If you die, I will be able to inherit your cultivation.

The masked men in black were surrounded, with obstacles blocking their way in front and pursuers behind. On either side were mountain walls and cliffs, completely sealing off their escape route.

But these people were clearly well-trained desperados.

Even when surrounded like an iron barrel, not a single person dropped their weapon and surrendered.

Back to back, their eyes gleaming with ferocity, they charged fearlessly toward the guards and reinforcements, each strike aimed at mutual destruction.

Su Mingyue, carrying a long sword, charged ahead.

Her swordsmanship was bold and unrestrained, completely different from her cold and aloof appearance. The power that erupted from her small body was beyond Zhou Ming's imagination.

Looking from the cave entrance, Zhou Ming could only see a moon-white figure weaving through the flashing swords.

Her sword was not fast, but extremely accurate; every strike she delivered was aimed at the throat or wrist.

The tip of the sword grazed the neck of a masked man, splashing a trail of crimson blood.

The man had only raised his curved sword halfway when he fell backward.

Blood splattered on her face, but she didn't even wipe it off; her eyes were as cold as ice.

She ducked to avoid the oncoming longsword, then swung her sword upwards with a backhand motion, cleaving open the chest and abdomen of the second masked man.

She turned around, and with the momentum of her turn, her longsword swept out, the blade precisely cutting into the knee of the third masked man.

The man screamed and knelt on one knee. Before he could raise his knife to block, the tip of her sword was already pressed against his throat.

Four maids followed closely by her side, their short swords flashing as they parried attacks from the sides.

Dongmei single-handedly intercepted two long swords that were simultaneously slashing at Su Mingyue's back. Sparks from the clash of weapons grazed her hair, but she didn't even flinch.

One by one, the men in black fell, forced to retreat step by step, and the encirclement tightened.

Their numbers dwindled until the few remaining members were cornered against a cliff, their backs pressed against the rocks, with nowhere left to retreat.

At this point in the battle, the outcome is already decided.

Su Mingyue stopped, the tip of her sword pointing towards the ground, blood dripping from the blade into the soil.

She was slightly out of breath, her gaze sweeping over the masked men in front of her, who were trapped in a desperate situation.

She did not say "those who surrender will not be killed".

She could tell from their eyes that these people would not surrender.

Those eyes held no will to live, no fear, no wavering, only a deathly numbness.

Sure enough, the remaining masked men exchanged glances.

That glance wasn't exchanged out of fear or hesitation, but rather a silent understanding.

The next moment, they simultaneously held their longswords to their own necks.

The sound of a blade slicing through the throat was dull and brief.

Several corpses fell to the ground almost simultaneously, their heavy thuds echoing through the mountainside for a moment before falling silent.

Zhou Ming stood at the cave entrance, watching this scene from afar.

He saw Su Mingyue standing among the corpses, her long sword still dripping blood.

She lowered her head, glanced at her blood-stained hands, then slowly raised her head, her gaze piercing through the devastation covering the mountains and fields, seemingly looking at something.

Zhou Ming followed her gaze and saw the city of Yuyang County clearly visible below the mountain.

The wind blew across the tattered wooden board in his hand, making a slight rustling sound.

Zhou Ming finally pulled his foot back from the cave entrance, took a step outside, leaned against the cliff wall, and let out a long, silent breath.

survived.

Inside the cave, everyone huddled together, not daring to breathe.

The shouts of battle, the clash of swords, and screams outside all rushed into the cave, each sound like an explosion right next to your ear.

Some covered their mouths, afraid to cry out, some buried their faces in the shoulders of their maids, trembling, while others stared wide-eyed at the direction of the cave entrance, as if waiting for a verdict that was neither good nor bad.

The deathly silence in the cave was broken only when the rapid, rhythmic sound of horses' hooves thundered up from below the mountain path, and when someone outside shouted at the top of their lungs, "Reinforcements have arrived!"

First, several maids and servants suddenly collapsed to the ground, panting heavily, as if they had been pulled out of the water.

The young masters and ladies looked at each other, a bewildered expression slowly appearing on their faces, as if they still couldn't believe they had actually survived.

It's unclear who was the first to cry out, but the sobbing gradually turned into loud wailing, and then, as if it were contagious, several young ladies burst into tears at the same time.

The crying wasn't out of sadness or grievance, but rather a pure outpouring that only those who have survived a catastrophe can muster.

"Go out, go out and see," someone said.

Then, supporting each other, the group staggered out of the cave entrance one after another.

The ground outside was littered with corpses lying haphazardly, broken swords and knives scattered among the bodies, some even deeply embedded in the chests of the dead.

The corpses were in various poses, some still in the posture of fighting with their blades before they died, their eyes wide open and their faces full of resentment.

Some lay curled up on the ground, lifeless, with severed arms and limbs scattered everywhere, and the smell of blood wafting in the breeze.

Then they saw the corpses of several masked men in black lying in the corner of the cliff.

The corpses were piled up haphazardly, and dark red liquid was still seeping from the cuts on their necks, turning the soil beneath them into a deep black.

Then, they saw Su Mingyue.

She stood before the corpses scattered on the ground, still holding the longsword she had picked up from the ground, its tip pointing towards the ground. The bloodstains on the blade were half-dried, forming winding, dark red lines.

The moon-white jacket she was wearing was completely ruined; the cuffs were torn, and the hem of her skirt was smeared with blood.

The bloodstains splattered on her clothes ran from her shoulder down to her waist, making it impossible to tell whether they were her own or someone else's.

Several dried bloodstains were also on her face, one of which ran diagonally from her forehead across the bridge of her nose, almost splitting her cool and aloof face in two.

She turned around and looked at everyone, her phoenix eyes showing no extra emotion.

His pupils were still so dark and cold, like a piece of black jade that had been soaked in a cold spring for thousands of years, so calm that it made people's hearts go cold.

The entire room was completely silent.

The girls who were just crying loudly suddenly had their voices cut off as if by a pair of scissors.

They stared at Su Mingyue, their lips trembling, tears still streaming down their faces, but their sobs were choked back in their throats.

No one spoke. Not a single person spoke.

Which of these young masters and ladies doesn't live a life of luxury, surrounded by servants?

Who doesn't put on airs and maintain a dignified image in front of others?

Which one of them isn't arrogant, domineering, and fearless?

But now, standing before Su Mingyue, they all reacted in exactly the same way:

Avoid eye contact, take a half step back, and shut your mouth.

It wasn't respect for power, nor gratitude for favors, but something more primal and instinctive.

It's like a rabbit seeing an eagle, or a herd of deer smelling the scent of a tiger or leopard.

After someone has killed someone and stained their skin with blood, there will be something indescribable about them. Ordinary people may not be able to describe it, but they can feel it from the very first moment they face someone.

The substance on Su Mingyue was so intense that it was almost tangible.

The person before them was no longer the aloof, reasonably talented young lady from a noble family who addressed each other as "sister" at the poetry gathering.

In the blink of an eye, she had taken countless lives amidst the flashing swords and the sight of an incense stick burning; the blood on her face was still wet.

She stood there, as if waiting for the next person worthy of her drawing her sword.

I don't know who lowered their head first.

One, two, three, and finally everyone lowered their heads.

He didn't bow, he didn't greet her; he didn't even have the courage to look her in the eye.