All together?

Hearing Ziqing’s words, the Third Young Master couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Han Ziqing, who do you think you are! You think just because you killed my father you’re something special? Don’t forget, that was gunpowder you used — when it comes to real martial skill, this young master will have you flat on the ground within three moves!”

As he spoke, he drew his long sword — Nangong Cheng was most renowned for its swordsmanship.

The Third Young Master was secretly pleased with himself. The finest experts of Longyuan were gathered at Nangong Cheng — Jun Beiyue might be someone to be wary of, but this woman, Han Ziqing? In the martial world, she didn’t even rank.

His eldest and second brothers had both died by her underhanded schemes, and he, the third son, had practically been handed a windfall. The Old Madam had said whoever defeated Han Ziqing would become clan head — being the first to step up, why would he give anyone else the chance?

Facing the Third Young Master’s arrogance, Ziqing tossed back only two words: “Then die.”

The chill in her phoenix eyes was like a blade sharp enough to cut through anything in an instant. The Third Young Master of Nangong felt an inexplicable, sudden unease — but he brushed the odd feeling aside almost immediately.

He channeled his internal energy into his long sword, making the blade ring with a sharp clang, then glanced back at the crowd, a flicker of ruthless certainty flashing in his eyes — and then, unexpectedly, he dropped to his knees and slid forward across the ground, sword extended, straight toward Han Ziqing!

“Cheap tricks!”

Ziqing scoffed, flipping backward through the air and casually drawing the Wuzheng from behind her back.

This Wuzheng was no longer the same instrument it had once been — its secret had been discovered in Xuanyuan Lige’s courtyard, though there had been no chance yet to properly test it.

The Third Young Master’s martial skill wasn’t bad, but she was about to teach him that underestimating her came at a price!

Wanting to come at her one at a time, was he? Fine. Today she would let the Wuzheng taste its first blood.

The Third Young Master of Nangong halted right at Ziqing’s feet, moving with astonishing speed, raising his sword and thrusting straight up at her!

Ziqing sidestepped effortlessly. When it came to speed, even Jun Beiyue could only match her — let alone this man beneath her feet.

“Three moves? Third Young Master of Nangong, that’s already two!”

Ziqing offered the kind reminder, one hand cradling the zither, the other sweeping across its strings. The moment she finished speaking, she abruptly swept her hand downward through the air, the motion crisp and decisive, without the slightest hesitation!

Her fair hand loosed a blade of wind, and with a resounding “clang,” every string of the Wuzheng shuddered at once. The sound was thin but sharply piercing — many in the crowd couldn’t help but clap their hands over their ears.

What kind of martial art was this? For a moment, everyone was left stunned.

It wasn’t just the strings trembling — the entire Wuzheng was vibrating. Ziqing’s gaze turned sharp and cold, and just as the Third Young Master of Nangong rushed forward, sword leading, she pressed the Wuzheng down hard in a split second. In that instant, several fierce blades of wind rebounding off the strings struck the Third Young Master of Nangong all at once!

A single deafening “clang” rang out, and the Third Young Master’s sword shattered — his body flew back and slammed hard into the ground!

Just as Ziqing had said — he had asked to die.

The wind blades that rebounded from the Wuzheng, even if they didn’t sever every tendon in his body, would leave his internal organs shattered.

The moment the Third Young Master hit the ground, he lay sprawled flat on his back, blood pouring from his mouth, unable even to hold onto his broken sword, which he let fall aside.

For a swordsman, the sword was his very life — once it was broken and cast away, his life as he knew it was over.

The crowd stood frozen, mouths agape, utterly shocked. No one had imagined Han Ziqing would be so formidable, no one had imagined she’d wield such a bizarre martial art — crippling the third son with just one move!

Even the Old Madam was stunned. She threw down her cane and rushed forward, wailing, “My third son! My precious third son!”

Ziqing only found it laughable — not out of cold-bloodedness, but because this group of people didn’t deserve her pity. Would a mother who truly loved her children ever create opportunities for her descendants to scheme and compete against each other so viciously?

Seeing the Third Young Master crippled, someone in the crowd was clearly stifling a laugh. Ziqing noticed it without reacting, and sure enough, the Fourth Young Master immediately stepped forward.

“Mere cheap tricks — if Third Brother hadn’t been careless, he never would have lost to you. Han Ziqing, taste this young master’s cudgel first!”

The Fourth Young Master’s movements were not only fast but vicious. His weapon was strange — it looked like a sword blade fitted onto a staff!

Ziqing’s sharp eyes immediately spotted the weakness in the weapon. She suddenly raised one hand, a motion that made the Fourth Young Master tense — but it was nothing more than a feint.

This time, Ziqing didn’t play the zither — instead, she snapped her fingers directly, releasing a blade of wind that struck precisely at the joint where the staff and blade met, with such tremendous force that it snapped his prized weapon clean in two!

“Cheap tricks — sounds like you’re describing yourself!” Ziqing scoffed coldly. Furious, the Fourth Young Master flung away the broken staff and charged straight at Ziqing. But at that very moment, the Old Madam suddenly wailed loudly, “My third son, my precious third son… waah, my third son is dead! He’s dead!”

The Old Madam clutched the Third Young Master with one arm, turning her head like a woman gone mad, shrieking fiercely, “Vile woman! Nangong Cheng will not rest until this is settled with you! Everyone, attack together! Kill her! Blood for blood! I want her head hung above the gates of Nangong Cheng!”

All together?

The Old Madam really did have nerve, truly a woman of great “spirit”!

Ziqing tucked the Liuguang dagger into her waistband, holding the Wuzheng tightly with one arm, the other hand hanging loose at her side, immediately settling into a battle-ready stance.

Strictly speaking, her martial skill was only about eighty percent of Jun Beiyue’s — which meant only about eighty percent of the Nangong Cheng patriarch’s. She couldn’t defeat the Nangong Cheng patriarch himself. But she was confident that no one standing before her now could surpass him either.

All together, then let it be all together — she, Han Ziqing, hadn’t even feared the Xiongnu’s slave army; why would she fear this mere group of twenty-odd people?

Today, she would prove to Situ Haonan, with hard fact, that whether by the rules of the court or the rules of the martial world, she owed Nangong Cheng nothing.

Today, she would let the outcome of this battle speak for itself to Situ Haonan — Nangong Cheng had come seeking revenge, and in this contest, the victor would rule and the loser would fall; swords and blades show no mercy, and whoever died or was wounded had no one to blame but fate.

Today, she would give Situ Haonan a reason to be utterly, completely convinced.

Fight, then, Han Ziqing!

More than twenty top-tier, seasoned experts, more than twenty sharp swords, all rushed at Ziqing at once, surrounding her from every direction.

The Old Madam knelt on the ground, weeping and wailing, yet still remembering to shout, “Vile woman, kill this vile woman! Whoever cuts off her head first becomes the head of Nangong Cheng!”

Truly a mother — how ruthless!

These twenty-odd people were nothing less than the elite of Nangong Cheng’s elite — not only the sons and grandsons of the patriarch himself, but also several of his most accomplished disciples.

With so many attacking at once, even someone as skilled as Ziqing would inevitably struggle to handle them all — and in a duel among masters of this caliber, there was no room for even a single careless mistake.

Hadn’t the Third Young Master of Nangong just now made exactly such a mistake, and paid for it with a single fatal blow?

At that moment, a figure suddenly swept down from above — none other than Mr. and Mrs. Situ. Mrs. Situ coming was one thing, but no one had expected the Situ Cheng patriarch himself to come as well!

Wonderful. Every single enemy from inside and outside this entire family had now arrived.

Ziqing swept her gaze across the bloodthirsty pack of wolves, tigers, and leopards closing in around her, focusing intently, every part of her on guard, as if she had been transported back to her childhood.

Back then, facing danger like this, her mind would go utterly blank, leaving only one single thought — a thought as unshakable as bedrock: no matter what it took, hold onto that last breath and survive!

And now, she silently told herself the same thing: hold onto that last breath!

Hold on, for Jun Beiyue’s sake. Jun Beiyue was searching for her — even if she were buried three thousand feet beneath the yellow sand, her man would find her all the same.