink of an eye, their leader had not only lost an eye but had also had his throat slit.

Now, in everyone’s eyes, Jian Yi was like a god—no one dared provoke him even slightly.

“Miss Long, from now on I’m your underling too,” said Qin Anzhuo, who had been sitting on the ground, now rising to his knees as he looked at Feng Jiu’er.

The moment his words fell, all of Cai Liantang’s men rushed forward in a panic, kneeling around Feng Jiu’er.

The bandit chief was dead, his deputy had fled, and the remaining squad leaders exchanged glances before sheathing their swords together and approaching Feng Jiu’er.

“Miss Long, please lead us out of these mountains. We’re sick to death of this life here,” one of the kneeling bandits called out loudly.

Many bandits, hearing this familiar voice, turned around and knelt as well.