Chapter 23.4

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Fan Changyu, no stranger to the precision required for deboning meat, couldn’t help but shiver at the memory of the knife’s movement just moments ago. Turning her head, she caught a glimpse of the man behind her—a pale jawline and lips tinged with blood.

Before she could react further, Xie Zheng, his hand still gripping hers, redirected her wrist to deflect another incoming strike. His movements were more than just protective; they guided her, showing her how to counter and evade the masked men’s attacks.

Though his strength wasn’t at full capacity, Xie Zheng used it to complement her raw, unrestrained force. With his technique compensating for her lack of finesse and her sheer power amplifying his precision, the combination left their opponents reeling.

Fan Changyu’s biggest weakness—her inability to control her strength—was now neutralized.

The remaining masked men, finding themselves overwhelmed, began to falter. Their strikes, once coordinated and confident, grew hesitant as they struggled to keep up with the duo’s relentless onslaught.

Fan Changyu, though inexperienced, displayed a natural aptitude for combat. As Xie Zheng guided her in deflecting attacks, she quickly began picking up his techniques. She even managed to slip in her own counterattacks, occasionally landing a well-placed kick on the masked men.

One unfortunate masked man caught the full force of her kick, flying backward into a snow-covered pine tree. The impact caused the trunk to tremble violently, dislodging a cascade of icicles that crashed to the ground, sending a spray of snow into the air.

At the same moment, Xie Zheng’s steady hand guided her grip, spinning the butcher’s knife in a quick flourish before driving it straight into the heart of another attacker.

Fan Changyu felt the tension in his grip and realized his palm wound had reopened. Warm blood seeped through, slicking both their hands where they were pressed together. Yet, despite the obvious pain, his palm remained cold, his focus unwavering.

Amid the chaos, as the glittering light of blades flashed before her eyes, she felt a tremor in her chest, as if her heart mirrored the collapse of the icy tree.

“Don’t lose focus,” his low, husky voice murmured near her ear, cool yet commanding.

The proximity startled her slightly. With him standing so close, guiding her hand, she could feel the faint warmth of his breath brushing against her ear. A strange tingling sensation crept over her ear, making it hard to concentrate for a fleeting moment.

Suppressing the urge to rub her ear, she forced her attention back to the fight.

Finally, with the butcher’s knife, now stained a deep crimson, pressed firmly against the throat of the last masked man, the skirmish came to an end.

Fan Changyu exhaled heavily, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. The adrenaline began to subside, leaving her acutely aware of the weight of the blood-soaked weapon in her hand and the cold air biting her cheeks.

Fan Changyu had noticed earlier that this particular masked man seemed to be the leader of the group. He was the one who had mercilessly ended the life of her captured assailant with a single sword strike.

Now, with her butcher’s knife pressed against his neck, she applied pressure, a shallow cut appearing on his skin. Her voice was cold and commanding as she demanded, “Who are you people? What grudge do you have against my Fan family?”

The man didn’t answer her. His gaze was fixed past her, on Xie Zheng, standing behind her. His expression was one of intense scrutiny, as if trying to confirm something.

When Xie Zheng raised his eyes and met the masked man’s stare, it was as if the man had finally pieced everything together. His pupils contracted sharply, and a hint of despair spread across his face.

Without warning, the masked man’s hand shot up, gripping the blade of Fan Changyu’s butcher’s knife pressed against his neck.

Startled, Fan Changyu thought he was trying to seize the weapon. She panicked and pushed the blade downward, attempting to subdue him.

But instead of fighting back, the man used all his strength to pull the knife into his own neck.

A spray of blood arced through the air, splattering onto the trampled snow.

The man collapsed lifelessly to the ground, his throat slit by his own actions.

Fan Changyu stood frozen, staring at the scene in stunned silence. She looked down at the bloodstained butcher’s knife in her hand, her fingers trembling as she whispered, almost inaudibly, “Why would he…”

He would rather slit his own throat than reveal anything. Who on earth are these people?

Fan Changyu stared at the fallen leader, her mind racing with questions. Could they be enemies her father had made during his years escorting caravans? Or were they connected to the deaths of her parents? Her thoughts tangled like a knotted rope, impossible to unravel.

Xie Zheng, meanwhile, had also furrowed his brow when he saw the man take his own life. But his body had reached its absolute limit. The wounds he bore, compounded by the strain of fighting, were too much. Now that the immediate danger had passed and his sheer willpower no longer propped him up, the world seemed to spin uncontrollably.

A deep, suppressed cough finally expelled the blood he’d been holding back. He could no longer support himself and collapsed into the snow, his sword slipping from his grasp.

Hearing the commotion behind her, Fan Changyu turned around and saw him lying motionless in the snow, his face and lips so pale they were indistinguishable from the snow beneath him.

All other concerns evaporated from her mind as she rushed to his side, her heart pounding in alarm.

Checking his injuries, she realized the situation was even worse than she had feared. His old wounds had reopened, and fresh injuries from the fight had only added to his condition.

Her chest tightened with guilt. She couldn’t shake the thought that all of this was her fault—that he had come so close to death yet again because of her family’s troubles.

Brushing the snow from his face, she muttered softly, almost to herself, “You shouldn’t have gotten involved… not for someone like me.”

Yet even as she spoke, she was already working quickly, trying to assess how to stabilize his injuries in the middle of this snow-covered battlefield.

Without any medicine of her own, Fan Changyu figured the bandits might have carried some. She rummaged through the belongings of the fallen leader and, as expected, found a small bottle of medicinal powder.

Uncertain whether it was a hemostatic agent, she cautiously sprinkled a bit onto one of the leader’s still-warm wounds. The blood clotted almost immediately, confirming its effectiveness. Only then did she feel safe using it on Xie Zheng.

The moment the potent medicine touched his raw wounds, the searing pain jolted Xie Zheng back to partial consciousness. His body twitched slightly, but he remained too weak to open his eyes or respond.

After dressing his injuries as best as she could, Fan Changyu hoisted him onto her back. Every movement sent stabs of pain through her arms and shoulders, her earlier shallow cuts now burning with exertion.

Determined, she headed back to collect Changning, gritting her teeth through the discomfort.