“Sister, why did you let him follow us?”

In the empty alley, Han Pu tugged at Fengxi, who had leaned against the wall and closed her eyes to rest.

“Because he wanted to.” Fengxi answered without opening her eyes.

“You’re not the sort of person who gives in that easily.” Han Pu curled his lip. “You let him come along because you want something from him, don’t you?”

“Puer, have you ever heard of the Jiu Luo Tribe?” Fengxi finally opened her eyes and looked at him.

“The Jiu Luo Tribe?” Han Pu thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Never.”

“It’s understandable that you haven’t.” Fengxi’s gaze drifted to somewhere far away, and her thoughts seemed to drift with it. “After all, the Jiu Luo Tribe has been extinct for over three hundred years — and on the very day they were wiped out, Shi Di stripped them of their tribal name. Naturally, the world has no knowledge that a people called the Jiu Luo Tribe ever existed — that tribe renowned throughout the world for their unwavering loyalty and steadfastness.”

“If they were a tribe of such loyalty, then why did Shi Di exterminate them?” Han Pu asked.

“Their loyalty was bound to the first person to whom they pledged it — once they had made their oath, not even death could change their conviction.” Fengxi sighed. “And moreover, the calamity that befell the Jiu Luo Tribe back then — our Feng family bears a share of that responsibility. There cannot be many Jiu Luo survivors left in the world, but those who remain are scattered to the far corners of the earth, never permitted to return to their homeland. Even now, the Jiu Luo Tribe remains forbidden — an existence Dong Chao does not acknowledge.”

“Was what he did just now making an oath to you?” Han Pu thought back to Yan Jiutai’s actions and could not help but clench his teeth. Hmph! He actually dared to touch Sister’s hands!

“Yes — that was the oath of loyalty he swore to me just now. ‘At your word, I would face ten thousand deaths without flinching’ — if I told him to go and die, he would.” Fengxi nodded, though the expression on her face was one of mingled sorrow and something unnameable. “Since he made up his mind six years ago to follow me, now that we have crossed paths today, he would not rest until he achieved his purpose. He would have followed — followed until I gave my consent, or… until the day he died.”

“All these years, each generation of our Feng family has carried a debt of guilt toward the Jiu Luo Tribe, and has long wished to see their name restored. Only…” Fengxi lightly ruffled his hair, her gaze adrift, as though it had fallen all the way back to those distant three hundred years, carrying a deep and mournful regret. “Let him follow, then. Perhaps the Feng family and the Jiu Luo people are simply fated to be bound together — and besides… I will have need of him in the future.”

“Is there truly anything in this world that you can’t manage on your own but would need his help for?” Han Pu was genuinely doubtful. In his heart, Fengxi was capable of anything.

“Ha…” Fengxi smiled faintly at this and gave Han Pu’s handsome young face an affectionate light stroke. “There are many things in this world I cannot do…”

The words were not yet finished when Fengxi’s expression snapped shut. Her hand shot out — Han Pu was pulled into her arms, and she leaped back three zhang in a single fluid motion.

A sharp ding! rang out, and where they had been standing, a long arrow was now buried deep into the stone-paved ground, its tail still quivering slightly — a testament to the terrifying speed and force with which it had been loosed.

Han Pu stared at the arrow, his heart nearly leaping from his chest. The arrow had struck exactly where he had been standing a moment before. One step slower and it would have driven clean through his chest.

“Who’s there?”

Fengxi’s shout had barely left her lips when arrows began raining down like a downpour from the rooftops on both sides of the alley. With no time to think about who had come, she immediately drew Han Pu into her arms, sent a white silk ribbon flying from her sleeve, poured inner strength into it, and wove it around her in whirling arcs — weaving a solid wall of white all around them. Every arrow that flew in was either deflected to the ground or split in two by the force of the ribbon’s inner energy.

When the arrow shower ceased, Fengxi let the white silk slow and said with icy contempt: “Hmph — out of arrows, are you?”

She set Han Pu down, touched her toes to the ground, and shot upward like a white crane taking flight, landing on the rooftop to the left — then vanished into the distance in pursuit of several black figures.

But the moment Fengxi gave chase, four figures dropped from the rooftop on the right, landing before Han Pu and surrounding him on all sides. All four wore black from head to foot, their brows harsh and their eyes cold.

Han Pu drew his dagger and held it across his chest, watching the four with guarded wariness. Though he was very afraid, he repeated to himself silently — don’t be afraid… don’t be afraid… — yet his legs trembled somewhat, betraying the calm he was struggling to maintain on his face.

When the four drew the broad sabers at their waists, Han Pu’s pupils contracted and his complexion went white. He cried out in a sharp voice: “It’s you!”

These were the ones. These were the ones who had murdered his father and mother. These were the ones who had burned down his home. He didn’t recognize their faces — but he recognized those sabers. He remembered the way they held them.

“Hand over the prescription.” The black-robed man on the left said coldly, his eyes fixed on Han Pu like a snake’s. “If you hadn’t shown your face in that gambling house, we would never have thought the Han family still had a survivor. We assumed the old ghost Han had taken the prescription down to the grave with him — but now it has delivered itself right into our hands.”

“Ha! The prescription was burned to ash along with everything else!” Han Pu let out a cold laugh and raised the dagger in his hand. “I thought I would never find you people to avenge my parents — and yet today you’ve appeared before me of your own accord. Heaven truly has eyes!”

“You? You dare?” The black-robed man on the right gave a contemptuous laugh and stepped forward. His saber swept in a wide arc straight at Han Pu. “If you don’t have the prescription, there’s no reason to let a wretch like you live!”

The saber came straight for his face and was about to land on his shoulder — when Han Pu suddenly bent at the waist and dodged the blow. Then, with agile speed, he lunged at the black-robed man, who was still slightly dazed at his failed strike. Before he even arrived, his hand shot out — the razor-sharp dagger drove straight at the right hand gripping the saber. In one flash it left a gash across the wrist. With a ring, pain shot through the man’s wrist and the saber dropped to the ground.

The sudden reversal stunned all five of them for just a moment. Han Pu had not expected to succeed on the first attempt. The black-robed man had assumed the kill was well within reach and had not given the slightest thought to Han Pu’s meager martial skill — his arrogance and overconfidence had led to his injury. And the other three, confident that their companion alone was more than sufficient, had been standing to the side merely to hold the perimeter — and had not imagined this outcome.

“You little wretch!”

The black-robed man stared at his bleeding wrist. The wound was not deep, but to be injured by a child was a humiliation beyond description. He reached down with his left hand and picked up the saber from the ground, channeled strength through his arm, and brought it sweeping down with a fierce, howling wind — straight at Han Pu. This blow was practiced and swift, with tremendous force behind it. Han Pu had no way to evade. He stepped into the path of the saber, right hand gripping the dagger, and drove it straight at the man’s chest. If he could not survive, then he would at least kill one of his enemies! Only… Sister…

He buried the dagger in the enemy’s chest with all his strength. Han Pu closed his eyes and braced for the shattering pain of the saber tearing through his body. Something warm splashed across his face; the thick, nauseating stench of blood spread through the air…

Yet he waited and waited — and the icy saber never entered his body. All around him was a deathly stillness. He opened his eyes — and found a face staring back at him, eyes opened wide in shock, and above it the saber, raised high and never brought down, with white silk wrapped around the blade. He shifted his gaze slightly and saw three more faces, each one stunned beyond words.

“Truly worthy of being my little brother!” The bright, easy laughter of Fengxi sounded in his ears.

“Sister!” Han Pu turned in delighted surprise. There was Fengxi, perched on the eave of a rooftop, swinging her long legs, waving the white silk in her hand — utterly at leisure.

“Kill her!”

A cold command sounded in his ears, and a rush of wind came from behind his neck!

“Hmph! You dare try to kill my carefully nurtured precious little brother right in front of me? You must all be tired of living!”

Han Pu felt his body go light as he was lifted into the air. When his senses returned, he found himself standing on the rooftop.

Before him, a white flash — and Fengxi had already vanished. He looked down to the alley below and saw a ball of white light sweeping around three black-robed men. Their sabers flashed in their hands, every strike fierce and precise, but every time they brought their full force crashing down on that ball of white light, it was like hacking at a pool of flowing water — they struck nothing, and their blades were carried along by the current, following where it flowed. The ball of white light was drawing tighter and tighter; the black-robed men could no longer extend their techniques. In a matter of moments, all three were gasping for breath.

“With only this much ability, you dared talk of killing someone in front of me! Drop it!”

The cold laugh of Fengxi had barely sounded when — ding! ding! ding! — the sound of sabers clattering to the ground rang out, the white light drew back, and Fengxi stood easily in the middle while the three black-robed men stood motionless, apparently sealed in place by her hand.

“Puer, you can come down now.” Fengxi turned and waved.

Han Pu leaped down at once, snatched up one of the sabers from the ground, and swung it straight at the nearest black-robed man.

“Puer…” The unhurried, drawn-out call of Fengxi reached his ears. The saber in his hand was caught — he spun around, tears welling in his eyes. “It was them! It was them who killed my whole family!”

“I know.” Fengxi waved her left hand idly; her right hand applied a slight force, and the saber passed to her. “I still have questions to ask them.”

“Gentlemen in black.” Fengxi greeted the three with a smiling bow, hands clasped together. “Would you be so good as to tell me — why exactly do you need the Han family’s prescription so desperately? With all the Han family’s medicines that you’ve already stripped away, a group with your level of skill should have more than enough to last you to the grave.”

The three black-robed men made no reply to her question. Though their acupoints had been sealed and they could not move, their eyes were locked on her like vises — they were not exactly top-tier fighters, but all three were first-rate, and yet three of them working together had been defeated by this woman. Who on earth was she?

“Gentlemen…” Fengxi’s voice grew slow and drawn-out again, her smile even brighter. “If you don’t speak soon, don’t blame me for cutting out your tongues!” Though — one had to wonder how they were supposed to speak after having their tongues cut out.

“Who are you?” one of the black-robed men finally opened his mouth to ask.

“You don’t know who I am?” Fengxi gave an exaggerated cry, then put on a thoroughly aggrieved expression. “Puer — they actually don’t know who I am! Doesn’t everyone say I have a particularly striking look, the kind that leaves an impression? How can these people not know who I am?”

“Hmph! I’ll tell you who she is!” Han Pu picked up another saber from the ground, walked up to one of the black-robed men, and held the tip of the blade against the man’s forehead. “Sister, can I carve the exact same crescent moon on his forehead as the one on yours?”

“No.” Fengxi shook her head. “On me, this crescent moon is part of what they call ‘white garments, snow and moon, breathtaking grace’ — these people are nowhere near that standard. They couldn’t even manage a pale imitation.”

Upon hearing this exchange, all three black-robed men looked toward the ornament at Fengxi’s forehead. The moment they saw that crescent of snow-white jade, each of their hearts clenched with a sudden cold terror, and the same frightened thought rose in all three of them simultaneously. “You are Bai Fengxi?”

“So you did know who I am after all.” Fengxi smiled radiantly at this, warm and approachable, while the white silk in her hand continued to dance in the air — as though at any moment it might coil around their necks. “Then you surely also know that I, Bai Fengxi, am a very kind and generous person. So as long as the three Duanhun Sect gentlemen tell me who is behind all of this, I will let you go.”

The moment they heard this, the three men’s faces showed not relief but panic. Looking at that clear and beautiful smile, they felt their skin crawl with dread. Though they had not yet joined the Duanhun Sect when Baifeng Heixi annihilated it five years ago, they had heard the older members speak of it — and they remembered the look of fear on the faces of those senior members who were known as death-bringers when they brought it up, and the warning they had given: it is better to meet the King of Hell than to meet Baifeng Heixi.

Gurgle. Gurgle. Gurgle. All three spat black blood and fell dead.

“They… they killed themselves!” Han Pu stared in horror at the three bodies on the ground.

“I know. They couldn’t escape, and they couldn’t speak — of course there was only one thing left for them to do.” Fengxi looked coldly at the corpses, put away her white silk, and clapped her hands together. “Just as well — it saves me the trouble of getting my hands dirty. Duanhun Sect people… hmph! Even dying ten thousand times would not be sufficient penance for their crimes!”

Han Pu dropped the saber in his hand and looked on with barely concealed revulsion. He knew perfectly well that the Duanhun Sect was the most cruel and vicious sect in the world — trading in killing, taking lives through methods of extreme brutality, buying and selling and violating women and children. Every last one of them was worse than a beast, and deserved to die!

“Sister, what are you doing?” Han Pu watched as Fengxi rummaged through the corpses, apparently searching for something.

“This is it!” Fengxi extracted from within the robe of one of the black-robed men a small cylindrical object about the length of a finger.

“What is that?” Han Pu asked.

Fengxi pried open the cap, and a faintly sweet, thick fragrance drifted out. “This is called a ‘Thyme Tube’ — it’s what the Duanhun Sect uses to signal one another.”

“You mean you’re going to use it to lure back the Duanhun Sect members you didn’t catch just now?” Han Pu worked it out in a moment.

“Not didn’t catch — didn’t go after.” Fengxi stood up. “If I had gone after them, would you have lived?”

“No.” Han Pu answered honestly. Any one of those black-robed men could have taken his life without difficulty. “But what’s the point of luring them here? They won’t give up whoever is behind them.” Hadn’t these people just shown they would rather die than talk?

“Whether they talk or not is not the point — but I absolutely cannot allow them to expose our whereabouts. And furthermore…” Fengxi tossed the tube upward, letting the fragrance drift on the wind. “I will not allow any member of the Duanhun Sect to escape in front of my eyes. If even one gets away, there will only be more innocent souls added to the dead!”

After a moment, Fengxi lifted her eyes slightly toward the rooftop on the left.

Swish! Swish! Three black figures dropped from the roof and landed below — and at the sight of what awaited them, all three were momentarily taken aback. They had assumed their companions had finished the job and were signaling them to rendezvous — yet what they saw were their companions’ corpses.

“You may choose whether to tell me who hired you — or to join your companions.”

A clear, cool voice sounded. It came from the white-robed woman standing beside the bodies — long black hair stirred by the wind and half-obscuring her face, features impossible to make out clearly. Her entire bearing radiated a murderous air like that of a demon walking out from the underworld, her killing intent pressing outward like a physical force. In the already bone-chilling winter cold, her presence added several degrees more of icy, penetrating killing intent.

“When did the Duanhun Sect rise from the dead?” Fengxi looked at the three men with cold eyes.

The three said nothing. They raised their sabers, channeled their full inner strength, and in perfect coordination slashed down at Fengxi from three directions simultaneously. Blade-light gleamed frigid; in an instant, a ferocious killing intent swept through the entire alley. Han Pu, standing three zhang away, felt the cold cutting through to his very bones.

Yet Fengxi stood right in the middle of them, meeting the blade-light from three sides with complete composure. The moment the blade tips were almost upon her body — when Han Pu was on the verge of losing his voice in a scream — her figure suddenly swayed like a willow in the wind, light and flowing with a movement beautiful as poetry, yet fast as a gale. In an instant she had slipped out of the encirclement.

“Five Ghosts Severed Soul!” All three cried out in unison, launching themselves into the air. Blade-light swept like snow — fierce and domineering — rolling straight toward Fengxi while she was still airborne. The howling force of it seemed capable of shredding a person in mid-air into nothing!

“Sister!” Han Pu lost his voice in a scream and shut his eyes, not daring to watch, terrified he would see a scatter of bloody flesh fall from the sky.

“Is this the ultimate technique you spent five years in hiding to perfect? It amounts to nothing more than this!”

A clear, cold voice sounded from mid-air. Han Pu forced his eyes open — and in that instant he saw a white rainbow falling from the sky, transforming into countless white dragons that swept through heaven and earth. The people themselves could no longer be seen, all of them swallowed up by the blaze of blade-light and dragon-radiance.

“You have your ‘Five Ghosts Severed Soul’? Then see my ‘Dragon Roars Through Nine Heavens’!”

In that same instant, all the white dragons gathered in mid-air and merged into a single great dragon — head rearing, claws splayed, swallowing all of heaven and earth!

“Ah!” A shrill, anguished cry. Ding! Ding! Ding! Shattered blades rained down from the sky. Then three human figures fell from the air — and then the radiance scattered, and there in mid-air stood the white-robed figure, feet upon the white dragon, standing with sovereign arrogance. Robes billowing in the wind, black hair streaming, the snow-white jade gleaming blindingly at her brow — like a deity commanding dragons!

At the moment the three falling figures were still three zhang from the ground, the figure atop the dragon swept her hand out once more. “Let me send you evil spirits down to the underworld!” At once the white dragon beneath her feet dove after the three — before the eye could follow, it had transformed into a streak of white lightning, looped once around each of the three necks — thud, thud, thud! — and three bodies crashed to the ground.

“If you were not members of the Duanhun Sect, perhaps I might have shown mercy. But unfortunately…”

Fengxi drifted down lightly and looked with cold detachment at the three bodies on the ground, all signs of life already gone. The white silk that had been dancing in the air finally fell silent, settling soundlessly to the earth.

Han Pu stood with held breath and gaping eyes, staring at Fengxi. This person before him… this person radiating killing intent, expression cold and severe — was this truly Bai Fengxi? Was this truly the Fengxi of the road, with her wild words and freely given laughter and tears, yet with the heart of a healer and a saint?

He walked over. Each of the three men had a fine, hairline blood-mark at the throat — all made by Fengxi’s white silk. Today he had finally witnessed Fengxi’s peerless martial arts in their true form. The scene at his family’s birthday banquet had been no more than play; the exchange with Huang Chao had been both holding back, and he had not seen the real thing. But this — this was killing. A soft, yielding white silk, in her hands, was sharper than any sword. It could transform into a great dragon that swallowed heaven and earth. Martial arts this formidable were frightening — already beyond what any human being seemed capable of possessing. At the very least, it was a level he could not even dare imagine.

“Puer, it’s over.” Fengxi put away her white silk and turned to see Han Pu’s face filled with shock and fear. In an instant her expression softened again.

“Si… Sister, your martial arts… why are your martial arts so powerful? What style is that?” Han Pu asked, still unable to quite believe it. If her martial arts were already this world-shaking, then Hei Fengxi, who stood as her equal, could not possibly be lower. No wonder — no wonder she had dared to speak such arrogant words about placing the Shizi of Huangguo in no regard whatsoever! After all, Baifeng Heixi had dominated the martial world for ten years without a single adversary to match them!

“My martial arts? Ha… they’re quite mixed.” Fengxi smiled lightly, reverting to the playful Fengxi of old. “Some were passed down through the family, some I learned by watching on the sly, some I was forced into learning under pressure — quite a lot of different sources.”

“Then what you used just now — what style was that called? The one where the white silk turned into dragons?” Han Pu said, gesturing animatedly, admiration written all over his face.

“That? That’s called ‘Dragon Roars Through Nine Heavens’ — just now was only one move of it.” Fengxi tilted her head with a smile. “My most powerful is actually ‘Phoenix Roars Through Nine Heavens.'”

“What?” Han Pu yelped. “What you just did wasn’t even the most powerful? You have something even more powerful than that?”

“Yes.” Fengxi gave a placid nod. “Since I first came out into the jianghu, ‘Phoenix Roars Through Nine Heavens’ has been used on only one person, and only once. Everyone else — none of them can even withstand ‘Dragon Roars Through Nine Heavens.’ If it weren’t for the fact that these last three were a cut above the first three, and I didn’t want to keep dragging things out with them, I wouldn’t have used ‘Dragon Roars Through Nine Heavens’ either.”

“Who was ‘Phoenix Roars Through Nine Heavens’ used against? Are they still alive?” Han Pu’s only concern was this one thing. Thinking back to the power of ‘Dragon Roars Through Nine Heavens,’ which had already been that terrifying — could anyone survive ‘Phoenix Roars Through Nine Heavens’?

“Of course they’re still alive — it’s that black fox.” Fengxi gave a slight twist of her lips, a look of lingering discontent. “Only that fellow managed to withstand my ‘Phoenix Roars Through Nine Heavens.’ Though I also withstood his ‘Lan Darkens the Sky.’ We were evenly matched.”

“Of course.” Han Pu murmured. Only Hei Fengxi could have done it — otherwise how could he possibly share her title? “Sister, why do you have such a particular hatred of the Duanhun Sect?” Han Pu could not quite understand it. There were plenty of sects in the world every bit as evil as the Duanhun Sect — but Fengxi seemed to loathe the Duanhun Sect with a hatred that went to the bone, as though she could not allow a single member to remain alive in this world.

Fengxi looked up at the sky, and for a long while said nothing. Her thoughts drifted somewhere far away, as though she had fallen into some distant memory. Just when Han Pu had begun to think she would not answer, she spoke again — her voice stripped of all weight, light as a wisp of smoke drifting in the air. If one did not listen carefully, it was impossible to catch.

“When I first came out into the jianghu, I once encountered a very beautiful girl — one might say she was the kindest, most pure and innocent girl in the world. I was quite young at the time, only twelve, wandering in the jianghu without any understanding of people or how to make my way. My money ran out quickly. I fell ill with a cold, collapsed at the side of the road, and was very nearly dead — when she happened to pass by and took me to her home, called a physician for me, tended to me with careful devotion, and treated me like her own little sister. When I had recovered, I said goodbye and continued my wandering — but we agreed that I would come back to see her once every year.”

“The first year after we parted, when the time we had agreed on arrived, I made a special trip to purchase a snow lotus from a Western Regions trader to give to her — because she had once said the holiest and most beautiful flower in the world was the snow lotus on the Heavenly Mountains. Only when I reached her family’s gate, I suddenly decided not to go in just yet. I wanted to wait until nightfall, disguise myself as a roaming hero, slip over the eaves and into her chamber, and leave the snow lotus on her pillow — then wait quietly for her to wake. Because she had once said she rather envied those jianghu wanderers who came and went freely, and particularly loved the stories in popular novels about young ladies of noble families falling in love with traveling heroes — so I decided to tease her a little.”

“It was an evening in the eighth month — the moonlight was like frost, and the night air as cool as water. I waited until deep in the night, until everyone had sunk into sleep, and then slipped into her home. But no sooner had I vaulted over her family’s courtyard wall than I saw blood covering the ground. I walked through — past servants, guards, her parents lying fallen on the ground… and finally I walked into her chamber. I saw her… saw her…”

Fengxi bit down on her lip, and a look of pain surfaced on that otherwise cold and composed face. The eyes that were always bright were veiled now by a thin layer of shadowed mist.

“She was not even that old! She was only fourteen! Only one year older than me! And yet those people… those people had done that to her… her small, slight body was clothed in white, lying in a pool of her own bright red blood — like a white rose cradled in a lake of blood… so hauntingly, heartbreakingly beautiful… so heartrendingly exquisite that the snow lotus I clutched so tightly in my hand wilted away in shame! So many years have passed, and yet I will never forget what she looked like in that final moment.”

Fengxi closed her eyes. That blood-red rose surfaced again, forcing her brows together without any will of her own, and blood was already seeping from where her lip pressed against her teeth. “Afterward, I found out it had been arranged by a business rival of her father’s — someone who had paid the Duanhun Sect to do it. I made that man lose everything he had to his name, yet I did not take his life. I wanted him to go on living with nothing — to have absolutely nothing and still be alive. As for the Duanhun Sect — I spent many years tracking them, and finally five years ago I found their stronghold. So I bathed it in blood. That was the single occasion in all my years in the jianghu when I killed the most people. The blood that day… there was so much of it, it seemed like it could form a river, fill a sea.”

“Sister…” Han Pu wrapped his arms around Fengxi in silence, holding her tightly without words.

“Puer — today you have killed a man with your own hand. Consider it done — your revenge for your father and mother and family. Do not kill again in the future.” Fengxi bent down and drew her arms around Han Pu, encircling him in the curve of her elbow, as though building a wall around him to shelter him from wind and rain. “Killing is not a happy thing — even for the sake of revenge. Blood washes blood, and it can never wash clean, and the washing never ends. All the Duanhun Sect members left — let me settle them. Your hands should not be dirtied.”

“Sister…” Han Pu felt his nose sting and his eyes go rough.

“Puer, I hope you will be a kind and pure-hearted person — just like that older sister I once met. Because there are very few people like that left in this world.” Fengxi crouched down before him and used the edge of her sleeve to wipe away the tears and blood staining his face, restoring that handsome young face to its clean and unblemished state.

“Miss!” Yan Jiutai came hurrying back and took in the scene before him with a look of shock.

“Elder Brother Yan, what took you so long?” Fengxi raised her head, her expression perfectly calm — no trace whatsoever of the grief of a moment before.

“Because several of my brothers also wanted to come along to serve, so…” Yan Jiutai explained, then pointed at the bodies on the ground. “Miss, were these people trying to assassinate you?”

“Yes.” Fengxi stood up and said with a light smile. “I have no shortage of enemies — being near me, you will encounter far more of this sort of thing in the future.”

Yan Jiutai picked up one of the bamboo arrows from the ground and studied it carefully for a moment. “This bamboo is called ‘Changli bamboo’ — it grows only along the shores of Changli Lake in Huaguo. Has Miss offended someone in Huaguo?”

“Huaguo?” A cold gleam flashed in Fengxi’s eyes. She picked up the bamboo arrow from the ground.

“Miss, these people were…”

“Duanhun Sect.” Fengxi said calmly, turning the arrow over in her palm. “Elder Brother Yan, would you be so kind as to have your brothers take care of these — we need to leave here as quickly as possible.”

“Of course.” Yan Jiutai replied.

The sound of wheels rolling over the road surface drifted in from the mouth of the alley, and a horse-drawn carriage drove in. Four large men jumped down.

“Greetings to Lady Hero Feng.” The four bowed as one.

“Mm.” Fengxi waved a hand casually. “No need for ceremony, gentlemen — I’ll trouble you to handle things here. Elder Brother Yan and I will go on ahead.”

“Lady Hero Feng!” The four called out to stop her. “Please allow us to follow and serve at your side.”

Fengxi turned to look at the four for a moment, thought briefly, then said: “The four of you should remain in Tai City for now. In the future… I will have things to ask of you, and I will come back to find you when that time comes.”

The four could not help but look disappointed at this.

“These are not empty words on my part.” Fengxi, seeing their expressions, added, and reached into her robe, drawing out an object which she passed to them. “In the future, if you see something that matches this, it means I have a matter to ask of you — I hope you will lend your aid. For now, please remain in Tai City and tend to the Nine-Tai affairs well — that will already be serving me.”

“Good!” One of the four took the token, and all four answered readily.

On the official road from Tai City to Er City, a four-wheeled carriage made its way along at an unhurried pace.

“Sister, stop just sleeping all the time.”

“Puer… stop making noise… let me… let me sleep properly.”

The carriage cabin was about the size of a small room, divided by a curtain into an inner and outer section. All four walls were lined with thick brocade rugs, making the interior as warm as spring. Deep within the crimson bedding, Fengxi lay drowsing, her long hair winding down in trails across the couch and the carpet. Han Pu was leaning against the edge of the couch, had taken hold of a strand of it, and was pulling at it in hopes of tugging her awake.

“Miss, the pastries you asked me to buy — I’ve brought them.” The curtain was drawn aside and Yan Jiutai stepped in.

“Oh.” Fengxi, who had just been wearing an expression of desperate sleepiness, snapped upright the moment she heard there was food. “Elder Brother Yan, thank you — I was just getting hungry.”

“Miss, I just heard a piece of news — it seems the Hua King intends to hold a selection for a consort for Princess Chunran next March.” Yan Jiutai said, passing the pastries to her.

“Selecting a consort for the foremost beauty of Dong Chao?” Fengxi’s hand, already reaching for the pastries, paused mid-air.

“Yes — it’s said the Hua King has already announced it to all the world. The selection will be open regardless of kingdom, wealth, or rank. Whoever the Princess’s own golden brush selects will become the Prince Consort!” Yan Jiutai said.

Fengxi set aside the pastries in front of her and sat upright, her expression taking on a gravity that was rare for her — unusual enough that both Yan Jiutai and Han Pu found it puzzling. They could not understand why the news of a princess’s consort selection would claim this degree of serious attention from someone who normally treated everything in the world as a game.

“The Hua Princess must be close to twenty by now. She has put off selecting a consort all this time — and now she is to do it next March.” Fengxi’s gaze went upward toward the ceiling of the carriage, and she murmured to herself.

“Sister, what does the princess’s consort selection have to do with you? Why are you so agitated?” Han Pu asked.

“Perhaps it is beginning.” Fengxi seemed not to hear Han Pu’s words, still murmuring to herself. After a moment, a smile spread across her face, a gleam of intense interest kindling in her eyes. She raised her eyes toward Yan Jiutai. “Elder Brother Yan, we are going to Huaguo.”

“Understood.” Yan Jiutai replied, asking no reason. “Shall we go by way of Huangguo or by way of the royal domain?”

“Through Huangguo.” Fengxi’s expression relaxed back to its usual ease, and she reached again for the pastries to eat.

“Why are we going to Huaguo?” Han Pu tugged at Fengxi’s sleeve, refusing to give up.

“Of course to see the foremost beauty of Dong Chao!” Fengxi slanted a look at him. “And to see what sort of Prince Consort she picks while we’re at it.”

“The foremost beauty of Dong Chao? Would she be more beautiful than you?” Han Pu asked.

“Cough… cough…” Fengxi choked and began coughing.

“I’m not competing with you — why are you eating so fast?” Han Pu patted Fengxi’s back with a worldly air. No need to rush now, they weren’t lacking for food or clothing anymore — it had been absolutely the right call to bring Yan Jiutai along. In all the world, there was probably no other attendant who would offer up their entire fortune to serve a penniless master.

“Miss, have some water.” Yan Jiutai watched Fengxi coughing until her face went red and could not bear it any longer. He quickly poured a cup and held it out.

Gulp… gulp… Fengxi drank it down hurriedly, then patted her chest and drew a steadying breath. “Ahh — I’m not eating anymore. I’m going to sleep.” And with that she truly flopped back onto the couch.

“Don’t sleep.” Han Pu grabbed her. “If you sleep, what am I supposed to do?”

“Ask Elder Brother Yan to tell you stories.” Fengxi yawned, waving a dismissive hand.

“Oh, right.” Han Pu brightened. “Elder Brother Yan, will you tell the story of how Sister broke apart your thirty-eight strongholds of the Wuyun River?”

“What’s worth telling about that — that time I nearly got turned into a hedgehog with all the arrows they shot at me.” Fengxi muttered from inside the quilt she had already wrapped around herself.

“That one’s not worth it then — tell about how Sister single-handedly leveled the seventeen branch halls of the Qing Sect.” Han Pu proposed again.

“Even less worth telling — that time at their main hall, I nearly got burned to a charcoal stick.” Fengxi muttered again, though her voice was a bit muffled now, as she had nearly buried herself in the quilt.

“Then tell about how Sister rode alone into Black Bear Mountain three years ago and seized back five hundred thousand silver in disaster-relief funds from the bandits on behalf of Baiguo.”

“That’s not interesting either — they nearly blew me into a spray of mincemeat with gunpowder.”

“If this one’s not allowed and that one’s not allowed, what’s left to tell?” Han Pu curled his lip.

“Ask Elder Brother Yan to tell you stories about ungrateful wolves and grateful tigers.”

“I don’t want any of those — I only want to hear things about Sister.”

Fengxi extended one hand from within the quilt, waving it from side to side. “If you want to tell stories, don’t make me the subject. Stories are generally about dead people — wait until I’m dead, and then you can tell them.”

“But…”

“Ha-hhm…” Fengxi yawned, pulled her hand back inside the quilt. “Don’t bother me — I’m going to sleep.”

“Sister.” Han Pu walked over and shook her. “Sister…”

But Fengxi was already asleep on her own terms, paying him no further heed.

“Why do you want to follow Sister?” Seeing Fengxi asleep, Han Pu walked back to stand before Yan Jiutai and asked the question. He genuinely could not understand why someone who could stand as a force in his own right would be so willing to serve as a devoted attendant, merely to stay at Fengxi’s side.

Yan Jiutai only smiled.

“Tell me.” Han Pu pressed him, relentless.

“And why do you follow her?” Yan Jiutai turned the question back, his sharp, bright eyes gleaming on that fearsome face.

Han Pu was struck silent. The two looked at each other for a moment. Han Pu shifted his gaze away, walked back to the couch, and said: “I’m going to sleep too.”

He lifted the quilt and burrowed inside, taking hold of one of Fengxi’s arms to use as a pillow.

“You—” Yan Jiutai was momentarily dumbfounded. Men and women observe proper boundaries — any household of means kept to the rule that boys and girls of five and over do not sit at the same table. And yet what he was looking at…

Han Pu stuck out his tongue at him and made a face. “I’ve been sleeping like this all the way here, hugging Sister like this. Jealous? Too bad — there’s nothing in it for you. You go sleep in the outer section.”

Yan Jiutai simply smiled, let it go, and lifted the curtain to go outside.