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Old Pan sighed and growled, "Jun Hu⌠it's a pity."
That phrase alone felt like a guillotine dropping.
"A pity that we accepted you into the family⌠that we trained you⌠trusted you⌠and gave you the weight of protecting our young master." His voice began to rise now, every syllable sharper than steel. "And now, his fate is unknown. Whether he lives or diesâwe do not know."
There was a pause.
Then came the judgment.
"You are held in capital offense under the Jun Family military code! The penalty is death! What do you have to say for yourself?!"
Lightning cracked in the sky, and the rain continued to pour.
Jun Hu didn't flinch and remained on his knees, unmoving.
Blood trickled down his chin, mixed with rainwater, but his face remained blankâneither fear nor regret.
"I have nothing to say in my defense," He said, voice barely audible. "I accept my punishment."
He could have spoken. He could have said that he had only followed the direct command of his young master.
He could have explained that Jun Mo Xie had ordered them to split apart, knowing that he alone was the target, so that the guards could escape with their lives.
He could have reminded Old Pang of the brutal fight he and his men waged, how they risked everything.
He could have spoken of the blood they spilled, the wounds they bore, the bodies they had to step over to survive.
But he said none of it.
Because deep in his heart⌠he knew.
If the young master died, then all their sacrifices meant nothing.
Valor was meaningless, honor was a farce, and duty undone could not be salvaged by memory or excuse.
Failure is failure.
And if Jun Mo Xie truly was dead⌠then Jun Hu deserved to die as well.
So he knelt there, eyes to the mud, accepting judgmentânot as a scapegoat, but as a soldier who had failed his mission.
"Hang on!"
However, just at that moment, a familiar voice suddenly rang out from beyond the courtyard wall.
Everyone's heads snapped around.
Thump!
With a smooth leap, Jun Mo Xie soared over the adjacent wall like a gust of wind slicing through the storm. His robes fluttered in the rain as he landed lightly on the wet ground, his hair plastered to his forehead, his boots splashing into the mud. His body was soaked and disheveled, but his voice was clear and strong.
He ran straight over, eyes blazing, and called out, "Old Pang! Please don't blame these people wrongly!"
His voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk.
The atmosphere shifted and even the rain seemed to hesitate for a breath.
"If Jun Hu hadn't fought so bravely," Jun Mo Xie continued, his tone firm and unwavering, "if he hadn't drawn away the enemy and risked his life to create a distraction⌠then I would never have gotten away alive."
The eight guards jerked their heads up, stunned.
Jun Hu's mouth fell slightly open.
Jun Mo Xie's expression was calm, but his words carried a weight that could not be denied.
He stood there before Old Pang, unbothered by the rain soaking him to the bone, and began to recount everythingâhow Jun Hu had disobeyed instinct, turned back when others would have run, shielded his young master with his own body, and led the enemy astray despite being gravely outnumbered.
How he had fought like a man with no regard for his life.
Jun Mo Xie didn't embellish, but his retelling was vivid, clear, and irrefutable.
The moment the tale ended, Old Pang's expression softened.
All that cold fury, that killing intent coiled within him like a coiled viper, vanished.
His brows relaxed. The rigid line of his mouth eased.
"Is that so?" He muttered, voice much lower now.
He nodded, slowly.
"Why didn't you say so earlier?" His tone wasn't scoldingâit was weary, touched with a trace of regret. He let out a long breath as the weight on his chest loosened.
Then, almost immediately, Old Pang turned his head and scanned the surroundings, his eyes narrowing againâbut this time with curiosity, not accusation.
"Where is this mysterious expert who saved you all?" He asked, his voice solemn. "To have saved the life of the young master⌠our entire Jun Family owes this man a great debt. Such a life-saving grace must not go unrewarded. We must honor him."
He turned slowly in place, as if hoping to spot the figure standing quietly in some hidden corner.
Jun Hu, who still remained kneeling in the rain, slowly raised a trembling hand and pointed in a direction not far behind Jun Mo Xie. His voice was steady, but quiet. "He went in that direction, but... he was too fastâtoo agile. I couldn't keep up, and I couldn't track which path he took after that."
His finger trembled slightly. His head remained low.
Jun Mo Xie stepped forward and rubbed his forehead with a wry smile, as if remembering something ridiculous.
"That man was really weirdâŚ" He muttered. "He didn't say a word after saving me. He just⌠kicked me right to the ground."
His hand dropped from his forehead, expression equal parts annoyed and amused. "Then he turned around and left. There was no thanks or goodbye. Just a kick. Like I was a sack of rice."
The absurdity of it made him frown, but deep down, he didn't seem angryâjust confused.
Old Pang narrowed his eyes slightly, thoughtful. "What did he look like?"
As he asked, his mind already began running through countless faces and figuresâpeople he had known, heard of, or sensed before.
Jun Mo Xie and Jun Hu both answered at the same time, but their tones couldn't have been more different.
"His face was masked," Jun Mo Xie said casually. "Impossible to tell."
"His face was masked," Jun Hu repeated, but his tone was heavier, weighted with gratitude, etched with memory. "We couldn't see who he was."
Old Pang furrowed his brows, deep in thought.
A figure masked. Strong enough to trample through an ambush. Fast enough to vanish without a trace. Arrogant enough to kick the young master without hesitationâand then disappear as if it were nothing.
Strange indeed.
He waved his hand abruptly, cutting through the silence. His voice regained its stern command.
"You eight," he said coldly, "will report directly to the master of the house. You will tell him everythingâevery single detail, no matter how small. Leave nothing out. After that, you will await the master's judgment."
His tone left no room for argument.
"Yes!" The eight guards replied in unison.
Their voices echoed across the rain-soaked courtyard, firm and resolute.
They rose to their feet as one, their earlier shame tempered by the young master's words and the reprieve from Old Pang.
Though their armor was tattered and their bodies bruised, they stood straight now, shoulders squared, eyes focused.
--- ⌠⌠⌠---
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