Her piercing gaze swept across every trace of killing intent surrounding her, before finally settling on Situ Cheng, the patriarch of Nangong Cheng.

She knew that among everyone here, it was Situ Cheng’s martial skill that held an absolute, crushing advantage over her.

Even if she could fight her way clear of this whole crowd, when it came to Situ Cheng himself, there would be no escape for her.

If she hadn’t underestimated him, his martial skill was second only to Jun Beiyue and the Nangong Cheng patriarch, only slightly above her own.

In the art of martial cultivation, the closer one drew to the very peak, the more even the slightest gap became insurmountable — a single tenth of difference could be a gap that an entire lifetime of effort might never close.

But even so — so what!

Ziqing was not afraid!

The day after tomorrow was the Grand Sand Sacrifice Ceremony. She knew that, no matter what, Jun Beiyue must already be somewhere near Akbachu — quite possibly out searching for her at this very moment.

As long as he was nearby, she wasn’t afraid!

And even if he wasn’t, she could still make it back to Akbachu alive all the same. Ever since childhood, how many opponents far more powerful than herself had she faced — whether human or beast — and hadn’t she always survived, every single time?

Ziqing narrowed her eyes coldly, biting down hard on her lip, inch by inch. Even if it came down to the very end, even if all that remained was her own teeth as a weapon, she would bite her enemy to death with them.

Several pairs of murderous eyes bore down on Ziqing, while her own gaze remained cold and composed, her presence overwhelming.

The battle was about to break out!

Suddenly, Mrs. Situ shouted furiously, “Vile woman, give up your life!”

The moment she spoke, countless blades surged forward at once. Ziqing leapt into the air, but this group seemed to be moving in some kind of formation — several people immediately followed in pursuit!

One of them was none other than Situ Cheng himself!

“Despicable!” Ziqing spat out through gritted teeth, deflecting the blades with wind-blades of her own. In moments, her frail figure was swallowed up within the crowd.

The clash of blade against blade, the sharp whistle of wind-blades, the resonant twang of zither strings, mixed with curses and battle cries — a chaotic melee, murderous intent filling the air. Soon the scent of blood spread thick, but through it all, that slender, stubbornly unyielding figure — a figure that could hold its ground against the sky itself — was nowhere to be seen…

From nightfall to dawn, the fierce battle raged without pause. Finally, under the bright light of morning, amid the bloodied bodies scattered everywhere, that woman’s figure could at last be seen!

She was so frail, and yet so strong — like a single blade of grass among countless noble, crimson peonies.

Fighting fiercely amid the crush of enemies, carving out for herself a small patch of sky she could breathe in, a sliver of space where she could still hold onto one last breath.

The Wuzheng was stained entirely red with blood — whether it was her hands that had stained the zither, or the zither’s strings that had stained her hands, no one could tell. Her hair hung in disarray, her jaw clenched tight, her pale, fair face streaked with red — both blood and wounds!

Everyone there fought with everything they had, their eyes all bloodshot with fury. Only her eyes remained clear, black and white sharply defined, pure and untroubled — yet no one knew what she was thinking, no one knew what her next move would be.

Her figure flickered in and out of sight, blood spraying from her back from time to time, a sight so gruesome it was almost beyond imagining. No one could predict the outcome, no one knew how long this bloody battle would last or how it would end.

Meanwhile, Situ Haonan had just arrived at Nangong Cheng with Nangong Ye.

The moment he reached the gates, seeing the entire city draped in white mourning silk, an oppressive silence hanging over everything, he dropped heavily to his knees right there at the city gate.

He said nothing, only murmuring silently in his heart, “Grandfather, I’ve come home.”

His silence was even heavier than the deathly stillness of Nangong Cheng itself. Nangong Ye looked at him for a long while, and without another word, knelt down beside him as well.

It wasn’t until noon that Nangong Ye’s mother, the Seventh Madam, hurried over upon hearing the news. The moment she saw her son had returned, she immediately scolded him. “Ye’er, why are you still sitting here? Everyone’s already gone to Mingsha Mountain! The Eldest Madam said whoever cuts off Han Ziqing’s head becomes the new patriarch! Hurry up and go!”

Hearing this, Situ Haonan raised his head slightly, as if wanting to look at the Seventh Madam, but in the end, he didn’t — he lowered his head again.

Nangong Ye had already known about all this. He himself had no interest whatsoever in competing for the position of patriarch — all he wanted was revenge, and he trusted that his brothers and fellow disciples would never disappoint him, that they would absolutely bring back Han Ziqing’s head!

Seeing Nangong Ye not moving, the Seventh Madam pushed him urgently, snapping, “Go, now!”

“I’ll wait here with Haonan.” Nangong Ye said flatly.

The Seventh Madam froze for a moment, then said sharply, “At a time like this, and you’re still—”

The Seventh Madam took a few deep breaths. At a moment like this, she couldn’t afford to hold back — the patriarch was already dead, and once a new one took his place, the comfortable days of many people here would come to an end!

“You just wait, then! Even a married-off daughter has brought her husband back to compete for the position, and here you are, foolishly waiting around like this!” The Seventh Madam’s words were clearly loaded with meaning, her tone sharp and biting.

Situ Haonan’s brow slowly furrowed. What did that mean?

What did she mean, a married-off daughter bringing her husband back to compete?

Nangong Ye chose to ignore it — he was long used to his mother being like this. But seeing that Nangong Ye still showed no reaction, the Seventh Madam immediately slapped him hard on the back. “You fool! He has his father and mother helping him compete — what do you have? Your father died long ago, and here you are, foolishly kneeling here with someone else’s business!”

At those words, Nangong Ye finally jerked his head up. “The Situ Cheng patriarch went too?”

The moment she said this, Situ Haonan practically leapt up, grabbing the Seventh Madam by the collar. “My father and mother came too?”

The Seventh Madam shook him off without ceremony, saying coldly, “That’s right. Your father has wanted to absorb Nangong Cheng into his own for who knows how long now — whether he’d come or not, you of all people should know best!”

This was Nangong Cheng’s internal family matter — even Mrs. Situ getting involved was already overstepping, let alone the Situ Cheng patriarch having any right to interfere.

And yet he had come anyway — who could possibly stand in his way? Everyone would have no choice but to fawn over him, currying his favor and support!

Situ Haonan stood there, stunned. How could he possibly know his father best? His own father was the person he understood the least of all!

How could he have ever imagined his father would come here too!

If he’d known his father would come, how could he have ever schemed against Ziqing like this!

He had never dared admit it, but he had, in truth, harbored a selfish hope of his own. He knew this journey would be brutal for Han Ziqing, but he also believed, with certainty, that she would not die — that she would definitely make it back!

But who could have known that the Situ Cheng patriarch himself would go too!

The Situ Cheng patriarch’s martial skill far, far surpassed Ziqing’s!

“No! This can’t be! This can’t be!”

Situ Haonan seemed to have gone mad, letting out a sudden furious roar, turning to leave at once.

At that moment, Nangong Ye’s sharp eyes and quick hands caught hold of his sleeve.

“Let go!” Situ Haonan was entirely unlike himself, roaring like a wild beast.

“Not unless I’m dead!” Nangong Ye roared back just as fiercely. He and Situ Haonan had been thick as thieves back in Nangong Cheng — he knew exactly what Situ Haonan was planning to do, better than anyone!

He regretted it now — he wanted to leave, wanted to go stop his father!

“Don’t push me!” Situ Haonan’s voice turned icy, his entire being radiating a fury like some demon rising from flame.

“And don’t you push me either. Whether you deceived Han Ziqing, or deceived Nangong Cheng — you know best in your own heart!” Nangong Ye scoffed coldly.