Qing Tao trembled as she grasped Song Chuyi’s hand—when Qing Ying had thrown her out earlier, she had used too much force. Song Chuyi had rolled around on the slope, and her hands had been scraped raw by the pebbles. Qing Tao pulled out the handkerchief from her sleeve and roughly wiped Song Chuyi’s wounds first, removing the broken skin around the injuries. Only then did she pull down the pouch she wore at her waist and take out ointment to apply to Song Chuyi’s wounds. She had accompanied Song Chuyi through many storms—on the boat when they went to Jin region, on the road at Yangquan, and at Tianshui Town. Each incident had been extremely dangerous, but never once had she been as frightened as this—that blade just now had almost pressed against Song Chuyi’s forehead. If Ma San’s movements had been even slightly slower, just that much, Song Chuyi would no longer exist.
What frightened her even more was that the person standing behind these men was none other than the Crown Prince. What a terrifying thing this was. She looked at Song Chuyi, so panicked she couldn’t help crying tears all over her face. The dust she had gotten on herself from rolling on the ground was washed away by these tears, making her entire face pitch black except for the pale skin color revealed where the tears had flowed—it looked particularly comical.
Song Chuyi patted her shoulder and took two steps forward to look down from above at the man who had just nearly sent her to the afterlife with one blade. Ma San was angrily pressing his foot firmly on the man’s chest, his blade resting on the man’s neck—with just a bit more force, he could send him to see the King of Hell.
But this person showed no fear whatsoever. His gaze at Song Chuyi didn’t waver or avoid, and he even deliberately strained to push his neck toward Ma San’s blade—if Ma San hadn’t first severely wounded him and was now stepping on his chest preventing him from moving, this man would have already committed suicide.
Wang Yue smashed aside a tooth he had pried from the man’s mouth, spat, and casually stuck his hand in the meandering stream to wash it. He felt somewhat dejected. “Fortunate that Ma San moved quickly and left this one alive, otherwise we’d have nothing to show for it. These bastards are truly ruthless—ruthless toward us and ruthless toward themselves too.”
Song Chuyi glanced at the corpses lying scattered all around, roughly counting the number, then turned back to Wang Feng. “Calculate how many casualties we have on our side.”
Wang Feng glanced at the man lying on the ground who couldn’t even die, then looked at Song Chuyi and nodded, leading two people away. Ma San wiped his face, revealing his pockmarked features, and asked Song Chuyi, “Sixth Miss, what should we do with this person?”
Song Chuyi’s gaze once again settled on that person’s face. He also looked at her, faintly carrying a trace of mockery and disdain. So Song Chuyi curved her lips as well and instructed Ma San softly, “I’ll leave him to you. Don’t let him die, and don’t interrogate him either. We’ll deal with him after we return.”
After speaking, seeing Ma San acknowledge her orders, she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the light and looked toward the mountain peak, instructing Wang Yue, “You lead people with me to go have a look up there. I don’t know if things went smoothly for Ayan.”
The pupils of the man lying on the ground suddenly contracted. The way he looked at Song Chuyi changed and changed again, as if he were looking at a monster—this little girl seemed to have known long ago that they would come to kill her, and had also known long ago that both Master Qingfeng and Song Yan were merely bait meant to lure her out! That meant Song Yan had willingly acted as bait, and Song Chuyi had already anticipated their plan, then turned the tables to catch them all in one net?!
He made a couple of muffled sounds. His mouth was painfully stuffed with a wad of broken cloth. He wanted to open his mouth to ask something but couldn’t even part his lips. He could only watch helplessly as Song Chuyi turned around with her people. In his anxiety, he kicked his legs a few times—because Song Yan was just a child and Master Qingfeng was an old man, they had left most of their forces here below to ambush the main target, Song Chuyi. They had only left a small number of people at the mountain peak. Since Song Chuyi had come prepared, Song Yan, as her younger brother, certainly couldn’t have made no preparations either. This time, they had truly drawn water with a bamboo basket—all for nothing.
The wind was even stronger at the mountain peak. The hairpins on Song Chuyi’s head were blown about and swaying. She had just caught sight of the waterfall rushing down along the cliff face when she spotted Master Qingfeng and Song Yan standing above.
Though she had already discussed everything with Song Yan and knew that Song Yan not only had people like Changgui and Changrong at his side but also Song Jue’s men and the estate guards Song Chengru had specially given him, she still couldn’t feel at ease. Now, seeing with her own eyes that he was unharmed, Song Chuyi finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Song Yan had also spotted her with his sharp eyes early on. He turned back to look, waved at Song Chuyi, and walked several steps toward her, unable to help smiling. “Sister, neither the master nor I have lost a single hair.”
He finally understood why Master Qingfeng had told him to have his own people. From now on when encountering such situations, he would no longer be the weakling waiting for protection behind his sister. He could accompany his sister and fight side by side with her.
Song Chuyi smiled and patted his head. In her memories, Song Yan had never been this elated and triumphant. He always seemed to keep his head down, looking dull and wooden.
Seeing them come up, Master Qingfeng first told Song Yan to go help Changgui and Changrong clean up the aftermath. Only then did he turn to look at Song Chuyi. “Sixth Miss, this trip yielded quite a harvest, didn’t it?”
Song Chuyi glanced at him and slowly shook her head. “Not really. Those people were just as you predicted, Master—they probably ended up at the same destination as that batch from Prince Duan, all death warriors without exception. Only the leader remains. Ma San moved quickly and kept one alive. But whether this person’s mouth can be pried open is still a question.”
Master Qingfeng couldn’t help laughing. “Sixth Miss, don’t be modest. What mouth exists that you can’t pry open? With those people in your household, they can probably trace back three generations of ancestors. Anyone has origins, and once you’ve traced their origins, with your abilities, how could you be helpless against them? Whether this person’s mouth can be pried open doesn’t matter at all. What matters is that person behind him—has Sixth Miss decided what to do about him?”
This was the crux of the matter. The person who had made a move against Song Chuyi and her brother this time was none other than the biological father of her future husband. How truly awkward this was.
Song Chuyi glanced down the slope. There, massive boulders still lay scattered everywhere. The dust had all dispersed, and the fog in her heart had likewise dissipated completely. But after seeing everything clearly, she realized this hidden secret was truly frightening—in the past, everyone in the world thought it was Prince Duan who had acted, that it was Prince Duan who had killed the Grand Prince. But who could have imagined that the one who truly wanted his life was actually his own biological father?
Master Qingfeng stood with her. His graying beard and hair were blown about by the wind. He turned to glance at Song Chuyi and let out a soft sigh.