The ground ran red with blood, littered with the dead and wounded.
If not for Patriarch Situ and Madam Situ, Ziqing would already have won!
In terms of martial skill, not a single person from Nangong City was her match—she would have won!
In terms of a genuine contest of strength, every last person from Nangong City had been beaten down, some dead, some wounded—she would have won!
She would have won cleanly, honorably, with nothing whatsoever to be ashamed of.
At the very least, the people of Nangong City—at the very least, Situ Haonan—should have had no choice but to acknowledge her victory wholeheartedly!
Yet Patriarch Situ and Madam Situ insisted on intervening, taking advantage of her vulnerability, ganging up on her with superior numbers!
Madam Situ, too, had suffered heavy injuries, but Patriarch Situ remained entirely unscathed—and Ziqing?
She had to admit, at this moment she was in worse shape, more badly wounded, than even the time she’d fought off the Xiongnu slave army.
She didn’t even know how many arrow wounds covered her body—she only knew her back had taken the most, with her legs close behind.
Her back still bore old wounds not yet healed, now compounded by fresh ones. Her outer robe had long since been shredded by sharp arrows, the fabric of her undergarments pressed into the wounds, tangled together with mangled flesh, blood still flowing unceasingly, a horrifying sight!
The pain was excruciating, twisting through her very organs, so severe that even she, who never easily cried out in pain, found herself thinking: it hurts, it hurts so much.
And the sword wounds on her legs? Countless beyond counting.
This bunch was utterly despicable, either sneaking attacks on her back or wounding her legs, trying to force her to her knees, trying to make her collapse!
But she absolutely would not!
Her body might be weakening, wound after wound, yet she still stood tall, unyielding, her spine iron-hard!
Her body screamed with pain, yet she clenched her jaw tight, her gaze as cold and ferocious as a wolf’s, fixed on Patriarch Situ and Madam Situ!
Han Ziqing, hold on.
You are not weak. You have not fallen to the point of being slaughtered at someone else’s mercy.
Treat those two as your prey—you didn’t walk into this trap, you came here to hunt!
You have not been bullied!
You are here to prove yourself!
Looking at the Situ couple, Ziqing’s clenched fists slowly relaxed. She would fight.
Only two left. Whoever they were, however formidable they might be, she wasn’t afraid.
Clang!
Her bare hand slashed downward, blood spraying with the motion, the wind blade—normally invisible and colorless—now streaked with blood as it shot forward!
Patriarch Situ and Madam Situ immediately dodged. The severity of the qin-strings’ wind attack was something he had witnessed several times before!
Without Patriarch Situ, Madam Situ would have been no match for Ziqing at all!
Madam Situ dodged while searching for an opening to attack, and Patriarch Situ did the same.
They bore responsibility for Nangong City’s patriarch’s death too, so they were determined to avenge him.
Clang!
Another strike, blood spraying out, slicing viciously across Patriarch Situ’s cheek. He drew in a sharp breath of cold air, forced to admit—as much as he hated this woman, he genuinely admired her from the bottom of his heart!
He had never before encountered such a stubborn, such a resilient woman—one who possessed only eight-tenths strength, yet could unleash a force equivalent to a full ten!
Patriarch Situ couldn’t help but think: if only Han Ziqing were his own daughter, how wonderful that would be!
His daughter?
Ever since Ziqing’s first visit to Nangong City, seeing Patriarch Situ’s warmth and kindness, hadn’t she thought exactly the same thing!
If she’d had such a father, doting on her, cherishing her, protecting her—how wonderful that would have been.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t her father. He was Situ Xin’er’s father, and while he could be forgiven for favoring his own daughter Situ Xin’er, he’d repeatedly harmed her on top of it!
Did having a father make someone so great?
She, Han Ziqing, had no father, no mother, yet she could still live a magnificent life, could still cherish herself, protect herself—no one could ever bully her!
Seeing Patriarch Situ’s attention wander, Ziqing seized the opportunity to strike, unhesitatingly channeling her internal energy into her already near-crippled hands, the sound ringing out again and again in rapid succession!
Clang clang clang! Clang clang clang!
Wind blade after wind blade shot out almost without pause. She knew that at this rate, even if she didn’t die, these hands would be ruined forever—she’d never be able to play the qin again.
There had never been a moment she wanted to cry more than this one, the misery bringing tears to the rims of her eyes.
But she didn’t cry, and she didn’t stop!
Instead, she struck even more fiercely, wind blade after wind blade, their force and speed leaving Patriarch Situ overwhelmed, unable to keep up—he took three direct hits!
This woman was nothing short of a miracle!
Patriarch Situ had no chance to counterattack, only able to defend, only able to retreat!
But Ziqing was fighting with such intensity, such focus, that she forgot there was someone else beside her—Madam Situ.
How could Madam Situ possibly allow her beloved husband to be beaten this badly!
“Han Ziqing, hand over your life!”
She roared inwardly, raising her sword and lunging at Ziqing from behind with vicious force!
But! At that very moment, Ziqing sensed it—she caught the danger behind her reflected in the glint of Patriarch Situ’s sword, danger so close it was practically upon her!
In that split-second, life-or-death instant, she twisted her body sharply, sidestepping, narrowly dodging that blade, reclaiming her life by the slimmest of margins!
But she was, after all, only one person. She had single-handedly held off more than twenty blades from Nangong City—but she was human, not a god!
Her strength had its limits!
Just as she faced Madam Situ, Patriarch Situ’s sword thrust toward her at the same moment!
So vicious, so merciless, aimed precisely at a vital point on her back—if it pierced through that point, it would drive straight through to her heart and out the other side!
The sword closed in, closer, closer, about to sink in!
Years of mercenary life had made her acutely sensitive to the scent of death, and she felt it now!
Sensing her own death approaching, she instinctively turned, but the moment she turned, the blade drove straight toward her chest instead…
No!
Please, no!
Jun Beiyue!
She still had to see Jun Beiyue!
She didn’t want to die!
Yet even she knew it was too late—she had no strength left, no chance left.
She didn’t even know exactly when she’d closed her eyes—it seemed to have happened instinctively.
But at that very instant, she felt someone appear before her, pressed against her, and then a heavy, muffled grunt sounded out.
What was happening?
Ziqing’s eyes flew open, and almost simultaneously, Madam Situ beside her cried out in alarm, “Haonan!”
It was him—Situ Haonan!
He had been rushing here this entire time, and though he was a grown man, he hadn’t been able to hold back his tears, crying the whole way as he ran.
Finally, he’d made it in time!
He stood shielding Ziqing, less than three inches from his own chest, pierced by the very blade his father had wielded his entire life.
Father and son locked eyes. Gone from Patriarch Situ’s gaze was his usual sharp severity—there was only panic, a panic he had never before shown.
All along, he had believed he held absolute control over this son, that everything this son had was something he himself had given him, and that the son must obey his commands, must be obedient!
Even if he was disobedient, surely one day, once he had nothing left, he would come crawling back!
Yet never in his wildest thoughts had he imagined it would come to this—his own sword piercing his own son’s body, mere inches from delivering a fatal blow!
Panic—for the first time in his life, Patriarch Situ felt genuine panic, and Madam Situ was even more at a loss, watching blood continuously spill from Situ Haonan’s lips. She wanted to rush forward but didn’t dare, covering her mouth and sobbing.
“Han Ziqing, this is all your fault, all because of you, you shameless woman!”
Ziqing’s hands trembled, too weak even to lift, yet she still forced them up through gritted teeth, gently wrapping them around Situ Haonan’s neck…