However, Yuan Mo’s moves grew increasingly fierce with each strike, and soon Dong Qing no longer had the leisure to speak; moments later, he had her pinned down.

“Who sent you?” Yuan Mo pressed his sword against Dong Qing, the sharp tip piercing her soft skin and drawing a thin line of blood that trickled down her slender neck.

“…” She looked hesitant, as if weighing whether to betray her master. Just as Dong Qing was about to speak, she suddenly widened her eyes and glanced behind Yuan Mo, exclaiming, “Bai Xiao! How could you be here!”

Yuan Mo appeared calm on the surface, but inside he was already frantic, completely losing his usual composure. At her bait, he actually turned his head for a moment. Though he quickly recovered, Dong Qing had been waiting for just such an opening. With a flick of her colorful silk ribbon, she not only deflected Yuan Mo’s sword but also instantly wrapped it around his neck, instantly reversing the situation.

“If Master Bai Xiao were to see how deeply you care for her, he’d surely be moved to tears,” Dong Qing said, regaining her composure and slowly easing the tension in her nerves. But this time, she dared not loosen her grip at all—tightening the silk while circling behind Yuan Mo, she spoke in a seductive, magnetic voice: “Won’t you consider being with me? Compared with Bai Xiao, I’m far more feminine and certainly not as oblivious as she is. I’ll make you feel like you’re in heaven—” Before she could finish, however, a spray of blood erupted as a flash of sword light blossomed across her body!

“—Uh! No way! You—” A huge gash opened up on Dong Qing’s neck, and blood spurted out, instantly staining her white robes red.

It turned out that Yuan Mo had taken advantage of their close proximity to slip behind her, then swiftly turned and slashed her throat!

He dismissed any need to explain himself, instead proving with action the truth of his own words: “If you don’t want to die in a disgraceful manner, then don’t speak disrespectfully to Qiu Huan.” Afterward, despite struggling to breathe under the tight grip around his neck, he leapt away in a few swift bounds, hurrying back to the inn to protect Qiu Huan.

Looking back, Yuan Mo couldn’t understand why Dong Qing had assumed that once her silk ribbon ensnared him, he would lose all ability to fight back. In fact, that wasn’t the case at all. The very reason Dong Qing’s martial arts weren’t particularly refined yet still earned her favor from her master lay precisely here: not only did she wield a rather unconventional sword, but beyond traditional martial arts, she had also mastered an extraordinary art of seduction. In the past, any man she set her sights on invariably fell at her feet. In Dong Qing’s mind, the reason Yuan Mo had lost his composure earlier was simply because he’d been influenced by her. Throughout their conversation, she had continuously employed her seductive techniques, believing she had firmly brought Yuan Mo under her control—never imagining that, from beginning to end, he hadn’t been affected in the slightest by her charms.

Poorly, this generation’s beauty was cut down by an unromantic man, never knowing where she had gone wrong until her dying breath.

Around dusk, the three of them arrived in the heart of Xinxiang—the Fengchen Street area. The journey there had been much faster, but on the return trip, considering Duan Yunhe’s injury, they not only used a large carriage but also traveled very smoothly. That was because they had already left the outskirts of Gǔyuǎn when they set out; otherwise, they might not have made it back until late at night. Still, since their appointment with Cheng Jingtian was the day after tomorrow, returning even late at night wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, before he came, Qiu Huan had no intention of seeking help from any other physician, so there was no real rush.

It wasn’t just that one shouldn’t entrust two masters with the same task; anyone whom the Star Valley’s leader disapproved of was destined for the underworld anyway—seeking someone else would be pointless. Moreover, news of Duan Yunhe’s poisoning shouldn’t get out too widely. If word spread, Qiu Huan worried people might use her as leverage or that Duan Yunhe’s background could bring trouble upon her. After all, she didn’t know much about Duan Yunhe’s past; although she had promised Yuan Mo last time that she’d look into it, the matter had ultimately been put on hold.

In that sense, Yuan Mo’s earlier assessment was indeed spot-on: Qiu Huan and Duan Yunhe, two people who knew nothing about each other’s backgrounds, shared an unusual level of trust—even to the point of disregarding their own safety. To outsiders, that really did seem quite strange.

Of course, the caution born of not knowing Duan Yunhe’s background was entirely different from regarding her as a burden. Qiu Huan definitely didn’t think of her that way. Regardless of their personal relationship, the fact that Duan Yunhe had risked her life to save Qiu Huan this time meant that Qiu Huan had a duty to protect her well.

Back at Shuanglin Courtyard, it was obviously empty—Yuan Qian hadn’t returned either. Qiu Huan and the others didn’t know that Yuan Qian had already been captured by Hui Yuan; they assumed she hadn’t yet uncovered any useful intelligence from Hui Yuan and was still lying low in Gǔyuǎn. It was just that Yuan Qian often went away for days at a time, and Qiu Huan never insisted on having her report every step of the mission, which led to this situation: Yuan Qian got into trouble, yet they remained completely unaware.

In the quiet Shuanglin Courtyard, he only thought about protecting her, while she took things one step at a time, worrying only occasionally about the unconscious person and paying no further attention to anything else.

The night passed without a word.

Only that enormous vortex, whose origin no one knew, quietly brewed beneath the tranquil air, waiting for the right moment to swallow everyone whole.

The next day.

Qiu Huan rarely woke up as early as she did this time—before most people even rose, at what would normally be considered a very early hour for her. Afterwards, she dressed and washed up alone, and Yuan Mo helped tie her hair.

It seemed that none of the members of their group liked having others nearby—for example, she, Ming Zhen, Yuan Mo, Yuan Qian, and even Hui Yuan, whom they had met that day—all lacked personal attendants. Perhaps it was because assassins tend to be highly alert; even harmless people could make them nervous if approached casually.

End of Chapter 17: Undercurrents