Flute music echoed over the secluded alleyway, shrill and sinister.
Jinghong Zhui fought desperately against the wild inner force rampaging in reverse through his body, blood seeping slowly from his seven orifices. He was like a dying but unyielding beast, his ruined fingers gripping his sword tightly, launching strike after strike toward the Camp Leader— Each slash seemed to burn away his sanity and life.
The Camp Leader easily knocked away his sword and stomped it underfoot.
“From the moment you stepped into the Hidden Sword Sect, from the first day you practiced the Seven Kill Camp’s martial arts, your fate was already sealed. Whether you resist or submit, the end is the same. Why bother with this futile struggle?”
Panting heavily, Jinghong Zhui saw, through the hazy crimson vision, the swirling star-like patterns on the sword blade— Under the vast night sky of Lingzhou, autumn winds carrying the scent of frost-swept prairie leaves brushed the signal tower on the Great Wall and ruffled the stray hairs beside Lord Su’s cheek.
At that time, he had a sword in hand and someone he wanted to protect at his side—silent, and at peace.
He had once known death and desolation. He once thought he had found the best the world had to offer. But now he realized—he was still being dragged back into h*ll.
His birth, his childhood, blood-soaked blades, his sister’s tragic death, the damp bridge arch where he hid— Before the tide of fate, one man’s resistance was so small. And yet—he had always been that unyielding fugitive.
The life and power he had fought tooth and nail to gain— He had placed them without reservation into someone’s hands. Now, he was equally willing to destroy it all for that person.
—
Shen Qi rode like the wind, followed by a squad of Embroidered Uniform Guard cavalry tearing through the streets. Vendors and passersby scattered in panic.
He could faintly hear the flute melody—it was almost identical to the one Fuyin played that night at Linhua Pavilion, but even more cutting, more aggressive, disturbing the qi and blood of anyone who heard it. Shen Qi pulled a chunk of huanglian from his robes, chewed it, and let the bitterness spike through his skull, helping him resist the dizziness and agitation.
Even the residual echoes were this impactful— The one directly targeted, Jinghong Zhui, was surely in dire straits.
Shen Qi frowned and looked toward the high rooftop of the Shuntian Prefecture.
A spy hidden in the city returned to report: “A short distance from the Prefecture Office, two men are fighting in a narrow alley. There also seems to be a third person on the rooftop. The surrounding area is saturated with energy—this subordinate couldn’t get close.”
Shen Qi ordered: “Surround the alley—dismount! Form up!”
The cavalry picked up speed again, coiling like a dragon to encircle the alley from both ends. The alley was too narrow for horses, so the Embroidered Uniform Guard dismounted and drew their embroidered Spring Blades, advancing in formation step by step.
But the pervasive flute sound was affecting their inner qi as well. Many were overwhelmed by the intense pressure, expressions twisted in pain.
Gao Shu clutched his ears and shouted, “Stuff your ears with cloth! It’ll help!”
The Embroidered Uniform Guard immediately tore cloth from their clothing and stuffed it into their ears.
From a distance, Shen Qi spotted Jinghong Zhui’s ragged state— And those crimson eyes. His heart sank.
Still late by a step.
The mutt had already entered demonic blood-eye state, meaning his power had surged, but he had also become feral, heedless of death. Now, killing him would be much harder.
It was as if Jinghong Zhui were standing at the edge of a cliff, with countless ghostly hands behind him, shoving him toward the abyss of no return.
He staggered forward—and in that final moment before falling, he locked his fingers on the edge of the broken cliff.
Everything that made him “human” now depended on that faint strength in his fingertips— Just as the last trace of clarity still shimmered in his blood-filled eyes.
The Camp Leader’s boot crushed down on one of his hands.
“The Embroidered Uniform Guard have arrived—just in time. Use them to grind your blade sharp. I know you’re ready, aren’t you… Wuming? Let me count down for you—one.”
Jinghong Zhui let out a painful, defiant roar. Thick blood tears streamed from his eyes.
“Two.”
“I’m giving it back…”
The Camp Leader leaned in.
“What did you say? Speak up.”
Jinghong Zhui clenched his jaw, channeling all his strength into the only hand he could still move— and slammed it into his dantian.
“I said I’m giving it back! Nightmare Enchantment Technique, Spirit Surge Mantra, Seven Kill Sword Art— All of Hidden Sword Sect and Seven Kill Camp’s techniques—I DON’T WANT THEM!”
His true qi within his dantian began to churn wildly, like a spinning cloud of energy dissolving into mist— from solid to diffuse, until it vanished completely.
“You—you dissolved your cultivation?!” The Camp Leader’s masked face was full of shock. Even his altered voice cracked.
“You would rather become a cripple than return to the Seven Kill Camp? You idiot! The biggest idiot of all!”
The blood-red in Jinghong Zhui’s eyes gradually faded, and a deep, paralyzing weakness overtook him.
It felt like a strong man, once swift and surefooted, had suddenly become bedridden— Like an eagle soaring in the sky, suddenly having its wings broken, plummeting to the dirt below.
He knew exactly what he had lost— It was the powerful strength he had fought his way through life and death to obtain, the foundation of his standing in the world, and the greatest reliance he had for coming and going freely… It was also the most important role he could play by Su Yan’s side.
This power had been so hard-won— and yet, so easily lost.
Jinghong Zhui clenched his fists and let out a harsh, tragic laugh: “Now that I’ve lost those techniques, you can’t use flute music or secret drugs to control me anymore. And you can’t use me against Lord Su, either. Now that your grand scheme has been ruined at the most critical step— how does it feel? Frustrating? Maddening?”
The flute music abruptly stopped. The white-clad figure on the rooftop lowered the crane-bone flute, and a sigh drifted in the wind: “The fallen flower leaves only its fragrance behind, the scattered clouds stretch across the empty sky.”
And with that, his figure vanished like mist in the breeze.
“Since you gave up your techniques—then give up your life too!” The Camp Leader’s killing intent surged in his eyes. His Disembowel Hooks twisted like crescent moons reflected on rippling water, slashing toward Jinghong Zhui’s neck.
Though he had lost his inner force, Jinghong Zhui’s combat instincts and technique remained. He immediately raised his sword to block— But without the support of qi, the moment blade met hook, the sword was knocked flying. Thankfully, it didn’t break due to its toughness and resilience.
That single block earned Jinghong Zhui a fleeting but vital window of time.
With the flute silenced, the Embroidered Uniform Guard cavalry closed in from all directions. Their embroidered spring blades flashed with cold light, casting shimmering reflections across the alley walls like flowing water.
Gao Shu shouted, “What scoundrel dares commit violence in the open street?! Surrender immediately!”
Jinghong Zhui wiped the blood from his eyes, nose, and mouth with his sleeve and said coldly, “He’s the leader of the Seven Kill Camp. Second on the court’s wanted list of rebels.”
Gao Shu was stunned for a beat, then broke into a delighted grin: “Well, well! That’s one juicy peach we just picked!”
A cold voice rang from beneath the bronze mask: “You can only pick it… if you’re fast enough.” As soon as the Camp Leader finished speaking, both his hooks swept out in arcs of frost. An Embroidered Uniform Guard cavalryman who had attempted to strike from behind was instantly slain, blood splattering on the spot.
The remaining Embroidered Uniform Guard, now on full alert, no longer attacked individually. They moved as one, forming a tight blade formation, their coordinated steps and techniques honed through strict training.
Inside the narrow alley, blades flashed wildly like a pack of feral wolves, while the curved hooks danced like a lone skiff skimming atop stormy waves— weaving, slicing, and trailing arcs of blood.
Jinghong Zhui, breathing heavily, staggered forward to retrieve his fallen sword and stumbled out of the battle circle.
Sensing Shen Qi’s hostile gaze behind him, he stared ahead at the moss stains clinging stubbornly to the brick wall and asked coolly: “What do you want?”
Shen Qi rested a hand on his sword hilt and slowly approached from behind.
“Did you really dissipate your cultivation? Let me check your pulse.”
Jinghong Zhui turned his face slightly, sword raised toward him.
“Even with your injuries, I can beat you using just swordplay. No inner strength required.”
Shen Qi sneered, “Still talking big, huh? Who was it again, getting beat like a mangy dog just a moment ago?”
Jinghong Zhui was silent for a long time, then suddenly tossed his sword to Shen Qi.
Shen Qi caught it and mocked, “Throwing down your sword in surrender?”
Jinghong Zhui replied, “Take it back. Return it to Lord Su. He bought this sword for me—for three hundred gold. I can’t use it anymore. Returning it to its rightful owner.”
Three hundred gold?!
He lives in that shabby little house, can’t even afford proper furniture— but he spent three hundred gold on a sword for his guard?
The two jars of lamb wine he bought me only cost three taels!
Shen Qi’s heart twisted with sourness and bitterness. His teeth itched with frustration. He seriously considered taking Jinghong Zhui’s life right there and blaming it on the Seven Kill Camp Leader afterward.
He pushed the blade forward a few inches— when he heard Jinghong Zhui say: “If the lord finds out what happened today, he’ll be upset. Don’t tell him the truth. Just say that when you arrived, I was already gone.”
“…You’re leaving? Didn’t you cling to him like your life depended on it? How are you suddenly walking away so easily?”
Jinghong Zhui’s expression was blank, like a stone sculpture encased in layers of frost.
“After I’m gone, the lord’s safety will be in your hands. You’ll have to guard him with your life.”
“Like I needed you to tell me!” Shen Qi gritted his teeth. “Without you—and those wolves and tigers—we’ll be just fine!”
Jinghong Zhui fell silent again.
After a moment, he said: “Tell the lord that I’ve gone to pursue my ‘dao.’ I once thought it was him. But after this battle, I realize— only the sword is my life’s true pursuit. I’m sorry I can’t say goodbye to him in person. I hope he can forgive me.”
With that, he turned and walked away without looking back. His steps were heavy, stiff— but his back remained straight.
Shen Qi watched that solitary figure recede into the distance, his gaze complex.
On the other side, seeing that the Embroidered Uniform Guard’s numbers and blade formation were troublesome, the Camp Leader judged that even if he could kill them all, it would take time— and more imperial reinforcements might arrive. So he seized an opportunity, broke through the encirclement, and used qinggong skill to flee toward the outskirts of the city.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard, unwilling to let him escape, mounted up and gave chase.
Gao Shuo was about to mount up too when he saw his superior standing by the wall, still holding Jinghong Zhui’s sword.
He hesitated, then walked over and asked, “My lord… you let that outlaw go?”
Shen Qi bent down, picked up the scabbard, and sheathed the black-and-white patterned sword.
“At a time like this… letting him go is better than him dying.”
Gao Shuo thought for a moment, then asked, “Why did he leave? If he really has lost his cultivation, his old enemies will come hunting him down. Isn’t Lord Su his best protection now?”
Shen Qi replied, “Jinghong Zhui may be annoying and extra—but he’s got a backbone. He sees himself as a cripple now, no longer fit to protect the lord. Staying would only be a burden. So he left—just like that.”
Gao Shuo had overheard some of Jing’s final words and sighed deeply: “What he asked you to tell Lord Su— it’s so cold, so impersonal. If Lord Su hears it, he’ll definitely feel hurt. Why bother?”
Shen Qi rubbed the hilt with his thumb, eyes lowered.
“Since it’s what he wants— I’ll pass it on, word for word. Let him get what he wished for.”
—
Jinghong Zhui wandered aimlessly through the streets. The people around him hurried by or pointed at him from a distance. They felt as though they were separated from him by layers of veils— faintly visible, but utterly meaningless.
For the first time, he felt how vast and empty the world was.
With no sword in hand, it was as if even his heart had been lost— only a shell of a body was left, wandering aimlessly in the dust of the mortal world.
—Where was he even going?
The rest of his life— that long, hopeless, searing stretch of time— how was he supposed to endure it to the end?
Jinghong Zhui suddenly stopped in his tracks and looked back toward the Imperial City. In that moment, it was as if he saw Lord Su, clad in court robes, calmly walking toward him across Jinshui Bridge, smiling faintly as he said: “Ah Zhui, you’ve waited long enough.”
My lord, I am willing to wait.
Gladly.
However long it takes.
But please, don’t wait for me.
You may resent me, hate me— and eventually, even that resentment will be carried off by time, until you forget me completely.
