Cold rain poured down. Xiao Li slashed his blade down, cutting down a cloaked person who hadn’t managed to retreat. Under Captain Pei the Thirteenth’s gloomy gaze, he stepped on that cloaked person’s back and thrust his blade down.

The cloaked person’s body shuddered, convulsed twice, and moved no more. Fresh blood gurgled out from beneath him.

Several corpses lay sprawled at Xiao Li’s feet. He leaned on his blade, panting, raising his eyes with fierce savagery toward Captain Pei the Thirteenth: “Today, those who block me die!”

Captain Pei the Thirteenth narrowed his eyes at his clothing nearly completely soaked through with blood, saying coldly, “Can barely hold your blade anymore, yet still putting on airs—truly laughable.”

He made a gesture. The Qian Squad death warriors, reduced to half their original number, continued their assault on Xiao Li. Their cloaks lifted in the rapid charge like ship sails.

Rainwater mixed with blood flowed down Xiao Li’s jaw. He pulled out his blade and grinned slightly, his eyes brimming with savage violence carrying a manic intensity: “Then let’s try.”

The Miao blade once again collided with the long blade cleaving toward him. Each strike came so fast it was nearly impossible for the naked eye to capture—only a deafening sharp ringing could be heard as rain columns split by the clashing blades splashed in all directions.

Each time they encircled Xiao Li, five death warriors attacked together, using wheel tactics to exhaust his stamina.

But of the twelve Qian Squad members, only six now remained.

Captain Pei the Thirteenth stared intently at the person being encircled for the kill. His hand with its bleeding tiger’s mouth gripped the blade hilt tight then released—though he spoke not a word, he had clearly lost patience.

Calm down, calm down.

The more critical the moment, the more one needed calm.

Captain Pei the Thirteenth forcefully suppressed the manic desire in his heart to urgently dispose of the person before him. The twenty-some men he had brought were all elite among the hounds. Though they could slay this guard here tonight, that pair of sharp fangs had made them pay an especially heavy price.

To encircle and kill a fierce wolf, one must first remove its fangs.

In another tooth-aching sharp ring, Xiao Li’s blade severed the weapon in a death warrior’s hand. That death warrior’s toes touched ground as he rapidly retreated, yet Xiao Li’s five-foot-long Miao blade still instantly pressed against his neck. The death warrior could only desperately adjust his position so that Xiao Li’s blade struck his shoulder bone rather than directly severing his neck.

Even so, he still suffered a severe injury. The death warrior observing the battle beside Captain Pei the Thirteenth dragged him back and took his place, barely saving his life.

Captain Pei the Thirteenth’s gaze fell on the Miao blade in Xiao Li’s hand—two feet longer than an ordinary sword. His eyes narrowed ominously.

Seize that blade from his hand, and this fierce wolf should lose its fangs.

He must sever this upstart’s arm, then crush his bones inch by inch to vent the great fury in his heart.

Captain Pei the Thirteenth slowly drew the blade at his waist.

However, just as the blade emerged two inches from its sheath, the shout of Gen Squad death warriors came through the rain ahead: “Captain, we have found the former Liang remnant, Hanyang!”

Captain Pei the Thirteenth’s grim face finally showed some pleasure. He returned the blade to its sheath and looked toward the woman the death warriors were bringing forward.

Wen Yu’s hands were bound behind her back, her face pale as snow, black hair winding like a demon’s. The blood on her collar had spread with the rainwater down to her skirt, slowly dripping into puddles in the forest as she walked.

Under illumination from pine resin torches and lightning’s white flash, that cold yet seemingly compassionate countenance appeared truly like the forgotten handiwork of ancient deities after creating the world.

Even Captain Pei the Thirteenth stared blankly for a breath. Though they had portraits copied by artists for searching, neither features nor spirit matched even one or two-tenths of the real person.

After returning to his senses, he sneered coldly: “For the Wen clan to give birth to such a demon woman—no wonder heroes from all quarters wish to seize and keep her as a forbidden prize.”

He then pointed his blade at Xiao Li: “Your master has already been captured—why don’t you surrender quickly, remnant!”

Ice-cold rainwater washed away the sweat beads hanging on Xiao Li’s eyelids. He stared at Wen Yu without blinking, seeing the large bloodstains on her clothes and skirt. He asked slowly, “Are you injured?”

Wen Yu looked at him completely soaked in blood. Cracks finally appeared in her cold eyes. She gently shook her head, saying with difficulty, “They won’t kill me. Don’t worry about me—escape quickly!”

At this moment, a Gen Squad death warrior also reported to Captain Pei the Thirteenth: “Captain, this former dynasty remnant killed Gen Five.”

Captain Pei the Thirteenth’s expression changed. Looking at Wen Yu again, his face grew much colder as he laughed coldly: “Escape?”

He raised his blade to Wen Yu’s neck, saying viciously to Xiao Li: “Put down your weapon. If I can capture this Wen remnant alive to deliver to my lord, naturally I won’t bring back a corpse. But stabbing a few non-fatal bloody holes in her body, or letting tonight’s blood-soaked brothers all have their turn as the former Liang Princess’s bridegroom—that’s still possible.”

His blade edge made as if to hook into Wen Yu’s blood-stained collar.

“Don’t touch her!” Xiao Li roared hoarsely, veins bulging on the hand gripping his blade hilt.

Captain Pei the Thirteenth’s blade tip hooked into Wen Yu’s soaked collar, staring at Xiao Li threateningly: “Throw down your blade.”

Bloodshot threads crept inch by inch into Xiao Li’s eyes. He raised the Miao blade in his hand, slowly responding: “Fine.”

But then he heard Wen Yu call out: “Xiao Li.”

Xiao Li raised his reddened eyes and crashed into that pair of cold yet shattered eyes.

Wen Yu said: “I don’t care. I live only for revenge. Whether this body is ruined or rotted—to me, it means nothing. You escape.”

Lightning struck down, followed by booming thunder.

Falling to the ground with a dull thud alongside the thunder was the Miao blade from Xiao Li’s hand.

Cold rain rolled over his eyelids then cascaded down past his eyes. He looked at Wen Yu, his voice hoarse: “I care.”

Everything she lost when the Wen clan fell—he cared about it all.

If she wanted to live as a walking corpse, then he would be her final armor.

The death warriors practically pounced on Xiao Li the instant he abandoned his blade, pinning him down.

Captain Pei the Thirteenth said coldly: “Break every bone in his body, then hang him to death in this forest to honor our fallen brothers!”

The death warriors who had nearly lost their lives to Xiao Li naturally showed no mercy.

Xiao Li was pressed into the muddy ground in the rain. Hammer-like fists and feet fell on his back, beating blood from his mouth. Half his face was also ground into the mud, yet his eyes still stared unblinkingly in Wen Yu’s direction.

If this lifetime was only this long, twenty years of misery exchanged for meeting her, dying while protecting her one last time—it seemed enough.

“Xiao Li!”

Wen Yu’s throat was so hoarse she could barely call out his name.

The coldness in her eyes seemed like shattered white porcelain, cracking inch by inch. What overflowed was all heart-piercing pain. Tears mixed with rainwater fell together to the ground as she roared at him: “Fight back!”

Xiao Li looked at her. His blood-spilling lips moved, faintly discernible that he was saying “don’t cry.”

Captain Pei the Thirteenth watched with great satisfaction, ordering his subordinates with a cold laugh: “Fight back? Break his arms and legs!”

Wen Yu’s eyes ached painfully, tears flowing unstoppably. Her hands bound behind her, she raised her head with all her might, her posture straight as green bamboo, like a phoenix about to dash its neck against mountains. Those eyes overflowing with pain and hatred ultimately held only the resolution of one embracing death: “You treacherous rebels—how dare you control my life and death!”

She closed her eyes and used all her strength to slash her neck toward the blade Captain Pei the Thirteenth held there.

Along this journey, it was Xiao Li’s protection that had brought her this far.

What she owed him was already more than enough.

If she died, he probably wouldn’t be held hostage anymore.

Captain Pei the Thirteenth was greatly alarmed and hastily withdrew his blade, yet still let Wen Yu’s neck be cut, drawing blood.

The death warriors about to break Xiao Li’s limbs were also shocked by Wen Yu and looked forward.

Xiao Li was covered in blood. Watching Wen Yu’s figure fall with blood seeping from her neck, his throat released an almost beast-like roar. He struggled up from the mud. When the death warriors came to their senses and tried to hold him down, they were shaken by the savage force suddenly erupting from his body—completely unable to grip his arms, they were thrown backward.

Seeing Xiao Li charging forward, Captain Pei the Thirteenth raised his blade to strike, but mud and water kicked up by Xiao Li’s feet blinded him. He hastily turned his head aside, then immediately felt his chest struck as if by a thousand-pound bronze tripod. Instantly, a mist of blood sprayed from his mouth.

Xiao Li scooped up the fallen Wen Yu, rolled to dodge blades from several death warriors, grabbed the Miao blade and swept it across their necks.

The Miao blade’s length made the death warriors wary. They hastily jumped back. Xiao Li seized this gap to leap like a wolf, carrying Wen Yu on his back as he jumped behind the vine-covered forest beyond the firelight’s reach.

Several death warriors raised their blades to give chase but suddenly heard an urgent call from a comrade behind: “Captain!”

They turned to see Captain Pei the Thirteenth bleeding from all seven orifices, as if his internal organs had been shattered. He stared fixedly in one direction, undispersed shock in his eyes: “Report… report to my lord, this fist technique is… is…”

He ultimately couldn’t finish the words he wanted to convey before dying with eyes still open.

—

The night rain didn’t stop. Xiao Li raced through the dense forest of vines winding around trees with Wen Yu on his back. His mouth was full of the taste of blood, countless wounds large and small covered his body, two ribs were also broken, yet at this moment it was as if he no longer knew pain.

His chest felt terribly empty—even his mind was blank.

That sense of panic and helplessness made him feel as though he had returned to that snowy night when he went to the mass grave to search for Xiao Huiniang’s corpse.

Rainwater blurred his vision. Who knew how many wounds had been scraped onto him by dead branches and broken wood in the darkness, yet he couldn’t care about any of it. He only kept saying to the person on his back as he ran urgently: “We escaped, A’Yu, you must hold on…”

Captain Pei the Thirteenth had withdrawn his blade in time—the cut on Wen Yu’s neck hadn’t injured anything vital. Yet the blood marks washed down by rainwater still spread her entire collar into a patch of carmine red.

Her unhealed cold and this night’s flight had completely destroyed her body.

Her head rested weakly on Xiao Li’s shoulder and back, responding feebly: “I won’t die…”

Xiao Li’s wet hair clung to his pale cheeks as he said, “Right, you can’t die. You still have to take revenge.”

Wen Yu closed her eyes and murmured along with him: “Won’t die, take revenge…”

Vines covering the ground concealed the ravines originally between mountain rocks. Fearing those shadow-like cloaked people would catch up again, Xiao Li walked urgently and inadvertently stepped into empty air, falling together with Wen Yu into a fissure in the mountain. Fortunately, one hand firmly protected Wen Yu while his other hand grabbed a vine, pulling tight with all his might to slow their descent.

Difficult sounds emerged from his throat. After sliding down about two or three zhang, the flesh of his palm completely scraped away, he finally managed to hang on the cliff wall gripping the vine.

But the Miao blade fell into the bottom of the stone crevice.

Wen Yu felt the hand forcefully clasping her waist trembling slightly and asked weakly, “Are you alright?”

Xiao Li supported the weight of two people with one arm alone. Hearing the sharp ring as the Miao blade seemed to strike rocks below, he said through gritted teeth: “I’m fine. There’s probably still seven or eight zhang below. This vine is very thick—it should reach the bottom. Hold tight to me. I’ll take you down.”

Fresh blood flowing from his palm dripped along the vine onto Wen Yu’s face.

With those vines covering this stone crevice from above providing shelter, rainwater didn’t drip in. She noticed the blood was warm.

Wen Yu didn’t know if Xiao Li’s wound had reopened or if he’d sustained new injuries. As she clung tightly to his shoulders and neck, pressing her face against his chest full of the smell of blood, she only felt her eye sockets burning with pain.

What she owed this person truly could never be repaid.

When Xiao Li finally brought Wen Yu down to the cliff bottom, borrowing the white light of lightning coming in, he retrieved the fallen Miao blade and also discovered behind vine covering on one side of the cliff wall—a mountain cave.

His abraded fingers fumbled in his bosom for a fire starter. He twisted it open and blew on it. Fortunately, the fire starter hadn’t gotten wet. Weak firelight illuminated this small space.

He used his blade to part the vines at the cave entrance and brought Wen Yu inside.

Inside the cave, dust had accumulated heavily. However, it seemed someone in distress had taken shelter here before. Some dry firewood was placed by the stone wall, and further in, on a pile of dried vines, a felt cloak was spread—apparently a place for sleeping.

Xiao Li took some of the dried vines used for bedding and lit them with the fire starter. The firelight illuminated everything in the cave more clearly.

He added firewood to build up the fire, shook the dust from that felt cloak, draped it over Wen Yu and had her sit leaning against the stone wall, saying: “This stone crevice is nearly ten zhang high. With the vines at the cave entrance and the vines above the crevice concealing us, even if we make fire here we won’t be discovered. With tonight’s heavy rain, let’s hide here first.”

By the firelight, Wen Yu saw clearly his pale face and the blood dripping from his robe corners. Even the hand adding firewood was a bloody, mangled mess.

Thinking of those warm bloodstains that had dripped on her face when he brought her down earlier, her heart ached painfully. She said hoarsely, “First treat your wounds…”

As she spoke, she tried to force herself to sit up to help him, but Xiao Li pressed her back down: “My skin is thick and tough—it’s no problem. Don’t move. Be careful of your neck wound.”

He forcefully suppressed the bloody taste surging up his throat, unscrewed the hilt of the Miao blade, and took out the wound medicine hidden inside.

After Wen Yu was captured, their bundle had been taken by the Pei clan hounds. At present, only this medicine was available. Though this wound medicine took effect quickly and could rapidly coagulate blood and form scabs, its medicinal properties were fierce—when sprinkled on, wounds felt like oil in boiling fire.

He pressed on one of Wen Yu’s shoulders and carefully sprinkled the medicine on her wound.

The moment the medicinal powder fused with Wen Yu’s wound, her entire body couldn’t stop trembling. Her neck tilted slightly. By firelight, that large expanse of snow-white neck quickly beaded with fine, dense sweat in the remaining dampness from rainwater!