Chapter 1: The Fallen Lady

"Young Miss, run, run!"

The maid’s cry seemed to still echo in her ears, but Yang Luo knew the maid was already dead.

Although the maid was a few years older and taller than her, she was no match for the bandits' blades.

Yet, the maid had turned back without a moment’s hesitation.

"Young Miss, I’ll hold them off, you run—"

Yang Luo’s face was covered in tears.

She ran and ran.

In the pitch-black night, lightning flashed and thunder roared, the rain pouring down in torrents.

The rain hit her body like gravel.

In the dense forest, withered branches and tangled wood were like blades.

Yang Luo fell time and again.

It felt like a nightmare.

During the day, she had still been acting spoiled beside her mother, complaining that her clothes were too small. Her mother had ordered the servants and maids to bring over various fabrics for her to choose from and had even measured her personally.

"Our Luo-luo is growing so fast. Next year, when you reach your fifteenth year and the capping ceremony, I will light a hundred lanterns and set off fireworks to celebrate."

Then, in the middle of the night, she was pulled from her deep sleep by her mother and pushed out the door.

"Luo-luo, go quickly and report this to the authorities, go quickly."

"Luo-luo, you must live, you must survive."

She was carried onto a horse by the servants and fled. Looking back, she saw her home engulfed in flames, with countless flaming arrows flying through the air.

Although she had escaped the house, the bandits had surrounded the perimeter.

As they galloped outward, a dozen men chasing them raised their bows and arrows, shouting as they let fly.

The servants beside her fell one by one, until all those protecting her were dead and the horse she rode was struck by an arrow and collapsed. She was pushed into the mountain forest by the only remaining maid.

She had hoped to hide, but the group of bandits had followed.

To buy time, the maid had rushed out to block them.

Panic-stricken and losing her way, she crashed into a thicket of sharp, tangled bushes. Her soaked clothes, already fragile, were torn to shreds.

Yang Luo let out a miserable cry and fell to her knees, tumbling to the side.

The ground trembled, and the clamor in the heavy rain grew closer.

"Chase—"

"They’re right here, they can’t escape!"

The bandits had caught up.

She couldn't run anymore, and she didn't want to. Rain and tears gushed down her face.

Mother was dead.

Could she still live? She didn't want to live either.

But her mother’s voice rang in her ears.

"Luo-luo, survive, you must live."

No, she couldn't just die like this. She had to live; she had to avenge her mother.

Yang Luo struggled to crawl up, gritted her teeth, and dove into the bushes. She crawled and crawled, pushed through the thicket, and ran forward again.

But, after only a few steps, with a *whoosh*, an arrow landed behind her, piercing the hem of her skirt.

Yang Luo let out a scream and lunged forward.

From behind came a strange cry: "Found her—"

Yang Luo scrambled forward, even as her clothes tore, but firelight was already rising behind her.

"The little brat is here—"

"Yo, she’s quite fair-skinned—"

The cuts, scrapes, and scratches on her body seeped blood, which bled through her messy, torn clothes, making her skin look even whiter.

Yang Luo had just turned fourteen. Although she rarely left the house, she had heard the maids gossiping about whose family on the outskirts had been robbed, and whose daughter had been ruined.

She couldn't. Even if she died, she could not be defiled by this group of bandits.

Yang Luo grabbed a withered branch from the ground and turned to face the approaching bandits.

Under the torchlight, she could see four or five men closing in.

The four or five men also saw the little girl holding a withered branch.

The little girl might have been trying to look fierce, but to the vicious bandits, it was truly comical.

They burst into wild laughter. "This little lady is quite fierce."

One bandit grinned hideously, stopping the others from shooting their arrows.

"Let me, let me, let me have a go with this little lady," he said, then let out a lewd laugh. "I’d be willing to be stabbed by this little lady."

The other bandits cackled and actually lowered their weapons, watching as that bandit stepped forward alone.

"Come, little lady." The bandit pointed to his own chest. "Stab right here."

Yang Luo’s vision was blurred by tears. She knew the branch in her hand couldn't kill this bandit, but if she could lunge forward and grab his blade to kill herself, that would be enough.

She let out a scream and lunged forward with the branch, but a sound of wind was faster than her.

*Pfft.* It grazed her ear.

The next moment, a muffled grunt followed.

The world seemed to fall silent.

The bandit who had been puffing out his chest looked down in disbelief at his own front. A branch had pierced his heart. Not only had it pierced him, but the bandits standing behind could see that the branch had gone clean through his body, and blood was dripping from the tip.

A branch... it could actually pierce a chest? This was the bandit's final thought. The next moment, he spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed to the ground, twitching as he died.

The other bandits finally reacted.

"What!"

"There are accomplices!"

"Kill her!"

As they shouted, the bandits prepared to draw their bows, but they were a step too late. More branches flew from behind Yang Luo, and several bandits tumbled to the ground.

What was happening?

Yang Luo gripped the branch, stunned. Someone grabbed her from behind.

"Go—"

She was pulled with great force and stumbled as she ran to the side. More bandits, who had been a few steps behind, caught up.

"Chase—"

"Shoot!"

The firelight flickered, and arrows flew wildly. The branch in Yang Luo’s hand had already fallen. The force pulling her was immense; she felt as if she were flying, and then, she truly was flying.

She was falling.

Someone had tucked her under their arm and leaped; her body was suspended in mid-air.

Yang Luo let out a scream and instinctively clung to the person pulling her as they fell into the mountain ravine in the pouring rain.

Above them, the clamor continued, and the sound of blades clashing grew even more intense.

"...Who is it!"

"There are accomplices!"

"Leave no one alive!"

"Kill them!"

The shouts and killing intent did not dissipate as they fell; instead, they grew more raucous.

And Yang Luo did not plummet straight to the bottom of the ravine like the rain. At the moment of the fall, she was suddenly pressed hard against the cliff face.

Her feet were still dangling, and her hands were instinctively clutching the person tightly.

A scream came from above, and someone else fell, followed by the torch that person had been holding.

By the light of the falling torch, Yang Luo saw the person she was holding: a dusty face and a pair of pitch-black, indifferent eyes.

The nightmare of this night had exhausted her spirit and strength. Looking into those eyes, Yang Luo could no longer hold on; her head drooped, and she fainted.

...

...

The rain was torrential, falling in dense sheets, washing over the cliff until the mountain rocks seemed unable to withstand it, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Mo Zheng held the unconscious girl in one arm, his other hand gripping the iron sword he had driven into the cliff face. He was like a part of the cliff itself, unmoved by the lashing rain.

The sounds of fighting above gradually faded. Firelight flickered and shone from above, and the next moment, several torches were thrown down. They fell to the bottom of the ravine, igniting a blaze that illuminated the jagged rocks and the twisted, broken corpses that had just fallen.

The nearly inaudible footsteps above disappeared into the distance. Below the cliff, the torches were extinguished by the pouring rain, and the world returned to silence.

Mo Zheng pulled out his iron sword, and they fell once more, disappearing into the heavy rain with the sound of clashing metal and stone.