Xie Zheng had to intercept the hidden weapons aimed at Fan Changyu while fending off the men clinging to him like leeches—he could scarcely manage both at once.

The yamen officers were no match for these death warriors. Head Constable Wang’s men fell one after another. The magistrate’s household guards, who had been restraining the sentries, had never seen such a scene; terrified out of their wits, they fled down the tower. Not only did they fail to help, but in baring their defenses completely, they were struck down on the spot.

For a time, Sui Yuanqing’s side gained the upper hand atop the city tower.

Fan Changyu was forced back step after step by Sui Yuanqing’s fierce bladework. Her weapon was a full arm’s length shorter, making it hard to deflect the blows. The power of each clash split the skin at her tiger’s mouth, blood beading along the cracks.

She clenched her teeth against the pain. She knew that the only reason she had managed to bind him so easily back at the magistrate’s residence was because he had been unguarded then, letting her seize the initiative.

But now, every move of his struck straight at her vital points, ruthless to the extreme. Though she could fight, she lacked real combat experience, and she couldn’t match his cunning. On top of that, her weapon was inferior; she was completely suppressed.

She wanted to grab a longer blade, but Sui Yuanqing’s strikes came so swiftly that she couldn’t spare a moment to reach for one. She had no choice but to fend him off clumsily with the short boning knife.

At last, she caught a fleeting opening. Fan Changyu hurled the boning knife like a hidden weapon. Sui Yuanqing was forced to turn his head aside to dodge. In that instant, Fan Changyu crouched low to snatch the saber of a fallen yamen officer nearby.

But Sui Yuanqing’s blade seemed almost to have eyes—it flashed down the very next second, grazing across her fingers. To save her hands, Fan Changyu had to abandon the weapon, rolling across the ground to avoid the second strike that came slicing toward her head.

Sui Yuanqing’s lips curled high in a vicious grin, his eyes gleaming with the cruel amusement of a cat toying with a mouse. “You stabbed me how many times? I’ll have to return them all—and peel off your skin to hang at the city gate. Only fair, isn’t it?”

Fan Changyu spat fiercely. “Only reason I didn’t bring my butcher’s knife today, otherwise I’d let you see exactly how a pig’s throat is slit for New Year’s!”

Realizing she was insulting him, Sui Yuanqing’s expression darkened further. The amusement drained from his face; he raised his blade and advanced coldly. “Courting death!”

But Fan Changyu was reckless too—she copied his earlier move, refusing to dodge, and charged straight toward the incoming blade.

From the distance, Xie Zheng saw this scene. His phoenix eyes turned icy; in one motion, he snatched a blade from a death warrior and hurled it hard toward Sui Yuanqing.

The death warrior gave a terrible scream—his wrist bones had been crushed by Xie Zheng’s strength when the blade was torn from his grasp.

The cold edge streaked through the air. Sui Yuanqing’s pupils contracted sharply; to protect himself, he was forced to shift his stance and block the flying sword.

With a sharp metallic clang, the two blades collided, ringing out an ear-splitting note. The ring-hilted saber in Sui Yuanqing’s hand snapped cleanly into two pieces.

Such a powerful strike made him raise his head in astonishment, his eyes fixing on the man wearing the Azure Ghost mask.

Just moments ago, when he had heard this man speak, the voice had already sounded vaguely familiar. On the battlefield, there had only ever been one person whose strength he had truly experienced in combat—could it be that this man was…

The thought had barely formed when an elbow smashed brutally into his jaw, sending him sprawling backward. For a long moment, he couldn’t feel the lower half of his face; his teeth felt loose, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. His cheekbone must have taken the shock—his ears buzzed loudly, and he could barely hear a thing around him.

For the first time, he began to doubt whether the masked man was truly the Marquis of Wu’an. After all, even a mere untrained woman in this backwater county of Qingping possessed such astonishing strength—perhaps there were more hidden tigers and crouching dragons lurking here than he had thought…

Fan Changyu, however, was holding a grudge. Just earlier, she had been humiliated by this man—forced, with nothing but a short boning knife, to fend off his heavy saber. Now, seizing the moment after striking his jaw, she picked up a ring-hilted saber from the ground and swung it fiercely toward him again.

Sui Yuanqing, left with only half a broken blade, shot her a venomous glare but ultimately chose to retreat rather than meet her head-on.

This time it was Fan Changyu who pressed the attack relentlessly. Sui Yuanqing dodged and fell back again and again, his movements leaving gouges a finger deep along both sides of the city wall.

Mu Shi and several of the death warriors turned and saw their young lord being driven back by a woman wielding a saber. Alarmed, they quickly disengaged from their opponents and rushed over to assist.

From the distant official road came the clatter of approaching hooves. When they lifted their eyes, the banners of Jizhou Prefecture were whipping sharply in the cold wind.

The commoners gathered below the gate tower could no longer tell what was happening atop the wall—the fighting was chaos, and the “farmers” in coarse short jackets all turned out to be men of great martial skill. None of the townsfolk recognized them. With the ringleaders among them already gone, no one dared to make a reckless move.

And now, seeing the Jizhou troops approaching, the crowd grew even more fearful. They didn’t even dare to get close, worried the soldiers might mistake them for accomplices of those powerful “farmers” on the tower, and so they quickly made way, opening a path.

While several death warriors surrounded Fan Changyu, Mu Shi helped Sui Yuanqing to his feet. Glancing at the advancing Jizhou army, he urged in a low voice, “My lord, while the green hills remain, there’ll be no shortage of firewood—let’s retreat first!”

But Sui Yuanqing’s gaze stayed fixed on Fan Changyu. Seeing that the dozen death warriors could no longer hold back the man in the Azure Ghost mask, he suddenly snatched Mu Shi’s saber and lunged—not at Fan Changyu, but at the county magistrate.

The magistrate let out a shrill scream, stumbling in terror. Head Constable Wang, bloodied from several slashes, saw this and threw himself forward to shield him.

Fan Changyu couldn’t just stand by and watch Wang be cut down before her eyes, and Yan Zheng was still entangled with a swarm of death warriors, unable to come to her aid. Gripping her saber, she rushed in to block Sui Yuanqing’s blow.

But Sui Yuanqing feinted—his swing was a ruse. Abandoning his blade entirely, he lunged forward, his hand snaking around Fan Changyu’s wrist like a vine. With a strange twist of strength, her entire arm went numb at once, and the saber slipped from her grasp with a metallic clang.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he sneered. “It’d be a waste to hang that fine skin of yours on the city wall. Come back with me—be my concubine instead.”

With one hand he seized the rope fixed by a grappling hook, the other still gripping Fan Changyu tightly. Laughing madly, he leapt from the breached section of the battlement.

Fan Changyu was yanked forward, stumbling, unable to steady herself before plunging after him. 

Instinctively, she cried out—“Yan Zheng!”

At the critical instant, a strong, sinewed hand shot out from the top of the city tower and clamped tightly around her arm.

Even with the mask on, Xie Zheng’s entire presence was icy and murderous at that moment. His long-handled blade slashed straight toward the hand with which Sui Yuanqing was clutching Fan Changyu. The strike carried such ruthless force that no one could doubt the next second would see that arm hewn cleanly off.

Sui Yuanqing had no choice but to grit his teeth and release Fan Changyu. Even so, the fierce gust of the blade still sliced away a lock of hair at his temple, leaving a thin line of blood across his cheek.

He looked up and met the vicious eyes glinting from beneath the Azure Ghost mask—and inwardly shuddered.

Fan Changyu’s other hand was already caught in Xie Zheng’s grip, giving her leverage. Without hesitation, she raised her foot and kicked Sui Yuanqing square in the face, shouting, “Quick! Cut the rope—let that wretch fall to his death!”

The grappling hook fastened to the parapet snapped with a sharp crack. Yet as Sui Yuanqing fell, he kicked off the wall several times to slow his descent, and his personal guards, clutching the trailing rope, managed to catch and steady him. When he landed, he was completely unscathed—save for a black, dusty footprint stamped across half his handsome face.

Seeing this, Fan Changyu couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment. As Xie Zheng pulled her back up, she muttered resentfully, “Why didn’t that bastard just die from the fall…”

The next instant, however, she found herself enveloped in a broad, solid chest. The strength of his hold was such that she felt as though an iron plate had clamped around her. All her muttered complaints came to an abrupt halt.