The hot wind, tainted with the stench of burning, melted the snowflakes that had yet to fall in the night sky.

A barefoot child burst out crying from a house engulfed in roaring flames, but before he could run more than a few steps across the snow, a mountain bandit struck him down. The splattering blood landed on the hooves of the horse beneath Sui Yuanqing.

He played with a dagger gleaming coldly in his hand, looking down at County Magistrate Liu from above. “Wasn’t it you who orchestrated that scheme to kidnap me in order to placate the fury of the common people? I lost so many men in Qingping County that day. Tonight, I’ll collect that debt a hundred—no, a thousandfold.”

He tapped Liu County Magistrate’s face with the dagger and sneered. “You claim you don’t know the identity of the man behind that blue ghost mask, nor the maid from your residence who abducted me?”

The blade suddenly slashed downward, opening a deep cut across Liu County Magistrate’s body. The man screamed like a slaughtered pig.

Sui Yuanqing spoke leisurely, “Now do you know?”

After quelling the riot in Qingping County, Liu County Magistrate—greedy for merit—had reported that he and his subordinates had plotted to kidnap Sui Yuanqing and his men. Only now did he finally know fear.

His fat face trembled, snot and tears mixing together as he sobbed, “This humble one truly does not know where that woman lives! She is not a maid from my residence—this humble one only knows she’s called Fan Changyu, a butcher’s daughter from Lin’an Town. Begging the heir of the houfu for merc—”

A scar-faced bandit rode up on horseback. Sui Yuanqing’s gaze shifted, and before the words “heir of the houfu” could fully leave Liu County Magistrate’s mouth, he drew his blade across the man’s neck, then threw the corpse off the horse.

The scar-faced man, having heard that Sui Yuanqing was looking for a woman, frowned. “Fifth Brother, didn’t you capture this spineless county magistrate to find the one who injured you? Why are you asking after some maid from his manor?”

Sui Yuanqing curved his lips into a smile. “That enemy of mine happens to be that county magistrate’s maid.”

At that, the scar-faced man’s expression finally eased, though there was a trace of warning in his tone. “With Thirteenth Lady’s temper, if you’ve got any sweethearts out there, she won’t let them live.”

Sui Yuanqing’s smile did not reach his eyes. “Eldest Brother jests. I nearly ended up food for the fish thanks to that woman. This hatred must be repaid, no matter what.”

The scar-faced man looked at the county magistrate lying dead on the ground. “The brothers already looted the entire county office, didn’t see any maid skilled in martial arts. You even rode ten li out chasing her and found nothing. What, can that woman fly to the heavens or burrow into the earth?”

He looked toward Sui Yuanqing as he spoke. “We’ve already sacked all of Qingping County. Jizhou Prefecture will surely send troops to suppress us soon. We’d best return to Qingfeng Stronghold at once.”

His words carried a clear message—he didn’t want Sui Yuanqing chasing after that woman any longer.

Sui Yuanqing tugged on the reins, calming his restless horse. A faint smile hung at the corner of his lips. “Everything as Eldest Brother commands.”

Seeing that he truly seemed to have given up on seeking the woman who’d hurt him, the scar-faced man was satisfied. He bellowed, “Once this town’s been stripped bare, we ride back to Qingfeng Stronghold!”

A long spear hung from Sui Yuanqing’s saddle. He tugged the reins and urged the horse forward at an unhurried pace. From a dark alley, ragged townsfolk darted out, but he didn’t even blink—his spear thrust forward, painting the snow red.

Only then did the scar-faced man appear completely at ease and ride off to inspect elsewhere.

Sui Yuanqing, however, kept one hand on his spear and lowered his head slightly from horseback to ask the man he had just skewered and left half-alive, “Fan Changyu—where does she live?”

The name left his lips with a faintly amused curve, tinged with both menace and destruction.

Once he found that woman, he would surely find the man who wore the azure ghost mask.

The man on the ground was bleeding profusely from his chest, his life slipping away. Driven by instinct, he trembled as he raised a shaking hand and pointed weakly in one direction.

“W—West… of the city…”

Sui Yuanqing pressed his heels to the horse’s belly and rode toward the west of the city through the mingled blaze and snow.

The wound at his waist, not yet fully healed, throbbed faintly from the jarring of the saddle—but the pain did nothing to lessen the pleasure in his heart.

Lin’an Town could not compare to the prosperous Qingping County. The mountain bandits, having already feasted on Qingping’s fat spoils, now found this lean carcass of a place uninspiring. They plundered only the wealthiest households, for the poor were troublesome prey—most times there was no silver to be found, and they had to threaten those hiding inside with blades until the frightened folk brought out whatever coins they’d buried in the corners.

When Sui Yuanqing rode into the alley where Fan Changyu’s home stood, he saw bodies sprawled haphazardly across the ground—old and young alike. He was holding a man he’d just seized along the way.

Thinking his quarry might have been taken first by others, his eyes narrowed. His voice remained drawling, yet carried a chill beneath the laziness.

“Which house is Fan Changyu’s?”

The blood-soaked man in his grasp trembled and pointed to the second house from the end of the alley.

Sui Yuanqing tossed the man aside. The fellow, thinking himself spared, scrambled to his feet to flee—but before he could take a step, a blade drove clean through his chest. He fell stiffly, adding another corpse to the snow-strewn ground.

Sui Yuanqing glanced at the blood now staining the blade he’d picked up, then pulled out a handkerchief in distaste to wipe his hands clean. Only then did he step through the threshold of the Fan household.

The place had clearly been searched already. The courtyard was a mess, the main room’s doors thrown wide open—it didn’t look as though anyone were hiding within.

But Sui Yuanqing had no intention of leaving. He raised his torch and walked inside.

The drawers and cabinets had all been pulled open, bottles and jars shattered across the floor, and the bedding ripped from the bed and strewn about. It was obvious someone had been hunting for hidden silver.

He had been about to leave when he noticed another door behind the kitchen. After a brief hesitation, he lifted his torch and went over.

Beyond the door lay the rear courtyard: a pigsty, a well sealed beneath a heavy stone slab, and a stone bench used for slaughtering pigs.

Sui Yuanqing swept his gaze across the yard. Just as he was about to turn away, his eyes fell upon that slab covering the dry well—and he suddenly stopped.

By the torchlight, it was easy to see that the slab bore a thick layer of snow, yet beneath it, on the ground inside the well’s rim, snow had also accumulated.

That meant the slab had been placed afterward.

Why cover the well?

Naturally—because something was hidden below.

The slab looked to weigh over a hundred catties. Anyone else would have taken it for a disused well and walked away.

Sui Yuanqing, however, let out a soft laugh. His eyes curved into pretty crescent shapes—he seemed in a fine mood.

Holding the torch, he stepped slowly toward the well, each crunch of snow beneath his boots ringing sharply in the air, blending with distant cries—like the sound of someone treading upon a heartstring.

Just as he reached to lift the slab, a killing intent surged from behind.

Sui Yuanqing swiftly dodged aside. A boning knife grazed past his ear and buried itself deep in the courtyard wall.

Before he could even raise his eyes toward where the knife had come from, a figure leapt down from the roof, lithe as a leopard, the bloodletting knife in her hand driving straight for his vital point.

Sui Yuanqing relied purely on instinct to evade—but the assailant wielded two blades. One slashed, and the other immediately followed, leaving him no space even to breathe.

Fan Changyu, this time, truly meant to kill.

Hidden within that dry well were Chang Ning, Old Madam Zhao, and several neighbors from nearby houses. If she lost, they would all surely die.

Her strikes were swift and ferocious. In her left hand she wielded a bone-chopping knife; in her right, a bloodletting blade that could slash like a knife or thrust like a sword. There was nothing that could be called technique—only a relentless pursuit of speed. She pressed her opponent so hard that he was forced entirely into defense, unable to counter at all.

Several times Sui Yuanqing tried to draw his sword, but Fan Changyu’s fierce assault left him no opening. Step by step, he was driven backward, retreating again and again before her blades.

At last he resorted to using his torch as a weapon. Whirled in his grasp, it hissed through the air, the flame trailing like a ribbon of orange silk. Yet Fan Changyu’s attacks did not relent, forcing him into complete disadvantage.

Sui Yuanqing dared not clash the torch head-on against her slaughtering knives. He could only strike at the back of her blades or deflect along their sides to parry.

That made every defense more exhausting. His opponent seemed tireless—her movements fierce and unyielding. Even after fighting for so long, her strength did not wane in the least. The shock of each impact split the skin between Sui Yuanqing’s thumb and forefinger; his hand went numb from the tremor of gripping the torch.

He cursed inwardly—what kind of monstrous woman is this?

In the flickering, uncertain light, Fan Changyu’s eyes were cold and razor-sharp, like a tiger or leopard tearing into an intruder—relentless, vengeful, utterly unlike the demure, guileless woman she had once seemed.

When she fought with all her fury, there was an inexplicable, soul-snaring allure between her brows and at the corners of her eyes.

Sui Yuanqing stared for an instant at that beautiful yet ferocious face—an instant too long. The torch in his hand was slashed clean in two, and the bloodletting knife drove deep into his shoulder. Had she twisted it upward, half his arm might have flown off.

The stabbing pain snapped him back to his senses. Before Fan Changyu could sever the tendon, he barked out, “If you kill me, neither you nor those hiding in the well will leave here alive.”

Her blade halted.

Sui Yuanqing seized the opening for negotiation. “Let me go, and I’ll let you and the ones below live.”

Fan Changyu’s voice was cold. “Why should I believe you?”

Just then, mountain bandits outside discovered Sui Yuanqing’s horse tethered in the alley. Someone shouted from beyond the gate, “Fifth Boss! Are you inside?”

Blood was soaking through half of Sui Yuanqing’s coat, yet he raised the corner of his lips leisurely. “Believe it or not—that’s up to you.”

All decisions had to be made in a breath’s time. Before the men outside could enter, Fan Changyu yanked the bloodletting knife from his shoulder and replaced it with a smaller boning knife, its tip pressing between his left ribs.

From that angle, one thrust would pierce the heart.

In a low voice she said, “I told you before—I’d show you how pigs are bled at New Year. If you don’t behave, one push of this knife, and you’ll meet the King of Hell before I do.”

Keeping the blade at his side, she dragged him up by force. With one kick, she sent the heavy slab covering the well crashing aside. The bandits in the courtyard, hearing the sound, came running toward the rear yard.

A few torches illuminated the small space. They saw Sui Yuanqing pinning a woman against the corner wall, with a discarded door panel lying on the ground—apparently the source of the noise.

None of them realized that beneath that fallen door lay the bloodletting knife that had left a gaping wound in Sui Yuanqing’s shoulder.

His injury had not healed, and his heavy cloak draped thickly over him. The woman’s form was completely concealed within its folds.

Seeing the scene, the group of bandits exchanged knowing grins.

One of them said, “Seems we’ve interrupted Fifth Boss in the middle of his fun.”

Sui Yuanqing merely laughed and cursed, “Since you know, then get out.”

As he said so, his arm moved naturally to block Fan Changyu’s waist—but her boning knife slid forward, its edge grazing his chest and slicing a shallow line through his skin. The blade’s cold kiss pressed against the flesh, and Sui Yuanqing finally restrained himself. His hand fell lightly upon her clothing instead, which at a glance made it seem as though he were simply embracing her.

His voice lowered, carrying a teasing lilt. “If you mean to take me hostage, without this little act of mine, how else can I get you out—and help you hide the fact there are people in the well?”

Fan Changyu said nothing, but the knife in her hand no longer pressed forward.

She appeared bashfully nestled in his arms, her face half-hidden beneath the cloak, yet beneath that guise her eyes were cold, and the knife at his ribs held steady.

Sui Yuanqing’s gaze fell on the only thing visible in the firelight—her pale, luminous ear. A maddening itch rose in his molars; he longed to bite her earlobe, to draw blood, to leave his teeth marks there.

Just imagining it filled him with inexplicable delight.

Twice now he had fallen at this woman’s hands—each time worse than the last.

And unexpectedly, he felt no anger. He had seen too many women yield to him; this one’s defiance was something altogether new.

It was like breaking in a wild horse—he relished the slow process of subduing her.

Yet the image of her calling out to that azure-masked man as she fell from the building flashed across his mind, and that itch behind his teeth grew sharper. He bent his head slightly, his breath brushing her ear as he murmured, “Why doesn’t the man behind the mask come to save you now?”

Fan Changyu’s boning knife pushed forward without hesitation.

Feeling the chill against his chest, Sui Yuanqing smiled faintly and straightened.

To the onlookers outside, it seemed as though he had whispered something flirtatious to the woman in his arms. The bandits exchanged lewd glances, their eyes darting toward the cloak that concealed her.

Yet Fan Changyu’s figure was completely hidden beneath the heavy fabric; they could only tell she was taller than most women, and nothing more.

Sui Yuanqing said, “Let’s go. Eldest Brother must be waiting.”

Using the cloak as cover, Fan Changyu pressed the boning knife against him and walked him outward, her mind already calculating.

After this ruse, nearly no one paid any attention to the well in the courtyard.

That so-called “dry well” had in fact once been a cellar, and inside hung a rope ladder. Once the bandits departed, the people below could climb their way out.

All she needed was to keep this man restrained until Old Madam Zhao and the others escaped with Chang Ning. Then she could force him to lead her somewhere secluded—and once alone, she was confident she could slip away from him.

Only… after the Jizhou authorities had quelled the earlier rebellion, they had discovered that this man was a defector from Chongzhou’s rebel army. How had he now come to ally himself with these mountain bandits?

The government notices had not mentioned his name. Fan Changyu only knew he was a traitor, not that he was the Heir Apparent of Prince Changxin.

While she was still puzzling over it, a shout came suddenly from the alley: “The Big Boss is here!”

Without revealing her thoughts, Fan Changyu glanced sidelong at the so-called Big Boss. His face was dark, and the whip in his hand cracked toward her without warning.

Fan Changyu knew she could not afford to block that strike. At the instant the scar-faced man lashed out, she jerked her boning knife sideways.

She didn’t drive it deeper—but she widened the wound instead.

Sui Yuanqing, feeling her silent threat, only let his smile deepen. When the whip came down toward her, he caught it barehanded.

The whip recoiled from the force and struck across the back of his hand, leaving a raised welt that reddened instantly. Yet Sui Yuanqing acted as though he felt no pain at all. He lifted his gaze toward the scar-faced man on horseback and asked mildly, “Eldest Brother, what is the meaning of this?”

The scar-faced man barked, “You plan to bring that woman back to Qingfeng Stronghold?”

Sui Yuanqing replied with careless ease, “It’s rare to come across one that suits my taste.”

The scar-faced man flung a knife down at Sui Yuanqing’s feet. “If you still mean to marry Thirteenth Lady, then kill this woman.”

—

Author’s Note:

A little spoiler—our marquis will be meeting Changyu in the next chapter, though not on the battlefield! That’s all I can reveal for now!