Xiao Nanhui’s words stirred the atmosphere of the prison cell into something delicate and charged.

Pan Mei’er had not anticipated that this half-dead, filthy creature would suddenly bite back at her. Fury tipped over into laughter. “So that’s why you’ve been keeping quiet all this time — you were lying in wait for this moment. You think someone will believe your wild fabrications? You’re a lowly, worthless lackey. You couldn’t produce any useful information even if you tried. If I feel like it, I’ll humor you a while; when I grow bored, you won’t be able to get out another word.”

Xiao Nanhui laughed coldly. “Fortress Chief Pan has no shortage of ways to silence me. I’m a lowly lackey — I can only let you do as you please.”

These words were plainly intended to fan the flames, and Pan Mei’er felt fury rising in her chest. She was about to reach out and cut off this infuriating tongue — but in the next instant, she caught Sun Taishou’s reaction and stopped herself.

She couldn’t fall into a trap. If this person died, so be it, but she would be unable to wash herself clean even by jumping into a river.

With that thought, she composed herself into an appearance of calm and moved slightly closer to Sun Taishou’s direction.

“I’ll give you a chance to speak. I want to hear what sort of nonsense you have to say.”

Xiao Nanhui had been waiting for exactly this moment. She gathered herself for quite some time before she snapped her head up.

In truth, she didn’t need much preparation — the pain had already left her eyes bloodshot, her expression like someone facing a mortal enemy.

“Elder Sister! Even now — even at this point — you still refuse to acknowledge me?”

Those words shattered the air like a thunderclap.

The composure Pan Mei’er had just assembled crumbled to rubble in an instant. Her scarlet lips stretched into an inverted trapezoid from sheer agitation.

“Nonsense! Who is your elder sister?!”

Xiao Nanhui summoned the last of her strength and screamed at the top of her voice, her cry somehow rising above Pan Mei’er’s own: “You are my elder sister! I am your own blood-born younger sister! Back then, you killed our brother with your own hands, staged a performance of avenging him, and used the chaos to eliminate your rivals and seize the chieftain’s seat—”

Pan Mei’er slapped her hard across the face. “Shut your mouth! What filthy creature are you, crawling out of nowhere, daring to speak of our elder brother?! Today I will flay you alive—”

Forcing herself not to look at that rage-distorted face, Xiao Nanhui fixed her gaze rigidly on Sun Taishou’s eyes: “My lord! My lord, if you don’t believe me — look at my face!”

The tip of Pan Mei’er’s finger instantly sprouted a coral-red needle blade, and she swiped it back-handed toward Xiao Nanhui’s face.

“Fortress Chief Pan.”

Sun Taishou’s voice rang out, slow and measured. Pan Mei’er ground her silver teeth, but had no choice but to wrench that murderous motion to a dead stop.

She was still on Sun Taishou’s territory. And this old schemer could not yet be offended.

Sun Taishou paid not the slightest attention to the woman beside him and her rage-flushed face. He took a few steps closer to the woman on the punishment chair, seeming about to reach out and push the tangled hair away from her face — but in the end, he withdrew his hand.

Xiao Nanhui knew: he found her face too filthy to look at properly.

“There is some resemblance.”

Pan Mei’er’s expression grew even more rigid. Xiao Nanhui, however, smiled.

What did it matter whether he looked or not? She had already placed the cleaving knife in Sun Taishou’s hand. Now it was only a matter of how he chose to use it.

“Speak. Continue what you were saying.”

Xiao Nanhui spat out a mouthful of bloody foam and labored to steady the wildly pounding heart inside her chest.

She had never been good at lying by nature — the more she spoke, the more likely she was to slip up, and she knew it would show on her face. But the circumstances right now demanded she try even if it meant bleeding from the head. Every beginning is difficult; there always had to be a first time.

She tried to recall that person’s face with its half-smile, the manner in which he spoke — detached of sorrow or joy, weaving a self-contained and self-consistent web — and licked the blood from her teeth. Then, slowly, she began.

“She killed our elder brother, then staged a grand performance of avenging him herself, using the opportunity to purge her rivals and claim the chieftain’s seat. Now she intends to use the same trick on you, my lord. She made contact with the Southern Qiang people long ago. Taking advantage of the current conflict between Bijiang and Tiancheng, she plans to use the chaos to assassinate you, after which she can swallow the territory around Sanmu Pass. The reason I infiltrated the mansion in the first place was to get close to you, my lord, so as to foil that vicious woman’s scheme.”

Pan Mei’er’s needle blade twitched impatiently in her hand, and the hatred in her eyes had reached its limit: “Empty accusations without a shred of evidence — why should Lord Sun believe you?”

Sun Taishou was content to watch the spectacle unfold, and nodded: “The Fortress Chief makes an excellent point. Do you have evidence?”

Evidence. They wanted evidence.

Xiao Nanhui racked her mind desperately — yet her head remained an utter blank.

The seconds ticked by one after another. Cold sweat fell in more drops, and she could feel the impatience and killing intent accumulating rapidly in the air around her.

She needed a spark of inspiration. Just one — a spark of inspiration to turn this desperate situation around.

In the next second, Pan Mei’er’s piercing laughter came, dripping with mockery: “Lord Sun, I think we should forget it. This dead lackey was searched before she was brought in here. Not even a scrap of paper was found on her — what evidence could she possibly have?”

Xiao Nanhui blinked. Something rushed into her mind in that single instant.

“I have evidence.”

“Oh? And where is this evidence?”

“Before — I had a message tube on me. The evidence is inside that tube.”

“A message tube?”

Xiao Nanhui’s lips shifted slightly, and she spoke with deliberate care: “Yes. No longer than three feet. Made of refined steel — exquisitely precise.”

A momentary hush fell over the prison cell, so complete that every breath in the room could be heard distinctly.

Those brief seconds felt, to Xiao Nanhui, like an entire long day passing.

Sun Taishou finally raised his hand and waved it toward the two guards standing by the door: “You two — go and look. See if there’s an object matching her description.”

The guards received their orders and left. Before long they returned, carrying something in their hands.

Xiao Nanhui struggled to control her gaze, willing it not to betray the desperate longing in her eyes.

“Is this the message tube you mentioned?”

She nodded. “This object is extremely important, which is why I kept it close to my body all along.”

Sun Taishou’s short, thick fingers probed over the metal cylinder, but seemed unable to find the mechanism for opening it. He tossed it to Pan Mei’er.

Pan Mei’er gave a cold snort, gripped her needle blade tightly, and probed every seam on the surface one by one. She was skilled with hidden weapons, and her grip was formidable — the ear-splitting sound of metal scraping metal reverberated through the chamber, as if scraping against Xiao Nanhui’s own heart.

“My message tube has a hidden mechanism. If it’s opened incorrectly, it will trigger. Fortress Chief Pan had better be careful.”

Pan Mei’er shot her a glance: “How do I know you’re not bluffing?”

“Fortress Chief Pan is free to try.”

As the two were locked in this standoff, the entire prison cell suddenly shuddered almost imperceptibly for an instant, and a shower of yellow earth came pattering down from the ceiling. Right after, through the small window of the cell, the muffled sound of shouting and commotion could be heard outside.

Sun Taishou’s expression shifted slightly. He silently signaled a guard to go outside and investigate, then looked at Xiao Nanhui with the first hint of impatience. “Can you open that message tube?”

Xiao Nanhui gave a slight nod.

Sun Taishou turned to Pan Mei’er: “Untie her hands.”

Pan Mei’er refused to relent: “But—”

“Her legs are in that state. Even with both hands free, where can she go?”

Pan Mei’er had no choice but to comply. A moment later, Xiao Nanhui was flexing her arms — slightly stiff from poor circulation — and gestured for Pan Mei’er to hand over the object.

When her fingertips were no more than three inches from it, Pan Mei’er suddenly stopped.

Her gaze had dropped onto the hands of the filthy woman before her.

They were beautiful hands — slender and strong. Their one imperfection was the slightly deformed knuckles, and the calluses that weren’t particularly visible on the palm mounds.

Those calluses could only be formed by a heavy weapon over long years. How could someone who merely used a dagger have hands like that?

She snapped her eyes up. Their gazes met. The surging undercurrent could no longer be concealed.

And at that precise moment, a string of urgent shouts broke through the entrance to the cell.

“My lord! Disaster! It’s the people from Tiancheng! The people from Tiancheng are attacking!”

In that single instant of distraction, Xiao Nanhui formed her five fingers into a palm and struck hard at Pan Mei’er’s wrist. Caught off-guard, Pan Mei’er’s grip failed — the object flew upward through the air and fell back into Xiao Nanhui’s hand in the next second.

The familiar weight settled back into her palm. She lifted the corner of her mouth at the woman before her, now beside herself with fury.

Silver light flashed. The sound of air splitting open.

In the blink of an eye, the two nearest guards were pierced through by a single thrust and fell dead on the spot.

She turned the spearhead around, gripped the shaft with both hands, and drove her flat-bow spear hard into the iron box below her feet.

A tremendous crack accompanied a surge of excruciating pain through both legs. The pivot mechanism of the steel teeth was shattered and snapped in two. The woman on the punishment chair braced herself on the spear in her hands and rose — slowly yet without hesitation — to her feet. Blood dripped steadily from her trouser legs to the floor, the torn flesh on both ankles barely visible, but her face wore a smile — like a fierce ghost climbing out of the depths of hell.

She hadn’t felt this alive in a long, long time.

The exhilaration of the spirit overwhelmed the suffering of the body. She heard her own voice come out rough and trembling.

“I apologize — I have no evidence.”

The cries pouring through the small window of the cell grew louder and more clamorous by the moment, mixed with the clashing of blades, cutting straight to the heart.

Sweat trickled down Sun Taishou’s coarse, greasy face. He glanced at Pan Mei’er standing on the other side — and in the next instant gave her a shove and bolted out the door.

Who could have imagined the situation would reverse itself so completely in a single breath.

Xiao Nanhui had no idea what was happening outside, but for her present circumstances it was nothing short of heaven-sent.

Her wrist flexed. Her flat-bow spear drew a streak of cold light, pointing directly at Pan Mei’er.

“It appears Lord Sun has urgent business to attend to. Fortress Chief Pan — would you care to stay behind for a sparring match?”

The expressions on Pan Mei’er’s face shifted and changed before settling into that signature languid smile. Her lacquered fingernail tapped the tip of the flat-bow spear, and she managed to squeeze out a few laughs: “Little sister — don’t go reaching for your weapons at the slightest provocation. The way you’re carrying on, older sister will worry you’ll never find a husband.”

Even Xiao Nanhui felt a moment’s admiration — that this woman, already at such a desperate pass, could still joke and stall with such breezy ease. She truly had a gift.

In the next instant, Pan Mei’er swayed her hips toward the direction of the prison door: “There’s no real enmity between us. Your accusation earlier counts as settling the score. If we happen to meet again in the future—”

She reached that point and then suddenly lashed out toward Wu Xiaoliu, who was slumped by the prison door.

Xiao Nanhui was shocked and moved almost by reflex to intercept.

The flat-bow spear flew wide — only then did she realize it had been a feint all along. Pan Mei’er whipped her hand back and launched three needle blades in quick succession, all aimed at her midsection.

This move was viciously clever. Pan Mei’er knew her legs were injured and her lower base was unstable, and had deliberately used misdirection: if Xiao Nanhui took the hit, there was no need to elaborate. Even if she dodged, she would instantly lose her balance and the odds would be heavily against her.

With no way to evade, in the space of a lightning flash, Xiao Nanhui was suddenly shoved hard to one side by a powerful force. In the next second, three dull thuds rang out as three needle blades buried themselves into the enormous wooden barrel.

Wu Xiaoliu was panting against that wooden barrel to one side. Xiao Nanhui looked at him with something complicated in her expression, said nothing, and picked up the flat-bow spear that had fallen nearby.

Pan Mei’er, having failed to land her strike, fled toward the door — but after only a few steps, a spear barred her path.

This time Xiao Nanhui showed no mercy. The flat-bow spear entered through the outer side of the woman’s thigh and exited through her calf, pinning her alive to the ground.

Pan Mei’er let out a scream and lifted her contorted face toward Xiao Nanhui.

“Wretched slave — if you have the nerve, kill me. Otherwise, the next time we meet, I will make you unable to live or die in peace—”

Fate was strange. Two people of such identical appearance, facing each other for the first time in their lives, and it had come to this: a fight to the death.

Xiao Nanhui’s heart, which had been pounding with frenzied excitement throughout, grew unexpectedly still in this moment.

In truth, what fault did Pan Mei’er have? She was simply scraping out a living.

In terms of origins, she and Xiao Nanhui were nearly identical — both children of impoverished families in Suyan, clawing at each other in this barren soil for a small share of the nourishment needed to survive.

Xiao Nanhui had simply been lucky enough to meet Xiao Zhun. Otherwise, given her own temperament, it might well be her sitting in that chieftain’s seat right now.

The woman before her did indeed deserve her fate. Yet Xiao Nanhui, as the executioner, felt anything but at ease. It was as though she was killing another version of herself with her own hands.

But how innocent were the maidservants who had died in that den of thieves? How innocent were the other people who had been killed? How innocent was she herself?

“As you wish.”

In the next instant, the flat-bow spear became a streak of silver that pierced through that body and was drawn back out.

Pan Mei’er’s curse words cut off abruptly. The body that had been rigid with tension finally softened in this moment, dropping into the yellow sand like a flower snake with its sinew pulled free.

Xiao Nanhui retracted the flat-bow spear and used it as a crutch to support herself. She passed Wu Xiaoliu without a backward glance, and hobbled steadily toward the light beyond the prison entrance.