Minutes later, Diexin runs with the Duan family members, surrounded tightly by their family guards as they flee the shattered camp and plunge deeper into the forest path.
Branches whip past, breath turns ragged, and the orderly clearing becomes distant chaos behind them.
"This is outrageous!" the second uncle's daughter cries, tears streaking her face as she stumbles forward.
"How dare they attack a noble gathering?"
Diexin's thoughts churn even as her feet keep moving.
Who dares to do this inside the Royal Forest, under the king's eyes?
Chu Feng's face flashes through her mind.
If he is behind this… then she cannot hesitate.
She would have to sever all ties with him.
Chu Feng is her friend.
He saved her life.
He sheltered her when she was at her lowest, when even breathing felt like a burden.
If it were only her, she would protect him without question.
But she is no longer alone.
She is the principal wife of the Duan Family.
Every step she takes now carries the weight of Merin's clan, of their future, of their survival.
Another cry rings out, sharp with panic.
"Where is Lee?"
Diexin turns.
Merin's cousin has stopped running entirely, her face pale, eyes frantic, tears spilling unchecked.
She looks around wildly, as if the child might suddenly appear between the trees.
"Lee is missing," she sobs.
Diexin's heart sinks.
The cousin grips Diexin's arm with trembling fingers, nails biting into flesh.
"Sister Wenji," she pleads, voice breaking, "Lee is only eight years old."
Diexin looks toward the guard captain.
The man's jaw tightens.
"Lady, returning now is extremely dangerous."
The cousin's expression twists with fury and despair.
She whirls on him, hatred blazing in her eyes.
"You servant!" she screams.
"Do you want your master to die?"
The guard captain does not respond to her.
He turns instead to Diexin, lowering his voice.
"Lady, for everyone's safety, we must leave the forest immediately."
Diexin hesitates.
She looks at the gathered family members.
Some stare at her with naked hope, silently begging her to save the child.
Others avoid her gaze, lips murmuring agreement while their eyes betray a single desire: to escape, to live, to leave Lee behind.
She opens her mouth to speak.
Footsteps thunder from behind.
Fast.
Heavy.
Too many.
Her head snaps up.
Figures burst through the trees, faces concealed by dark masks, swords drawn, charging straight toward them.
Diexin's eyes narrow.
"Looks like we cannot escape," she says calmly.
The guard captain reacts instantly.
"Stand behind us," he commands.
"We will protect you."
He draws his blade and signals the guards forward.
Steel clashes as the first masked attackers collide with the defensive line.
The forest fills with the sound of metal striking metal, boots sliding on soil, breath grunted through clenched teeth.
The guards fight in tight formation, shields up, blades precise and disciplined.
The masked figures move fast, aggressive, pressing in from multiple angles, their coordination sharp and practised.
One guard is forced back, barely blocking a downward strike.
Another slashes low, cutting into a masked man's thigh, sending him stumbling before a finishing thrust drops him into the leaves.
Blood darkens the forest floor.
The fight grinds on.
Neither side gives ground.
Blades lock, sparks flash, and bodies strain against one another as the battle settles into a brutal stalemate.
Then a sharp, piercing sound cuts through the chaos.
A whistle.
High and clear.
Diexin's eyes harden.
A signal.
Reinforcements.
She turns sharply to the eldest aunt.
"Aunty," she says, voice firm, "take care of them."
Before anyone can stop her, she steps forward.
Unarmed.
She moves into the fray with a guard at her side.
A masked figure lunges, sword aimed for her chest.
She pivots, grabs the attacker's wrist, and drives her shoulder into his ribs.
Bones crack.
She twists, using his momentum, and slams him into the ground.
The guard does not hesitate.
His blade flashes down, ending the masked man's life.
Diexin stoops, picks up the fallen sword, and turns.
Her movements are clean, efficient, terrifyingly calm.
Even with cultivation sealed, her body is far from weak.
As a third-tier spiritual refiner, her physical strength rivals a Blood Seal Realm warrior.
The arrays mute energy, not muscle.
She cuts through the fight.
A slash to the throat.
A thrust through the chest.
A broken arm followed by a decisive strike.
With her joining, the balance shifts instantly.
The masked figures falter.
Their formation breaks.
One by one, they fall.
Victory is within reach.
Then Diexin sees movement beyond the trees.
More figures.
More masks.
More drawn blades.
They are coming.
Diexin snaps her head toward the two guards fighting at her sides and shouts, "Take them," then tilts her chin sharply toward the fleeing family members, "and return to the city."
The two guards hesitate, blades still dripping, eyes flicking between her and the forest shadows.
The guard captain steps forward, voice strained but controlled.
"Lady, you must go with them."
Diexin answers by surging forward instead.
Her sword flashes, her movements suddenly fierce, relentless, almost reckless, and she drives straight into the masked figure before her.
"Do as I say!" she shouts without looking back.
The hesitation breaks.
The two guards disengage at once, forcing their way back toward the family members, shields raised as they retreat.
Diexin kills the enemy in front of her with a clean thrust through the throat.
She wrenches the blade free, breath sharp, muscles burning, not allowing herself even a heartbeat of relief.
The forest answers her victory with movement.
Reinforcements burst from between the trees, boots pounding, blades drawn, masks gleaming dully in the slanted light.
Two of them rush her together.
Diexin plants her feet.
She meets the first strike head-on, parrying hard enough to numb her arm, then steps inside the second attacker's guard and drives her elbow into his jaw.
He staggers.
She turns, slashes low, cutting deep into the first attacker's thigh, then spins and brings her sword up to block a strike aimed at her neck.
They are strong, trained, and coordinated, but not stronger than her.
With cultivation sealed, her body still moves with terrifying precision, her muscles dense, refined, far beyond ordinary warriors.
She wounds them methodically, cutting tendons, opening flesh, forcing them back inch by inch.
A sharp whistle pierces the air.
Her eyes flick toward the sound.
Another masked figure rushes in to replace the fallen, blade already swinging.
Diexin steps into him and kills him with a brutal thrust through the chest.
Another whistle answers.
Another enemy takes his place.
The forest feels suddenly crowded, hostile, closing in from all sides.
She moves without pause, killing again, then again, her breathing controlled even as sweat stings her eyes and her arms grow heavy.
Slowly, imperceptibly at first, the space between her and the guards widens.
The fighting pulls her deeper into the trees.
She kills another attacker with a downward cut that splits the collarbone and chest.
Then something snaps through the air.
Her instincts scream.
She twists and leaps, rolling midair as a dark blur whips past where her head had been.
She lands hard, skidding across leaves, and looks up.
A whip coils back into a woman's hand.
The newcomer steps forward calmly, mask discarded, her face revealed.
Diexin's breath catches.
Recognition pricks at her memory like a needle.
"I'll handle her," the woman says coolly.
The others pull back at once.
The woman attacks.
The whip cracks like thunder, striking toward Diexin's legs, then her throat, then her wrist, each strike fast and precise.
Diexin blocks with her sword, metal ringing as the whip glances off, but the impact rattles her arm.
They circle.
The woman moves with lethal grace, her steps light, her posture relaxed, her eyes sharp and assessing.
As they exchange blows, memory stirs.
Diexin has seen her before.
Standing behind Shen Ling.
Silent.
Observant.
A shadow at his side.
Diexin's eyes widen slightly.
If this woman is here, then Shen Ling,
Her thoughts scatter.
The whip snaps again and catches her arm.
Pain explodes.
Skin tears.
Blood spills.
The sting drags her mind back into her body.
She grits her teeth and presses forward.
Diexin slashes, forcing the woman back, then ducks under a sweeping strike and drives her shoulder into the woman's ribs.
The woman stumbles but recovers instantly, twisting away, whip lashing out again.
The forest around them fades into noise and motion.
Only the woman remains.
Diexin's arm burns, her grip slick with blood, but she does not slow.
She advances, blade flashing, cutting, forcing openings.
The woman retreats a step, then another, eyes narrowing, lips curling slightly.
They clash again, sword against whip, strength against technique.
Diexin feints left and strikes right, grazing the woman's side.
The woman hisses softly and responds with a vicious downward snap that Diexin barely blocks.
The impact jars her wrist.
They separate.
Leaves crunch underfoot.
Somewhere, another whistle sounds, distant but persistent.
Diexin feels the gap between herself and the guards widen further.
She is alone now.
The woman's whip lashes out and coils around Diexin's sword.
Before Diexin can react, the whip tightens.
A powerful yank pulls her forward.
Her balance breaks.
The woman steps in close, eyes cold, voice low.
"This time," she says, tightening her grip, "I am going to kill you."