With a resonant clang, the Moon-Slaying Blade came down against the longsword, deflecting its tip sideways. With a sharp hiss, the sword’s edge sliced through Emperor Qiwen’s sleeve.

Feng Jiu felt her wrist jolt violently — the Moon-Slaying Blade nearly flew from her grasp.

But the sword’s tip had actually been cut clean off by her Moon-Slaying Blade!

Feng Jiu’s heart gave a lurch. She hadn’t expected that the Moon-Slaying Blade, gifted to her by the Veiled Lady, would truly be a peerless treasure!

Her inner energy was vastly inferior to this black-clad figure’s — by no small margin — yet she had managed to sever his longsword. That was entirely the Moon-Slaying Blade’s doing.

The black-clad figure seemed equally startled that his strike had been foiled by a nobody. But it was plain to see that his combat experience far exceeded Feng Jiu’s.

The longsword was broken, yet with a turn of his wrist, he drove that same sword thrust straight toward Emperor Qiwen once more.

The move was clean and decisive, completely unaffected by the broken blade.

Until — he caught a clear look at Feng Jiu’s face.

This girl — what was she doing here?

The black-clad figure’s technique faltered for just an instant. Feng Jiu, however, summoned every ounce of her strength and slashed at him with her blade.

She lacked the resolve to take his life, so this slash was aimed only at the black-clad figure’s hand.

At such a critical moment, knowing full well she was more than a little outmatched, where would Feng Jiu find the headspace to think of anything else?

One slash — and yet, in the midst of it all, this black-clad figure had frozen, staring at her.

Their eyes met in the chaos. Feng Jiu’s eyes went wide. He…

A sharp pain shot through her wrist. The Moon-Slaying Blade had not yet made contact with the black-clad figure’s wrist, yet the blade carried an innate icy wind of its own, and that wind had already wounded his hand.

The black-clad figure’s grip loosened. The longsword fell to the ground. He retreated several rapid steps — and when he looked again, the palace guards had already arrived in force.

This operation had been balanced on a knife’s edge. One misstep, and all would be lost.

The black-clad figure was clearly unwilling to withdraw, yet the guards were surging in by the dozens. If they didn’t leave now, his brothers’ lives would be forfeited by his own hand.

His gaze swept across Feng Jiu’s face, then landed on Emperor Qiwen — and in that look was a hatred so absolute it could not be measured.

“Retreat!” At his command, the black-clad figure turned and withdrew in swift, decisive strides. Then, in one sudden leap, he vaulted onto the roof of the nearest inner palace building.

The other black-clad figures followed close behind him, and once atop the roof, they spread both arms wide and flew outward toward the palace walls.

“Give chase! Quickly, give chase!” The Chief Eunuch screamed himself hoarse.

Countless guards immediately gave pursuit in the direction the black-clad figures had fled. Seeing their numbers now, had those black-clad figures not run when they did, escaping cleanly at this point would have been far from easy.

Feng Jiu stared after the direction the black-clad figure had retreated, her mind drifting for a moment.

He was absolutely an exceptionally skilled commander — no matter how unwilling, he could still, in the most critical moment, make the decision that would serve them best.

Dozens of men, and not a single one left behind. A complete withdrawal.

Had they waited any longer, the archers would have arrived.

Truly… remarkable. Truly extraordinary.

“Your Majesty! Your Majesty! How are you? Your Majesty is wounded!” In the midst of the chaos, the Chief Eunuch’s shrill voice rang out once more.

Feng Jiu turned and looked at Emperor Qiwen, then abruptly shoved the Chief Eunuch aside. “He’s not wounded. Stop shouting.”

The Chief Eunuch’s voice cut off at once. Sure enough, looking at Emperor Qiwen again, it was evident that only his sleeve had been sliced — not even the skin beneath had been touched.

The captain of the guards came forward to pay his respects, speaking of his late arrival to protect the Emperor and so forth. Feng Jiu could hardly bear to listen. She was thinking of leaving the palace.

“Your Majesty, since all is well, this one will take his leave.” Feng Jiu gave a slight bow.

“You rendered meritorious service in protecting Us. We shall—”

“Prominence invites trouble. Your Majesty, please allow this one to depart quietly.” Feng Jiu cut off his words of reward, her tone firm.

The Chief Eunuch couldn’t help but shoot her a sideways glance. What manner of person refused an imperial reward?

However, since His Majesty had said nothing, the Chief Eunuch naturally dared not say more.

Emperor Qiwen gave a wave of his hand. Feng Jiu departed through the palace gates, accompanied by a junior eunuch.

Watching the palace gates close behind her once more, Feng Jiu raised her eyes to the dim, heavy sky — then suddenly quickened her pace, hurrying off in a particular direction.

That night, the atmosphere at the Number One Manor Under Heaven carried a certain strangeness. At a glance, nothing seemed obviously amiss, yet an air of taut, anxious vigilance permeated the space around it.

That was Feng Jiu’s first impression when she arrived at the manor’s gates.

“Forgive me. The Manor Master has retired for the evening. If you have business, please return tomorrow.”

“This one is Feng Jiu of Tianji Hall. The Manor Master once said that this one may visit the Elder Manor Master at any time.”

“Forgive me. The Manor Master has truly retired for this evening. Sir, why not—”

“Why not first invite Steward Long to come out? Would that be acceptable?” Feng Jiu proposed a lesser alternative.

The gate attendants, seeing that she refused to leave no matter what was said, deliberated at length before finally going inside to summon Long Yan.

Long Yan came hurrying out. He looked as though he carried the dust and weariness of a long journey about him.

Seeing Feng Jiu, Long Yan said, “Sir, coming here at such a late hour — might I ask what the matter is?”

On any other occasion, Long Yan would certainly have invited her inside first before asking her business — not stood blocking her at the gate as he was doing tonight.

If there was nothing peculiar about this, Feng Jiu would have refused to believe it.

“I suddenly thought of a method that may greatly benefit the Elder Manor Master’s recovery. I came to see whether it might be workable.”

Feng Jiu moved to step inside. Long Yan stepped back, still blocking her path.

He managed a thin, strained smile and softened his voice. “Sir, it is so late already. The Master has already gone to sleep. Why not come again tomorrow?”

“No — I’m here to see Master Lanranyue.” Feng Jiu fixed her gaze on him and looked past him toward the rooftop overhead.

The moon was bright, the stars sparse. The moon had nearly reached the zenith — it was close to midnight.

“Sir, the Manor Master has also retired. Why not, Sir—”

“Steward Long, I would like to tell you something from the past.”

She was, in truth, more than a little anxious. It was she who had wounded him, and she knew the severity of it.

Without waiting for Long Yan to respond, she continued: “Once, a man came to blows with another and was struck by the other’s blade across the tendons of his wrist — the hand tendons.”

Long Yan startled. His large hands clenched shut in an instant.

Even if his expression didn’t change, Feng Jiu could still read the torment burning at the depths of his eyes.

He was afraid. He was holding it in.

“Ordinarily, when someone suffers a severed hand tendon, that hand is more often than not ruined beyond use,” Feng Jiu said. “But if that man possesses deep and profound inner energy, he can circulate it himself to manage the injury — so for a time, the wound may seem as though it can still wait.”

“Yet a tendon injury is severe, the situation is grave. No matter how deep one’s cultivation, an injury is still an injury. If not treated promptly, he may never recover strength in that hand again.”

Long Yan’s breathing grew unsteady. His complexion darkened — and for the first time in Feng Jiu’s presence, he let slip a trace of cold, menacing intent. “But if the hand tendon is already severed, what can still be done?”

“There is a way. At the very least, I have a way — so long as I can get to him in time.”

Feng Jiu raised her head and met his gaze — cold, uncertain. “Long Yan, that blade was mine. I know how serious the injury is. If you don’t take me inside right now, it will be too late!”