An Jiu silently served herself a bowl of noodles. With no chairs in the room, she sat cross-legged on the floor.
In past missions, staking out a location for half a month was common. Back then, they rarely had such hot, fresh food.
No one else moved. Only the sound of An Jiu eating noodles filled the room.
Mei Tingyu stepped forward, about to knock An Jiu’s bowl away, but An Jiu easily dodged.
“How can you eat!” Mei Tingyu’s tears suddenly flowed.
Seeing her still trying to trouble An Jiu, Mei Tingzhu held her back. “Tingyu.”
Mei Tingyu crouched down, wailing loudly.
In the next room, the Crane-Controlling Army members paused upon hearing the cries.
How long had it been since they’d heard such grief?
When not on missions, they would joke around together. In lonely times, they could find companionship. Everything seemed normal, yet something was missing. They had thought it was the lack of sunlight, but in reality, the more lives they took, the colder their hearts became. Without emotions, the world lost its color, and everything became tasteless.
“Young miss, you mustn’t cry,” the old woman helped Mei Tingyu up, advising, “It’s the rules.”
The neighbors were ordinary families. Any disturbance would arouse suspicion, so loud noises were strictly forbidden at the outpost.
“What stupid ru-“
Mei Tingzhu quickly covered her mouth, taking out a handkerchief laced with a sedative and pressing it over her face.
Moments later, Mei Tingyu’s body gradually went limp.
The room had no bed, only a table, a few stools, and a small stove in the center.
Everyone squatted against the walls in their clothes.
Outside, snow fell steadily through the night. As dawn approached, a group left from next door.
Mei Tingzhu guessed they were going to collect the bodies. Others might have some limbs remaining, but what about her elder brother?
Recalling the scene of flesh and blood scattering, the pain in her heart made it hard to breathe. Mei Tingzhu buried her head in Mei Tingyu’s neck, tears falling silently.
An Jiu leaned by the window, peering through the cracks at the silver-gray light reflected off the snow outside.
The brutality of this battle rivaled the most cruel wars she had experienced. She never imagined that in a place where firearms weren’t yet advanced, such destructive power could be unleashed.
It seemed she needed to reassess this world…
After a while, old women came again with breakfast – the same noodles as last night, even the quantity unchanged.
At first, only An Jiu ate. Later, a few hungry individuals, seeing her enjoy the food, couldn’t resist getting a bowl. But for those accustomed to refined cuisine, the noodles were hard to swallow.
As everyone was forcing themselves to eat, the door opened. Several neatly dressed Crane-Controlling Army members entered.
The one in front was tall with striking eyes. Mei Tingchun found him familiar.
Mei Tingzhu looked up, paused, and then said softly, “Deputy Commander.”
Gu Jinghong raised an eyebrow slightly. “Four survivors – both expected and unexpected.”
He had anticipated that with the Mei family’s reputation and strength, three or four might survive the trial. But he hadn’t foreseen the trial site being attacked, nor that four from the Mei family would survive – and certainly not that the only casualty would be Mei Tingjun.
Everyone fell silent.
Gu Jinghong said, “Come with me, all of you.”
“Where to?” Mei Tingchun asked cautiously.
“To take you home,” Gu Jinghong replied.
All the surviving trial participants in the room sighed in relief.
Amidst the silence, An Jiu’s noodle-eating sounds were particularly clear. Everyone turned to look at her.
Gu Jinghong gazed at An Jiu, who ate as if no one else was present, feeling inexplicably frustrated. He was surrounded by such people – when focused on a task, they would completely ignore their surroundings unless interrupted.
Such people were like emotionless weapons.
Gu Jinghong couldn’t understand how a 15 or 16-year-old girl could be like those veteran killers who had been in the Crane-Controlling Army for over a decade.
“Mei Fourteen!” Gu Jinghong called out.
An Jiu paused for a moment before realizing he was addressing her. She put down her bowl and chopsticks, stood up, and quietly awaited orders.
Gu Jinghong scrutinized her from head to toe several times, growing more puzzled. Although her reaction had been slightly slow, the natural way she entered a standby state didn’t seem like someone new to the Crane-Controlling Army.
“Come with me immediately,” Gu Jinghong turned and left.
Mei Tingzhu carried Mei Tingyu on her back and followed.
An Jiu realized Gu Jinghong was testing her. Reflecting on her mechanical reaction, she felt somewhat conflicted.
“Let’s go,” Mei Tingchun said softly.
An Jiu nodded and hurried after them.
They left the outpost in darkness, reaching the outskirts before the city gates opened.
On the vast snowy plain, the group ran swiftly like eagles.
Sensing An Jiu’s lack of internal power, Gu Jinghong deliberately slowed his pace.
Only after boarding the Mei family’s carriage waiting in the suburban woods did he speak. “Your clan brother has passed. Don’t you feel sad?”
The carriage fell silent. Only Mei Jiu could refer to Mei Tingjun as “clan brother” – this question was targeted.
“Sad?” An Jiu murmured, repeating the word.
Truthfully, An Jiu felt nothing about Mei Tingjun’s death. But remembering Mei Tingyu and Mei Tingzhu’s heartbroken expressions, she recalled the slight stirring in her heart at the time.
“Perhaps,” she said.
Fortunately, Mei Tingyu was still unconscious. Otherwise, she would have lashed out at An Jiu’s nonchalant response.
Mei Tingchun, immersed in grief and joy at surviving, had no energy to dwell on An Jiu’s words. Mei Tingzhu, being calmer, understood that while upset about her brother’s death, it was normal for this fourteenth sister, who had only recently returned home and had little contact with them, to lack emotional attachment.
Gu Jinghong seemed to realize this too and abandoned the question. Instead, he asked, “How did you feel experiencing such slaughter for the first time?”
“You don’t seem like someone to ask such trivial questions,” An Jiu directly tore through his probing. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
Gu Jinghong pondered, “You’re too different from the others. It’s hard to ignore. With the Crane-Controlling Army’s Shenwu branch suffering heavy losses, I can’t help but suspect there might be a traitor among the Shenwu Army or the trial participants.”
“You underestimate me,” An Jiu didn’t directly defend herself.
“How so?” Gu Jinghong asked.
An Jiu replied, “Why would I be an insider for those incompetents!”
Gu Jinghong considered this and found it quite reasonable. The enemy had a Transformation State archer, many ninth-rank experts, and powerful explosive crossbows. Yet so many Crane-Controlling Army members and trial participants survived. From the enemy’s perspective, this ambush was far from successful. The mastermind behind it must be furious.
“Perhaps it was due to the Shenwu Commander’s effective leadership,” Gu Jinghong said.