Chapter 11

The early spring night was chill, and the Wen family had just been dragged from their beds, clad only in thin undergarments. The cold stone floor beneath their knees seemed to chill them to their very souls.

Wen’s father and Lady Lu shielded Wen Yan and the others behind them, yet above each of their heads hung a blade, poised to fall at any moment. Their faces were pale, hearts filled with dread.

Wen’s father sought to save them all. After the leader finished speaking, he fell silent for a long while, carefully choosing his words, attempting to negotiate:

“Release my family members; they know nothing. I will stay behind.”

But to the leader, Wen’s father’s words seemed laughable:

“You’re negotiating with me?”

Before Wen’s father could respond, with a single glance from the leader, a figure stepped forward from the black-clad assassins. He seized Wen Ruxu, forcing him to the ground onto his knees with brutal speed. The impact echoed sharply, making hearts tremble.

The leader said coldly:

“Wen Youzhi, you have two sons and three daughters. From now on, if you utter a single false word, I will behead one of them.”

At his words, a blade was raised high above Wen Ruxu’s neck.

Lady Lu’s eyes filled with fury as she lunged forward:

“Stop! Ruxu! Ruxu...”

With a chilling sound, the gleaming blade descended, pressing against her neck. Her violent struggle left a bloody gash on her skin.

Wen’s father twitched, pulling her forcefully into his arms, gritting his teeth:

“Don’t move, my lady.”

Wen Ruxu knelt with his back to the others. Hearing the commotion, he turned his head, offering a faint smile to reassure his mother:

“Mother, I’m alright. Please don’t worry.”

For now, he was unharmed.

Wen Yan sat cross-legged amid the group, his face hidden in shadow, expression calm and far less agitated than the rest of the Wen family.

He seemed like a detached observer.

Perhaps frightened by the scene, Wen Changning—who had never liked her—suddenly grabbed her arms. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared ahead, her pale knuckles digging into Wen Yan’s flesh.

The leader, satisfied with the intimidation, stepped closer, lowering his gaze to Wen’s father with a cold glare:

“Where is the item?”

Wen’s father exhaled, struggling to remain composed:

“Outside the city.”

The leader pressed again:

“How did you discover it?”

Wen’s father replied:

“By chance, during a ship inspection.”

“Why did you detain it without permission?”

“I was momentarily blinded by greed,” Wen’s father confessed.

The dialogue seemed balanced, but Wen’s father revealed nothing beyond that.

The leader was no fool; he quickly realized Wen was stalling:

“Wen Youzhi, top scholar under the late emperor, your tongue is indeed sharp.”

Wen’s father bowed his head silently, feigning obedience.

“Seems you don’t care for your children’s lives.”

A cruel smile twisted the leader’s lips:

“I hear your eldest son is a prodigy, a top scholar with unmatched talent. Such a shame!”

Wen’s father suddenly raised his head—and at that moment, the blade above Wen Ruxu’s head came down.

“Ruxu!”

“Stop!”

Wen’s father lost all composure. The blade stopped just shy of Wen Ruxu’s neck, less than an inch away, but it still sliced through several strands of hair drifting to the ground.

Though Wen Ruxu could not see, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end instantly.

His heart seemed to empty for a moment, his mind clouded.

Only when the voice above sounded again did he feel his footing return.

Wen Ruxu opened his tightly shut eyes.

He was still alive.

Wen’s father’s throat was hoarse; each word tasted of iron and salt:

“I told you, don’t harm him.”

The leader replied coldly:

“I don’t have much patience, Wen Youzhi. You should know if you hadn’t revealed that the item was with you, your entire family would have been slaughtered by now.”

Wen’s father’s straight back bent:

“Yes.”

The leader’s tone softened slightly:

“I ask again—besides you, who else knows about the item on the ship?”

Wen’s father struggled to answer:

“I inspected that ship alone. No one else knows.”

“Do you know the origin of the item?”

“No. I’ve said, I was blinded by greed and made a grave mistake. I can return the item and ask only that my family be spared. You may do as you please with me.”

“Is that so?” The leader pressed further:

“You say greed, yet your family lacks no wealth. Your daughter has earned a fortune. Why would you covet that ship’s contents?”

Wen’s father said:

“My greed was not for silver.”

“For what then?”

“To return to the capital. I could not fulfill this wish. I hoped the item would help me forge connections there.”

The leader’s expression twisted oddly at this, though only Wen Yan noticed.

Suddenly, Wen Yan realized something was wrong. He glanced quickly at Wen’s father’s back, then back at the leader.

Sure enough, the leader’s face showed no trace of earlier emotions. His eyes glinted coldly:

“Kill them all. Leave no survivors.”

Wen’s father gasped:

“You...”

The leader fixed him with a murderous glare:

“Wen Youzhi, rest assured I will kill you last. You will watch as your children and wife are torn apart before your eyes.”

He paused, then spoke slowly:

“This is the price for deceiving me.”

The leader had realized he had been duped. He knew full well what was on that ship. If Wen Youzhi had truly known, he would never have spoken of the item as a means to gain favor in the capital.

That was a death wish.

The item was not in Wen Youzhi’s possession at all. His words were only to buy time and protect his family.

The leader was furious at Wen Youzhi’s cunning and unwilling to waste any more time.

Still, he punished Wen Ruxu.

The blade rose again, cold and merciless, cutting through the air with a gleam that stung the eyes.

Wen Yan knew this time the blade was meant to kill, and once it fell, blood would stain its edge.

He nearly heard the muffled thud of Wen Qu’s head hitting the ground.

“No—”

Lady Lu gasped, breathless, abandoning all decorum as she broke free from Wen Youzhi’s grasp, hair disheveled, rushing forward.

The rest of the Wen family, young and old, did the same.

The terror and despair of impending death overwhelmed them all.

They seemed to feel the pain already, smell the blood, taste rust on their tongues, their vision flooded with crimson.

The silver crescent moon overhead vanished completely. Thick black clouds pressed down like a mountain.

An indescribable, crushing fear and confusion filled every heart.

Their pupils reflected Wen Ruxu’s bowed, kneeling figure—and that terrifying blade.

The blade’s descent seemed to slow.

They saw the path of the blade clearly.

“Will we be beheaded like this soon?” Wen Changning murmured, eyes fixed ahead, as if dazed.

She didn’t even notice when Wen Yan gently pulled her hand away.

Just as everyone resigned themselves to Wen Ruxu’s death,

In a flash, a pale hand grabbed his waist from behind, yanking him sharply backward.

With a crisp clang, the blade fell empty, striking the hard stone floor and sparking.

Frozen in that moment, the onlookers suddenly snapped back to reality.

Wen Ruxu still knelt on the ground in the same posture.

But on closer look, his thin shirt pressed to his back was soaked with cold sweat.

The scene stunned everyone. The assassin wielding the blade hadn’t expected to miss.

From the order given to Wen Ruxu’s rescue to the blade’s empty strike, only moments passed—brief yet agonizingly long.

Silence enveloped the area.

Lady Lu sobbed, calling out to Ruxu, bringing the others to their senses.

The assassins’ faces changed drastically. With swift motions, those on the perimeter drew their swords.

The lambs meant for slaughter now possessed the means to resist.

Their eyes swept rapidly over the Wen family.

The Wen family, however, looked even more bewildered.

No one saw clearly what had happened—even Wen Ruxu himself was at a loss.

He turned back, only to find that his rescuer was Wen Yan—the frail, sickly third sister.

His mouth opened slightly, unsure how to react.

Wen Yan rose from the ground and stepped past the Wen family to the front.

Her slight, fragile figure seemed as though it might break with a single bend—an incongruous sight in such peril.

Wen’s father weakly reached out to grasp her but missed.

The leader frowned.

Wen Yan glanced back at her father and said quietly:

“Father.”

He looked confused.

She continued:

“Did you get anything out of him?”

The assassins looked puzzled.

Wen’s father opened his mouth but finally shook his head despondently:

“No.”

Neither useful information nor the family’s safety was secured.

Wen Yan seemed calm and composed:

“Then it seems his tongue is not easily loosened.”

Before anyone could respond, she added:

“In that case, no one will be spared.”

She smiled gently and politely asked:

“Before I act, does anyone have any last words?”

Her tone was matter-of-fact. The assassins, realizing what she said, instantly raged.

The assassin who had missed before silently drew his sword, suddenly swinging at Wen Yan with far greater ferocity.

His tall, muscular frame exuded menace, the blade aimed straight for her life.

The stark contrast was too much to bear.

Wen Yan stepped forward to meet the attack. Though the darkness obscured her movements, a cracking sound and a muffled groan were heard.

What followed was unforgettable.

Wen Yan gripped a long blade and brought it down hard from above, clean and precise.

A sickening metallic clang rang out, and the man attacking her was split cleanly in two.

They even saw his eyes blink—one higher than the other—still connected by strands of blood.

Perhaps one foot remained planted, as one half of his body slid neatly down the cut before collapsing, and the other half stood briefly before falling.

The scene was horrifying yet strangely beautiful.

Even the black-clad killers, accustomed to bloodshed, trembled.

Yet when Wen Yan withdrew her blade, a smile lingered on her face, her features calm as if she had just split a piece of ordinary wood.

Thick, hot blood pooled at her feet, soaking her shoes.

In that moment, she seemed a phantom standing amid an endless sea of blood—terrifying, mysterious, and breathtakingly beautiful.

Her lips moved, hesitating before her words reached their ears:

“This blade is dull.”