Chapter 5

The old man turned his head in fright, only then noticing that the crowd below that had been besieging Bu Sha lay scattered in disarray, alive or dead unknown.

The old man turned his head back, his formerly feigned kind face now twisted with ferocity, his voice seeming to burst from his teeth in resentment: "You damned girl, how dare you toy with me! I'll take your life!"

I stared blankly at the approaching deep-red palm and twisted face, unable to move. From below came Bu Sha's shout, his voice faintly tinged with panic: "Bingyi!" This seemed to be the first time he had called my name.

In ancient times, this was the first time I felt death so close. Yet I did not want to move, not because I lacked any fear, but that sudden fear could not dispel my long-standing bewilderment. In my heart arose a faint hope: perhaps death would be better, so my soul could drift back to the modern world and reunite with Father, Brother, and Xiao Yu.

However, the anticipated pain and death did not come; instead I was enfolded in a warm embrace, carrying the youth's distinctive fragrance mixed with secluded valley grasses and trees, leaving me dazed and unaware of where I was.

"Boom—" my body was violently shaken, and in the next instant the old man was flung backward, his eyes filled with incredulous shock and fear.

"Qi—" Bu Sha let out a cry of panic and helplessness a thousand times greater than before. I never imagined someone like Bu Sha could ever be so panic-stricken.

However, I immediately felt it personally—that fear as if I had lost the entire world.

A warm, damp liquid suddenly fell onto my neck, trickling down my skin. I dared not turn, for the successive waves of pungent bloody smell filled my entire nervous system.

Finally, the body I was leaning against slowly collapsed; I turned in panic, gazing at the deathly pale Qi Ran, and shouted sharply, only then realizing my eye sockets were brimming with tears.

"Qi Ran, how are you? Don't scare me!" I supported his head, choking up. Tears dampened the veil on my face, yet could not stop the bitterness felt at the corners of my mouth.

Qi Ran gave me a weak smile: "Silly, why cry? I'm fine… cough…" Another mouthful of blood spurted out, staining his white collar, "Really, I'm fine…"

Before the comforting words were finished, he fainted in my arms.

I looked up; Bu Sha had already kicked everyone in the hallway downstairs, his black blade carrying a thousand-jin hatred as it slashed toward the old man who dared wound Qi Ran.

"Bu Sha!" I shouted, my voice steady as before.

He paused his blade, turned his head, and gazed at me with the same icy coldness, his bloodshot red eyes fixed on me.

"Qi Ran would not wish you to kill." I pulled away the obstructive veil, exposing the ferocious scar to the air, and spoke calmly.

For the first time in my life, I offered no resistance, letting hatred flood my chest.

He actually called me a fool? He himself is a complete fool! So foolish that I only want to tear apart those who harmed him, so foolish that I and Bu Sha would not hesitate to bear fresh sins for his sake.

Yet I cannot hate, nor can I let Bu Sha kill. For the good-for-nothing kind-hearted person lying in my arms would absolutely not wish our hands stained with blood.

"Saving Qi Ran is urgent; let's go."

The fiery red in Bu Sha's eyes gradually faded, revealing his underlying helplessness and panic. He kicked the terror-stricken old man downstairs with one foot, hoisted Qi Ran onto his back, and headed down; I followed silently.

At the inn's entrance.

"Bu Sha, do you think it'll be that easy to get away?" said the beardy man, or rather Meng Kuo. His complexion remained pallid, his beard stained with blotches of blood, leaning on his broken arm he spoke hatefully.

On the main street, not a single person was in sight, utterly unlike the bustling noise a few hours earlier. Behind Meng Kuo stood no fewer than fifty people, dressed in uniform attire, neat and orderly, as if awaiting his command.

At a glance one could tell they were no rabble; they were likely elite soldiers in disguise, and the situation seemed somewhat troublesome.

If the true mastermind behind this affair were the government…

I know that no matter the era, those in power can never be absolutely clean. Indeed, the stronger a force, the more its formation and maintenance are filthy and corrupt. In modern times I have also witnessed such things.

Yet I never imagined that, having come to ancient times only a month ago, I would have to face such a dark reality.

Bu Sha placed the unconscious Qi Ran into my hands and said calmly: "Watch over him."

I nodded, sat on the inn's steps, and laid Qi Ran's head on my lap. Only then did I recall that over the past month I had studied a little medicine with Qi Ran, so I took his pulse.

My heart pounded, unable to find words, for within Qi Ran's body it seemed as if myriad breaths were churning. Upon closer inspection I discovered that only one stream was truly disordered, spreading from his chest through all his major vessels, as if it were driving his true qi to scatter throughout his body.

I trembled as I withdrew my hand, gritting my teeth hard to keep tears from spilling. Is this why Bu Sha worries about him? This fool, knowing he must never stir his internal energy, why did he rush out to save me? I lowered my gaze to him.

His face was pallid to the point of near transparency, his skin gleaming like pure moonlight. His lips, devoid of color, were lightly pursed, yet he remained astonishingly beautiful. Though I could not see most of his visage, I could sense that in his slumber he was as pure as an infant, as holy as an angel. Such a person could not possibly die like this!

Meng Kuo glanced contemptuously at me and the unconscious Qi Ran, yet when addressing Bu Sha he carried a hint of admiration, speaking loudly: "You think you can escape with these two good-for-nothings?"

Bu Sha said nothing, killing intent spreading uncontrollably over his whole body. I lifted my head and said coldly: "You might as well state your purpose now, for I fear you may not live to speak later."

Meng Kuo's eyes flashed with killing intent, yet he did not answer me, instead speaking solemnly to Bu Sha: "Where is the Black Tortoise Stone? Hand it over, and I guarantee the three of you can leave here unharmed. Otherwise…"

"How can you be so certain the stone is with me?" Bu Sha's expression unchanged, neither admitting nor denying.

"Hmph! Who doesn't know the Black Tortoise Stone originally belonged to the 'Qingzhu Jushi' Xie Yanke? That senior's martial prowess was such that few in the present age could match him, so no one dared covet the stone. Yet since a year ago, he mysteriously vanished from the martial world, and the stone's whereabouts became unknown. What a coincidence: a friend of mine learned that the month before Xie Yanke disappeared, you received the order to assassinate him. What are the odds of that? Dare you claim you didn't take the Black Tortoise Stone?"

"What if I say I don't know?" Bu Sha said lightly, his eyes holding some unknown glint that flickered, his gaze seeming to pierce Meng Kuo and drift toward some distant place, as if recalling past events, yet his hand gripped the sword hilt tightly.

Meng Kuo shifted his gaze, deliberately glancing at me, then smirked sinisterly: "I certainly don't doubt Bu Sha's abilities; if you wish to leave, perhaps no one in this world can stop you. But what about those two? If I am willing to sacrifice a few of my men to seize one of them, you will hardly refuse to surrender obediently."

As his words fell, several men in the front row shook their hands and unfurled a fishing net bristling with barbs. Indeed, they had come prepared.

Bu Sha's grip on his knife loosened.

"A comatose good-for-nothing and a woman without martial arts—I'm quite curious to see which you'll choose to protect first."

For the first time I saw on Bu Sha's face an expression of dejection and helplessness. Because he always seemed unbreakable, as if nothing in this world could faze him.

Yet such a proud person as he, here and now, had no choice but to lay down his blade for my sake and Qi Ran's.

"Hahaha…" Meng Kuo laughed loudly, "The famed cold-blooded, ruthless Bu Sha actually has a day when he lays down his butcher's knife for another? And for an ugly freak and a useless good-for-nothing at that."

Bu Sha lowered his eyelids; I could see the blazing fury and imminent killing intent in his eyes, plus a trace of self-loathing and utter despair.

I do not know why he, who has been fighting all along, would despise himself, yet I can deeply feel this sentiment.

If it were not for my incompetence, if it were not for my passivity, Qi Ran would not be lying here unconscious.

I suddenly felt how base I was. Before, I tried every means to blend in with them, saying they were my only friends. Now that they have finally begun to accept me, I resort to the excuse of "not leaving footprints here," repeatedly watching coldly from the sidelines, repeatedly keeping myself aloof.

"Bu Sha!" I spoke, my voice cold as ice.

He turned his head to look at me, for a moment unable to regain his composure, his eyes filled with incredulous astonishment, which stabbed my heart fiercely.

In my hand appeared a dagger thin as a cicada's wing, pressed against Qi Ran's smooth, fair neck, and I maintained a calm, detached tone: "Hand over the Black Tortoise Stone."

Bu Sha slowly turned toward me; the icy chill in his eyes nearly froze me. His black hair clung to his dark robe, fluttering slightly in the wind, setting off his pallid face and crimson eyes, making him look like a cold-blooded, ferocious asura from hell.

Previously, he had buried darkness and cold deep within his heart because of Qi Ran's warmth, leading me to mistakenly think that was all there was to him. How laughable—

Only now, at this moment, did I truly witness Bu Sha's terror.

Only now did I realize this is the genuine world's number one assassin—Bu Sha.

Yet what truly startled me was the deep wound hidden in his icy gaze, crushing my last shred of self-protection. Like a sapphire flame amidst blazing fire, it burned my whole body with a tearing, raw pain.

Was he recalling my oath? Or my words: "You are my only friends?"

I swallowed all the bitter fruit, forced back the tears that were about to spill, and with a shake of the dagger I drew a line of blood on Qiran's crystal-clear neck: "If you want his life, hand over the Black Tortoise Stone!"

"You dare!" Busha roared, his crimson eyes locking onto me as if to sear me through, the Blooddraw blade sweeping down—but it halted dead before reaching my head.

A few strands of broken hair drifted down my cheeks, landing softly on the unconscious Qiran's face and lips, trembling with his faint breath, black and white starkly distinct. I used my empty hand to gently brush them away, then gazed deeply at this face etched deep into my heart.

I so wanted to tell him, kindness and beauty like yours need no mask to live by; I so wanted to tell him, please don't be good to everyone while forgetting to be good to yourself; I so wanted…

I lifted my head, fearlessly meeting that cold, furious face, though the corner of my mouth twitched into a faint arc: "I know full well that the one thing you cannot afford to lose in the whole world is Qiran's life."

Busha stared at me in a daze for a moment, his crimson eyes gradually turning black until they regained the darkness of night. I knew he now saw me as a stranger like Mengkuo, no longer the friend who once laughed and swore oaths with him.

I suddenly realized: how laughable—perhaps he never considered me a friend at all.

My heart clenched in waves of pain, yet I forced a smile as he slowly sheathed his blade, then ripped out a jet-black, perfectly round crystal from his chest and hurled it at me, sneering:

"For such a stone, you'd risk disfigurement, swear poisonous oaths, and tail us for a month—what an ordeal for you!"

I clutched the Black Tortoise Stone still warm from his body, slipped the dagger away, and said flatly: "I advise you—instead of wasting words here, take Xiao Qiran and leave quickly. He… probably won't last much longer."

Busha's brows knit slightly, a blade-like killing intent flashing in his eyes. He quickly stepped close, crouched to lift the unconscious Qiran. As he rose, I lifted my head and gave him a faint yet utterly sincere smile, the light in my eyes warm and radiant like stars, though it could not hide a faint sorrow.

He blinked, then gave me a look of utter mockery and cold indifference, as if saying, "You still think you can fool me now?" He turned and left resolutely, leaving only a ruthless, lonely silhouette behind.

(End of chapter)