Chapter Fourteen: I Will Hate You for the Rest of My Life

"Commander Xue has issued an order: should you encounter the Saintess of the Demonic Cult, execute her without mercy."

The Eastern Depot officer stepped forward slowly, his blade drawn.

Min Ning’s pupils constricted. Instinctively, he retreated step by step, reaching out to shield Yin Tingxue, positioning himself between her and the officer.

Noticing this, the officer barked, "Commander Min, you have a lot of nerve! The Commander has given a direct order—do you intend to defy him to protect the Demonic Cult’s Saintess?!"

As the words left his lips, a sharp, searing pain erupted in Min Ning’s shoulder, forcing his grip on Yin Tingxue to slacken.

Yin Tingxue watched the gleaming tip of the blade draw near. Crimson blood flowed from her shoulder, mixing with the rain that lashed against her pale, paper-thin face. As death closed in, her gaze began to lose its focus.

The rain intensified.

"Stop..."

Min Ning raised his own blade, struggling to shield her. But the Eastern Depot officer only offered a cold sneer. Before Min Ning could intervene, the officer struck with swift, lethal precision.

The long blade whistled through the air.

*Clang!*

The sound of metal clashing against metal rang out through the rain, as resonant as a morning bell.

Amidst the dense, driving rain, a figure in dark official robes stepped forward. Five slender fingers gripped a blade, the steel edge forcefully parrying the officer’s strike. Locks of hair, matted with rain, clung to the stranger's temples.

"Min Ning, you’ve certainly made it difficult for me to find you."

The man’s voice was void of both sorrow and joy.

Min Ning stood frozen, his blood running cold as he stumbled backward.

The Eastern Depot officer retreated repeatedly, shouting, "Who goes there?"

The man did not answer. He merely pressed a finger to the pressure points of the Princess of Xiang to stem the bleeding, then silently took her hand. The latter, her breathing shallow and ragged, stared at this figure in a daze, her body swaying as if she might collapse at any moment.

Yin Tingxue had never imagined that this man would appear at such a time.

"Why... why is it you..."

Blood loss had left her thoughts in disarray. Feeling as though death were imminent, she pleaded in a desolate voice:

"Save me..."

Chen Yi chuckled softly. Without haste, he hoisted her onto his back. Lacking the strength to hold on, she crossed her arms, resting limply against his broad shoulders.

Yin Tingxue drifted in and out of consciousness. Before her eyes, splashes of red and black wove together in a chaotic tapestry. Her mind grew murky, memories flickering by like a lantern, eventually dissolving into the vast, boundless snow of Yintai Temple.

She hated him. Though she could not recall the source of this resentment, hate remained hate. She had always been resolute; once she decided to hate someone, she would do so for a long time. She did not know what to say to turn an enemy into a savior.

"Save me..."

The Princess of Xiang was fading. Driven by some inexplicable impulse, after her plea, she choked out a threat:

"I’ve noted down every way you’ve bullied me. If you don't save me, I will hate you for the rest of my life—I will hate only you for as long as I live..."

Having delivered this "tough" ultimatum, her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell into a death-like faint.

Chen Yi felt her head loll against the back of his neck. He paid her words no mind; they were like a child vowing never to speak to someone again—impossible to take seriously. She was clearly frail, yet strangely stubborn, which brought a faint smile to his lips. Even so, he could not help but feel a pang of pity.

The alleyway was pitted and uneven. Chen Yi gripped his blade, the air thick with the murderous intent of the rain.

One, two, three...

There were twenty-one of them in the alley.

The Eastern Depot men stared at his official attire. The leading officer had already recognized him: he was that centurion from the Western Depot.

The autumn rain rode the wind, lashing against his face. Chen Yi took a step forward.

His boots splashed through the puddles.

With a sweep of his blade, he struck horizontally.

Flesh tore. The Eastern Depot officer scrambled back, but a bloody gash was already carved into his shoulder. Grunting in pain, he channeled his 'Copper Bone' internal energy and retreated further.

Another agent lunged forward, shouting as he bypassed the officer, raising his sword to strike.

Chen Yi twisted his blade, swinging from right to left as his body pivoted. The surrounding rain seemed to surge with the force of his strike, cutting into the agent's chest. Before the man could even land a blow, he collapsed backward, only then beginning to moan in agony.

Chen Yi drove the tip of his Embroidered Uniform Guard blade into the man's throat, ending his suffering.

In the narrow alley, Chen Yi lunged forward, hunched low. Another agent thrust his blade, but Chen Yi, with no wasted motion, countered at the perfect distance. The agent ran straight onto the blade, his momentum coming to an abrupt halt.

Blood spattered the alley floor.

Seeing Chen Yi’s blade still embedded in the corpse, the Eastern Depot officer seized the chance, circling to the side to strike.

Chen Yi’s eyes sharpened. He exerted a sudden burst of power, twisting his entire body and swinging the corpse itself as a shield. The body collided with the officer, forcing him to stumble back. In his panic, the officer slashed at Chen Yi’s arm.

*Bang!*

It sounded like iron striking stone.

The sleeve of Chen Yi’s arm was shredded, yet his skin bore only a thin red scratch.

*The Copper Bone technique!*

The realization struck the officer with terror. But Chen Yi had already wrenched his blade from the corpse and thrust it toward the officer's vulnerable point.

At that moment, another agent charged in, fearless, raising his arm to block the blow. Chen Yi flicked his wrist upward, and the blade pierced the man’s throat. The agent shuddered and collapsed, blood splattering onto Chen Yi’s face.

In a few short breaths, three men were dead.

The remaining Eastern Depot agents were filled with horror.

But the slaughter continued.

A few agents exchanged glances, shouting to suppress their fear as they rushed forward. Chen Yi, with Yin Tingxue still on his back, executed two quick, backhanded slashes. Two more agents felt a sweetness rise in their throats as they fell; amidst the rain, Chen Yi pressed his hand against them, finishing the job.

Two more circled him. In the narrow alley, the advantage of numbers was negated. With the Eastern Depot men relying on swords, only three could attack at once. They roared, trying to bolster their courage.

Chen Yi’s blade work was crisp and ruthless, devoid of any hesitation. The courage they had tried to summon vanished as the blade swept through, cutting their lives short.

Seeing his men fall, the Eastern Depot officer’s eyes turned bloodshot. He screamed and lunged—not at Chen Yi, but at the unconscious Yin Tingxue on his back.

Chen Yi’s gaze turned glacial. He spun, catching the heavy, powerful blow with his own arm. Flesh tore, the steel stopping only against the bone. Face as calm as still water, he swung his blade.

*Slash.*

The edge struck the officer’s collarbone, slicing through skin and muscle like paper. The Eastern Depot officer’s eyes bulged as his head, skin and bone alike, was severed. He died with his eyes wide open.

Chen Yi shook the blood from his blade; droplets mixed with rain to streak the walls in vibrant crimson. He turned, looking expressionlessly at the remaining thirteen men, whose spirits were now utterly shattered.

On the eighteenth day of the tenth month, the third year of the Huanglong era of the Great Yu, heavy rain fell.

That night, Chen Zunming, Centurion of the Western Depot, slew twenty-one men.