“Wah…” The child, who had been sleeping peacefully in Xiao Yingtao’s arms, suddenly burst into loud, inconsolable wailing.

The crying was so full of grief that anyone who heard it could not help but be moved to tears alongside him.

From the moment of his birth until now, he had not drunk a single drop of his own mother’s milk before she was already gone.

Many years from now, when that child grew into adulthood and learned everything that had happened on this day — how much suffering would he carry?

“Don’t cry, don’t cry. Everything will be all right, it will be all right.” Xiao Yingtao pressed a kiss to the child’s brow, held back her tears, and pulled the blanket gently over Lian Consort, covering her face as it slowly grew gaunt and still.

The child in her arms continued to cry. But outside, there was suddenly a strange sound — as though someone had broken into the courtyard of the compound.

The footsteps sounded measured and disciplined. And there were far more of them than just a few.

Xiao Yingtao’s heart seized. She immediately carried the child to the doorway — and was stunned to see a troop of Ruohe soldiers pouring into the courtyard.

Their whereabouts had been leaked!

She looked back at Lian Consort’s body lying on the bed, then down at the infant in her arms. The child was still whimpering softly. Having not had a single drop of milk since birth, it would have been strange if he weren’t crying.

Then she looked at the soldiers outside — each of them wearing the face of a predator, their intentions unmistakably hostile.

She could not let the child fall into their hands. These men were almost certainly agents of the First Prince!

Xiao Yingtao took one last long look toward the bed, then — out of every remaining option — carried the child to the window, and in a single bound, leapt through it.

“The rebel has fled!” The first Ruohe soldier to rush inside saw someone escape through the window and immediately called out: “The rebel escaped through the back — move out, quickly!”

“Commander, this… this is Lian Consort!” Someone had discovered the woman lying dead on the bed.

The commander strode over and yanked the blanket from Lian Consort’s body.

The sight beneath was grim to behold. The bed was a scene of devastation — soaked with blood, enough to make one’s scalp crawl.

But her abdomen… her abdomen was flat.

“The child has been born!” The commander’s eyes snapped to the window with fury. He charged after: “Pursue them! The child must be brought back!”

“Yes, sir!”

Xing Zizhou felt a sudden sharp pain in his chest — he couldn’t say what was wrong. An indescribable surge of bitterness welled up somewhere in his chest, though it vanished just as quickly as it had come.

“What’s the matter?” Xue Gu glanced back at him. He had halted abruptly in his tracks, and it made her think something was amiss nearby that she herself hadn’t detected.

“Nothing. It’s just that my heart… suddenly feels uneasy.” Xing Zizhou couldn’t explain it himself.

But there was nothing there now. He smiled. “Never mind — maybe I ate something off tonight and my stomach was a little unsettled. It’s fine now.”

Xue Gu looked at him for a moment, then glanced at their surroundings. Still nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

She gave a small nod and continued forward.

Strangely, along the entire route, there was nothing — no so-called checkpoints, not even a single guard posted anywhere.

“Could we have come to the wrong place?” Xue Gu halted. Finding, in the dead of night, traces left behind by people who had passed through earlier was no easy task.

The ground here was overgrown with weeds. Even if people had walked through before, the resilient vitality of the grasses meant a few hours was all it took to erase every trace of footprints entirely.

Whether no one had come through at all, or whether the tracks had simply vanished by now — at this point, it was already a mystery.

“Perhaps the path Jiu’er and the others took is actually the correct one.” Xue Gu grew a little worried. If it was Jiu’er’s group that had encountered those people, there might be danger.

Xing Zizhou too was uneasy. That sense of unrest had never truly left his heart — it lingered on, unwilling to dissipate.

Ahead lay yet another dense forest, seemingly leading toward another high mountain. If this path didn’t descend to the foot of the cliffs, then… could it be that they had truly gone the wrong way?

“Elder Xue, what if we go and find Jiu’er and the others?” Xing Zizhou still couldn’t identify the source of his unease, but he knew that continuing on like this, it would only grow.

“All right.” Xue Gu wasted no words. She turned at once to retrace their steps.

But they had barely gone more than several dozen paces when Xue Gu suddenly stopped, her expression darkening: “Watch out!”

“What is it?” Xing Zizhou’s abilities were far inferior to Xue Gu’s. When she had first sensed something wrong, he had not yet detected a thing.

“Ahead,” Xue Gu said, her brow furrowing, her fingers tightening. “We walked into a trap. There’s an ambush ahead!”

“How is that possible?” If the ambush wasn’t ahead of them but on the path they were returning by, then it meant their arrival here tonight had already been known to the other side far in advance.

Could it be that they had truly walked into a scheme? Did that mean the matter of the weapons being forged was also a fabrication?

“We can’t wait any longer, Xing Zizhou. We break through.” Xue Gu had Feng Jiu’er’s safety at heart. Even knowing there was an ambush ahead, this was the only way back — she had to press through.

“In a moment, stay behind me. The two of us don’t separate — don’t worry. I will deliver you safely back to Jiu’er’s side.”

Xing Zizhou mattered greatly to Feng Jiu’er. One day, if Jiu’er wished to forge her own path, there would have to be someone like Xing Zizhou at her side.

It could be said that Xue Gu was, on the surface, something of a cold and indifferent person — but more accurately, she simply cared too deeply for Feng Jiu’er.

Xing Zizhou understood well enough that Xue Gu’s protection of him was really for Jiu’er’s sake.

But no matter for whom the protection was given, given it had been — and that was a debt of gratitude.

“I’ll stay close behind you. I can take care of myself — but Xue Gu, you watch out for yourself!”

With a sharp ring, Xing Zizhou drew the longsword he always carried at his side and fell into step close behind her.

They had barely gone ten more paces when — with a sudden hiss through the air — a streak of cold blue-green light sliced through the quiet darkness in the waning moonlight.

“The arrowheads are laced with deadly poison — watch yourselves!” Xue Gu drew her short blade and swept her arm in a long arc. With a ringing clang, the stealthy arrow was knocked away.

Again, hiss after hiss after hiss — from within the darkness, more than ten cold arrows were loosed simultaneously.

Xing Zizhou didn’t dare let his guard slip for a moment. He stayed close behind Xue Gu. Though she deflected the majority of the arrows, he remained vigilant against every single one that came his way.

“Xing Zizhou — opening ahead, follow me!”

“Right!”

Two figures moved as though bound together, streaking through the volley of arrows.

Whoever had set this ambush likely hadn’t anticipated that among their quarry there would be such a formidable fighter.

Seeing that the poisoned arrow formation could not stop them, the dozens of men lying in wait on the hillside drew their long swords — all likewise coated in deadly poison — and came surging down together.

“Remember to stay close behind me at all times — do not take a single step away!” Xue Gu called out in a sharp voice.

“Understood!” Xing Zizhou was absolutely obedient. He stayed close at her side, not parting by even half a step!