Changsun Wuyou stared at her father. In that moment, she could not tell whether she was alive or already dead.

“The Mountain River Seal requires a statement of position from me.”

Her father said only two things. That was the first.

The second was:

“I care deeply for you, but I cannot allow the family to be destroyed because of you.”

After those two sentences, Changsun Wuyou’s father turned and stepped back into the carriage.

Standing there, Changsun Wuyou felt not only as though she herself had died, but that the sky had collapsed.

“You see.”

The young man in brocade said with a calm smile: “Everyone must understand their own position. Fail to understand it, and great calamity follows.”

He looked Changsun Wuyou in the eyes: “I said I did not wish to kill you. But because of you, many people will die. To make a mistake is to pay a price.”

He rose from his seat, and the young woman with the striking figure pulled open the carriage door for him.

Before stepping in, the young man in brocade turned back one last time: “Try to break through. Perhaps you can make it.”

Changsun Wuyou suddenly screamed: “Why won’t you just kill me now?!”

The young man in brocade looked at her with complete seriousness and said: “To kill a man’s daughter before his eyes is a very cruel thing.”

He shook his head: “I’m sorry. I cannot do it.”

Then he boarded the carriage.

The eight men in dark blue began to advance.

Though many in the villa had been felled by the smoke, there were still at least sixty or seventy people standing. Most had been recruited from the jianghu — seasoned fighters — and even if not for Changsun Wuyou’s sake, they would fight desperately for their own survival.

“Young Master!”

Pei Lang strode to Changsun Wuyou’s side: “Let me get you out of here.”

Changsun Wuyou looked up at this big man, his face filled with nothing but concern.

“Pei Lang, you should go. There is no need to stay on my account.”

“How could I possibly leave you?”

“My own father has abandoned me. What use is your staying? What right do you even have to stay?”

“I…”

Pei Lang was never eloquent and could never express himself well. He simply reached out, clasped Changsun Wuyou by the waist, and swung her up onto his shoulder.

“Young Master, hold on.”

With that, he broke into a run toward the rear courtyard.

“Hey!”

At that moment, Chu Xu called out toward the carriage: “I was hired help. I have real ability. I can continue working for you.”

The carriage window slid open. The young man in brocade smiled: “Then show me.”

“Deal!”

Chu Xu turned and charged after Pei Lang.

Inside the carriage.

“Uncle, your standing within the Mountain River Seal will not be diminished — the Gate Master has given his word. The Gate Master was very pleased that you could place the greater good above your own family.”

The young man in brocade slowly exhaled: “It was hard on you.”

Changsun Wuyou’s father looked at him once, then closed his eyes: “You need not have been so cruel as to insist I come myself.”

The young man in brocade smiled: “The Gate Master said: events should run their full course. He felt you ought to see it with your own eyes.”

In the rear courtyard, Pei Lang was running at full speed when a burst of rapid footsteps suddenly sounded behind him.

Pei Lang glanced back and saw four men in blue already closing in.

These four moved with extraordinary swiftness, streaking forward like hunting hawks.

“Mark!”

One of the blue-robed men called out under his breath. A grappling chain shot from his hand, flying straight at Pei Lang’s thigh.

Pei Lang was too large a target and his movements too constrained. The grappling hook moved with terrifying speed — with a dull thud it caught in his thigh. The blue-robed man behind saw it land and immediately seized the chain with both hands, planting his feet.

With a tearing sound, Pei Lang’s trousers were ripped open, a chunk of flesh torn away with them.

Yet he showed no intention whatsoever of stopping. Blood streaming from his thigh, he kept running.

“Mark!”

A second blue-robed man leaped high into the air, hurling his grappling hook toward Changsun Wuyou.

Pei Lang saw it and tore her from his shoulder in an instant — the hook clamped into his shoulder instead.

Several iron claws drove straight into flesh. Pei Lang’s brow creased with pain.

The blue-robed man landed and skidded to a halt, both feet gouging lines into the earth. Pei Lang’s shoulder was wrenched sideways, while the man left two deep drag marks in the ground beneath his feet.

“Mark!”

“Mark!”

“Mark!”

The remaining three blue-robed men hurled their grappling hooks at Pei Lang simultaneously. One caught his other shoulder. Another caught his ribs. The last caught his thigh.

All four men pulled at once.

A thunderous shout from all four, and all four chains snapped taut in an instant.

However powerful Pei Lang was, under the screaming pain of it he was dragged to a stop.

Seeing Pei Lang halt, all four blue-robed men made the identical motion almost simultaneously — flicking up their robes and drawing crossbows from their hips.

Pei Lang looked back and saw the motion. His eyes went wide.

The next instant, Pei Lang swept Changsun Wuyou into his arms and crouched down.

His thick, powerful arms closed like two iron gates — yet never drew tight around her. Every muscle worked with extraordinary care.

He held this woman — the one he knew he could never have, the one he had never dared to imagine he deserved — wrapped in his arms.

He loved her with everything he had, silently, without ever asking for anything.

And he had never, not once in all his life, dared to hope that someday he might hold her like this.

Behind him, bolts from the crossbows came hammering in.

Pei Lang crouched there, holding her, perfectly still.

Into his back, one bolt after another drove home. In no time at all, his entire back was soaked through with blood.

Changsun Wuyou watched his face. Every flinch — another bolt had struck home.

“Young Master, don’t be afraid. It’s all right.”

Pei Lang saw Changsun Wuyou’s tears and forgot all about his own pain.

That immense, roughened hand of his rose, and gently wiped her face.

This — was something he had never dared to imagine.

This — was also nothing more than the instinctive reflex of a body acting without thought.

“Pei Lang… does it hurt?”

“Pei Lang doesn’t hurt.”

Pei Lang broke into a wide, foolish grin.

“Young Master, don’t worry. Pei Lang will get you out.”

After these words, he sensed the crossbow fire behind him stopping. He exploded upward.

In that instant, a dagger drove into his ribs.

Pei Lang grunted.

Then his hand clamped around the blue-robed man’s throat, and his other hand came down onto the man’s face in a full-force slap —

With a shattering crack, the man’s face caved in like it had been detonated.

“Stand behind me.”

Pei Lang called out.

He noticed that the grappling chains were all fastened to the men’s waists — likely to prevent them from coming loose.

He looked down at the blue-robed man in his grip, and after a moment, a savage smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Pei Lang flung this blue-robed man outward, grabbed the chain in both hands, and began swinging the body like a flail.

The remaining three blue-robed men were forced backward again and again.

But they could not escape — because their grappling hooks were still buried in Pei Lang’s body.

Pei Lang kept spinning. The chains wrapped around him in tighter and tighter loops, dragging the three men closer and closer.

Dodging the swinging corpse, all three were too occupied to unhook the chains from their waists.

At last, the three of them were very close.

Pei Lang let go. The corpse crashed to the ground.

He thrust both hands out — one per man — and seized two blue-robed men by their throats.

Both men struck like lightning.

Two short blades drove simultaneously — and drove simultaneously through both of Pei Lang’s palms.

Yet Pei Lang seemed to feel nothing. His hands tightened. Both men’s hands were locked in his.

One surge of force — two cracks — both men’s wrists shattered.

He released them, spread his arms wide, and slammed them together —

The daggers were still lodged in his palms, but it did not matter.

Crack — both palms struck both men across their heads, and then both heads were driven into each other.

Two skulls, both exploded.

The last blue-robed man tried to seize the moment and unhook the chain from his waist — but before he could, Pei Lang’s boot came down on the chain with crushing force.

Whoosh — the man was wrenched straight off his feet, rolling and tumbling to land at Pei Lang’s feet.

Pei Lang grabbed the chain in both hands and gave it a savage twist.

The chain became a blade —

The man who had it bound to his waist was cut in two at the middle.

Blood erupted.

Pei Lang let out a roar.

He was drenched in blood, yet stood as immovable as a mountain.

Catching sight of Changsun Wuyou’s pallid face, Pei Lang broke into a smile at once — small and careful.

“Young Master, let’s go.”

He reached out to pick her up and settle her back on his shoulder — but as his hands extended, he saw his own palms, caked in blood and filth.

Changsun Wuyou’s skirt was snow-white. So beautiful.

He did not dare to touch her.

He was afraid of dirtying her skirt.

Changsun Wuyou saw what was in his eyes, and something in her chest split open with pain. She lurched forward and wrapped both hands around one of his, pressing her cheek against it.

Blood dyed her face red. Blood dyed her beautiful white skirt red.

“Well, well.”

In that moment, Chu Xu came running up.

He stopped, and in a tone edged with cold said: “If I didn’t know it was you — this woman who looks delicate but whose heart is utterly ruthless — who had this big fool kill Qiu Bo, I might actually have been moved by what I see.”

Chu Xu stepped forward. Changsun Wuyou startled and immediately retreated behind Pei Lang.

“Stop pretending.”

Chu Xu said: “Women love nothing better than to play weak, to seem fragile, to make others feel they pose no threat…”

Changsun Wuyou looked at Chu Xu and said: “Qiu Bo may well have been bought. Was he not deserving of death?”

Chu Xu raised a hand and clapped slowly: “Beautifully done.”

Changsun Wuyou said: “You took my money. This kind of betrayal —!”

Chu Xu sighed: “Even more beautifully done.”

Changsun Wuyou immediately shouted: “Pei Lang, kill him!”

“Yes!”

Drenched in blood, Pei Lang answered at once, then drove a kick straight at Chu Xu’s face.

That foot was so large that to Chu Xu’s eyes it did not resemble a boot sole but a door panel filling his entire vision.

In that instant, Chu Xu moved.

In each hand appeared a small knife — barely more than an inch of blade, curved slightly, like the knives steppe people used for cutting meat.

One knife sliced through the tendon at the back of Pei Lang’s foot.

Chu Xu dropped low. The other hand’s knife swept across the tendon at the back of Pei Lang’s other ankle.

He pivoted, and incredibly slipped through between Pei Lang’s legs, both hands moving like a gust of wind sweeping through grass.

Front to back — in that single breath, he cut twelve slashes across Pei Lang’s legs.

Then he appeared behind Pei Lang.

Pei Lang tried to turn, and only now encountered the problem: his leg tendons had been cut in multiple places, and the arteries in his legs had been severed as well.

As he turned, his legs gave out beneath him. He fell crashing to his knees.

The moment Pei Lang’s knees hit the ground, Chu Xu was at his back.

Both hands, two small blades, moving with the fluid ease of drifting clouds and flowing water —

Another breath, and Chu Xu put both blades back into the leather sheath at his hip. He reached out, one hand gripping the back of Pei Lang’s neck, the other closing around Pei Lang’s lumbar spine.

“Out.”

A single low word.

Blood surged.

He pulled Pei Lang’s spinal column free.

Held it in his hand like some grotesque creature.

Pei Lang let out a piercing, agonized cry. He must have tried with everything in him to turn his head and look at Changsun Wuyou.

But that was no longer something he could do.

His body toppled. Blood poured.

Like a mountain falling. Like a waterfall losing its source.

—