"Supervisor Xue has issued an order: if you encounter the Demon Sect Saintess, kill without mercy."
The Eastern Factory head officer advanced slowly with a knife in hand.
Min Ning's pupils shrank abruptly. He instinctively retreated step by step, reaching out to shield Yin Tingxue and positioning himself in front of the Eastern Factory head officer.
The Eastern Factory head officer noticed the scene and shouted sternly:
"Min Household Commander, how bold of you! The Supervisor's orders are clear—are you intending to protect the Demon Sect Saintess?!"
As the words fell, a sharp pain spread across Min Ning's shoulder, and his grip on Yin Tingxue loosened involuntarily.
Yin Tingxue stared at the gleaming blade inching closer. Blood seeped from her shoulder, vivid red against her pale skin. Rain lashed against her lovely yet paper-white face. Death loomed near as her gaze gradually dulled.
The rain grew heavier.
"Stop..."
Min Ning raised his blade and stepped forward, intending to shield Yin Tingxue.
The Eastern Factory head officer, however, sneered coldly. Before Min Ning could advance further, the officer's blade had already slashed down with swift precision.
The long blade tore through the air.
BANG!
In the sound of rain, the clash of metal rang out, resonating like a morning bell or evening drum.
Through the dense downpour, a figure in a dark official robe emerged, water dripping from their soaked hair. Their long, slender fingers gripped a blade tightly, halting the officer's strike mid-air.
"Min Ning, oh how long I've been searching for you."
That voice carried no discernible emotion—neither joy nor sorrow.
Min Ning stood dumbfounded, his blood seeming to freeze as he stumbled backward.
The Eastern Factory head officer retreated repeatedly and shouted, "Who are you?!"
The figure did not answer. Instead, they pressed on Yin Tingxue's acupoint to staunch the bleeding. Then, without a word, they took her hand. She, breathing heavily, looked blankly at the figure, her body trembling as if ready to collapse at any moment.
Yin Tingxue had never imagined that this person would appear at such a time.
"Why... why is it you..."
Blood loss clouded her mind as she felt herself nearing death. Yet, in her desperation, she pleaded bitterly:
"Save me..."
Chen Yi let out a cold chuckle and, without haste, hoisted her onto his back. Her body was feeble, her arms weakly crossed, leaving her no choice but to slump against his broad back.
Yin Tingxue was momentarily dazed. Her vision alternated between vivid red and pitch black, the colors swirling in chaotic patterns. Her thoughts, tangled and disordered, spun like a lantern's carousel. The blur of colors eventually merged into the snowy expanse of Yintai Temple.
She hated him, even though she wasn't sure where the hatred stemmed from. Yet hate she did. She had always been decisive, and when she chose to hate someone, it lingered for a long time. Thus, she didn't know what to say, what words could compel an enemy to become a savior.
"Save me..."
On the verge of death, the Saintess murmured once more, her plea strangely morphing into a sobbing threat:
"All the ways you've wronged me—I've remembered them all.
If you don't save me, I'll hate you for the rest of my life; I'll only hate you, and no one else, for my entire life..."
After delivering her "forceful" threat, her eyes fluttered shut, and she fainted as if lifeless.
Chen Yi felt her head loll onto his neck but paid no heed to her words. Her threats were akin to a child's tantrum, saying, "I'll never talk to you again"—hardly to be taken seriously. She was frail yet stubbornly resolute, making her almost laughable. But still, despite it all, he couldn't help but feel pity for her.
The alleyway was uneven, the ground marked by puddles. Chen Yi carried his blade, the rain-soaked street exuding the chilling aura of death.
One, two, three...
In that narrow alley, there were precisely twenty-one people.
The group from the Eastern Factory stared at his official robes. The head officer among them recognized him with a look of astonishment—it was none other than the West Factory's Hundred Household Commander.
The autumn rain whipped across their faces as Chen Yi took a step forward.
Rain splattered beneath his feet.
The flash of a blade swept horizontally in a sudden arc.
With a sickening sound, skin and flesh were cleaved apart. The Eastern Factory head officer hastily retreated several steps, but not before a gash bloomed on his shoulder, spilling blood. He groaned in pain and activated his Copper Bone Skill, continuously retreating to gain space.
An Eastern Factory operative rushed forward with a roar, stepping past the head officer and raising a blade to strike.
Chen Yi twisted his blade from right to left, his body pivoting gracefully. The rainwater around him surged with the momentum of his strike, like waves crashing down, before the blade plunged into the operative's chest. Before the man could react, his body toppled backward, belatedly writhing in agony.
The tip of the Brocade Spring Blade tilted downward, piercing the man's throat, ending his suffering instantly.
In the narrow alley, Chen Yi charged forward. One operative lunged with a blade aimed straight for him. Chen Yi executed no extravagant moves, simply thrusting his own blade at the optimal distance. The unwitting assailant impaled themselves upon it, their advance coming to an abrupt halt.
Blood painted the alley red.
The Eastern Factory head officer, seeing that Chen Yi's blade was still embedded in a body, seized the chance to sidestep, slicing toward Chen Yi's arm.
Chen Yi's eyes gleamed coldly as he twisted his body with explosive force, using the corpse as a shield. The corpse collided with the head officer, forcing the latter back several steps. In the chaos, the officer swung his blade down onto Chen Yi's arm.
BANG!
It sounded like metal striking stone.
Chen Yi's sleeve tore open, yet his flesh bore only a faint scratch.
He, too, had mastered the Copper Bone Skill!
Realizing this, the head officer was stricken with terror. But Chen Yi had already withdrawn his blade from the corpse, thrusting it toward the officer's unguarded side.
Just then, a subordinate charged recklessly, lifting their arm to block the strike. Chen Yi adjusted his blade slightly upward, slicing the man's throat with precision and ease. The operative twitched uncontrollably before collapsing, splattering blood onto Chen Yi's face.
In mere seconds, three men lay lifeless.
The Eastern Factory operatives looked on in horror.
But the slaughter was far from over.
A few men exchanged glances, mustering their courage with shouts as they charged forward. Chen Yi, still carrying Yin Tingxue, countered with a swift horizontal and vertical slash. Two men clutched their throats within moments, blood mixing with the rain. Chen Yi pressed his hand against one of the bodies to steady himself.
Two more operatives flanked him. In this confined alley, their numerical advantage meant little. Adding to the disadvantage, all wielded blades, forcing only three to attack at a time. They roared to bolster their spirits as they advanced.
Chen Yi's strikes were sharp and efficient, wasting no motion. Their feigned bravado crumbled before their voices could rise—it was severed mid-throat by his blade.
Upon seeing their comrades fall one after another, the Eastern Factory head officer's eyes reddened with fury. With a desperate shout, he aimed his blade not at Chen Yi but at the unconscious Yin Tingxue on his back.
Chen Yi's gaze grew icy. He spun around sharply, raising his arm to intercept the powerful downward strike. Flesh split open, revealing bone, but the blade stopped short of breaking it. Expressionless, Chen Yi retaliated with a deadly slash.
SWISH.
The blade bit into the officer's neck and shoulder, tearing through flesh like paper. His eyes widened in disbelief as his head, flesh, and bone still attached, was severed cleanly. He died with his eyes open.
Chen Yi flicked his blade, scattering blood and rain onto the wall, leaving a vivid streak. He turned back, staring coldly at the remaining thirteen men, who were now paralyzed with fear.
In the third year of Great Yu's Huanglong era, on the night of August 18th, under pouring rain...
West Factory's Hundred Household Commander, Chen Zunming, killed twenty-one people in a single night.