Chapter 34: The Fury of Prince Xuan

The woman in green swept her alluring, enchanting gaze over the crowd, finally resting her eyes on Du Yu, who lay on the ground as lifeless as stagnant water. She shook her head and said, “What a pity. Third Brother, wasn’t this our first successful test subject?”

The man in dark robes shot Du Yu a sinister glance and said with disdain, “Useless thing. What’s the point in keeping him? Fourth Sister, aren’t you going to finish him off?”

The woman in green covered her face and laughed, her every gesture bewitching. “Since Third Brother feels no pity, I’ll do it myself,” she said.

With a slight movement of her delicate hand, she drew a white jade flute from her sleeve, held it to her lips, and played a melodious tune.

Shen Qianmo noticed Du Yu’s unfocused eyes suddenly sharpen and gradually regain clarity. She was abruptly reminded of Leng Xiangning’s state before her death, and hurriedly cried out, “Stop her!”

But it was too late. Blood was already pouring from Du Yu’s mouth. In moments, his head lolled to the side, and he was dead.

“Yu’er!”

“Brother!”

Master Du and Du Yang, still reeling from Du Yu’s attempted attack on Master Piao Miao, now saw him die spitting blood, and were at a loss, shaking his body and calling his name in panic and despair.

“He’s dead!” shrieked a few timid women, and the hall was instantly in turmoil.

“Demoness, give me back my sister’s life!” a clear voice rang out from above. A white figure leapt through the doors to strike at the woman in green.

It was Leng Aoshuang! Shen Qianmo saw her merciless and fierce attacks, but the woman in green was clearly no weakling; the two became locked in a furious duel, neither gaining the upper hand.

Feng Ze and Chang Dong also engaged the man in dark robes, and the hall was soon filled with the sounds of battle.

Clashes of weapons echoed from outside as well; the fighting was intense. It seemed Lu Ziqing’s men had engaged the members of the Wuji Cult.

Lu Ziqing hesitated, saw that the hall was temporarily secure, and hurried outside to command his troops.

This was supposed to be a birthday feast, Shen Qianmo sighed inwardly, but now it was ruined. She wondered about the ranks of this man and woman in the Wuji Cult, as their skills were formidable—especially the man, whose moves were sinister and vicious. Even Feng Ze and Chang Dong together could not gain the upper hand.

Suddenly, with a loud crash, Leng Aoshuang was struck by a palm from the woman in green and flung heavily to the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

Could Leng Aoshuang really be so weak? Shen Qianmo hurried over, but Xie Mingyu was already there, lifting Leng Aoshuang and anxiously asking, “Miss Aoshuang, are you alright?”

Leng Aoshuang forced herself upright and said to them, “Be careful, it’s poison.”

Everyone gasped in shock. When had the poison been administered? Why had none of them noticed?

But as soon as she uttered the word “poison,” Feng Ze and Chang Dong, who were fighting the man, suddenly felt their strength drain away. Both were swiftly struck down.

Next, many in the hall began to feel dizzy and weak. The room erupted in cries, screams, and sobs, descending into chaos.

“I advise you all to behave. Do not attempt to use your inner force, or you’ll only die faster.” Seeing Feng Ze and the others still struggling, the man’s voice was cold and grim.

“Aren’t you all wondering when the poison was administered?” The woman in green giggled at Shen Qianmo, pointing at Du Yu’s corpse. “As a test subject, even in death, he had to be useful.”

Shen Qianmo finally understood: the Wuji Cult had laid this trap long ago. All their recent misfortunes had been part of an intricate plan, with Du Yu as a crucial pawn in their game.

She glanced at Situ Gong, the only one present who understood medicine. Though she too had studied medicine, her knowledge of traditional remedies was limited, let alone such bizarre poisons.

Situ Gong was clearly affected as well. He struggled to stand, leaning on the table, and shook his head at her—he could not identify the poison either, despite many years of medical practice.

“Curious about the poison?” The woman noticed the exchange and tilted her head playfully. “I just concocted it. It doesn’t even have a name yet. Princess Xuan, you are learned and talented—why not give it one?”

Which part of me seems learned and talented? Shen Qianmo rolled her eyes inwardly and retorted coldly, “I wouldn’t dare. The Wuji Cult’s devious tricks are truly eye-opening. Every underhanded scheme imaginable—is that the origin of your cult’s name?”

“Truly, ‘nothing is off limits’!” Meng Yuanheng nodded in agreement, his gaze sharp as frost.

“Against someone as shrewd as Prince Xuan, how else could we escape unharmed but with a few tricks?” The woman in green smiled seductively, then turned and looked at Shen Qianmo, surprise flickering across her face.

“How odd. The cold poison in Prince Xuan’s body can suppress my toxin, so it makes sense he’s unaffected. But Princess Xuan, why are you unharmed as well?”

Shen Qianmo was puzzled too. Why was she the only one not poisoned? Was it because she had traveled here from another world?

“Third Brother, what do you think is happening?” the woman in green asked the man in black, perplexed.

He looked impatient. “Fourth Sister, why bother? Focus on completing the leader’s orders. The people of Woyun Manor are difficult enough; Second Brother and the others can’t hold out forever.”

Before his words faded, the man’s figure shifted. In a flash, he was before Shen Qianmo, seized her, slung her over his shoulder, swathed her in a black cloth, and dashed outside. The speed left everyone stunned. The woman in green followed closely, retreating as well.

“Mo’er!” Meng Yuanheng’s usually chilly face changed at once. He sprang from his wheelchair, darting outside in a flash.

Everyone else was dumbstruck. Who would have thought the Wuji Cult’s true target was Shen Qianmo?

Seriously? Shen Qianmo wailed inwardly. Why me? And could this guy be any worse at kidnapping? Being slung over his shoulder like a sack was pure torment.

Outside the Xie residence, the fighting was fierce. Besides Lu Ziqing and his soldiers, the men of Woyun Manor were also engaged in the fray. The manor’s master, Yun Yi, usually fond of flowing white robes, was dressed tonight in black, exuding an imposing presence.

What surprised Lu Ziqing was how well-trained the Wuji Cult members were—their leader, a burly man with a brutish face, was a formidable fighter. Without Woyun Manor’s help, he and his men would have been outmatched.

“Yun Yi, stop them!” Meng Yuanheng’s voice thundered with fury.

Yun Yi was locked in combat with the burly cultist. Hearing Meng Yuanheng’s angry command, he saw a man and woman rushing out and hastily ordered his shadow guards to surround them.

“Let her go.” Meng Yuanheng landed before the man in black, his expression thunderous and his gaze deadly. “It was the Xuan Prince’s Manor that destroyed your cult. If you want revenge, come for me. Leave her out of this!”

The woman in green laughed sweetly. “Prince Xuan, you journeyed all the way from the capital just to risk yourself and probe the depths of our cult. But our leader’s orders were clear: capture the woman Prince Xuan loves. I think we have the right person.”

Yun Yi suddenly understood: the woman slung over the man’s shoulder was that rather unconventional Princess Xuan. No wonder Meng Yuanheng was so enraged.

He couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for the Wuji Cult. To have provoked Meng Yuanheng’s wrath… they were doomed.

Shen Qianmo was on the verge of tears.

Since when had she become Meng Yuanheng’s beloved? Between them, aside from a nominal imperial betrothal, there was nothing.

Well, she admitted, she did feel a bit for Meng Yuanheng, and he did seem to care about her in return. But they certainly weren’t at that stage yet.

How, exactly, did they come to the conclusion that she was the woman Meng Yuanheng loved?