As time slowly passed, the cries on each side of the area slowly dissipated until there was no more.

Corpses were scattered across the ground motionless.

The sheer volume of blood spilled was enough to dye even the Yangtze river red.

Xiao Pei averted his gaze, unwilling to linger on the scene as he walked beside Lu Yi.

The latter, however, seemed utterly unbothered, even raising a wineskin to his lips.

To Lu Yi, this was nothing new. He had faced far worse situations before.

Especially when the Qin army had once hunted him for months. Compared to those days, this silence was almost... merciful.

Slinging an arm around Xiao Pei’s shoulders, Lu Yi gave him a light shake. "Hey. If we hadn’t done it, they would’ve gone on to slaughter countless others. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what Zhaoyue said."

"I know, but..." Xiao Pei hesitated, his brows knitting together. Then he shot Lu Yi a sideways look. "Why do you keep calling her Zhaoyue when she’s not around, but ’Matriarch’ the moment she appears?"

Lu Yi nearly choked on his drink. "Ahem—Brother Xiao, like I said—"

"Answer me."

"Oi, what kind of tone is that?" Lu Yi scoffed, nudging him. "Show some respect for your elders."

"I’m older to you by age!"

"But I’m the eldest brother!"

Xiao Pei snorted and shoved his arm off. "Stop dodging."

"I’m not dodging—hey!" Lu Yi shouts as Xiao Pei grabbed at him, trying to pin him down.

He twisted away, only for Xiao Pei to latch onto his sleeve, dragging him off balance.

The two stumbled, boots scraping against the dirt as they grappled.

Lu Yi hooked an arm around Xiao Pei’s neck in a loose hold, ruffling his hair with his free hand. "You’ve gotten bold, huh?"

"Let go!" Xiao Pei struggled, trying to pry him off, only to end up half-dragging Lu Yi along as they staggered forward.

Just then, Du Juan stepped into their path.

Lu Yi’s grip loosened instantly, a grin flashing across his face. "Brother dapang, it’s your wife."

Freed, Xiao Pei straightened and walked toward her, his earlier distraction settling into composure.

Du Juan gave a small nod. "You two should stop playing around, sister Zhaoyue is saying that we should gather."

Lu Yi’s eyes lit up, seizing the moment. "You hear that? Even your wife calls that mad woman Zhaoyue—so why can’t I?"

Xiao Pei opened his mouth, ready to defend his wife.

Words formed inside his head.

Because she was forced to!

Because that woman tormented her for months until my wife calls her that!

But he didn’t say all that out, he hold it in calmly.

His action was not out of kindness. No, Xiao Pei knew himself.

Instead of saying what he really thought, he looked at Lu Yi with that pitiful smile of his as he replied. "I’ll be praying for your eldest brother."

Lu Yi blinked. "...What?"

This wasn’t the Xiao Pei he knew!

Before he could think any further, a voice drifted from behind him.

It was soft, sweet and very melancholic.

"A mad woman, you say?"

Lu Yi froze, his heart beat started to hasten.

"I suppose the medicine I prepared for you wasn’t to your liking."

His throat went dry. Slowly, very slowly, he swallowed, every instinct screaming at him not to turn around.

That smile... 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

He didn’t need to see it to know it was there, that pleasant, gentle curve hiding something far worse beneath.

He knew he was cooked, he knew there was no saving.... Yet he still muttered out weakly.

"F-Fang Yuan... save me..."

And not before long, a blur of white crashed into him, and the next moment, Lu Yi was face-first on the ground as Xiao Bai pounced, pinning him beneath its weight.

Soon, the others began to gather.

The first to arrive was Fang Lian, descending gracefully atop her flying sword before stepping off as it hovered obediently at her side.

Lin Zhaoyue glanced at it and smiled faintly. "Lian’er, your sword will grow dull if you only use it for travel."

Fang Lian puffed her cheeks, clearly dissatisfied. "But Mother, there’s no one worth using it on. They die before they can even get close to me."

The word came out naturally—Mother—as if it had always belonged there.

And perhaps, by now, it did.

Lin Zhaoyue’s smile deepened, pleased. She stepped forward and gently patted Fang Lian’s head, her tone warm, almost indulgent. "My daughter is indeed strong. But don’t worry... in the higher realm, I’ll make sure you meet plenty of worthy opponents."

Fang Lian’s eyes lit up instantly, excitement bubbling over. "Really? Then yes, Mother!"

What had once been a disciplined swordswoman (maybe) under Fang Yuan’s guidance was now unmistakably turned into a battle-hungry swordswoman under Lin Zhaoyue’s influence.

Not long after, Fang Mei came hopping over, her steps light and full of energy.

"Sister Zhaoyue!" she called out eagerly, holding up a dagger. "This is amazing—so, so good! Do you think you could ask Brother to get me one too?"

Lin Zhaoyue’s gaze flickered to the dagger... and for a brief moment, something beneath her smile shifted.

Her smile still looked gentle but there was a subtle edge now.

"I’m afraid not," she said lightly, shaking her head.

Fang Mei blinked. "Eh? Why not?"

Lin Zhaoyue’s fingers brushed faintly against the dagger before snatching the dagger straight from Fang Mei’s grasp.

"Not everyone is worthy of receiving something from my husband."

Fang Mei blinked, her hand still half-raised where the dagger had been just a moment ago.

For a second, she didn’t even react.

It had been taken so suddenly, so naturally, that her mind lagged behind the motion.

Huh...?

She flexed her empty fingers, glancing at her palm as if the dagger might somehow still be there.

It wasn’t like she’d owned it to begin with.

It had only been given to her because she needed something, anything that wouldn’t shatter the moment she used it for today’s occasion.

For three years now, every weapon she touched met the same end. Blades cracked, hilts splintered, even reinforced treasures couldn’t withstand her strength.

No craftsman could make something that lasted in her hands.

So she adapted or rather... endured.

But that dagger...

Her gaze shifted back to it, now resting in Lin Zhaoyue’s grasp.

The moment she held it earlier, it had felt just right.

It was as if the weapon was made for her, as if it had been always waiting for her.

Her grip tightened slightly at her side, confusion knitting her brows.

If she had something like that, how come she never took it out? Why now of all times?