Less than half an hour later, a commotion rose from outside.

“The rear hall is on fire! I heard Miss Jiu’er is inside.”

“Someone, come help put out the fire! Miss Jiu’er is in danger.”

“What’s going on? Jiu’er’s in the rear hall — quick! Go save her!”

When Jian Yi pushed open the door, he saw many people in the courtyard rushing outside.

Outside the main room, Qiaomu pushed the door open and walked in. “The poison in your body hasn’t been fully cleared yet — stay here, I’ll go.”

“Qiao.” Feng Jiang strode out through the hall doors.

“Physician Jiang, you’d better stay behind. Qiaomu and I will go take a look — I heard Jiu’er is trapped inside,” Duan Liuyang said, pulling Qiaomu along as she strode outward.

Before Feng Jiang could say anything, the sound of a baby’s cries came from within.

“Be careful!” he called after them, then turned back inside.

Jian Yi looked up, saw the thick smoke rising in the distance, his eyes flickering, and shut the door.

With the fire breaking out so suddenly, nearly everyone who could leave the west wing had already gone.

Feng Jiang returned to the inner room and picked up the infant from the bed.

Suddenly, the window shattered into pieces, and a man in black burst through.

As Feng Jiang turned, a silver-gleaming sword shot swiftly toward him.

“Bang!” A round wooden low table flew through the air and struck the long sword from the side.

The man in black’s hand holding the sword trembled; in an instant he pulled the deflected blade back, and with a tap of his toes, leapt lightly up onto the roof beam.

Inside the inner room, two handsome faces suddenly appeared.

“Jian Yi, I know it’s you. What exactly is going on?” Feng Jiu’er said, her face full of urgency.

The fire was real, but it had only been firewood set beside the rear hall that had caught alight.

Feng Jiu’er hadn’t been trapped by the fire at all — she’d done this simply to confirm Jian Yi’s state.

If it had truly been the normal Jian Yi, hearing that she was trapped by fire, he would have rushed to save her without a second thought.

Instead, he had come here — to Feng Jiang’s room.

Jian Yi’s visible eye narrowed. Sword in hand, he swept swiftly downward.

His target was still Feng Jiang.

“Jian Yi, don’t!” Feng Jiu’er rushed forward.

But someone was faster than her.

In the blink of an eye, Di Wu Ya had blocked him and was already exchanging blows with Jian Yi.

“Clang, clang, clang, clang” — the sound of silver blades clashing rang through the room, sparks scattering with the firelight.

“Jian Yi, it’s me, Jiu’er.” Feng Jiu’er was pulled aside by Feng Jiang.

There was no sign of Little Jiang in the room at all — the crying she’d heard just now had been faked by Feng Jiu’er herself.

“Jian Yi, wake up. It’s me, Jiu’er. Don’t you even recognize me anymore?” Feng Jiu’er kept trying to bring him back to his senses.

Chen Hong was still alive, and had returned.

And it was she who had carelessly let Jian Yi slip away, giving Chen Hong the opening to exploit.

Jian Yi’s eyes were bloodshot, as if he were possessed.

Had his opponent not been Di Wu Ya, he likely would have met a grim fate today.

Feng Jiu’er broke free of Feng Jiang and leapt closer.

“Jian Yi, stop fighting.” She spread her arms wide, standing in front of Di Wu Ya.

“Girl.” Di Wu Ya didn’t hesitate — he pulled her up and leapt to the other side.

Right where they had been standing a moment before, there came a crash, and the roof beam snapped in two.

“Jiu’er, get out of here, quick!” Jian Yi stopped, gripping his right hand tightly with his left.

Suddenly, he raised his left hand, gathering internal energy in his palm.

“Don’t!” Feng Jiu’er lunged forward desperately, but Di Wu Ya held her fast in his arms.

Just as Jian Yi was about to destroy his own right hand, Feng Jiang, seizing the moment while he was unguarded, struck the back of his neck with a palm strike.

Jian Yi’s body swayed, and his eyes closed.

“Clang!” The long sword dropped to the ground.

Feng Jiang caught hold of his arm and gently pulled, steadying him.

“Jian Yi.” Feng Jiu’er was so anxious that tears began falling from her eyes.

He was a swordsman — how important were his hands to him?