A ripple of spiritual power shivered through the air, coming from afar.
Ji Yunxi felt it immediately—someone with considerable cultivation was approaching. Alarm flared in her chest. She moved to the prisoner cart at once; the crowd around her had already begun to stir.
A group of masked figures peeled away and surged toward the cart.
Ji Yunxi’s face darkened. Nianyun leapt into her hand, its blade singing cold and hard enough to make the heart skip. Lu Shu cursed under his breath and let out a whistle, trying to rally the men of the Menghua Pavilion to intercept, but the pressing mass of people and the sudden chaos made it impossible to clear a path.
The masked attackers used the confusion to strike at Ji Yunxi, each move brutal and precise—not merely trying to free the prisoner but to kill her outright.
Luckily, Ji Yunxi’s spiritual force had spiked wildly; her cultivation had leapt forward in ways that would have been impossible before. She met their blows with control and speed, fending them off as if it were nothing.
But the masked men, seeing they could not prevail, were interrupted by a figure descending from the sky—someone wearing a veiled hat.
Ji Yuyan’s eyes lit up when she saw him. She lunged to the edge of the cart and cried, “You’re here—save me!”
“Save you? In your dreams!” Ji Yunxi sneered, pointing Nianyun at him.
The veiled man ignored Ji Yuyan’s pleas. He attacked Ji Yunxi without a word.
Blades clashed. For once, Nianyun could not simply steal his sword; the stranger’s weapon was no ordinary blade. Ji Yunxi was pushed back. Nianyun danced around her waist and she gathered a ring of sword qi—then sent it out, splitting into three blades that braided through the air toward him.
The veiled man leaned back, arched his body beneath the arcs of sword qi, then threw five poisoned darts. The unexpected weapons frozen Ji Yunxi for a heartbeat; she barely had time to swing Nianyun, and with a series of metallic clinks the darts cut five grooves into Ji Yuyan’s cart.
Ji Yuyan screamed and scrambled away.
The veiled man’s hands were fast. While Ji Yunxi knocked the darts aside he threw another volley of sword qi. Ji Yunxi found herself almost overwhelmed, parrying and dodging with Nianyun in both hands.
He noticed her struggle and mocked it with a sharp hiss, pushing his tempo.
Then a masked man stepped from the crowd—his swordplay quick and unpredictable. Ji Yunxi recognized him at once: Feng Xingzhi. He still kept his identity hidden, so she did not call his name aloud.
They fell into place together as if they had trained side by side for years. Their movements matched flawlessly: spiritual force flowed from their dantian into muscle and steel, then poured out again through their blades.
The veiled man’s sly advantage evaporated the instant Feng arrived. Where one had hoped to catch Ji Yunxi unprepared, now two equal opponents stood between him and victory. Continuing the fight would risk defeat.
He glared at Ji Yuyan—if not for her, he would not have bothered with this at all—then, seeing the situation, made a swift decision. Rather than fight a losing battle, better to take the prize and vanish. He spun, shoved the prisoner cart upward, and flipped it toward himself.
Ji Yunxi read his intent in a flash and reached out to stop him.
Hands inside the cart had already seized Ji Yuyan and hauled her through the open top into the veiled man’s waiting grasp.
“Save my mother!” Ji Yuyan screamed.
Feng Xingzhi lunged and grabbed Madam Qiao—he was trying to block the escape.
The veiled man was almost successful. Ji Yunxi ground her teeth and, without hesitation, drove her sword through Madam Qiao’s chest.
Blood gushed hot and bright. Ji Yuyan froze for a heartbeat, then shrieked, “Mother!”
She scrambled toward the fallen woman, but the veiled man’s grip on Ji Yuyan tightened. He cursed and clamped a hand on the back of her neck, then vanished in a rush of motion.
Even carrying Ji Yuyan, he moved with terrifying speed.
Ji Yunxi could not bear to watch the rogue take the girl away. She surged forward, but Feng held her back.
“Xi Xi, don’t go— you can’t catch them.” Feng’s voice was steady. “They’ll have contingencies. Don’t throw yourself into their trap for Ji Yuyan’s sake.”
Ji Yunxi’s hands worked on the last post of the cart, slicing it through in a single, furious motion. She knew Feng was right, but the fate of Madam Qiao—the sudden, bloodless death—twisted something inside her. The thought of letting the real culprit vanish while the wound of betrayal and murder cooled was unbearable.
Feng kept holding her. He lowered his voice and smoothed her anger with a few quiet words. “Calm down, Xi Xi. She won’t get away.”
Slowly her shaking fingers unclenched. Only then did she notice the fine cut across her palm, the blood seeping between her fingers.
Feng tore the hem from his own sleeve and wrapped her hand into a crude bandage. He wiped the blood from her face and from the blade, saying nothing.
After a long moment Ji Yunxi said softly, “Zhi, you should go. Jiugē is coming.”
Feng’s jaw tightened. He did not want to leave her here, but his identity still had to be hidden. He let her hand go and melted back into the crowd.
The tumult in the square calmed as quickly as it had flared. For a moment everything seemed to settle into an uneasy quiet.
Ji Yunxi stared at Madam Qiao’s body—still, pale, the chest crushed where the sword had pierced—and felt a wave of nausea.
“Qingxuan, Lu Shu—get her out of sight. Bury her somewhere quick. Don’t let the crowd see this,” she ordered coldly.
Lu Shu stepped forward to haul the cart away, but one of the executionary officers on the platform moved to stop them. The chief eunuch grabbed his sleeve and hissed, “Wait. This isn’t your matter.”
The officer’s face darkened. “This… this isn’t procedure.”
“Prince Feng and the Princess of Nanyan are here,” the eunuch said in a lower voice, “and that girl is slated to be the prince’s future bride—the sister of the chancellor. The Emperor’s already weighed in: nothing too dramatic. Don’t be making trouble looking for portents. The prisoner was taken—don’t try to earn misfortune. Go back to your post.”
The crowd had begun to disperse. Ji Yunxi remained where she stood, staring after the vanishing figures until finally she murmured into the thinning noise, “Ji Yuyan—this isn’t over. We have time.”