After launching the fire arrows skyward, Fu Yi Xiao settled cross-legged beside the trap, her voice soft with reassurance. "Hold on a bit longer. He'll come quickly once he sees the signal."
Gu Yu shifted painfully at the pit's bottom, untying the bag of deer ears from his waist and tossing it upward. "Ears first. Gu Yu follow."
Yi Xiao caught the bag, hesitating. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, a faint sound shattered the oppressive silence—the unmistakable creak of a bow drawn to its limit.
With a sharp whistle, Yi Xiao dropped low and rolled sideways. As her feet touched ground, multiple bowstrings sang in rapid succession. Suddenly, arrows rained down upon the previously quiet forest clearing. Yi Xiao tumbled clumsily, but with nowhere left to hide, she ultimately fell into the pit, landing heavily beside Gu Yu.
Gu Yu stared at her in disbelief, stammering, "You... came down?"
Yi Xiao sat up, wincing, and glared upward at the trap's opening. Through gritted teeth, she snarled, "So it wasn't an accident. How despicable!"
Cold laughter echoed from above as two gleaming arrowheads aimed down at Fu Yi Xiao and Gu Yu.
Ye Duanfang severed a pair of deer ears, depositing them in the hemp sack on his horse's back. He sighed, preparing to mount and continue the hunt. In this world, two forces reign supreme beyond emotion: power and killing. For men—especially men like him—the thrill of the kill often surpassed any emotional satisfaction. Yet war was one matter; indiscriminate slaughter for political gain quite another.
A foraging squirrel emerged from the forest, nimble and cautious, searching for scattered fruit beneath a pine tree. Suddenly it froze, ears pricked as if listening intently, then vanished without trace. In the stillness that followed, two fire arrows shrieked upward from the dense forest ahead, shooting straight into the sky—signals reserved only for when a commander faced mortal danger on the battlefield.
Who could it be? Besides the prince's junior consort and that simple-minded giant, no one else should be in the forest. Ye Duanfang's expression turned grave. He nocked an arrow and spurred his horse toward the source.
In the forest clearing, over a dozen men in dark grey clothing busily hauled heavy sacks. Two bowmen stood by the pit where Fu Yi Xiao and Gu Yu had fallen, helping pour soil from the bags into the trap. Suddenly, a grey-clad sentry came running from the tree line, shouting in panic, "Someone's coming! Quick, run!"
Before anyone could react, an arrow sliced through the air. The running man cried out and fell, shot through the leg.
The group outside the pit erupted in fearful chaos, dropping their sacks. A man who appeared to be their leader rushed forward, grabbing the wounded man in an attempt to retreat into the forest. The sound of approaching hoofbeats thundered like drums against their hearts. A rider burst from the trees like an arrow loosed from a bow. In a flash, a second arrow flew, striking down the grey-clad leader as he dragged his comrade. Ye Duanfang, galloping forward, shouted, "Who goes there? Everyone stand still!"
Almost simultaneously, another horse leaped from the bushes on the opposite side, carrying Feng Suige with murder written across his face. Seeing Ye Duanfang with bow drawn, he roared, "Where's Yi Xiao? Where is Yi Xiao?!"
Ye Duanfang was momentarily stunned—he'd only glimpsed the strange grey-clad men working frantically around a large pit. At Feng Suige's question, he instinctively looked toward the trap.
In that instant, the grey-clad group had vanished completely, leaving only chaotic footprints mixed with bloodstains and more than ten scattered bags of soil. Feng Suige followed his gaze, his heart immediately leaping to his throat. He dismounted and rushed to the pit's edge. One look nearly stopped his heart entirely.
Ye Duanfang, unable to pursue the fleeing assassins, lowered his bow and hurried over to steady the swaying Feng Suige. "Your Highness," he said softly, peering into the pit.
Arrows bristled from the pit wall and from the broad back of Gu Yu, who lay face-down on the left side, partially buried beneath soil. And on the right side... there was only a pointed mound of earth.
Ye Duanfang felt shock ripple through him. He'd heard of the complicated entanglement between this common-born junior consort and the prince. Before this competition, King Feng Qishan had summoned him personally, commanding him to win at any cost. Though he strongly disliked this junior consort who had once slaughtered Su Sha soldiers on the battlefield, Ye Duanfang sighed inwardly. Perhaps this wasn't the worst ending. For any matter, death provided a cruel conclusion—but precisely because of its finality, it offered the most thorough resolution.
Intense anguish made Feng Suige's body tremble violently, as though his heart had been pierced, blood dripping drop by drop. He gasped, each inhalation catching, each exhalation carrying unbearable pain radiating from his chest. He stared fixedly at the scattered arrows, his throat emitting strange sounds like wounded sighs. Ye Duanfang listened for a moment before finally understanding the words Feng Suige repeated like a broken mantra: "He killed Yi Xiao... he killed Yi Xiao..."
Suddenly, Feng Suige violently shoved away Ye Duanfang's supporting hand. "You're an accomplice!"
With a metallic ring, his sword left its sheath. Feng Suige's bloodshot eyes held no tears, only the cold calculation of a predator selecting prey. His voice dropped to a terrifying whisper. "She's dead, and you won't live either—"
Ye Duanfang stepped back, knowing Feng Suige was beyond reason, but he had to try. "Your Highness, please calm yourself. I—"
A low groan from the pit's bottom, though weak, rang clear enough for both men to hear. Feng Suige's murderous expression suddenly froze, transforming rapidly to disbelief. He spun around and stumbled toward the pit. "Yi Xiao!"
Ye Duanfang's brow relaxed as he released a soft breath of relief and quickly followed.
Fu Yi Xiao crawled out from beneath Gu Yu's body, covered in blood from head to toe. "Gu Yu? Gu Yu?!" Ignoring the two men who'd jumped into the pit, she stared blankly for a moment before tentatively pushing and shaking the silent figure—arrow-riddled, soil-covered, utterly still. She managed to roll him partially onto his side, but he showed no signs of life.
"Gu Yu, Gu Yu, Gu Yu, Gu Yu!" She increased her efforts, tears welling in her eyes but refusing to fall.
When the first arrow had descended, Gu Yu, who'd been leaning against the pit wall, had thrown himself over her, pressing down protectively. "Gu Yu... protect..." His speech was always unclear, but these few words rang in Yi Xiao's ears like thunderclaps as arrow after arrow pierced his back.
"Must win..." His voice grew fainter, yet seemed to carry a smile. "Junior Consort smells nice... like mother..."
Finally, silence fell, leaving only the dull thuds of arrows entering flesh and the clang of metal striking metal. Each impact was accompanied by Gu Yu's reflexive spasms, gradually weakening until they ceased altogether. Throughout the deadly rain, Gu Yu's body had completely shielded Fu Yi Xiao.
She remained unharmed.
Feng Suige dropped to his knees beside her, his hands hovering uselessly over Gu Yu's still form. The loyal giant who'd served him without question, who'd trusted him completely, who'd protected what mattered most—gone. The weight of it crushed down on his chest like the earth that had been meant to bury them.
Yi Xiao's hands finally stilled. She looked up at Feng Suige, her eyes hollow with shock and grief. No words came. No tears fell. There was only the terrible, suffocating silence of a debt that could never be repaid.
Ye Duanfang stood at a distance, his earlier thoughts about convenient endings turning to ash in his mouth. This wasn't political expedience. This was murder. And judging by the systematic nature of the ambush—the trap, the assassins, the bags of soil ready to bury the evidence—this had been planned with careful malice.
The question was: by whom?
Next
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