Mo Zhi's face turned pale. His legs shook as he stumbled backward, eyes wide with fear.
"Wh-What… is this?!" he stammered, his voice cracking while eerie howls echoed around them.
Mo Jie, just as terrified, grabbed Mo Zhi's arm, holding on tightly. "We're not facing a human… we're facing a demon!"
Feng Yao gasped and covered her mouth in shock. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she never would've believed it.
"You… you're a demon!" someone suddenly shouted. Panicked, he turned and ran toward the doors.
But before he could escape, Lang Huan calmly flicked her sleeve.
BANG!
The heavy doors slammed shut all at once. The man crashed into them hard and fell to the floor with a loud thud.
"No one is leaving tonight," Lang Huan said. Her voice was calm, but chilling.
Mo Zhi and Mo Jie froze in place, their faces pale, hearts pounding with fear.
Then Lang Huan looked at Mo Zhi. Her eyes were cold, sharp, and merciless.
"You will be the first," she whispered.
Mo Zhi turned and tried to run, but Lang Huan moved like a shadow.
In a flash, she pulled out a hairpin from her hair and stabbed it deep into Mo Zhi's eye.
"AAARGHH!!" Mo Zhi screamed, blood gushing from the wound as he collapsed to the ground.
Lang Huan slowly pulled out the bloody hairpin and, with a cruel smile, brought it to her lips. She licked the blood off, savoring the fear in the room.
Under the pale moonlight and the flickering flames of a campfire, she looked like a ghost out of a nightmare.
She crouched beside Mo Zhi, who was dying, and stabbed the hairpin into his other eye—again and again. His screams pierced the night.
"My eyes…!" he cried, writhing in agony on the ground.
Lang Huan let the hairpin fall from her hand. Then, with one brutal move, she ripped open his throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, painting the ground deep red.
Feng Yao clenched her sleeve, shocked beyond words. She had completely misjudged Lang Huan's strength—and her martial arts. This was something far beyond human.
Then she noticed something strange—Lang Huan's eyes were glowing blue. The air around her shifted, as if even the world itself was reacting to her presence.
What kind of martial art is this?! Feng Yao thought, her heart racing. I've never seen anything like this…
Mo Jie stumbled back in horror. His face was pale as death.
In desperation, he screamed, "Attack him!!!"
Blinded by fear, the rest of the group cried out and rushed toward Lang Huan.
They came at her from all directions. Lang Huan calmly reached down and grabbed Mo Zhi's sword from the ground.
With one step, she launched herself into the air. Spinning in midair, her blade swept in a wide arc—cutting through the attackers like a deadly storm.
Feng Yao couldn't take her eyes off Lang Huan. Her long hair flowed with every graceful move, and her face—cold but stunning—made her look dangerously charming.
Even the black clothes Feng Yao used to dislike now looked elegant on her. In that moment, it felt like her soul had fallen under Lang Huan's spell.
Suddenly, someone rushed at Lang Huan from behind with a sword.
Without even turning around, she threw her own blade. It spun through the air and hit the attacker right in the neck.
She walked over calmly and pulled the sword back out.
Then—AUUUUUUUUU! A chilling wolf's howl echoed through the room.
From the open window, a huge creature leapt in. It was a giant white wolf, its fur as pure as fresh snow, and its glowing ice-blue eyes locked on the enemy.
It was Xiao Bai.
With a deep growl, Xiao Bai landed and slashed the man with his sharp claws. The man's body flew into a pillar and hit it with a sickening crack.
"Xiao Bai… you finally came," Lang Huan said softly, a faint smile on her lips.
As if he understood her, the wolf growled gently and continued the fight, hunting beside his master.
In the end, everyone was dead.
Only Mo Jie was left alive. He screamed in terror and crawled backward. As Lang Huan stepped forward to finish him, Feng Yao quickly grabbed her arm.
"Let him go," she said gently. "Let him live and report everything to his master."
Lang Huan stayed silent for a moment.
Mo Jie, seizing the opportunity, scrambled to his feet. Without even daring to look back, he ran—his footsteps uneven, panicked, like a dying animal fleeing the slaughterhouse.
Lang Huan watched him leave, her expression unreadable. Slowly, she turned back to face Feng Yao. A faint frown appeared on her face.
Without saying a word, she let her sword drop to the ground with a soft clang. A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
Then, with a bitter smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, she whispered, "Are you afraid of me… after what I did?"
"Killing them was the right thing to do," Feng Yao answered, her voice low but firm. "They deserved it. The Moonblade Sect was nothing but a group of mountain bandits raised by my royal brother. Now they act like little kings, oppressing the people in the nearby village."
Lang Huan took a step forward. "Do I frighten you… when you see me like this?"
Feng Yao looked into her eyes—those strange, glowing blue eyes that no ordinary human could have. They were frightening… but beautiful.
"Have you ever killed innocent people?" she asked softly. "Robbed the helpless? Hurt them? Raped?"
Lang Huan shook her head without hesitation. "Never."
"Then I have no reason to be afraid of you," Feng Yao said, her voice calm, a soft smile touching her lips.
She stepped closer, until their bodies nearly touched, her voice a breath against the silence.
"Hug me," she whispered.
Lang Huan froze, surprised. But then, slowly, she wrapped her arms around Feng Yao's waist, holding her close with quiet tenderness. It was so different from the violence she had just shown.
Lowering her head, she pressed a kiss to Feng Yao's hair—light as a feather, as if she were afraid this moment might vanish like smoke.
Feng Yao leaned into her fully, resting her head against Lang Huan's chest.
She closed her eyes.
And there it was—the steady rhythm beneath the bloodstained robes.
Lang Huan's heartbeat. Still the same. Still warm. Still human.
Feng Yao tilted her head up slightly, a playful spark in her eyes.
It's strange…" she said with a mischievous smile, "You're terrifying… but I still like you so much."
Lang Huan blinked, surprised by her tone. She leaned in, gently cupping Feng Yao's cheek. Their lips were about to meet—
Pinch! Feng Yao's fingers suddenly pressed against Lang Huan's lips.
Lang Huan looked confused. "…Why?"
Feng Yao wrinkled her nose. "I don't like the smell of blood on your lips and body."
She tapped Lang Huan's chest with a teasing finger.
"Take a bath first. And change your clothes," she said, a seductive look in her eyes.
"Then… maybe I'll let you kiss me."
Lang Huan stared at her—then laughed. "Let's go. We need to find an inn."
Before Feng Yao could respond, Lang Huan bent down and swept her up into her arms.
She carried her with ease. Then, with a single leap, Lang Huan climbed onto the giant white wolf's back, settling herself behind Feng Yao.
The warmth of Lang Huan's body against her back made Feng Yao's heart flutter.
Xiao Bai let out a soft growl of agreement and began running into the night. The wind swirled around them. The trees blurred past as they moved through the forest trail.
For a while, everything was quiet—just the sound of the wind, the steady rhythm of the wolf's paws, and the warmth of each other.
Feng Yao smiled to herself. Even after everything that happened tonight… she still felt safe in the arms of her little demon.