Mingxi signaled for everyone to hide and stay silent. She then looked at Qi He and said quietly, “Follow the plan. Don’t let your guard down. If things go sideways, retreat immediately.”
“Yes.” Qi He acknowledged.
Mingxi led a few people around via a small path on the left, hiding in the tall grass just a few feet from the roadside.
In less time than it takes to drink a cup of tea, the sound of galloping hooves came from the distance. Mingxi gestured, and Qi He nodded. A tripwire was pulled taut across the road.
A carriage rushed down the road, followed by seven or eight riders acting as escorts. Mingxi’s gaze turned sharp as she tightened her grip on the whip.
She adjusted her face covering. In that moment, time seemed to slow down. She watched as the horses pulling the carriage hit the tripwire and fell, the carriage tilting and crashing to the ground in an instant.
Just then, Qi He and his men sprang out, charging at the guards who had been escorting the carriage.
Mingxi and her team rushed toward the carriage. With a flick of her whip, she yanked the curtain down. Before she could see clearly, a flash of silver gleamed inside the carriage.
Sensing danger, she pushed someone aside and flipped in mid-air like a swallow. Her whip lashed out, wrapping around the figure inside and yanking them out with her momentum.
The carriage shattered into pieces. Five or six people leapt out, charging straight at Mingxi.
She dodged to the side and kicked one of them. The sound of the air breaking rang out, filled with killing intent.
The man froze mid-motion and backed away, but Mingxi had anticipated it. Her right leg swept out, forcing him to block with his arm. His veins bulged, but he couldn’t withstand the blow and was sent flying.
The rest of the attackers closed in on her.
Mingxi took another hit and used it to spring back. Then she swept her whip sideways. The whip sliced through the air, and one man, too slow to dodge, took it to the face, crying out in pain as blood gushed down.
Seeing this, Qi He grew anxious. He swung his saber harder, cutting a path to Mingxi. “I’ll cover you. You go first.”
With so many eyes around, he dared not call her “Wangfei.”
Mingxi’s whip broke in two. She tossed it aside, stretched out her arm, twisted her wrist, and kicked an oncoming enemy to the ground, snatching his sword in one smooth move.
Then she charged ahead with the sword, moving with fluid, deadly precision. Her strikes were sharp, relentless.
Qi He was momentarily stunned, but then followed. The two of them were like wolves descending from the mountain, ruthlessly cutting their way through.
When the royal guards saw this, they all rushed to Mingxi’s side. They were here to protect the Wangfei—how could they let her protect them?
Shameful!
Mingxi was slightly stunned. Before she could strike, one enemy was already kicked away by a guard, who then followed with a finishing blow.
Mingxi: …
That aggressive?
The area around her was suddenly cleared. Feeling a mix of emotions, she paused to catch her breath, eyes scanning the area until they landed on the overturned carriage. She strode over.
The carriage curtain had been ripped off by her whip, the windows smashed by hidden assassins. The whole thing was wrecked.
The horse had a deep gash in its neck and lay on the ground, breathing shallowly.
Mingxi kicked aside some debris and crouched down to look beneath the carriage.
Empty.
She frowned and scanned the surrounding area. Then she spotted crawling tracks in the grass and turned to follow them.
“Master, wait.” A guard noticed her heading toward the forest and followed cautiously.
Mingxi glanced at him. Though his face was covered, he moved quickly and leapt ahead to clear a path for her.
At first, there were crawl marks. But once inside the forest, they turned into footprints.
“He ran this way,” the guard said.
Mingxi nodded. “Keep after him.”
She didn’t know if it was Qiao Yu, but someone had hidden under the carriage and slipped away when the fighting began.
The tracks grew more erratic, and the terrain became thorny and wild—only someone without any experience would charge through such terrain.
A faint smell of blood drifted on the breeze.
Mingxi looked at the guard, who nodded and moved to flank the area.
Mingxi slashed through the thorny underbrush with her sword, carving a path as she moved forward.
After about ten meters, they found someone tangled in the thorns. His clothes were in tatters, his skin covered in cuts.
Mingxi lowered her sword, momentarily speechless.
The guard was also stunned. He’d seen dumb people before, but never this dumb.
Who runs straight into a bramble patch? Was he trying to die?
The guard hauled the boy out. He trembled all over, his face twisted in pain, but he didn’t dare make a sound.
He looked like a teenager—skinny and frail.
Mingxi had a good idea who it was.
The boy curled up into a ball on the ground, head down, saying nothing. Silent tears streamed down his face, his cries barely audible.
The guard: …
If the Wangfei weren’t here, he’d have kicked this kid awake.
Mingxi looked at him and suddenly said, “Qiao Yu, are you coming with me to help save your sister? Or are you going with the Crown Prince’s men to be silenced?”
The boy’s sobbing stopped abruptly, like a chicken with its neck squeezed. All that remained was his trembling body.
Mingxi didn’t speak; she quietly waited.
The guard didn’t dare make a sound either. He stood nearby with his blade, ready for anything.
No one knew how much time passed—it could’ve been just a moment or a long while—when the boy finally spoke, “Didn’t you people kill my sister?”
Mingxi could hear the gritted teeth in his voice, the restrained anger.
She chuckled lightly. “How can you be so naïve? You’ve already become someone else’s pawn, and you believe whatever they tell you? If your sister were truly dead, what use would you be alive?”
The boy—Qiao Yu—was stunned. He jerked his head up. “She’s really still alive?”
“She is. But whether she stays that way… that depends on you.”
Qiao Yu stood up abruptly. The sudden motion tugged at his wounds and made him double over like a shrimp.
In the dim moonlight, his face couldn’t be seen clearly. But his thin frame alone showed he hadn’t been living well.
“If I go with you, my sister can live?” he asked again, slowly straightening his back.
“Not necessarily. But if you don’t go, she definitely won’t.”
“You… how can you be like this? I’ll go with you—just let my sister go.”
“In this situation, do you think you still get to choose whether you go or not?”
Qiao Yu was so angry, he burst into tears. He wiped at his eyes fiercely with his tattered sleeve, but the tears wouldn’t stop, falling one by one into the dark earth.
