That bowl was the soup bowl from in front of Pei Shu earlier, now with a gold-sprinkled happiness flower floating inside—the very one Pei Shu had picked up with chopsticks but later angrily slammed the chopsticks into the soup bowl when annoyed, causing the happiness flower to fall in.
Because the happiness flower had been floating in the bowl, completely covering the entire bowl, and because everyone’s attention was focused on Pei Shu and her group, no one noticed anything wrong with the soup bowl covered by the happiness flower.
However, when Jing Hengbo glanced down, through the gaps at the flower petal edges under the deep red light of the glazed lanterns, she saw that the liquid in this soup bowl seemed somewhat wrong.
All the table dishes were the same. She had just drunk this soup earlier—the broth was clear and bright, showing a faint golden gleam under lamplight. But now it appeared somewhat bluish in color.
Jing Hengbo picked up chopsticks, lifted out the happiness flower, and carefully examined the soup. She sat down and smiled, “Having drunk some wine, I’m feeling a bit lightheaded. Let me eat something—you don’t mind, do you?”
Actually, that wine was sweet rice wine—one cup would never cause intoxication. But at this moment, no one paid attention as everyone stared at Pei Shu, wanting to see how the Marshal would react to the Queen’s such “demonstration.”
Pei Shu’s face was livid, completely ignoring everyone’s gazes, only staring fixedly at Gong Yin as if wanting to stuff the wine pot in his hand into his smiling lips, or perhaps wanting to smash this wine pot hard onto the entire table.
But Meng Potian walked over, not having drunk wine yet swaying slightly on her feet, her eyes holding even denser intoxication and moisture. The glazed lanterns cast her face in the rosy color of sunset clouds, yet her expression showed no shyness. Walking to Pei Shu’s side, she took his wine pot, filled his cup to the brim, and raised it toward him.
Everyone couldn’t help bursting into cheers—this girl was too bold! Too courageous!
“A real man keeps his word,” Meng Potian held up her cup, staring into Pei Shu’s eyes. “Marshal, please.”
Pei Shu’s gaze shifted from Gong Yin to Jing Hengbo. At this moment, Jing Hengbo’s heart was in chaos, and remembering Meng Potian’s earlier words, she steeled herself not to acknowledge him. Gong Yin glanced at her and suddenly handed over a pair of silver chopsticks.
Jing Hengbo forced a smile at their understanding, casually picking up some food. The chopstick tips passed over the soup bowl, pausing in mid-air.
The chopstick tips had changed color, and her expression subtly shifted too.
Gong Yin straightened up and glanced toward Meng Hu’s direction. Shortly after, Meng Hu came over unobtrusively. Gong Yin pointed to the chopsticks Jing Hengbo had set down. Meng Hu glanced and immediately changed color, then hurriedly withdrew.
Several people’s exchanges of glances created undercurrents of tension, but no one noticed because Pei Shu and Meng Potian were in confrontation.
Pei Shu’s gaze had helplessly withdrawn from Jing Hengbo. When it fell on Meng Potian again, it was first fierce, gradually turning helpless. The helplessness flickered momentarily before being covered by the kind of fury of being forced into a corner.
Meng Potian’s gaze remained determined amid confusion, unblinking and unyielding.
The two glared at each other intensely, the air between them seeming to crackle with sparks. People at nearby tables moved their stools farther away while stretching their necks to watch.
After a long while, Pei Shu finally grabbed his wine cup abruptly, roughly pulled Meng Potian over, passed his arm around her neck, not caring that his pull made her stumble and nearly fall into his embrace, and drank the wine in his cup first.
Caught off guard, Meng Potian was pulled against his shoulder. Before she could raise her arm around his shoulder, Pei Shu had already finished his wine. She smiled bitterly and quickly raised her arm, but Pei Shu had already pushed her away, saying heavily, “The drinking method you wanted—it’s finished!”
“Yes…” Meng Potian’s arm rested on his shoulder, her gaze misty as she said softly, “Finished…”
Before her words ended, she opened her mouth and spat a mouthful of blood onto Pei Shu’s face!
Everyone cried out in alarm!
Jing Hengbo, who had been watching intently, stood up abruptly.
The others quickly rushed over.
Pei Shu was in the middle of pushing Meng Potian away when suddenly his vision turned red, the smell of blood filling his nostrils. He was stunned and instinctively about to get angry, then realized what was happening. His pushing hand turned inward to catch Meng Potian’s shoulder as she was about to collapse, looking down and shouting in disbelief, “What’s happening… what’s happening!”
Another hand caught Meng Potian, rescuing her shoulder from Pei Shu’s excessive grip. Jing Hengbo supported the collapsing Meng Potian, half-kneeling on the ground. Looking at her hands, her brow furrowed.
Her fingers indeed showed a faint blue-gold color.
Gong Yin had already gone over and picked up the bride’s gold-sprinkled happiness flower that Meng Potian had handled earlier. Using a silver needle to pick up some of the sticky substance on the petals, he sniffed it and said quietly, “Poisoned.”
Pei Shu’s face turned ashen. At this moment, everyone was in panicked commotion. Jing Hengbo glanced at the pale-faced old Duke and Duchess of Meng Kingdom, sighing inwardly. She thought Meng Hu’s wedding was truly inauspicious—such an incident at the end would likely affect his family considerably in the future. Since it was all related to herself, she should help them save face. She lifted Meng Potian and stood up, smiling, “Everyone please remain calm—nothing serious. Miss Meng was emotionally agitated and mentally disturbed, spitting up some blood. It’s nothing serious. She just needs to rest somewhere.”
Seeing her speak and laugh calmly with a composed demeanor, everyone felt reassured. The Meng family people quickly went to comfort others, and everyone sat back down, though they kept glancing in this direction. The old Duke and Duchess looked at her gratefully. Jing Hengbo didn’t let them thank her and urgently asked, “Does your residence have any famous doctors skilled in detoxification?”
The old couple hurriedly sent people to search. Meng Hu returned and reported quietly to Gong Yin, “All the Wasp Stings have disappeared. I’ve arranged people to search for them.”
Gong Yin looked around at the darkness and asked, “Have the assassins been found?”
Meng Hu said worriedly, “We really don’t know how the poisoning was done. The main suspects are those two carrying the boxes, but they’re all house-born servants of our residence. We’ve questioned them—both are crying and wailing, and they really don’t seem like it.”
“The happiness flowers were arranged by you, right? How did they manage to ensure that Hengbo and I would pick them?” Gong Yin raised another question.
“It was friends of my elder brother from the Liuli Tribe—those two who performed the dance earlier,” Meng Hu said. “Those two were originally court entertainers in Liuli, quite famous there. The martial arts they practice perfectly matches the Liuli Tribe’s glazed constitution, allowing them to become nearly invisible under light. So I asked them to somehow place the happiness flowers on top when they approached the head table. Now thinking about it…” Meng Hu said with sudden realization, “They’re the ones who tampered with things!”
He immediately turned to look for those two Liuli men and women—where were they at the banquet?
“Do you know what method they used to put the happiness flowers on top of the boxes?”
Meng Hu shook his head. He only knew they would take action, but the method was their own business. He had personally examined the two happiness flowers before they entered the boxes—there had been no sticky adhesive substance like what appeared later. If the two servants carrying the boxes hadn’t tampered with anything, then the problem could only lie with those two Liuli Tribe people.
But now they couldn’t be found. The Liuli Tribe people, who were the world’s best at concealment, might not even be noticed standing right in front of someone. To hide in such a sprawling residence with numerous people was truly the easiest thing.
Meng Hu’s elder brother had also rushed over. Understanding the situation, his face looked terrible. When Meng Hu questioned him, he hesitated for a long while before saying reluctantly that these two weren’t really his friends either—they were introduced by a friend of a friend. After witnessing their dance skills at Meng City’s most elegant famous garden “Xihua Residence,” he was amazed and determined to have them perform at the wedding feast to restore some dignity for the Meng residence in this marriage affair. Because of the Zheng family’s troubles and the twists in the marriage contract with the Meng family, Meng City nobles had been gossiping privately. Meng Hu’s elder brother wanted to regain some face and didn’t think much about it, just invited them into the residence. Now he only knew they were Liuli people, knew they were fellow disciples, and knew their names—beyond that, nothing.
Their names were undoubtedly fake, and the friend who had introduced them at Xihua Residence hadn’t come today either.
Listening to this, Meng Hu repeatedly stamped his feet. But blaming was useless now—the culprits were certainly those two, but they couldn’t be found. Without finding them, there would be no antidote. They could only hope there were famous doctors here who could detoxify the poison.
Everyone immediately took Meng Potian to the flower hall and first called the Meng residence’s physician to examine her, but the doctor was helpless. The Duke and Duchess urgently ordered the steward to go to the palace to summon the imperial physician. Pei Shu paced anxiously in the hall, occasionally bumping into people without apologizing, constantly asking, “Are they here yet? Are they here yet?”
While they were inquiring, suddenly a young maid hurried over, standing in the lamplight and timidly saying to Meng Hu, “Madam heard that a guest was injured here. She has a dowry nurse beside her who comes from a medical family with excellent medical skills…”
Meng Hu was stunned for a moment before remembering that “Madam” referred to his new bride. He was immediately overjoyed, repeatedly saying, “Thank Madam for her concern—we’ll send the person over right away.” The young maid quickly curtsied and returned to inform the bride.
Meng Hu returned to the hall and explained the situation. Pei Shu was immediately delighted, picked up Meng Potian, and headed toward the rear courtyard. Meng Hu didn’t mind and hurried to follow. Jing Hengbo felt something was wrong but couldn’t stop him at this moment, so she had to follow too. Once she left, Qi Sha and the others behind, whose main purpose was protecting her, naturally all followed.
Everyone left in such haste that they didn’t notice the young maid who had come to report about having a famous doctor walked very quickly and didn’t take the same path as them. Halfway there, she turned a corner and entered behind a cluster of dense, concealed flower trees.
Behind the trees were thick and thin black shadows, with black silk cloaks flowing like moonlight shadows.
The young maid stood trembling, saying in a quavering voice, “I’ve delivered the message as requested… please… please help me detoxify…”
The black cloak moved slightly, seeming to nod. The young maid had just felt joy when suddenly she felt something cold on her neck, as if icy fingers had brushed across it.
She collapsed silently. In her final moment, she saw the deep red glazed lanterns swaying in the wind under distant tall trees.
She heard the black cloak’s voice, flat and emotionless: “Dead, and never poisoned again.”
…
In the distance on a tall tree, purple clothing fluttered in the wind. Bones of various chickens, ducks, fish, and meat kept falling from the tree with crackling sounds, hitting the grass below with rustling noises.
Ziwei Sage disgustedly shifted his position and gave Yelu Xun a sideways glance, “I say, you’re a woman—can’t you eat more gracefully?”
Yelu Xun gnawed a chicken leg bone completely clean, then interestedly crunched the brittle bones with crunching sounds that made Ziwei Sage involuntarily touch the goosebumps on his body and give her another big eye roll.
This woman had a perverse attention to detail with food—clearly she had been hungry before. But she also had a special appreciation for food, showing good upbringing and having eaten the world’s finest delicacies.
Sure enough, Yelu Xun spat out the bones in her mouth and said disapprovingly, “This drunken crispy chicken was overcooked—the meat is tough by a fraction, but the soft bones were roasted crisp, so it’s still edible.”
She tapped her knee with the chicken bone, watching the darkness ahead with interest. With one eye’s vision, she couldn’t see far, yet she seemed to see all the world’s affairs. She looked so intently that Ziwei Sage glanced at her once, then again, finally unable to resist saying, “You only have one eye that can see, and it doesn’t work very well. Must you strain your eyes like this? Do you want to go blind again?”
His tone was vicious, but Yelu Xun seemed completely unconcerned, patting her knee and saying, “What do you know? If you were blind for ten years and suddenly could see again, you’d also desperately try to see everything in this human world.”
Ziwei Sage fell silent and turned his head away.
Compared to tearful complaints, this kind of light-hearted joking was more heartbreaking.
He turned his head, but Yelu Xun finally turned to look at him.
In all their time together, she rarely faced him directly, knowing that only by not putting him in her direct line of sight would he feel at ease and comfortable in her peripheral vision. Once she gazed intently, he would immediately escape.
Her emotions were therefore deliberately spoken aloud daily, spoken casually, turned into jokes and habits, as if they were the lightest grass in the world that could be blown away by the slightest joke.
But those deepest and most persistent things could only be hidden in her heart’s depths. Those silky, tender emotions, those entangling, hard-to-resolve feelings, could only transform into meaningless smiles that didn’t fall into his gaze.
In the darkness, his silhouette seemed to glow, like years ago when she had chased him to a mountaintop and seen that man watching the sea of clouds and sun, shining brilliantly in the spreading golden light, with three feet of black hair in the wind and lingering thoughts.
“Really not going down?” She was thinking of one thing in her heart but asking about another with her mouth.
Many things were happening in this residence tonight.
They had pursued Xu Pingran all the way here, but in Meng City they had seen traces of Yelu Qi and Jing Hengbo. Collision was inevitable, and more wonderfully, someone seemed to be stirring up trouble among them.
“Compared to fighting, this old man prefers watching excitement,” Ziwei Sage shrugged.
Yelu Xun chuckled and switched to gnawing a lamb leg. This old fellow was deceiving himself again.
Wasn’t it just that he didn’t want to hurt his old lover? Unless absolutely necessary, this old guy wouldn’t make a move.
During this time, she had frequently “showed affection” with Ziwei Sage in front of Xu Pingran, otherwise she couldn’t have stimulated Xu Pingran into qi deviation so early.
Though those displays of affection were mostly unknown to Ziwei Sage—for instance, when Ziwei Sage wasn’t around, she would loudly call out about bringing him bath water and clean clothes for Xu Pingran to hear, then quickly escape.
These most boring little tricks were most effective against Xu Pingran. Born noble with a proud temperament, having been the sect master’s wife in sole control for so many years, far from worldly affairs for too long, her mind had long been in heavenly clouds. How could she think of the worldly cunning filled with human fireworks?
Thinking of the untainted Xu Pingran, Yelu Xun looked down at the oil stains all over her knees, smiled self-deprecatingly, casually brushed her clothes, and lay down comfortably with her head in her hands.
As she lay down and closed her eyes, the melting starlight and moonlight filtered through mottled branches and leaves, moving across her cheeks. Her expression was more peaceful than the current stars and moon, full of enlightened understanding and acceptance that saw through the red dust.
She closed her eyes, so she didn’t see that after she closed them, Ziwei Sage suddenly turned his head, his gaze falling on her face for a long, long time. Only when her eyelashes fluttered as if about to open did he hastily look away.
This night the stars and moon were silent, glazed lanterns red, allowing gazes to flow back and forth.
…
This night the stars and moon were silent.
On a tree not far from Ziwei Sage and Yelu Xun, there was also a figure.
That figure sat on a slightly protruding branch. The branch wasn’t thick and swayed in the wind, his cross-legged body swaying with it as if weightless.
Unlike those two who seemed to want to sleep sprawled out, even suspended in the tree, his entire being emanated restraint and discipline from hair to eyebrows, undisturbed by any wind or movement. Even night birds returning home detoured far around him, not disturbing the grass and leaves around him.
This was the concentration and killing aura that could only be cultivated through years of austere and cruel training by snowy mountain disciples.
Third Young Master Yelu, Yelu Tan, had eyes only for that woman lying comfortably beside another man.
That distant cousin of his. His first and final concern in the Yelu family.
After Yelu Xun’s reunion with Ziwei, unwilling to see those two chase each other, he had simply left for a while and returned to Yu Kingdom. However, on this trip back, he discovered the Yelu family had completely declined.
That night, he stood for a long time before the family estate that seemed to have become desolate overnight, but turned and left at dawn.
He ultimately didn’t enter the gates.
When he turned to leave, he suddenly felt relief.
Ever since he was chosen by Tianmen as the Yelu family’s most outstanding descendant and sent to the snowy mountains to study, successfully becoming an inner disciple of Tianmen, he had often felt suffocated and pressured. Because of Yelu Qi’s betrayal and eldest brother Yelu Hao’s condition, the family had pinned doubled hopes on him. All dreams of revival rested on him alone. All resources, all care, continuously flowed to the snowy mountains, to him. He had received all the family’s love but therefore felt as if the entire snowy mountain was pressing down on him.
But now, it seemed he could finally let go.
Now, he seemed to finally be able to return to being himself.
But accustomed to such pure and empty days, he no longer knew how to make his life colorful. Subconsciously, he still quietly followed Yelu Xun. He felt this was good—watching her vibrancy seemed to brighten his entire life.
His life had once existed only for one goal. When that goal suddenly flew away, he left himself in the scenery his heart most yearned for.
…
Meng Hu’s bridal chamber was an independent courtyard. Because the bride came from a scholarly family and preferred tranquility, the courtyard the Meng residence arranged was quite elegant, with no one living on four sides, right next to the inner courtyard’s garden and library.
Therefore, when Xu Pingran came over, she didn’t alarm too many people.
The Meng residence was too large. From the front courtyard where the feast was held to this rear courtyard bridal chamber, ordinary people would need half an hour to walk. Tonight the main guard forces were concentrated in the front courtyard where dignitaries gathered. Though this place where the bride stayed was important, it was after all in the inner courtyard with only one person needing protection. So those guards stationed along the way couldn’t even make a sound before silently shattering into ice and sinking into the river all along the route.
When Xu Pingran entered that courtyard decorated with lanterns and colored silk, seeing those red silk and colored flowers, she instinctively frowned.
Her following disciples glanced at the bridal chamber reflecting human shadows, their eyes holding slight pity—pitying that this great household’s bride was destined never to experience her most important wedding night.
Youth and beauty would ultimately be destroyed by wind and rain.
The maids and servants walking in the courtyard were quickly and silently dealt with, though many people remained inside the bridal chamber serving.
The disciples looked to her with their eyes, asking whether they should go directly in now and handle everyone.
Xu Pingran had originally intended this, but seeing that silhouette in the west window, she suddenly became curious, wanting to see what expression and posture the newly married bride wore on her wedding night.
Was she full of shyness, or brimming with anticipation? Was she feigning bashfulness, or maintaining dignity?
This was an experience she had never had in her lifetime—she wanted to see it with her own eyes.
She walked to the window. The rather thick window paper silently turned to powder as her footsteps approached.
The person inside was completely unaware, gently turning a page.
Xu Pingran raised her eyebrows, rarely showing surprise. Behind her, the disciples wore the same expression as her.
The bride was actually reading a book.
On this wedding night, at life’s greatest joy, on this auspicious day that young girls couldn’t help dreaming about in their tender pink dreams, at this most clamorous and splendid moment with drums and music resounding and distinguished guests filling the scene, this woman about to welcome the most important turning point of her life—was reading a book.
Even having lived in seclusion in snowy mountains for years, Xu Pingran believed that a bride reading books in the bridal chamber on her wedding night must be unique.
The bride read very intently and seemed to dislike interruption. No one stood very close to her. She gently turned a page, her fingertips snow-white against the deep black ink. Darker than the ink color were her slightly furrowed brows, elegant as distant mountains, sweeping into her dark temples.
Somehow, Xu Pingran felt her delicate profile seemed familiar.
She actually stood still in this moment, in the cool night breeze, lost in thought… This silhouette, this strangely familiar silhouette—who was it echoing in her memory?
A sudden gust passed, the glazed lanterns outside the courtyard spun rapidly, scattering swirling light and shadow like chaotic memories.
Xu Pingran’s mind suddenly flashed with green mountain cliffs, light mountain mists, and in the mist a small wooden house surrounded by lush purple sage flowers.
The house had half-drawn curtains, with a young girl reading by the window. Mountain clouds and mist moistened the inkstone, valley breezes turned pages for her.
Her brows, darker than ink, swept into her temples. When she read something deeply moving, she didn’t exclaim in praise but only furrowed her brows slightly.
Distant clamor echoed from mountain cliffs—that was senior brothers chasing, laughing, and sparring, their joy spilling onto bluestone paths and drifting to her ears.
She paid no attention, only gently turning a page. Occasionally hearing a familiar voice, she still never looked up, but the corners of her lips curved slightly upward.
…
As if from those years, as if facing those days directly.
No, it was different. Then it was a otherworldly sect among mountains with light clouds; now it was a human noble residence with bright candles in gorgeous halls.
Clearly different, yet somehow touching the same heartstrings. Perhaps she was getting old, recently unconsciously recalling the past. Sometimes seeing roadside children, she would even think of her own child who supposedly died young.
Life’s gains and losses were hard to calculate. Perhaps one continuously gained along the way, but in the end always calculated one’s losses.
Xu Pingran gently closed her eyes, as if this closing could shut out the recent inexplicable turmoil and weakness from her world.
The bride inside seemed to sense something and gently looked up.
Then she saw her, saw those tall and short white-clothed figures behind her, zombie-like.
She didn’t cry out in alarm. The bride gently drew in a breath, her misty eyes showing alarm and wariness.
Xu Pingran lightly flicked her finger.
The bride’s intake of breath ultimately made no sound as she silently collapsed onto the table.
Xu Pingran looked at her indifferently while the disciples stared at their lady in surprise, not understanding why she had shown such mercy this time by not killing this woman.
Why she didn’t kill, Xu Pingran herself couldn’t explain. Perhaps it was the tender memories the woman had triggered, perhaps her unusual book reading, perhaps her rarely seen composure.
She raised her hand slightly.
The disciples understood, quietly walking into the room. Before long, they quietly dragged out rigid corpses one by one, casually throwing them under the flower stands in the courtyard.
Xu Pingran entered carrying Ji Xiang, casually stuffing the bride under the bed, saying flatly, “Protect the ritual.”
“Yes.” The disciples respectfully stood in the corridor.
“It will take about an hour.” Xu Pingran calculated briefly and instructed, “During this hour, no one is allowed to approach. Kill whoever comes.” After thinking, she added, “If Gong Yin and the others, or Ziwei and the others come, find ways to delay them using the methods I taught you. As long as I successfully complete this…” She raised her eyebrows with a cruel expression, “That will be their doomsday.”
“Yes.”
…
A group hurried through the night.
Pei Shu carried Meng Potian at the front, Meng Hu trying to catch up to guide the way but unable to keep pace.
Gong Yin walked beside him, looking ahead and suddenly asking, “Is this the only road to the bridal chamber courtyard in your residence?”
Meng Hu was startled before answering, “This is the commonly used one, but some servants familiar with the paths might take shortcuts through the garden trails.”
Gong Yin made no comment, paused, then said to Jing Hengbo, “Tell Pei Shu to move the Horizontal Halberd troops drinking in the outer courtyard to the front garden to guard those banquet guests.”
Hearing this, Jing Hengbo’s heart tightened. She knew that with Gong Yin’s insight and perception, such arrangements must have their reasons. Just as she was about to instruct Pei Shu, he said gruffly from ahead, “Since he’s even drunk nuptial wine with you, his meaning is your meaning. Why the false pretense!”
Jing Hengbo smiled awkwardly and had to personally instruct Tian Qi to deploy people for protection. Looking at Pei Shu striding ahead, a shadow crossed her heart.
Her palm suddenly warmed. She turned to see Gong Yin had taken the initiative to grasp her hand, his slender palm perfectly enveloping hers. Though not very warm, the feeling of skin contact was very comforting.
Her heart also felt comforted and tender, thinking that regardless of everything, each of his initiatives was tremendous progress. Eventually, he too would treasure such beautiful companionship and never bear to harden his heart and leave.
The lights of the bridal courtyard were already in sight—still those large deep red glazed lanterns swaying leisurely at the courtyard gate. Through the gold paper double happiness characters pasted on the lanterns, one could see that courtyard shrouded in hazy light and shadow, tranquil and beautiful.
Everyone stopped at the moon gate separating the inner and outer courtyards. This was the inner courtyard, the bridal chamber—so many outside men shouldn’t enter.
But Pei Shu didn’t care about such things, carrying Meng Potian straight through. Jing Hengbo wanted to say something, but seeing his expression, she could only sigh and look apologetically at Meng Hu, who quickly said, “No problem.”
Gong Yin stood outside the moon gate, releasing her hand and saying softly, “Be careful. I’ll be right outside this gate.” He knew Jing Hengbo would definitely follow inside.
Jing Hengbo nodded and smiled at him. Tonight’s atmosphere felt strange, and she had been uneasy all along, but no one could tell where danger might actually occur.
Pei Shu was anxious and paid no attention to them, rushing through the gate first. Jing Hengbo followed, with Meng Hu personally accompanying them.
Gong Yin and the others exchanged glances, very tacitly surveying the terrain and finding suitable positions around the bridal courtyard to watch, ensuring they could provide timely rescue if anything happened.
Entering the moon gate, the courtyard was filled with luxuriant flowers and trees, red lanterns everywhere, very quiet and elegant. Night dew had already risen—passing through the flowers and trees, one would inadvertently get sleeves dampened with cool dew. The fragrance of grass and trees was faint. Jing Hengbo took a deep breath, feeling that this courtyard probably had extra coolness due to abundant vegetation. Her previously troubled mind now felt extraordinarily clear and refreshed.
Such an environment made it impossible to summon killing intent or vigilance, impossible to imagine danger lurking.
Only Pei Shu still maintained his stern expression, striding quickly ahead. The atmosphere was too oppressive. Jing Hengbo couldn’t help wanting to say something to break this moment’s gravity and awkwardness, so she turned to smile at Meng Hu, “Your courtyard has a different style from other places—particularly elegant, with scholarly atmosphere.”
Meng Hu’s face showed a trace of bashfulness as he said awkwardly, “This courtyard was recently renovated. Many flowers and trees were transplanted, and even the corridor had its original red lacquer and colored carvings removed, replaced with natural wood and just tung oil clear varnish… I heard she likes natural grass and trees…”
Jing Hengbo smiled. Meng Hu really valued that Miss Seven of the Zheng family.
This was quite good—she was willing to see more perfect love in the human world.
While talking, they reached the corridor area, winding from a lotus pond, connecting to the warm pavilion and bedroom behind. There was a faint smell in the air, probably because the new varnish scent hadn’t yet dissipated.
Pei Shu had already mounted the corridor, his steps making the wooden floor boom loudly. In a few steps he was already in the corridor’s center.
Red lanterns hung and reflected all along, the clear varnish floor gleaming darkly.
Jing Hengbo followed closely behind, smiling at Meng Hu, “Your corridor is only suitable for beautiful ladies moving gracefully in flowing skirts—it shouldn’t be stomped by warriors making such noise, too scenery-spoiling…”
Before her words finished, Meng Hu stumbled behind her. Jing Hengbo looked back in surprise to see Meng Hu steadying himself against a pillar, looking down puzzled, “Why is this floor so slippery…”
His muttering wasn’t finished when Jing Hengbo felt her feet slip, sliding forward sharply and nearly crashing into Pei Shu’s back.
Pei Shu didn’t turn around but reached back to catch her wrist. Jing Hengbo, unsteady on her feet, looked down and laughed, “This newly varnished floor is too slippery…”
She suddenly stopped.
The lamplight was pale red, and the floor was also white with red tinge. Where was the light yellow tung oil natural wood floor? This floor… was ice and snow!
No time to think about how the floor could suddenly disappear and become ice and snow. Jing Hengbo immediately grasped Pei Shu’s hand, trying to transport him and Meng Potian away.
But moving two people at once was difficult, and Pei Shu held her hand tightly. When she tried to shake free, she couldn’t manage it.
At this moment Pei Shu had also realized something was wrong. After looking down, he suddenly raised his head—in just an instant, heaven and earth turned white!
Meng Hu’s cry of alarm came from behind, cut off after half a sound.
The corridor cracked with a tremendous noise and collapsed with a roar. Surrounding grass and trees instantly changed from emerald green to deep white, leaf tips sharp as short daggers. “Crack!” They responded in unison like tearing fabric, crisp and shrill. Those leaves separated from branches, whistling and shooting forth, flying and spinning horizontally, instantly filling the entire space where everyone stood.
In a flash, wind and snow swirled before Jing Hengbo’s eyes until heaven and earth vanished. Everywhere were swirling air currents filled with sharp qi. All the flowers and trees became weapons—branches like spears, long leaves like swords, separated flowers like flying discs of various shapes and sharpness, densely crowded in this short two-zhang corridor!
She and Pei Shu were still falling. The corridor was breaking right beneath them, separating Jing Hengbo and Pei Shu. Both tilted downward, while the lotus pond had become an ice lake. Below where they were sliding, a huge ice hole had appeared, still spinning with countless ice grass and snow branches like gear blades rotating rapidly. One could imagine that falling in would immediately result in flesh ground to pulp.
Jing Hengbo had spent years with Gong Yin but had never seen ice and snow divine arts of such power—simply beyond what one person could achieve.
She too was in extreme difficulty. The raging wind and snow confused vision and hearing. She could teleport instantly, but she couldn’t leave now—she had to ensure Pei Shu and Meng Potian’s safety first.
Her grip on Pei Shu’s hand had slipped. She leaned forward, stretching to grab desperately. Just this moment’s pause covered her body with countless small cuts, while the ice hole beneath yawned like a black devouring mouth, right at hand!
Wind and snow carried away sound. This moment felt like a changed space, no longer the peaceful Meng residence rear courtyard but beneath vast snowy mountains at the edge of heaven.
Vague shouts seemed to come from afar but couldn’t penetrate here. Jing Hengbo was blown by bitter ice wind until she couldn’t open her eyes, her chest blocked with icy coldness as if stuffed with ice and snow, unable to make any sound.
Suddenly her fingers touched something slightly warm—fingers! She was overjoyed and reached to grab them, but those fingers suddenly slipped like a swimming fish, sliding coldly up along her wrist and pulse, striking directly at her heart!
That icy line was like a knife, making her skin tremble wherever it passed!
Not Pei Shu—an enemy!
Jing Hengbo tried to shake free but discovered that below was the ice hole. Either fall into the hole and be ground to paste, or have her heart pierced by this wind and snow assassin!
She could still teleport in time.
Just this instant.
Suddenly a furious roar came from right beside her—Pei Shu’s voice!
In the wind and snow, black hair seemed to suddenly rise like black fire.
Pei Shu had stepped onto the other side of the corridor.
He had walked several steps ahead of Jing Hengbo. When the great change occurred, he reacted extremely quickly, holding Meng Potian and hooking his foot on a nearby pillar, forcibly pulling himself up.
Still in mid-air, he had already seen the ice hole below. In this instant, his face and body had already been attacked by flowers and leaves throughout the garden, adding countless bloody wounds. Those blood traces were slender like manjusaka petals, all bright red flowing in the wind and snow. When he moved, it was like a craftsman snapping an ink line, marking him and Meng Potian all over.
He turned back forcefully, vaguely seeing Jing Hengbo’s figure. Just as he was about to grab her and send her away, he heard Meng Potian moan softly in his arms.
Though Meng Potian was held by him, she had also been cut by countless ice grass everywhere. Even in poisoned unconsciousness, she couldn’t help crying out softly in pain.
Pei Shu paused, his outstretched hand stopping. Looking around, he wanted to find a safer place to throw Meng Potian to safety.
His gaze was hawk-sharp. Through the wind and snow, he vaguely saw an artificial hill ahead with no flowers, grass, or snow vortexes around it—seemingly a place to land, just rather far away.
Just as he was about to throw Meng Potian with full force, he suddenly felt air currents surging behind him. Vaguely a white shadow slipped past his side like a swimming fish. He turned abruptly and saw Jing Hengbo’s hand reaching through the wind and snow, grasping that person’s hand.
She was about to fall into the ice hole. The topmost layer of spinning ice grass and leaves, sharp as blade edges, cut off a piece of her skirt hem with a “whoosh.” It fell into the hole and instantly scattered into silver-red fabric fragments.
No time to think further.
No time to consider Meng Potian.
He roared in fury.
Reaching back, Pei Shu grasped Jing Hengbo’s hand and swung with all his might.
Jing Hengbo’s body flew up just before she was about to fall into the ice hole, crossing over the corridor and flying toward the artificial hill. Still in mid-air, she shouted, “Pei Shu, protect…”
Pei Shu’s heart sank. He tried to rise but suddenly felt something binding his feet. Looking down, he saw that somehow his ankles had been tightly wrapped by several flexible ice threads. If he tried to rise forcibly or make any violent movements now, these feet would be ruined.
But he couldn’t care about that now. Taking a breath, he threw Meng Potian outward.
But at this moment, crackling explosive sounds erupted. Countless ice leaves and branches flying everywhere turned direction in unison, shooting straight at him.
Among those countless white objects confusing vision, a snake-like shadow silently shot through, flashing once before reaching Pei Shu.
At this moment, if Pei Shu wanted to save himself, there was still time, but he seemed not to see the snow blades filling his vision, nor the sinister sword among the snow blades. He only raised his arm to throw Meng Potian away.
Meng Potian suddenly opened her eyes.
The wind was too fierce, the snow qi too cold. Countless cuts made her bleed continuously. Some of the poison flowed out, and she actually woke at this moment.
Opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was snow flying everywhere fiercely attacking Pei Shu, saw Jing Hengbo’s figure flying out while still reaching back to help, felt a “hiss” behind her like a venomous snake shooting from grass to seize life.
As if having spiritual insight before life and death, with just one glance she understood the situation before her, understood that facing crisis, Pei Shu had thrown out Jing Hengbo and kept her.
A trace of sorrow and a trace of comfort passed through her eyes.
Sorrow that she was never his first choice, comfort that she was still in his arms at this moment.
In this life, if she couldn’t have a beginning of mutual understanding at first sight, then let her have an ending of life and death in his embrace.
She leaned forward and suddenly reached out, tightly embracing Pei Shu’s neck!
With this embrace, she wrapped her entire upper body around Pei Shu’s head, face, shoulders, and neck—all his vital points.
Pei Shu only felt his vision darken, his field of view covered. The girl’s soft, warm body blocked his face, choking his shout in his throat.
“Crack.”
An extremely soft sound.
The sinister sword had arrived.
A black gleam pierced through Meng Potian’s back neck and touched Pei Shu’s throat.
Pei Shu only felt the woman on him stiffen slightly, then his throat hurt as cold penetrated to his bones. In an instant, black shadows seemed to drift before his eyes. His whole body shivered—he had never been so close to death in his entire life.
But that coldness only reached his skin without advancing the fatal three points deeper. Then came another soft “crack.”
The sound of withdrawing the sword.
Meng Potian’s body stiffened again slightly.
Her face gently tilted forward, pressing against Pei Shu’s face, warm and cool like soft jade.
Pei Shu roared in fury but found his throat injured, unable to make sound for the moment. The sword had been withdrawn, its wielder vanishing like a ghost. Pei Shu fell heavily backward, his back against the icy ground, ice leaves whistling overhead.
The ground was all ice and snow. Touching it was like countless ice blades shooting into his back. He just held Meng Potian motionless.
Meng Potian’s face pressed close. Now her face was as pale as the surrounding snow, but her lips held a faint smile.
Never in this life had she been so close to him.
Walking to life’s end, she finally got to share breath with him, skin touching skin.
That cup of wine she could never drink again in this lifetime—at this moment she experienced it fully by his lips, carrying the wine’s mellow fragrance and his clear, strong breath to another world. Whether the last instant’s memory would be remembered in the next life, she left to heaven’s will.
She smiled softly, face against his face, vision already blurred, only able to seek his lips by feeling.
Ice leaves and snow shooting overhead lifted both their black hair, cutting it off. Strand by strand fell on them, that soft hair intermingled—you in me, me in you—falling quietly in a layer like black snow on white snow.
Meng Potian finally touched Pei Shu’s lips. She furrowed her brow slightly, thinking with some effort. In her maiden dreams, she had imagined countless times the passionate warmth those fire-red lips should have, yet at this moment those lips were slightly cold, carrying a faint fishy smell—the taste of blood.
Unable to speak, she only furrowed her brow with pity, leaning toward his lips.
Don’t be cold-hearted, don’t be disappointed, don’t bite your lip corners. In this world there are countless partings—only matter of sooner or later.
Don’t think I’m resentful or disappointed. At this moment my heart is full of joy and fulfillment you cannot understand. I know I can never walk beside you in this life, so let me take the first step in your arms, imprinting my final warmth on you. From now on through the long road ahead, my shadow in your heart—fate cannot brush away.
Better than forever chasing behind you yet never able to touch even a corner of your garment.
Some sticky liquid silently spread between their skin, quickly frozen by the extremely low temperature, sticking their skin together.
This restricted Meng Potian’s movement and imprisoned her last bit of strength. Her lips, only a fraction away from Pei Shu’s lips, suddenly stopped.
Pei Shu, lying quietly and motionless, suddenly opened his eyes wide.
After a pause, Meng Potian’s body, like a piece of soft satin, silently slipped from Pei Shu’s body.
Pei Shu didn’t move.
He seemed to have suddenly lost all his strength.
The woman beside him gently rolled and fell, lying at his side amid the wind and snow with disheveled black hair, pale and bright red, leaving only a smile at her lips that seemed both regretful and joyful—then no more sound.
At her throat, the sword blade had pierced through. She had used her own vital point to block the fatal strike meant for Pei Shu.
She ultimately couldn’t say another word.
She ultimately didn’t kiss her beloved’s lips.
She ultimately died in his arms, at his side, in this corner of wind and snow.
She was the famous Sixth Miss Meng of the Daimo martial world, who once liked to carry a basket collecting all sorts of things throughout the martial world. Later, her eyes held only one worldly treasure, which she pursued and spent her entire life chasing.
Her original name was Meng Yao. She disliked this name for being too feminine and changed it herself to Potian (Breaking Heaven).
Her fate was finally broken, powerless to turn back heaven.
…
Pei Shu lay on the ground, his back seemingly stuck by ice and blood. He seemed to never want to get up again.
His heart also seemed like this wind and snow—howling and swirling, churning and rolling. His flesh seemed ground to pieces by pain, every fragment a shattered memory.
He struggled to recall everything about the woman beside him, but his mind couldn’t piece together a complete picture. He couldn’t even remember the scene of their first meeting. During this long time, his gaze and heart had always fallen on another person, never preserving any fragments that belonged to her.
So at this moment, his mind was in chaos, every piece only the final moment of her—disheveled black hair, pale and bright red, a faint smile, blood-stained lips.
She needn’t have died. He had originally had the chance to throw her out first. She had originally been in his arms, poisoned and injured—she should have been rescued first.
He had always ignored her, deliberately ignored her, until he ignored away her life, not even giving her a chance to choose.
She also hadn’t given him a chance to regret and save her.
When she finally protected him with her life, his lifetime was destined to atone for that moment’s hesitation.
He lay rigidly, not daring to look at her, not daring to touch her. Low-flying grass leaves continued cutting his body under the mysterious pull of the formation’s power, yet he was willing to die in such lingering pain.
Better than being eternally tortured by future long-lasting guilt.
The wind and snow seemed to know his spirit’s defeat, gradually weakening. His head and face were gradually buried by wind and snow, like a corpse in ice and snow.
Layer after layer of wind and snow covered him until his face was completely covered. This man who had burned so fiercely he could melt even molten iron now couldn’t melt ice and snow.
For a long time.
Two ice beads.
Crystal bright, from the corners of his eyes, silently rolled down.
…
This corner’s wind and snow had frozen hearts for thousands of li—who knew when a day of returning spring might come.
But that was only in the corridor.
In the corridor was life and death separation; outside the corridor, the battle still changed rapidly.
The moment wind and snow arose in the corridor, everyone on nearby walls seemed to sense it.
Especially Gong Yin—in an instant he turned back, reflecting that moment’s wind and snow heaven and earth, his eyes actually changing color.
“Xuanhuang Wind and Snow Formation!”
Born of the snowy mountains, he naturally recognized this as one of the snowy mountains’ most powerful great formations. It could create a wind and snow xuanhuang heaven and earth in any small space—impossible to break out of, impossible to enter. It was one of the snowy mountain peak’s protective formations, not to be used lightly except in moments of sect crisis, and impossible to use lightly because this formation required no fewer than eighteen inner disciples with pure martial arts. After deployment it extremely drained energy and might cause these eighteen disciples to forever stagnate in their martial progress. For Tianmen, where inner disciples were extremely precious, this was an unbearable loss.
Tianmen had stood in the snowy mountains for years. Otherworldly sects had mostly disappeared long ago. Even the originally most competitive Kunlun Sect had been destroyed by Tianmen’s Murong Chou working with Xu Pingran as an inside agent. There were no more enemies—where would they normally need to deploy such formations?
Even Gong Yin had never seen it before, only encountering it in books while studying as an inner disciple.
Such a great formation could only be deployed if the sect master personally ordered it—no one could form it independently.
He turned abruptly toward the bridal chamber—Xu Pingran was there!
But his body moved even faster toward the corridor—even if mortal enemies were close at hand, Jing Hengbo was still in the corridor!
A figure flashed as someone flew from the corridor direction, coughing blood while flying. The blood splattered in mid-air, frozen into red ice blocks that shattered when hitting the ground.
That was Meng Hu, who hadn’t completely entered the corridor and was expelled by the formation.
Gong Yin raised his hand to catch him. Looking up again, he heard Pei Shu’s furious roar, then the wind and snow suddenly broke as Jing Hengbo’s body pierced through the corridor, flying toward the artificial hill on one side.
A figure flashed—Tian Qi, with the best lightness skills, went to catch Jing Hengbo.
Seeing this scene, Gong Yin set down Meng Hu and turned without hesitation, charging straight at the bridal chamber.
If Xu Pingran was there, she was the key figure. Only by dealing with her could everyone be completely safe.
His form shot through the sky like snow silk. The wind and snow originally only raging in the corridor instantly howled fiercely, forming a tornado spiraling upward to drag down his figure.
Figures flashed repeatedly. Qi Sha’s loud laughter echoed through the sky: “What thing is hiding here playing ghost tricks!”
A sharp splitting sound rang through the wind. That spiraling snow tornado actually split in half—one half caught Qi Sha, the other continued pursuing Gong Yin. Flying snow in mid-air was like giant fists, pounding hard at Gong Yin’s back.
Another figure flashed, black like seaweed in a gentle dance. Yelu Qi laughed: “Let me also see this magical formation of Tianmen!”
The tornado stopped with a clattering of broken ice and falling snow. The wind and snow suddenly ceased, revealing seven or eight young women in snow-white clothing falling like snowflakes. When the snowflakes finished floating down, these women were nearly naked.
The xuanhuang formation’s true qi collided violently. Those forming the formation were forced to split it, suffering qi flow backlash that completely shattered their clothes.
For a moment, seven or eight naked women surrounded Yelu Qi. Yelu Qi hadn’t expected this situation and was momentarily stunned.
Yelu Xun, watching the battle from afar, suddenly sat up, punched Ziwei Sage hard, and cried out: “Wah! This situation… this situation… how can my virgin little Qi handle this? Old undying one, if you don’t act now, when will you! Act!”
Ziwei Sage lazily lifted his eyelids for a glance, turned over with his butt facing her: “Your brother can’t handle it, so this old man can? Go yourself if you want.”
Yelu Xun pursed her lips but said: “I think it’s good he’s entangled by these women. He’s tender-hearted toward women and won’t kill them immediately, so he’ll have to fight a prolonged battle. Perfect—let that Gong Yin face the old witch. Best if he dies heroically, then my little Qi can marry Bobo! Hahaha.”
She also lay down comfortably again. After all, just a few women—little Qi shouldn’t be unable to handle them.
Yelu Qi naturally couldn’t hear this conversation. He was somewhat awkwardly facing this powdered formation. Some of these snowy mountain women were acquaintances he’d known when captured. Yet now these women seemed to have forgotten him, seemingly unashamed of their nakedness, still maintaining cold expressions and dignified bearing. Their movements were sharp and fluid, as if what they displayed wasn’t skin but boundless sanctity and radiance.
But Yelu Qi was in a dilemma. Before him was flesh and powder—all jade arms and bare legs. How to fight this battle?
He couldn’t bring himself to fight, but they weren’t polite. A young woman shouted sharply and kicked over. Yelu Qi could easily deflect it, but looking up at the raised thigh—snow-white and round, vaguely showing a line of light-colored undergarment… The hand he was about to strike out had to withdraw.
Sword qi was sharp as another sword shot over. Yelu Qi’s figure flashed, leaping over the sword light to approach the opponent’s chest. His palm light and skillful could push the person away, but when he raised his hand, it seemed to press against something warm, soft, full, and smooth. His fingertips slipped without grip. He hastily withdrew his hand, his face already slightly red.
Mountains of flesh and powder, forbidden sights everywhere. Fighting so awkwardly with hands and feet bound, Yelu Qi soon appeared stretched thin. More deadly, as a man in his prime with normal physiology, even with good self-control, maneuvering long in such a powdered formation, inevitably seeing and touching things, he gradually felt his body heating up. He felt a hot flow in his lower abdomen that he couldn’t control, rising straight to his chest.
Yelu Xun had been watching the battle from afar, first laughing, then slightly uneasy, then unable to help laughing again: “Look at my brother—dragon bearing and phoenix posture, like orchid and jade tree, truly not boasting. Look at those little zombies, seemingly murderous but actually showing mercy, just wanting to trap him.”
Her keen eyes saw at once that these snowy mountain disciples who had originally known Yelu Qi, though appearing cold, were actually showing mercy. Ultimately, they didn’t want to hurt him.
She felt relieved and lay down comfortably again, glancing at Ziwei Sage whose butt remained facing that direction but whose ears were perked up.
Better not to act easily—she needed to watch this old guy who might slip away at any moment.
She didn’t plan to move. On the artificial hill, Jing Hengbo steadied herself, supported by Tian Qi. Having rushed from the xuanhuang wind and snow formation, her entire body was covered with fine cuts from grass leaves. As Tian Qi tried to bandage her wounds, she hissed in pain while pushing him away. At a glance she saw the wind and snow in the corridor had scattered, the formation broken, split into two battle groups with Qi Sha and Yelu Qi. In the corridor, Pei Shu lay sleeping on ice and snow, motionless with Meng Potian beside him.
This shocked Jing Hengbo terribly. She quickly flashed to the corridor, seeing Pei Shu’s face nearly completely covered and Meng Potian entirely covered in ice and snow, both in rigid postures. For a moment her vision darkened and she nearly slipped, quickly supported by Tian Qi who urgently said in her ear: “Your Majesty! Your Majesty! Don’t panic first—the Marshal has heat on his face!”
Jing Hengbo steadied herself and carefully looked at Pei Shu’s face, discovering that though his forehead was covered with snow, the snow around his mouth and nose was light. Her heart relaxed slightly, but she didn’t understand why he lay motionless like this—this really wasn’t his style. Fearing he was seriously injured, she could only crouch and call softly: “Pei Shu! Pei Shu!” Her fingers brushed his cheek, picking up several round ice beads.
Jing Hengbo held the ice beads up to the light, somewhat unable to react for a moment, only feeling her heart shake as if something she absolutely didn’t want to happen was occurring.
Behind her, Tian Qi suddenly drew in a soft breath.
Jing Hengbo looked back somewhat confused, then toward Meng Potian. The woman’s face had very even snow, undisturbed by any trace of heat, only vaguely showing two extremely dark, heroic eyebrows.
Sudden great grief filled her heart. Jing Hengbo’s hand trembled.
“Crack”—a soft sound as the ice bead fell on Meng Potian’s face. She didn’t move.
Jing Hengbo rushed over, frantically brushing snow from her face and lifting her up. But that body was so heavy, colder than snow. Jing Hengbo felt that coldness freeze from her fingers to her heart, almost unable to hold the body.
Holding Meng Potian, she turned confused toward Tian Qi, her eyes full of pleading. Tian Qi sighed deeply, turning away unable to watch, softly saying: “Your Majesty, please accept this loss…”
Jing Hengbo suddenly closed her eyes.
Pei Shu beside her trembled slightly, more ice and snow falling.
Then he rigidly sat up, resting his forehead on his knees. After a while, his fingers slowly inserted into his black hair, convulsing again and again.
Jing Hengbo sat on the icy ground holding Meng Potian, feeling her heart also convulsing. This night’s cold and sorrow covered people like chaotic snow.
She didn’t know what to say and couldn’t say anything. The life-and-death choice in the corridor was only an instant. In that final instant when Pei Shu threw her out, Meng Potian’s fate had already been unjustly decided.
For a moment she wondered whether Meng Potian hated her existence in that final moment, just as she had said—if there were no Jing Hengbo…
If there were no Jing Hengbo, perhaps Pei Shu would like that girl with similar temperament, perhaps eventually accept her, or perhaps he already had slight fondness in his heart. But he was so stubborn and proud, as if he felt that guarding his initial attraction was also a man’s persistence and quality.
In the end, it made her suffer.
Jing Hengbo didn’t know what Meng Potian would think, only feeling that at this moment she was beginning to hate her own existence.
Pei Shu suddenly turned his head, gently taking Meng Potian from her hands with a tenderness he had never shown in his life, holding her in his arms.
He turned to gaze at the deep black night, seeming to want to sink into darkness, yet also seeming to seek glimmer in darkness. Jing Hengbo heard his suddenly hoarse voice, harshly echoing in her ears: “I want to accompany her first… I’m afraid I can’t help you with things over there right now.”
Jing Hengbo was silent for a long while, nodded, and slowly stood up. She shouldn’t be here now.
Let Meng Potian exclusively enjoy this final time alone.
Standing up, whether from kneeling too long making her knees stiff, she stumbled. Tian Qi supported her, and she said somewhat confused: “Thank you.”
Tian Qi gazed into her eyes, again unable to watch as he turned away, softly reminding: “Young Master Yelu seems to be in some trouble…”
Jing Hengbo rallied her spirits, looking outside the corridor and indeed seeing Yelu Qi’s awkward situation.
At this moment she urgently needed a battle to dispel the boundless guilt and pain in her mind. Without thinking, her figure flashed as she plunged into Yelu Qi’s battle group.
As she entered the battle group, Yelu Qi was delighted. He now hoped for a woman to help him out of this predicament—otherwise this battle with bound hands and feet was truly hard to fight.
Jing Hengbo’s heart was full of sorrow and anger. Seeing this group of naked jade-skinned women was like seeing a group of bare pigs—no pity or mercy. Just as this group had used surrounding objects to attack her and kill Meng Potian, she would use the same methods to repay these heartless ice and snow people.
So the snowy mountain disciples suffered.
No one bound their hands and feet anymore, no one showed tender mercy toward women. In the xuanhuang wind and snow formation, grass and trees were weapons—under Jing Hengbo’s hands, all things were killing opportunities. She didn’t need lightness skills—could move boundlessly; didn’t need weapons—any brick, stone, or drop of water could be her sharp tool; didn’t need internal force—could command heavy blades and weapons; didn’t even need to see enemy moves clearly. As long as she willed it, all things in the world could be mobilized—simple and brutal, just smashing you.
Ice and snow’s sharp leaf tips would likewise cut bloody wounds on snowy mountain disciples. Those hard branches would be rudely stabbed into wounds by Jing Hengbo. Broken stones became countless flying locust stones, sand could become hidden weapons. Even an occasional fish jumping from the lotus pond could be directed by Jing Hengbo’s hand gestures to slap hard across a face with its tail, making a woman cry out delicately before being knocked unconscious by that fish tail. Jing Hengbo’s attacks were continuous—her hands constantly moving like plucking night’s strings, summoning all things in heaven and earth rolling forth. Chaotic stones mixed with flying grass, broken branches wrapped in mud and sand. All objects rushed forward one after another, flying and whistling at even more ferocious speed than the earlier great formation, churning air currents into muddy chaos. From afar this battle group appeared entirely yellow-brown, like a heaven-pulling, earth-dragging tornado.
The snowy mountain disciples finally felt this fierceness and killing intent. More deadly, the Queen had no martial arts or internal force—all her abilities came from supernatural powers, so her strength was endless, never tiring or declining. In anger her multitasking became even more fluid, as if heaven and earth were commanded by her.
Yelu Qi no longer needed to act, only supervising from the side.
Turns of fortune—just as Yelu Qi had fought miserably before, now it was the snowy mountain disciples’ turn. They had never experienced such helpless battle formations where their advantages couldn’t be used. Under Jing Hengbo’s almost shrew-like vicious attacks, those clothes that couldn’t cover their bodies became even more scattered and broken. These women gradually truly angered, shouting in unison. Ignoring Jing Hengbo’s violent attacks from all things, ignoring the weapon barriers formed before her, sword light like lightning, graceful as dragons—countless snow dragons whistled and entangled, penetrating floating barriers, charging straight at Jing Hengbo.
Drops of scarlet scattered in the air like ink-wash painting’s final dot of plum blossoms, dyeing the pale yellow moonlight with rouge. That was the fresh blood of snowy mountain disciples forcibly breaking through Jing Hengbo’s barrier of all things, cut by those sharp grass leaves, bricks, and stones.
That gathered snow dragon in the night truly seemed to have dragon-soaring posture—boundless fierceness and killing intent were its fierce claws and fangs.
Heavenly dragon soaring, thousand li in an instant—that sword light was so fast that nothing in the world could catch up.
Yelu Qi immediately rushed over. Jing Hengbo retreated urgently. After a soft “hiss,” she had disappeared from that spot. Several strips of cloth floated up, falling into Yelu Qi’s arms as he happened to rush over.
Yelu Qi struck back with a sword, the clear ring like dragon song. Borrowing that huge shocking force he flew up, just seeing that Jing Hengbo had landed in another direction with slightly unsteady form, her chest clothing torn to the waist, exposing a large patch of snow-white skin.
At this moment he couldn’t think of anything else, flying to her side and urgently pulling her behind him, asking: “How are you—injured?”
Jing Hengbo shook her head, somewhat uncomfortably pulling at her clothes. She was fine not pulling, but once she pulled, Yelu Qi noticed her dishevelment. The snowy mountain disciples’ combined sword strike had been too sharp and fierce. Though Jing Hengbo’s teleportation couldn’t be caught by anyone, she had still been stripped of a cloth strip from her chest. Now her clothing had become a line-heaven dress—a line of white from neck to waist, nearly dazzling in the darkness, with a deep valley line at her chest like a snow bay, faintly visible.
At one glance, Yelu Qi’s entire body stiffened. The hot flow from facing the powder formation earlier now surged even more turbulently. That line of white, that bay of snow, seemed like a scene of human romance awakening long-dormant hot blood. He could even feel that hot blood like sword and blade, wildly surging up from his lower abdomen. Wherever it passed, skin burned like fire, five organs boiled like cauldron.
He quickly steadied himself, looked away, stepped back, forcing himself to turn attention back to those snowy mountain disciples. But those snowy mountain disciples seemed at their last gasp—all pale-faced, retreating to one side supporting their swords and panting, no longer continuing to obstruct.
The xuanhuang wind and snow formation was extremely draining of true force and vital blood. After entangling with Yelu Qi, then being attacked and injured by Jing Hengbo, these disciples were also exhausted. That earlier ferocious unparalleled sword strike was merely final desperate struggle.
Jing Hengbo was also panting. That fierce attack had truly roused anger—though not hurting physical strength, it hurt spirit, and she was somewhat tired.
Suddenly hearing a thunderous crash from the bridal chamber direction.
Jing Hengbo looked up abruptly, remembering she had neglected the most important battlefield.
She couldn’t help rushing out, shouting: “Gong Yin!”