Ming City stood somewhat bewildered at the threshold.

She had stumbled all the way here, confused and disoriented. Now standing at the palace entrance, warmed by the heat from within, she snapped back to awareness and realized she was standing at the entrance to Jing Hengbo’s chambers.

She was somewhat surprised, feeling empty inside, unable to understand why she had come to this place she absolutely didn’t want to visit. But standing at the chamber entrance, she suddenly remembered the days at Fenglai Qi, remembered the ginseng Jing Hengbo had offered, remembered living in the west wing of these chambers, remembered the four of them eating together with their heads close, laughing at each other in the rising steam.

She looked back at the empty courtyard, the kitchen completely dark without any signs of life, with snow falling silently.

Those voices and laughter had been buried.

She should be happy. She pressed her hand to her chest, coughed a few times, and giggled.

The laughter echoed at the palace entrance, sounding particularly hollow.

Since she was here, she might as well go in and warm up. This was her territory too—all of Jade Photo Palace belonged to her. Why shouldn’t she dare enter?

She stepped inside.

Then froze.

At the dressing table, someone in snow-white robes sat perfectly straight, staring at her unblinkingly through the mirror.

For an instant she thought it was a ghost and instinctively wanted to scream. However, that person’s bearing and demeanor were too vivid. The next moment she knew who it was. The scream immediately stuck in her throat. She stared wide-eyed, hand gripping the palace door, shocked and hesitant, hope gradually appearing in her eyes.

This chance encounter—might it also be an opportunity…

This thought made her forget his previous warning. She didn’t immediately withdraw, only timidly raised her head to gaze at him in the mirror.

Gong Yin silently watched the figure in the mirror.

How could her reflection appear in Jing Hengbo’s mirror? That would dirty Jing Hengbo’s mirror, and she wouldn’t be happy when she returned.

He flicked his finger, and the bronze mirror shattered. Ming City’s reflection in the mirror immediately twisted and distorted beyond human recognition.

He felt satisfied.

Ming City stood at the palace entrance, seeing only darkness inside and not clearly noticing the broken mirror. Since Gong Yin hadn’t immediately driven her away, hope ignited in her heart.

“Gong…” Her spirit was weak at the moment, so she immediately changed her address. “State Preceptor… I didn’t expect you to be here… are you… are you also having a sleepless night…”

Gong Yin didn’t move or speak.

If not for the slightly cold air in the palace that let her sense Gong Yin’s presence, she would have thought he was sleepwalking.

He came here in the middle of the night… Sharp hatred surged in her heart, which she quickly suppressed, knowing this wasn’t the time for emotional outbursts.

She could only be more gentle and tender, saying softly, “I… I don’t know how… I just walked here…”

Gong Yin slowly wiped the table surface.

Ming City stared at his back, her heart beating like drums. She thought it over—since he appeared here at Jing Hengbo’s place, he must harbor some lingering attachment. Perhaps if she mentioned Jing Hengbo, she could earn a bit of his gentleness.

Deep down she didn’t want to mention Jing Hengbo, but circumstances forced her hand. Since that incident, her movements had been restricted to the area around the Queen’s chambers. She couldn’t see outsiders or Gong Yin. Though she had countless things to say, she had no opportunity to speak to anyone.

Tonight presented the right time and place. Perhaps this night’s similar wind and snow would make him willing to accept her. No matter what, she wanted to try—how could there be opportunity without getting close?

“I… I deeply regret what happened before…” Her tears came at will, her voice also taking on a choking quality. “…I… I was too selfish and narrow-minded… Back then… back then I shouldn’t have treated her that way… Later I regretted it too… Tonight… tonight seeing this snow, my heart suddenly ached, thinking of how good she was to me, thinking of when the four of us were together… I unconsciously came here… I… I miss her too…”

She felt somewhat short of breath and had to stop, stealing glances at his reaction. No reaction was a good sign.

“…I… I actually didn’t mean it then… I didn’t want to harm her either… I just felt wronged and angry… I had just recovered my memory then, my heart full of grievance… feeling she had stolen everything from me… I originally wanted to endure it… but that day her drunken words to me provoked me… I thought, why should I acknowledge what wasn’t mine while what was mine got taken by others… It was a momentary impulse… After calming down, I remembered her kindness to me… No matter what, she saved my life… Even if there were some schemes, nothing is more important than life… I should have protected her then… I wonder how she’s doing now… That place, Blackwater Marsh… Why don’t you move her somewhere else…”

She spoke earnestly and plaintively. Grievance, resentment, consideration, understanding, tolerance, kindness—all were present. Her voice was low and sighing, every word gentle and lingering, enough to move any heart of stone in the world.

Gong Yin slowly turned around.

She was overjoyed but dared not show her happiness, only raised her eyes with tears about to fall from her lashes. She knew this expression was most likely to evoke pity.

She had been standing in the wind, with wind blowing from behind, seeming to pierce her heart. She trembled from cold but dared not step forward.

“Is this truly what you think?” he finally spoke. No emotion could be heard in his voice.

She nodded eagerly, saying softly, “Otherwise, in this weather, with my condition, why would I come here in the middle of the night… I had no idea I would encounter you here…”

“You regret it?” he asked.

“Yes.” She lowered her head, and tears she had prepared long ago pattered down.

“If you want to move her somewhere else and have sincerity, go change it yourself.”

She was startled, saying gently, “I don’t have that authority.”

“You are the Queen. For such matters, you can issue a royal decree,” he said indifferently. “I’ll sign the Jade Photo Palace order.”

She was overjoyed but felt uneasy thinking about the royal decree.

The Queen’s jade seal had always been with her, hidden in the most secret place. Though this seal was mostly useless, it could be crucial at the most critical moments. For instance, deposing the State Preceptor, or certain edicts modifying royal family laws, required the Queen’s jade seal.

For example, if Gong Yin wanted to modify royal family laws to allow men to become emperor, even if she agreed, even if all ministers agreed, without the Queen’s jade seal on the modification decree, it would never be recognized. The six kingdoms and eight tribes could use this as an excuse to refuse recognition of central royal authority and directly secede. Even if Gong Yin became emperor, he would be an illegitimate figurehead emperor who might face various rebellions and secessions. The wilderness would completely fragment.

This was the most important protective talisman left by the founding Empress for successive Queens. The wilderness’s political structure was so strange and complex that any changes were extremely difficult. Precisely because of this, she preferred not participating in state affairs and remaining a puppet queen, trying to avoid bringing out the Queen’s jade seal, because she knew that once she produced the seal in front of Gong Yin, no matter how she hid it afterward, she could never again escape his notice.

Then she would be like facing swords naked, with no protection or barriers.

At this moment, Gong Yin’s casual remark made her feel like she was lifting a rock to drop on her own foot.

Gong Yin supported himself on the table and slowly stood up, watching her.

He rarely looked directly at others, and even when he did, people often felt he must be looking not at them but at empty vastness beyond the clouds. Many suspected that in this life, he had only seriously looked at Jing Hengbo. However, at this moment, Ming City clearly saw her own reflection in his eyes.

Such attention suffocated her, making even a moment feel eternal.

After a moment, he smiled slightly.

Ming City’s eyes suddenly widened.

Her astonished gaze reflected his smile blooming in ice and snow—like an ice lotus quietly blossoming under bright moon above snowy mountain peaks, amid heaven and earth’s radiance. In an instant, brilliant colors spread for thousands of miles, wind and snow held their breath, heaven and earth lost color.

Having known him for years, she had never seen his smile.

She never expected that at this moment, he would smile at her.

This smile shocked her speechless—she didn’t know whether to be amazed by that beauty or terrified by this smile.

He softened his tone, saying gently, “This comforts me greatly.”

She exhaled with lingering shock, feeling her back damp with sweat. After a moment, secret joy arose.

He suddenly said, “I’d also like to visit her chambers.”

She was startled, then understood he meant her own chambers.

In an instant, even her hands trembled.

Wild joy, surprise, unease, tension—her heart was in chaos, mouth mumbling, not knowing what to say.

He watched her as if waiting for her answer. Though she felt vaguely uneasy, she absolutely wouldn’t miss this opportunity—if she missed this chance, she knew there would never be another.

“Good,” she immediately said. “I’ll guide you.”

“You’re too lightly dressed.” He clapped his hands, and figures immediately appeared outside the palace.

“Prepare a sedan.”

Shortly after, as she rode in the warm sedan toward her own palace, her heart remained in a daze.

This encounter in wind and snow, with things developing this way, she felt her head might be getting dizzy again. Her heart felt vaguely wrong, but her actions involuntarily followed along.

The people at her chambers received word and opened the gates early with bright lights. Palace servants waited at the entrance. This was the first time since her return that she had seen her chambers so lively.

When Gong Yin alighted from his sedan, he actually stood by her sedan and made a gesture as if to help her out. She naturally didn’t dare let him assist, quickly lifting the curtain herself. As she emerged, she noticed the shocked expressions of the palace servants, feeling both bitter and satisfied.

Only with Gong Yin’s acknowledgment could she stand firm. She had to work doubly hard to please him.

The two entered the chambers one after the other, and the palace doors immediately closed. She turned to look at him—in the deep light and shadow, that man remained like jade trees and crystal flowers, unchanged from years past.

But she sensitively noticed that his expression dimmed slightly the moment he entered the chambers.

Was it because he thought of Jing Hengbo?

Their true farewell had happened here.

“Since you’ve returned, you needn’t entirely seclude yourself in the deep palace,” he suddenly said. “If you’re interested in attending court, starting tomorrow you may come to the Quiet Courtyard to observe governance.”

She was delighted and about to agree when she suddenly stopped. Then she smiled, “Observing governance has little meaning. Better not to attend.”

“Since you say you want to move her somewhere else, you’ll need to discuss it with ministers.”

Her heart grew irritated—it was still about Jing Hengbo.

In that case, she’d go along with the plan.

She caught a faint scent of blood, thinking of his earlier complexion, and smiled slightly in her heart.

“True,” she smiled. “Thinking about moving Hengbo somewhere else, I’m somewhat impatient. Should I draft the edict now?”

“As you wish,” he said indifferently, then casually pointed to the desk. “Write there.”

She sneered inwardly but appeared even gentler, actually sitting down to grind ink. He personally took over, saying, “Let me.”

When their fingers touched as he took the ink stone, she trembled and shrank back, stealing a glance at him. He seemed to have no reaction, his lowered lashes and features serene.

She secretly regretted it. Taking the water vessel, she turned to add some water to the ink stone.

The chambers were silent, wind and snow shut outside. Eight-bat bronze censers released wafting sandalwood—very pure fragrance. The under-floor heating had started, filling the room with warm fragrance.

Only their calm, long breathing could be heard, along with the soft sound of ink grinding on stone, making things seem even more peaceful and tranquil.

The ink was good ink—among all these fragrances, it still clearly emanated its unique faint clean scent that calmed the mind and cleared the heart.

She wrote seriously, saying softly, “…Should we send her to the Chentie Tribe? When Iron Prince returns, perhaps he can look after her.”

“Good.” His voice was somewhat slow and heavy.

She blew on the ink marks, looking up at him with a smile across the paper. Receiving her gaze, he looked away.

“Tomorrow I’ll take this to the ministers for discussion?” she said.

“Won’t you seal it with the Queen’s jade seal?” he asked seemingly casually.

Her heart sank with a “thud”—the main act was beginning! She immediately bloomed with flower-like smiles, “Ah, the jade seal! I haven’t used it so long, I almost forgot!”

He gazed at her, not missing her expression.

Her lashes lowered slightly, “All these years, the jade seal hasn’t been used. Can you guess where it is?”

“How would I know,” he answered flatly.

“It’s on my person,” she smiled lightly, leaning back with hands braced on the stool, looking up at him.

This pose showed her long, snow-white neck, delicate and refined collarbones, and accentuated her chest curves, making her waist appear even more slender and fragile, while her upturned little face was as pure as a half-opened water lily.

Somehow her collar had opened slightly. His gaze paused and slowly descended. She clearly saw a misty layer like fog in his eyes.

She smiled inwardly—that ink block was truly good ink.

“The jade seal is on your person?” he said, his voice slower than before.

“Yes…” her voice was lighter, more charming, with slight breathiness. She lifted her foot, her embroidered shoe gently kicking his shin, “It’s on my body. Would you like to search for it…”

He gazed at her and slowly bent down, extending his fingertip.

…

Crossing dangerous cities three thousand li at night, flying snow and falling blood with one sword’s arrival.

On the night of the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth month, light snow also fell in the Huangjin Tribe territory. Snowflakes blown by wind danced chaotically, constantly sticking to branches and roof tiles until gradually the world turned white.

In the black and white night, two figures raced toward Beixin City.

One figure was like lightning crossing the sky—each rise and fall covered several zhang, the wind from flowing robes scattering snowflakes wildly.

The other was like a leaping musical note, appearing and disappearing in the snow like a ghost.

The thirty-li journey passed in an instant. When the two reached the city gates, a small purple shadow shot ahead and leaped onto the city walls.

The two waited in concealment below the city. After a while, under the air-death wind lantern atop the walls, a fluffy big tail emerged and swayed leisurely.

The two figures flashed and appeared atop the walls. In the lamplight, their postures were composed—Yélu Qi and Jing Hengbo.

The two swaggered past the tower guard posts. The watchtowers were lit with lanterns and fires, still giving off food aromas. A group of gate guards had been roasting sweet potatoes earlier but now lay sprawled in sleep.

Yélu Qi was about to walk past, but Jing Hengbo darted over and gathered all the sweet potatoes, laughing, “I’m starving! So fragrant!” While hurrying down from the city walls, she tore open a sweet potato’s skin, revealing the golden interior. She took a big bite, immediately getting yellow around her mouth.

She casually tossed sweet potatoes to Feifei and Yélu Qi, mumbling, “Eat well to work well—even emperors don’t shortchange hungry soldiers.”

“Who told you to insist on coming,” Yélu Qi took out a snow-white handkerchief and wiped her mouth clean, then took the remaining sweet potatoes and tucked them in his robes. “Too heavy—don’t let it affect your movements.”

His gesture was gentle. Before Jing Hengbo could react, her mouth was already clean, and she vaguely felt his fingers brush her skin—slightly cool.

The fragrance lingered at her lips—the warm scent from his handkerchief.

Feeling his gazing attention, she slightly turned away and changed the subject, “What’s the plan?”

Tonight’s mission in wind and snow required them to race against time to kill.

Only now did Jing Hengbo learn that Yélu Qi’s relationship with his clan was troubled. For years he had worked hard for the clan only because they had always controlled his blind sister. Now that he had lost his position as State Preceptor, hadn’t surrendered the supposed Imperial Map silk scroll to the clan, and hadn’t returned to Yu Kingdom headquarters but instead stayed by Jing Hengbo’s side, the clan was displeased. Taking advantage of cooperation with the Huangjin Tribe, they had brought Yélu Qi’s sister as hostage, wanting to command Yélu Qi again. Killing Jing Hengbo was just one part—perhaps they also intended to use him as a vanguard in the upcoming Ash Gray Valley operation.

When Yélu Qi was no longer State Preceptor and couldn’t rescue the imprisoned Yélu clan members in the capital, perhaps he was just a discarded piece. All that could be used or feared was his martial arts.

Earlier he had refused the threats and boldly killed, preventing those people from sending messages. According to what they said, if they didn’t return by morning, his sister would be killed. So if he wanted to save her, it had to be tonight.

Tonight they had to kill all Yélu clan members in Beixin City, rescue Xun Ru, and block information. Only less than two hours remained until dawn.

In two hours, just finding people in this sizable city would be difficult, let alone killing and rescuing.

Yélu Qi didn’t answer Jing Hengbo’s question but quickly searched around the city wall base. When he stood up, his expression was disappointed.

“Elder sister left no markings,” he sighed. “Previously she would always try to leave signs at places like city gates. Now it appears the clan deployed many people this time—she had no opportunity at all.”

How to find people in such a vast city?

“Yélu clan members have a habit,” Yélu Qi said. “They like luxury, ostentation, courting officials, and prefer staying near places with soldiers. They dislike busy markets. So poor districts, outskirts, and market areas need not be considered.”

“Bingo!” Jing Hengbo clapped. With such parameters, searching became much easier.

They woke a soldier and asked about areas meeting these conditions. It should be near Huayan Street—the officials’ residential district near Beixin Prefecture. The local Huangjin Tribe’s Jinlin Army was stationed nearby.

Difficulty increased, but no one hesitated.

When racing against time, there’s no time for hesitation.

Soon reaching Huayan Street, Jing Hengbo was dumbfounded at first sight—rows of grand mansions with spacious grounds lined the street. The entire street was long and impressive with dozens of households. Searching all of them would take until nearly dawn.

Yélu Qi suddenly looked up.

In the vague wind and snow, there seemed to be a dim lantern.

The lantern was white with yellowish light. During this festive season with red lanterns everywhere for celebration, this white lantern was particularly conspicuous.

It should be a Kongming lantern that somehow failed to launch and got caught in a tree.

Yélu Qi exhaled a long breath.

“There?” Jing Hengbo immediately asked. “Is this your secret signal?”

“No.”

“Huh?”

“We’ve never used such signals before. The signals between elder sister and me can’t be fixed, as they’d easily be discovered by the Yélu clan. So our signals are always different, but always something we both understand.”

“What does this white lantern represent?”

“Ten years ago on the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth month, elder sister lost her sight.” Yélu Qi’s voice was low.

Jing Hengbo was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m sorry.”

“No.” He turned to look at her, his lips curving in a composed smile. “I very much hope to share everything—past, present, and future—with you.”

Jing Hengbo grinned, “Ah, let’s hurry and rescue her.”

Yélu Qi slightly restrained his smile, his gaze calm—she had retreated into her shell like a turtle again.

No matter. Flowing time could wash away all hardness.

“Don’t rush,” he said. “The white lantern has another meaning.”

“Hmm?”

“Danger.” He said, “Elder sister has detested white since childhood. This is related to our parents’ early death. After that, she refuses to use anything white. She says this color is too empty, too pure—any color can be painted over it, making it seem particularly unclean. For her, white signifies misfortune and danger.”

Jing Hengbo deeply agreed. She used to quite like white, but now she hated it. She used to like snow too, but now seeing snowy days made her want to kill.

“The white lantern is to the southwest. The southwest direction must be a crucial area that doesn’t allow entry,” Yélu Qi said. “Elder sister might be elsewhere in the mansion. I’ll go to the southwest to deal with them. The rescue, Hengbo, I’m entrusting to you.”

“No problem.” Jing Hengbo turned to leave decisively.

“Hengbo.” He suddenly called her back.

“Yes?”

He stared at her smiling face turning back in the wind and snow, saying with difficulty, “If… if you encounter danger and truly can’t rescue elder sister. You… abandon her!”

Jing Hengbo was shocked, eyes wide. She never expected him to say this. This was Yélu Qi’s only relative, and clearly his feelings for his sister ran deep.

“No matter how important elder sister’s life is, I don’t want to trade your life for it,” he said. “Hengbo, I truly harmed you before, and now I truly don’t want anything to happen to you. No matter what, when your life is threatened, remember not to worry about anyone else. You said you would only love yourself—remember to do that.”

After speaking, he smiled, threw off his cloak onto the ground, wearing only tight black clothes. He waved his sleeves at her, and his figure flashed before disappearing.

Jing Hengbo watched his figure with flying long hair in the snowflakes, suddenly feeling this person was distinctly good when good, naturally evil when evil. Whatever he said or did, he courageously took responsibility and accepted consequences—truly possessing an indescribable romantic bearing.

“Little monster,” she said softly to Feifei. “He dares trust me—do I dare trust him?”

Feifei slowly blinked at her, forever adorably clueless.

Jing Hengbo’s figure flashed and disappeared into the wind and snow.

The next instant she appeared on a wall northwest of the white lantern.

The mansion seemed heavily guarded with nearly every place brightly lit. This actually helped her determine Yélu Xun Ru’s location—blind people don’t need lamplight.

Not far ahead was a pitch-black small courtyard.

“Feifei,” she thought for a moment and said to the little monster on her shoulder. “Yélu Qi’s side might be more dangerous. Go help out.”

Feifei nimbly leaped away. Jing Hengbo took a breath. It wasn’t that she particularly cared about Yélu Qi, but she hoped to truly test her real combat ability tonight.

She felt her supernatural abilities had improved recently and wanted to know her limits.

As she swept over, she had a strange feeling—lights everywhere, but darkness here. What did this mean? Indicating the hostage’s location?

This thought was immediately confirmed by wind sounds the moment she landed.

“Swish!” Sharp wind aimed directly at the back of her head—the shrill sound of a sharp weapon thrusting.

Her figure flashed and vanished. The next instant, a flower pot from the corridor suddenly flew sideways, striking something solid with a bang.

A muffled grunt, and the scent of blood spread through the air. That person staggered, and Jing Hengbo had already flashed to a different direction, pressed tight against his back.

The dagger in her hand silently stabbed once, then flicked upward.

When withdrawing, she pressed down once more.

Practiced countless times, familiar technique—a killing method she would unconsciously use in future battles no matter how much she resisted.

That person heavily collapsed without blood spattering. Her final press prevented blood from spraying wildly, avoiding getting blood in her eyes that would affect her strikes.

It seemed simple but was the essence refined through countless real battles.

“Press like this, yes, down one point, press flat against the meridian’s blood opening. Blood won’t spray.”

She struck once then immediately withdrew and moved, never staying in place to observe her results.

That person’s voice echoed in her ears.

“You possess unparalleled teleportation ability—don’t waste this talent. In combat, exquisite movement can keep you forever undefeated. After striking, never stay in place to check your opponent’s injuries. You should flash away first, making it impossible for others to track you. Even if one strike misses, you have the next time, and the time after. If someone plays dead and stabs you, there won’t be a next time.”

Memories that couldn’t be shaken off, deeply embedded in blood and bone.

After flashing, she pressed close again with another vicious strike.

The opponent made no sound—truly dead this time.

Wind sounds came from behind, aimed at her back, extremely close and fast. Clearly the opponent had been lurking for long, waiting for this most relaxed moment after her strike.

But she was flashing.

Constantly flashing without pause.

Flickering like a ghost, hiding like lightning—a black shadow jumping in people’s eyes, impossible to predict its direction.

The next instant her dagger pierced that person’s neck, passing through at an upward angle of three points, precisely penetrating between cervical vertebrae and severing the throat.

That person didn’t even cry out before crashing down.

Falling too quickly, Jing Hengbo’s dagger got stuck in the bone gap before she could withdraw it. Her body was involuntarily pulled downward. Suddenly she heard wind sounds behind—a third person had pounced.

Not just one! A sword from the left struck like a venomous snake!

If she abandoned her dagger to flash away now, she’d lose her most powerful weapon. This close-combat blade was thin and sharp, cutting bone like vegetables—there was hardly a second one like it in the world.

She didn’t abandon the dagger. Her body fell, pressing against the corpse, and she pulled out the dagger with her hand while turning her head aside.

Fresh blood splashed on her collar.

Sword wind howled overhead, the blade from the left swept across her back. If she hadn’t fallen, that sword would have split open her abdomen.

But the person behind had pressed down—teleportation was too late.

With a bang, that person collapsed on top of her.

Just as that person was about to celebrate and bring his blade down on her neck, he suddenly heard a crisp “crack” from above.

Like a watermelon splitting.

Then severe pain accompanied by thick liquid flowing down from his head. Only then did this person stupidly realize—what split wasn’t a watermelon, but his skull.

Another flower pot was missing from under the corridor eaves, now blood-stained and rolling to one side.

Jing Hengbo’s dagger reversed direction, quietly slitting the throat of the person on top of her again. With the momentum, she rolled and was already standing.

The ground was sticky and slimy, the air thick with nauseating blood smell. She lowered her eyes, emptying her mind. Dagger hanging down, standing quietly.

The bloody smell had no effect on her—when someone has dissected a hundred rabbits and roe deer in one day, skinning mountains of flesh and blood, afterward bloody smells are just that.

Some floating lights flickered in the darkness with amazed brilliance, gradually approaching. Breathing sounds from all directions became clearer, filled with suppression and tension.

Killing three people in moments with strange methods and ruthless strikes—even the killed didn’t understand how they died.

Now that woman stood quietly in the darkness, unmoved.

Everyone could tell this wasn’t feigned composure but genuine imperturbability. From demeanor to breathing to heartbeat, she showed no fluctuation at all.

True grandmaster bearing that inspired awe.

Jing Hengbo had her eyes closed at this moment.

This was her first solo combat, even her first time killing, yet she felt no nervousness or fear. Her blood was even boiling.

Blood boiling, heart extremely calm—like a volcano buried under ice and snow, about to erupt skyward the next instant.

She suddenly felt perhaps she was also suited for slaughter. The violence within was awakened—she liked wandering in seas of blood.

Many people surrounded her on all sides, vigilantly watching while gradually tightening the encirclement.

“When the enemy doesn’t move, I don’t move. When the enemy moves, I move first.”

Her figure suddenly flashed!

This flash came without warning. All the frightened besiegers immediately retreated, not knowing who would be next.

Those closest were nervous; those on the outer edge relaxed slightly.

Jing Hengbo flashed and broke out of the circle!

The two on the outer edge only felt wind sounds, with faint fragrance behind them. These two reacted quickly, immediately turning around.

That fragrant figure suddenly flashed to a different direction. The two hurriedly turned again, now facing each other.

The fragrant figure flashed again—this time seemingly making an error, actually flashing between the two!

Only the corridor’s width separated them. With another person standing between, the distance became so close they could hear each other’s breathing. Just extending their weapons would immediately pierce that figure’s abdomen!

Opportunity not to be missed!

Overjoyed, both immediately thrust their weapons viciously!

Just as blades were about to pierce Jing Hengbo in the middle—

She flashed.

Too fast, creating afterimages, so fast her figure remained in their pupils, making them feel they had struck her.

“Swish, swish.”

Two sounds simultaneously, blood spraying to form a connecting bridge.

Severe pain struck. Both stared wide-eyed, disbelievingly at their own abdomens.

Each had the other’s weapon piercing through…

Looking up at the middle—where was that figure?

How was this possible?

In that moment faster than blinking, how could she have time to flash out?

How could such ghostly movement exist…

“This isn’t human!” Both suddenly screamed, “This isn’t human! This isn’t human!”

Before their screams ended, they cut off abruptly.

Jing Hengbo gave each a blade, using their throats to clean blood from her knife.

The bloody smell grew thicker.

The atmosphere became more oppressive and tense.

People began panicking. No one had seen what happened—only knowing that in an instant, the person inside the encirclement got out, then the two outermost people died. Looking at how they died, they had actually killed each other.

Their fierce, terrified cries before death seemed to still echo nearby. Everyone’s hair stood on end, hearts chilled. Though they outnumbered her greatly, they felt the urge to turn and flee.

Face-to-face combat wasn’t frightening, but ghostly unpredictable assassination was most deadly.

These people had planned to use dark ambush to deal with the invader, never expecting to become the ambushed party themselves.

One person ambushing a group?

It sounded somewhat ridiculous, but it wasn’t a joke. Only those experiencing it firsthand knew that unknown fear.

Those on the outer edge had thought they could feel temporarily safe, never expecting this woman to target the outer edge first. In panic, they quietly moved inward.

Jing Hengbo’s figure flashed, suddenly darting back into the circle!

Everyone couldn’t see her form but felt that faint fragrance drift past their noses, involuntarily gripping their weapons in alarm.

A distant lamp spun in the wind, casting a thread of dim light that momentarily illuminated Jing Hengbo.

In the faint light, the woman’s face was charming and beautiful, dagger held in her mouth corner, eyes flowing with a half-smile. Hard to tell which was brighter—her eyes or the dagger.

Everyone felt their eyes also brightened, not expecting this dark ghostly killing god to be such a beautiful woman. They just didn’t understand why she had suddenly put the dagger in her mouth during this dangerous combat moment.

A moment of stunning beauty, then darkness returned.

Before the light disappeared, everyone vaguely saw the woman spread her arms to the sky.

A prayer-like pose.

Everyone wondered, considering whether to rush forward to attack en masse but not wanting to be first, when sharp-eyed people suddenly cried, “Flower pots!”

Under the corridor eaves had originally been a large row of flower pots, planted with a local cold-resistant variety of dwarf plum.

Now in the darkness, those flower pots were eerily floating upward!

A moment of suffocating silence, then “Ghost!” screams rang out.

Strangely, people didn’t flee outward but at this moment, terrified out of their wits, all charged toward Jing Hengbo.

“Crack! Crack crack crack crack!”

The slowly rising flower pots suddenly flew rapidly overhead, targeting the heads of the surging crowd, smashing down violently!

One pot per head!

The moment the pot barrage struck, Jing Hengbo flashed repeatedly! Flashing out of the crowd.

The crowd was now pressed into a wall—dense!

Her dagger flashed like lightning, repeatedly darting in and out of that human wall!

Not caring whose back it was, not worrying about wasting resources or who got one more or fewer cuts. Seeing a back meant stabbing!

One more stab was one more profit!

Couldn’t leave any Yélu clan members to report and call for aid—the military camp was nearby!

Splashing blood everywhere made the ground so slippery people could barely stand. For a moment, impossible to calculate how many were knocked unconscious, how many fell, how many were stabbed and killed.

Finally Jing Hengbo was killing while standing on corpses—the ground was no longer viable for standing.

The survivors didn’t turn to fight back but finally began fleeing, emitting sharp whistles while running, shrilly spreading throughout the mansion!

Jing Hengbo knew this was notification—tough target! The next moment this place would become a priority, with more people rushing over.

Having used her abilities to the limit repeatedly to intimidate enemies, controlling the flower pot group, her stamina was already insufficient.

After all, poison still lurked in her body. She dared not overtax her strength lest she trigger the poison—then she really couldn’t return.

She felt somewhat anxious inside. Still no chance to find the person, and if more people came, how would she cope?

The call for aid went out.

Figures flashed through the mansion, all heading this way. This next batch clearly had superior lightness skills, naturally meaning superior martial arts too.

Jing Hengbo took a breath, preparing for mutual destruction.

Suddenly bright light flashed in the distance.

Then all lights in the brightly lit area went out, with a faint scream carrying far.

The figures flying through mid-air all paused, looking back in alarm.

Then a loud shout erupted from afar.

“Third Young Master has been killed!”

The voice was terrified and tragic, as if this Third Young Master’s death was an extremely terrible thing.

The figures in mid-air rushing toward Jing Hengbo suddenly turned back, some nearly falling in shock.

Almost immediately, those figures rushed toward where the scream erupted, no longer heading toward Jing Hengbo.

Seeing all figures rushing there, Jing Hengbo exhaled long—she was safe here.

But her heart also lifted—that situation must be Yélu Qi’s doing. Discovering her side was under siege with no time to rescue her, he simply did something crucial there to draw everyone away.

That Third Young Master must be some important figure. Now the grudge was deep.

She didn’t know exactly what was between Yélu Qi and his clan, but could imagine deep resentment. Now thinking back to Yélu Qi’s somewhat detached, half-hearted efforts in Imperial Song’s political struggles, finally there was an explanation.

Jing Hengbo thought about the lightness skills of that later batch—each seemed not much inferior to Yélu Qi, making her somewhat uneasy.

But she didn’t plan to rush to Yélu Qi’s aid.

Matters had priorities. She believed Yélu Qi would prefer her to rescue Xun Ru. Otherwise this sacrifice would be wasted.

The long corridor was empty. Just as she prepared to kick open the door behind her to search room by room, that door suddenly opened, and a pair of ice-cold hands reached out, grasping her wrist!