The patriarch of the Xiong family, Xiong Bingnan, was of pure Mu Er He descent on his father’s side — possessed of the robust physique and thick, luxuriant beard that the people of Mu Er He took such pride in. He stood eight chi tall, his voice like a great bell, and among a crowd of outsiders he rose like a towering tree grown straight up through a field of crops.

Yet at this moment, his head had been set upon a low stool no more than a few chi in height. The magnificent beard he had tended with such care in life was matted with splattered brain matter, and his entire head resembled a winter melon that had been crushed underfoot.

Zou Sifang’s face was directly level with Xiong Bingnan’s head. The pair of eyes upon it had already begun to turn white, staring at him with the blank gaze of a dead fish.

“Master Zou.”

The same voice called to him once more, this time carrying a note of impatience.

Zou Sifang forced himself not to look at the source of that voice, preferring to keep his gaze fixed on the head before him.

“G-good sirs, I know this place rather well myself, and I do have gold and silver — and bank drafts! All bearing the golden seal of Xiaomei Zhuang — completely reliable—”

Footsteps sounded, and that voice drew several paces closer.

“Hasn’t Master Zou come to conduct business? How can you not even look at the other party? Is that not terribly discourteous?”

Zou Sifang shook uncontrollably — perhaps from the weakness of having barely recovered from serious illness — and his knees buckled, dropping him to the floor. He did not care about the indignity of it, and cast his gaze desperately downward.

“Good sirs, from the moment I entered I have not looked at any of your faces. You may take whatever you please — I shall not breathe a word of complaint!”

At these words the room fell silent for a moment, then several strange laughs rippled out from various corners of the chamber, like the clamoring of bats in a cave.

“Not a word of complaint!” A great force fell upon him, and Zou Sifang’s head was seized and wrenched upward, forcing him to meet the other’s eyes.

He looked upon a face that was utterly unremarkable — so utterly unremarkable that you could scarcely retain the memory of a single feature or detail upon it.

And it was not only this man — every other person in the room bore the very same kind of face.

The hand on Zou Sifang’s head slowly loosened, then turned and pointed at Xiong Bingnan’s head with an unhurried gesture. “Master Zou, this is the kind of thing you ought to have discussed with the Xiong patriarch first — wouldn’t you agree?”

The others in the room murmured their accord, idly reaching behind them into medicine chests to draw out round, bright-red beads, tossing them about like playthings.

Watching those Lingqianxue beads — worth a fortune apiece — rolling about on the floor like marbles, Zou Sifang felt as though his heart were bleeding. He knew he could not escape this predicament, and closed his eyes in helpless resignation.

“What is it you want?”

“What do we want? Simply this: one hand delivers the money, the other delivers the goods. Master Zou hands over the item as he’s told, and we return his life to him.”

Zou Sifang said nothing. His fingers remained locked around the box in his hands.

The man let out a cold laugh, reached out and snatched at the box. Zou Sifang refused to release it. The man exerted force, the box flew free and tumbled to the ground, spilling what was inside.

Something of jade-green fell out.

The attackers’ eyes fell upon it, as though assessing something.

And at that same moment, on the roof tiles of Xiong family manor, several pairs of eyes were also fixed on that jade-green object below.

Xiao Nanhui nudged the person beside her and asked in a hushed voice, “Is that the one?”

Hao Bai squinted, straining to peer through the narrow gap between the roof tiles. “Well… the color seems right…”

Xiao Nanhui pressed urgently, “What do you mean the color seems right? Look more carefully.”

Hao Bai looked a little aggrieved. “We’re this far away, and I’m looking through something like a keyhole — how is one supposed to look carefully?”

Xiao Nanhui swallowed her irritation and tried to catch Zhongli Jing’s eye on the other side, but he actually raised a finger, signaling her to be quiet.

From inside the room came a sharp crack, and Zou Sifang’s face was pressed to the floor. The jade-green jade seal was picked up by the man in the center.

“Master Zou — is what you’ve brought this time the real thing?”

Zou Sifang tried to swallow and compose himself, but found he could not manage it no matter how he tried — as though something were lodged in his throat, making even breathing difficult.

“Is this question so hard to answer? Master Zou, do say something.”

Zou Sifang had made up his mind. He clenched his teeth and would not utter a single word.

A cold laugh sounded above his head. “You think that by staying silent, we can’t do anything to you? Perhaps—” The man spoke slowly, raising the object in his hand high, “—perhaps we do not want it at all, but simply wish to destroy it?”

Before the words had finished falling, the man’s hand was already descending, and the jade seal was about to be dashed against the floor.

In that instant of lightning and flint, a cracking sound came from the rafters above, and a figure dropped straight down, lunging directly at the back of that man.

The two collided in passing, and the jade seal flew, landing squarely on Xiong Bingnan’s head.

Xiao Nanhui landed in haste, nearly wrenching her back, but her gaze did not dare leave the object.

The roof of the Xiong family’s old manor, having been trodden on by Xiao Nanhui, had developed a hole. It was clearly now unable to bear the weight of certain people, and with a great crashing sound, it collapsed entirely, sending three more people tumbling down along with it.

Ding Weixiang shielded Zhongli Jing with one hand, and with his other hand hooked Hao Bai’s waistband a little to prevent him from falling to his death.

Even so, Hao Bai still landed squarely on his backside, and was now looking at Xiao Nanhui with some indignation.

Xiao Nanhui knew the other party was annoyed at her recklessness, and simply used her eyes to indicate the location of the jade seal. It was closest to him.

But before Hao Bai could make any move, the dozen or so opponents shifted their formation in silence on all sides, surrounding Xiao Nanhui and the others completely.

Having been unable to see clearly through the roof tiles from above, Xiao Nanhui now noticed that these people’s faces seemed to have been tampered with — the features were fused to the surrounding skin, as though corroded by some substance.

What manner of jianghu organization was this? Or were they assassins and killers kept by someone’s household? And why did they refuse to show their true faces?

She had no time to think further before the other side launched the first attack.

What came toward her was not a flash of blades — it was strand after strand of thread, fine as spider silk. The strands wove together into a net, which at the operators’ command rapidly contracted toward the center.

Xiao Nanhui barely evaded it, but the threads immediately shifted direction and wound toward her again from another angle. Instinctively, Xiao Nanhui drew the dagger at her waist and slashed at the taut thread.

A piercing screech of metal on metal rang inside her ears, triggering a wave of ringing.

The thread sliced past her temple, and a lock of hair fell instantly, together with half the severed blade, to the ground.

Xiao Nanhui finally began to understand how Xiong Bingnan’s head had come to be sitting on that table.

Even by jianghu standards, the techniques before her were far too savage and deadly. Moreover, such an extreme method — why had she never heard of it before? Or was it that anyone who had witnessed this formation had already—

In a corner, an unusual light stirred briefly in Ding Weixiang’s eyes as well. He said nothing, but placed his left hand upon the hilt of his sword.

The net of iron-cutting thread contracted again. This time it gathered everyone within its span, seeming intent on shredding everything to pieces.

Ding Weixiang finally moved.

This was the first time Xiao Nanhui had seen the sword in his hand leave its scabbard.

But to speak precisely, she saw only the motion of drawing — she could not make out the sword itself. All she could catch was a flashing shadow, and the sound of those hard, fine threads being severed.

Just like that night at the altar.

This man’s body and blade had become one, moving faster than the eye could track.

Of course, his speed was one thing, and the sword in his hand was another matter entirely.

From the cut where her dagger had just snapped, she could tell that the threads these assassins used were made of a special material designed specifically to shear through the blades of all manner of cold weapons — the harder one struck, the more easily one’s blade was cleaved in two.

Yet Ding Weixiang’s sword was entirely unaffected, and he himself was clearly not the least bit worried about it.

This man’s martial background was even more profound and unfathomable than she had imagined.

Once the longer threads were severed, the dozen or so opponents were also clearly taken somewhat by surprise, but they spread out with fluid mutual understanding, breaking the long threads into short ones, preparing to deal with the people before them one by one.

With Ding Weixiang’s level of martial mastery, cutting down everyone in the room was only a matter of time — yet he seemed to have no intention whatsoever of moving more than half a step from Zhongli Jing’s side, only killing those who came at him directly, completely disregarding everyone else.

Gradually the assassins sensed how formidable this man was, and stopped pressing that hard target, turning instead to surround Xiao Nanhui and Hao Bai. Hao Bai, who had no martial training, immediately became a liability.

The situation grew more and more dire. Xiao Nanhui could only curse herself for having left in such haste, with no time to collect her own weapons — so much so that she was now reduced to bare-handed fighting.

She kicked one man away and, anxious as an ant on a hot pan, bellowed at the stunned Hao Bai, “What are you standing there gaping for?! Throw me a weapon!”

Hao Bai jolted as though just returned to his senses, and looked around in frantic haste. The Xiong family had previously hired people to guard the premises, and on the wall behind him hung quite an assortment of axes, halberds, hooks, forks, sabers, spears, and swords — a wide variety of styles, though all coated in a good deal of dust, suggesting they had only ever been put there for display.

“What — what weapon do you use?”

Xiao Nanhui’s head ached beyond measure. “Any weapon at all!”

Hao Bai, completely flustered, grabbed the nearest thing to hand without pausing to look at it properly, and hurled it toward Xiao Nanhui with all his might.

A tremendous clang rang out.

Xiao Nanhui stared at the pair of eight-sided lotus hammers lying on the ground. Her eye twitched. She had no choice but to resign herself to fate, picking them up and swinging them in wide arcs to meet the blades coming at her.

Hammers were destructive enough, but far too heavy and unwieldy — even lifting them was an effort, let alone matching the agile, nimble assassins.

Xiao Nanhui swung twice and was already gasping for breath. Her opponents pressed their advantage and closed in. Xiao Nanhui simply bent down and used the two great hammers as a kind of “rolling pin,” targeting her opponents’ feet specifically.

Each hammer blow left a dent in the ground. One assassin failed to dodge in time and took the blow across the top of his foot, letting out a cry of agony and collapsing to the floor — in the next instant Ding Weixiang’s blade swept past like wind, and a red line opened across that man’s throat.

Xiao Nanhui felt she had found the secret to using this weapon, and threw herself fully into the fray. Working in tandem with Ding Weixiang, she funneled opponents one after another into range of his blade, and the remaining assassins were swiftly suppressed.

Hao Bai, left off to one side, turned his head the next moment and found himself locking eyes with Zou Sifang. The two held each other’s gaze for a few seconds — then Zou Sifang suddenly scrambled to his feet, snatched the jade-green jade seal from atop Xiong Bingnan’s head, and seized the moment while Xiao Nanhui and Ding Weixiang had the others occupied to bolt out the door.

Hao Bai stared, dumbstruck, and only managed to call out a few words: “Zou Sifang is running!”

Xiao Nanhui spun around at once. Heedless of the danger at her back, she hurled the heavy hammer in her hand with all her force, sending an assassin crashing aside, then charged after him toward the doorway.

This scene was watched in cool silence by a figure who had stayed in a corner from the start, observing everything with detached eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment, and for an instant it seemed as though he was prepared to remain exactly where he was and wait for the outcome of this battle — already decided — to conclude.

But in the end, he moved.

Ding Weixiang’s sword moved faster and faster, and when he had finally cut down the last man and turned around, both Zhongli Jing and Xiao Nanhui had already vanished.

Ding Weixiang’s heart skipped a beat. His blade tilted sideways and sheared off half the head of the man beside him.

That person — that person absolutely must not come to any harm.

Bolao was leaning against the carriage, picking her teeth.

It was not that she had not heard the commotion inside, but she was still annoyed at Xiao Nanhui for leaving her to watch the carriage, and absolutely refused to go in and help of her own accord. She was just mulling over how to reclaim some dignity later, when the double wooden doors of the Xiong manor were kicked open with a boom, and a disheveled figure came barreling out.

Who else could it be but Zou Sifang.

Bolao spat out the grass stalk in her mouth and rose to her feet at a leisurely pace, then settled back on the carriage beam in the posture of someone entirely without urgency.

Zou Sifang looked at the carriage blocking the gate. He had no choice — he gritted his teeth, turned, and ran toward the rear courtyard of the Xiong manor.

The rear courtyard of Xiong manor was nothing like a typical household’s backyard — not a blade of grass, not a flower, only mountains of deer carcasses and bones. The Xiong family’s herb gatherers dragged back deer carcasses from the marshlands when they had no time to extract what was needed, then cleared the remains one by one afterward.

Bleached bones and antlers buried the entire space, and fragments of rotting hide lay strewn everywhere.

But Zou Sifang had no leisure to care about any of this. Driven by the will to survive, his legs — growing more useless by the day — seemed to suddenly have their meridians unblocked, and he churned them with frantic speed.

Xiao Nanhui had not anticipated that a man who had been half-dead just days before could run this fast. But even more unexpected was what happened next: Zou Sifang tore out through the rear courtyard of the Xiong manor and plunged headlong into a reed thicket taller than a man.

Xiao Nanhui’s footsteps halted for just a moment.

She knew what lay within that reed thicket. But — that thing was still in Zou Sifang’s hands.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Xiao Nanhui too plunged into that boundless expanse of reeds. And in that very instant, she seemed to hear someone behind her call out her name in a desperate, urgent shout.

But Zou Sifang’s figure was already vanishing rapidly, and she had no time to spare. She ran headlong into the depths of the marshlands.