Xiu Yue’s hand trembled, spilling half the ginger tea.

Xiu Gu?

Was this mere coincidence, or did Miss Luo know her real name?

“Do you dislike it?” Luo Sheng asked lightly.

Xiu Yue snapped back to her senses, doing her utmost to conceal her complex emotions: “For the young miss to bestow a name is my honor—there’s no reason to dislike it. It’s just that my appearance is ugly, and I truly don’t dare accept the character ‘Xiu.'”

Luo Sheng smiled: “Refined principles become culture, elegant spirit becomes brilliance—does ‘Xiu’ refer only to appearance? I think ‘Xiu Gu’ is very suitable.”

Xiu Yue’s lips moved as if to say more, but Hong Dou cut her off: “Enough! So much fuss over a name. The young miss can call you whatever she wants.”

When she’d first been brought before the young miss, the young miss had been eating sweet red bean soup, so she’d pointed at her and said, “Let’s call you Hong Dou then.”

Had she said anything about it?

“Hong Dou, Xiu Gu is much older than you. Don’t speak to Xiu Gu this way.”

“I understand.” Hong Dou replied sullenly and glumly drank her tea while cradling her bowl.

The pot of ginger tea was quickly finished. The dimly lit dilapidated temple still carried the scent of ginger tea, lingering at people’s noses and making warmth bloom in their hearts.

Outside, dark clouds roiled and rain poured down.

A young guard diligently picked up the pot: “I’ll go wash the pot and bowls.”

Rainwater was cleanest—nothing more convenient for washing pots and scrubbing bowls. If he washed the pot now, they could eat hot food later.

The ugly old woman—uh, no, Xiu Gu—not only made delicious roasted meat, but her porridge and soup made one wish to swallow one’s tongue.

The young guard walked out carrying the pot with an expectant mood. The others paid it no mind, chatting cheerfully around the fire.

After some time had passed, Sheng Sanlang, who cared most about lunch, glanced toward the temple entrance and wondered aloud: “Why hasn’t Xiao Chuan returned yet? Washing a pot shouldn’t take this long, should it?”

A guard in his thirties laughed: “Perhaps he went to relieve himself.”

“Where would he relieve himself in such heavy rain?” Sheng Sanlang stood up. “I’ll go check.”

Watching Sheng Sanlang’s back as he strode toward the temple entrance, Luo Sheng suddenly spoke: “Cousin, be careful.”

Sheng Sanlang turned back, and seeing Luo Sheng’s serious expression, couldn’t help but pause.

He’d been about to say there was nothing wrong, when just then a flash of lightning illuminated the temple interior, followed by thunder that seemed to make the entire dilapidated temple tremble.

Sheng Sanlang instinctively glanced toward the entrance.

Outside was an oppressively dark sky and an endless curtain of rain, as if the doorway divided the inside and outside of the temple into two completely different worlds.

Inside the temple drifted the warmth of ginger tea; outside was unknown darkness.

Usually fearless Sheng Sanlang suddenly felt somewhat nervous. After reaching the temple entrance, he didn’t walk out directly but stood at the doorway and cautiously peered outside.

Another bolt of lightning split the sky, and Sheng Sanlang clearly saw the guard who’d gone out earlier lying face-down not far away, motionless.

The large pot lay beside the guard, already filled with rainwater.

Sheng Sanlang had sharp eyes—in the instant the lightning illuminated the surroundings, he saw blood continuously flowing from beneath the guard’s body.

Before he could cry out in alarm, he saw a cold gleam descending upon his head. He hastily shut the temple door with lightning speed and braced against it, shouting loudly: “Bandits!”

The guards who’d sensed something was wrong immediately rushed over with their blades drawn.

Bang bang bang—the door planks shook violently as someone pounded from outside.

Sheng Sanlang’s expression was extremely ugly: “Xiao Chuan is dead!”

The guards gripped their blades tightly: “Young Master, you go inside. Leave this to us.”

“No.”

Everyone turned at the sound to see Luo Sheng walking over.

Sheng Sanlang braced against the wooden door, growing anxious: “Cousin, why are you getting involved? Quickly hide inside!”

Luo Sheng stared at the violently shaking door, her tone calm: “The place is only this big—where could I hide?”

Sheng Sanlang grew even more anxious: “Even so, you can’t stand at the entrance! When the door planks can’t hold out anymore and the bandits burst in, how dangerous! Listen, hurry inside!”

Compared to Sheng Sanlang’s urgency, Luo Sheng remained calm: “Cousin, don’t you understand? The other party came prepared. Today it’s either they die or we live. If we can’t prevail, none of us can escape.”

“Then what should we do?” Sheng Sanlang listened to the pounding that sounded like death itself knocking, his expression growing increasingly grim.

If his cousin weren’t here, at worst he could rush out fighting for his life, but now what?

“Besides Xiao Chuan’s corpse, what else did Cousin see?”

“Nothing. I’d just discovered Xiao Chuan lying on the ground when I was ambushed.”

“I see.” Luo Sheng turned and walked back. “Hong Dou, come with me. Cousin, you all hold out for a bit.”

Luo Sheng quickly walked to the fire and pulled out a burning stick, signaling Hong Dou to take one as well.

The two returned gripping the sticks.

Sheng Sanlang’s eyes lit up.

Burning sticks had considerable killing power—they might even work better than swords.

Luo Sheng lowered her voice: “When I count to three, Cousin, you all immediately dodge. The moment the door breaks, attack directly.”

The wind, thunder, rain, and pounding sounds blocked the voices inside—no need to worry about those outside hearing this conversation.

Sheng Sanlang hesitated: “Cousin, this surprise attack can handle at most one person. What if there are many of them—”

Luo Sheng cut off Sheng Sanlang’s words: “There won’t be many. Kill one and that’s one less. One, two, three—”

The door planks about to fall apart didn’t allow further delay. Luo Sheng rapidly counted to three.

Sheng Sanlang and the others dodged to the side. The door planks slammed inward, and along with them rushed two black shadows.

Several long blades fell simultaneously. The two who’d lost control rushing in struggled desperately to evade, managing to dodge most of the blade flashes.

From beginning to end, Luo Sheng hadn’t blinked once or moved half a step. At the most opportune moment, she swung out the fire stick.

A scream accompanied by the smell of burning flesh rang out.

The black shadow struck by the fire stick fell and rolled on the ground, soon hacked into a bloody mess by the rain of falling blades.

The other person took advantage of this to escape. A cold gleam flashed in his hand, slashing open a guard’s throat, and he charged straight toward Luo Sheng.

Hong Dou raised her stick still sparking with embers and flailed wildly, cursing as she struck: “Where do you think you’re going? Are your dog eyes blind?”

That person dodged the completely chaotic stick technique and kicked Hong Dou far away, raising his blade to hack at Luo Sheng.

Seeing Luo Sheng in danger, Sheng Sanlang directly threw himself forward and grabbed the man’s legs.

The man flipped his wrist, the blade slashing toward Sheng Sanlang’s neck.

A guard rushed over and blocked in front of Sheng Sanlang—the blade pierced his back and through his heart.

Sheng Sanlang shouted: “Old Yu!”

The man pulled out his blade with a reverse motion, and Old Yu’s hot blood immediately spattered all over Sheng Sanlang’s head and face.

In that instant, Luo Sheng waved her hand and flung her sleeve, scattering chili powder.

The bandit who’d been cutting down guards like watermelons let out a pained grunt.

Sheng Sanlang’s boxing and kicking skills weren’t bad at all. Seeing this, he immediately counterattacked with reddened eyes.

When the two sides clashed, the reversal of victory and defeat often happened in an instant.

The bandit who’d originally had outstanding skills now felt his eyes burning painfully. A flaw quickly appeared, and he was hacked to death under the flurry of blades.

The rain continued falling. Inside the temple, the bloody stench covered the previous scent of ginger tea, making one feel sick.

Sheng Sanlang looked at the bodies strewn everywhere, his heart confused, instinctively calling out for his cousin.