“Vice Commander!” Mei Tingjun shouted angrily. “You were supposed to stop her from leaving the courtyard, not let her escape!”

Gu Jinghong ignored his anger and words, simply stating, “Let’s begin.”

With a loud clang, Mei Tingjun threw his short sword to the ground. He turned to leave, intending to search for Mei Tingyan. Last time, he had harbored a naive hope that it was merely a family test, not life-threatening. That’s why he had disregarded Mei Tingyan’s peril. But now, facing the Vice Commander of the Crane-Controlling Army’s Divine Strategy Division—a killer who took lives as easily as mowing grass—he couldn’t be so cavalier.

In a flash, Gu Jinghong appeared before Mei Tingjun. His hand glinted like snow, and when everything stilled, the onlookers saw a long sword piercing Mei Tingjun’s chest.

Mei Tingjun stared in disbelief at the blood gushing along the blade. The wound was so painful it felt numb. It happened so quickly that he forgot to even cry out in pain.

“You won’t die immediately,” Gu Jinghong said coolly, “but any sudden movements might change that.” He walked back to the stone platform and gestured to Mei Tingchun. “Continue.”

Trembling all over, Mei Tingchun bent to pick up the dagger, nearly falling in the process.

He couldn’t escape, couldn’t give up…

Gritting his teeth, Mei Tingchun gripped the dagger with both hands, closed his eyes, and stabbed down hard.

The sensation of the blade sinking into flesh was sickeningly clear. It was too much! Mei Tingchun released the dagger, stumbled back several steps, and collapsed against the wall, sobbing into his hands.

The stab had gone wildly off course, piercing the abdomen instead. Gu Jinghong did not comment. Noticing Mei Rujian’s hollow eyes and blue lips, he knew that even a slightly loud noise could terrify the boy beyond reason. So he didn’t ask Mei Rujian to practice. Instead, he silently pulled out the dagger and began dissecting the corpse, explaining the vulnerable points of the human body to the two remaining individuals who still seemed somewhat composed.

Mei Tingzhu pressed her lips tightly together to prevent herself from vomiting. Despite the cold room, beads of sweat had formed at her temples.

An Jiu’s forehead was also covered in a fine sheen of sweat, but unlike Mei Tingzhu, she was struggling to suppress a restlessness that came from deep within her soul. Since becoming a sniper, she had grown accustomed to long-distance kills and hadn’t experienced such a bloody scene in a long time. Now, she felt an overwhelming urge to destroy something.

Behind them, two men in black carried Mei Tingjun away for medical treatment.

The lesson lasted no more than two hours, yet it felt like decades of torment in purgatory for everyone involved.

The corpse used for practice had not been dead long; its blood volume was typical of a living person. Red liquid cascaded from the stone platform like a waterfall, forming small pools on the uneven stone floor.

The room reeked of a nauseating, sweet metallic smell.

Gu Jinghong pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands. Glancing at the naked female corpse on another stone platform, he remarked with a hint of regret, “Female corpses are hard to come by. It’s a shame to waste this one.”

The Crane-Controlling Army, though ruthless in its methods, did have its principles. Generally, the corpses used for practice were those of notorious criminals. While male offenders were easy to find, female ones were rare.

“Take three days to rest,” Gu Jinghong said, his voice as clear as a spring washing away filth. “Consider carefully whether you’re suited to become part of the Shadow. Although,” he added nonchalantly, “it seems you don’t have a choice.”

His tone remained neutral, but An Jiu detected a hint of pity—or perhaps self-pity—in his words.

“Someone come,” Gu Jinghong called, raising his voice slightly. “Escort them out.”

A man in black opened the door. Mei Tingchun hurriedly stood up, leaning against the wall, and stumbled out.

An Jiu stared at Gu Jinghong, trying to discern his expression through the demon mask.

Gu Jinghong stood with his hands behind his back. His clear gaze met hers through the mask’s eye holes as if waiting for her to speak.

An Jiu needed a master to learn from, but she didn’t want to approach anyone from the Mei family. This Gu Jinghong seemed incredibly skilled in martial arts. As their assigned instructor from the Crane-Controlling Army, guiding them was his duty. However… learning from him would likely mean joining the Crane-Controlling Army!

She’d be better off learning from Elder Zhi.

After a moment’s consideration, An Jiu turned and left.

Outside the mortuary, the crisp air filled her lungs, finally easing An Jiu’s restlessness.

Mei Tingjun had been taken to an unknown location. Mei Tingchun lay in the snow, crying as if he’d narrowly escaped death. Mei Tingyan crouched beneath a carriage, retching, while two men in black carried Mei Rujian into a vehicle.

The usually composed Mei Tingzhu now leaned against a carriage shaft, gasping for air. Plumes of white mist scattered with each breath, her pale face nearly transparent against her blue-green robes.

In one lesson, they had been utterly routed.

An Jiu debated whether she should feign fear, but… what did fear feel like?

Realizing that an unconvincing act might arouse suspicion, she simply closed her eyes and collapsed into the snow.

Fainting solved everything.

An Jiu felt someone lift her and place her in a carriage. Catching the scent of Mei Tingyan’s perfume powder, she relaxed even more.

Inside the mortuary, Gu Jinghong stood silently on the rooftop like a tall pine, observing the Mei family members from afar.

A dark figure alighted on the roof. “Who does the Vice Commander recommend to marry into the Hua family?”

“Mei Tingzhu or Mei Ruxue would do,” Gu Jinghong replied.

The figure paused before speaking. “Those two have potential and could join the Crane-Controlling Army. Why not recommend Mei Tingyan?”

Gu Jinghong explained, “His Majesty intends to plant a spy in the Hua family. Hua Rong attracts talented individuals. Even if a woman doesn’t fall for him immediately, who knows what feelings might develop over time? Mei Tingyan is too emotional; she’s the first to be ruled out. Even those two girls might not be suitable.”

“Then what does the Vice Commander suggest?” the figure asked.

“Report to His Majesty,” Gu Jinghong said, “and select a suitable-aged Weiyu Shadow to replace the Mei girl and marry into the Hua family.”

The Crane-Controlling Army was divided into four branches: Yulin, Shenwu, Shence, and Weiyu.

Among the Twenty-Eight Constellations, Weiyu was the fifth northern constellation, located at the tail of the Turtle-Snake. In battle, the appearance of this star signaled danger for those covering the rear. The Weiyu branch of the Crane-Controlling Army served as the rear guard, willing to sacrifice their lives to ensure the success of a mission.

“Understood. I’ll relay the message immediately,” the dark figure said before vanishing.

Snow began to fall again.

Gu Jinghong raised his hand to remove his mask, letting his black hair flow freely in the wind and snow.

Beneath the mask, his face was still covered with black cloth. He stared at the mask in his hand with a somber gaze before gripping it tightly.

The next morning, the world was blanketed in silver.

When Mei Jiu awoke in her room, she breathed a sigh of relief. But memories of the corpse she had seen the night before quickly resurfaced, causing her heart to sink. She might be able to avoid it once, but could she evade it forever?

“An Jiu, you said Elder Zhi would vouch for us. Why do we still have to attend the shadow lessons?” Mei Jiu asked anxiously.

“…”

“I want to persevere, but I’m truly afraid.”

“…”

“I don’t know how my mother is doing now. Is she in danger? Is she scared?”

“…”

“I miss my mother so much.”

“…”

“An Jiu, what do you do when you miss your mother?”

“Kill people,” An Jiu finally gave a concise, definitive answer.

Wiping away her tears, Mei Jiu asked, “Why kill people?”

“It makes me happy.” Just as many people buy things to cheer themselves up when they’re feeling down, An Jiu used this method to alleviate her loneliness.

“Isn’t it terrifying? All that blood, and the hateful looks in their eyes as they die…” Mei Jiu shuddered at her own words.

An Jiu had never seen a hateful gaze. Her victims usually died before they even realized what was happening.

“My lady, you’re awake?” Yaoyue closed the door and approached the bed, lifting the curtains. “We didn’t go to Elder Zhi yesterday, so we can’t skip today.”

“Mm.” After last night’s events, Mei Jiu suddenly felt that visiting Elder Zhi wasn’t so frightening anymore.

Seeing that she didn’t show any signs of fear, Yaoyue smiled. It seemed that Lady Yan’s efforts hadn’t been in vain.

After washing up, Mei Jiu ate a bowl of porridge and then headed to Yongzhi Hall.

Upon arrival, a servant led Mei Jiu to a room in Yongzhi Hall before withdrawing.

Mei Jiu looked around. The room was spacious and empty, devoid of furniture. On the opposite wall hung a calligraphy scroll with the vigorous character of “Buddha” dominating the space. The side walls were adorned with various bows and crossbows.

“Was Gu Jinghong’s lesson interesting?” Elder Zhi entered, smiling.

Mei Jiu bowed respectfully. “Elder.”

Elder Zhi sensed that the current Mei Jiu was different from the one who had shot arrows that night. He frowned slightly. “What did you think of Gu Jinghong’s lesson?”

Mei Jiu had fainted as soon as she entered the room last night. How could she know who Gu Jinghong was or what he had taught?

“An Jiu, you took my place last night, didn’t you?” Mei Jiu asked internally.

“Yes,” An Jiu replied.

Steeling herself, Mei Jiu answered Elder Zhi, “It was… very good.”

“Very good?” Elder Zhi smiled oddly. “Gu Jinghong has been training recruits for the Crane-Controlling Army since he was barely a teenager. Not one person he’s trained has ever dared to say it was ‘good.'”

Mei Jiu’s heart raced, and she nervously clutched at her clothes.

Noticing this small gesture, Elder Zhi was displeased. Where had that arrogance and decisiveness from the initial test gone? And where had that impressive aura during archery come from?

Elder Zhi felt that he hardly deserved to be called wise, as he couldn’t make sense of this conundrum!

“Gu Jinghong will be responsible for training you for six months,” Elder Zhi explained, walking slowly toward the wall. “The first three months will be lessons, and the last three will involve some mission executions. Since your martial arts skills are lacking, I’ve assigned Qianshan to protect you.” He effortlessly retrieved a small crossbow hanging high on the wall and handed it to her. “I designed this compact crossbow three years ago. It’s light and convenient, suitable for close-range sneak attacks. Try it out.”

Mei Jiu took it, completely at a loss as to how to use it.

An Jiu, however, quite liked it. She took control of Mei Jiu’s hands to examine the small crossbow. Those familiar with bows generally had some understanding of crossbows, a weapon between bows and guns in the realm of cold weapons.

The part of a gun called the trigger corresponded to the xuandao on a crossbow, while a gun’s sight was called the wangshan on a crossbow. This particular crossbow mechanism was rectangular, with a concealed xuandao and no wangshan, classifying it as a sleeve arrow.

After a moment of exploration, An Jiu loaded the arrow, raised her arm, and pressed the xuandao.

The arrow whistled through the air, embedding itself in the opposite wall.

Sensing Mei Jiu’s extreme nervousness, An Jiu took full control of the body and said, “It’s quite good.”

“Hmph!” Elder Zhi appreciated her decisive and efficient handling but feigned displeasure. “Your experience is limited. A crossbow mechanism is inflexible, with restrictions on range and power. A bow is different.”

He took a bow from the wall and plucked its string. “The highest level of archery is called ‘Startling String.’ Do you know what that means?”

An Jiu shook her head.