The slide ended as abruptly as it had begun. Ma Jingguo shot out of the tunnel's mouth and landed hard on the stone floor with a dull thud and a sharp grunt of pain. For a moment, he simply sat there, the air knocked out of his lungs, while the world spun in the flickering torchlight.
Shaking off the daze, he groaned and pushed himself up. He began to frantically brush the damp grime and grit from his robes, his ears ringing in the heavy silence of the cell. Then, he froze.
Soft, hesitant footsteps were echoing against the stone walls, approaching from the shadows just beyond the light. Ma Jingguo's pulse quickened. He reached behind his back, his fingers closing around the cold, familiar hilt of his dagger. He didn't draw it yet, but he braced his weight, ready to strike at whatever horror the Yueguang Sect had sent to greet him.
"Ah Chen?..."
The voice was thin, weary, and barely more than a whisper, but Ma Jingguo recognized it instantly.
He spun around, his hand dropping away from his weapon as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. Standing there, pale and disheveled but very much alive, was Kuo Changchang.
"Changchang Shijie!" Ma Jingguo cried out, the tension leaving his body so fast he nearly stumbled. Relief flooded his chest, warmer than any sun. "It's really you!"
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice a fragile mix of bewilderment and dread.
"I found Wenqian Shijie," he explained quickly. "She told me everything."
"But why aren't you safe at Mu Village?" she pressed, her eyes searching his in the dim light.
"Xiao shushu and I were traveling to see the Tianshan Mountains when we crossed paths with the survivors."
"Where is Mu Dishi?" Kuo Changchang's voice sharpened with worry. "I thought you were going to live a quiet life with him."
"He's up there," Ma Jingguo said, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Shijie, don't worry about the past or how we got here. We need to find a way out of this hole."
"I've already looked," Kuo Changchang replied, her shoulders slumped in despair. She gestured to the seamless stone walls. "There is no latch, no hidden lever. This place was built to be a tomb; it can only be opened from the outside."
Ma Jingguo leaned against the cold wall, his expression remarkably calm. "Don't worry. Xiao shushu will find us."
"You have that much faith in him?" she asked, her voice laced with skepticism. "After everything he's done?"
"I do. He doesn't say much, and his heart is wrapped in layers of ice, but inside... he is the warmest, most caring person I have ever known."
"I find it hard to believe a cold-blooded killer knows how to care for anything," she murmured, looking away.
Ma Jingguo sighed, the sound echoing in the small cell. "Shijie, since there's nothing, we can do but wait, let me tell you a story. Maybe then you'll understand why I love him so much."
Changchang sat down on the damp floor, pulling her knees to her chest. "I'm listening."
"You already know about my parents," Ma Jingguo began, his eyes drifting as if seeing the past in the shadows. "From the moment I could walk, we were ghosts. We never stayed in one place for more than a month, except for that one monastery in Tibet. I remember the night they woke me—the panic, the flight back toward the Central Plains. We ran until we met Xiao shushu on the outskirts of a village. But the ten lamas were right behind us." His voice caught for a second. "They killed them both."
Kuo Changchang watched him, silent.
"Xiao shushu paid a teahouse owner to help me bury them. I sat by their graves for two days, waiting for him to return. On the third day, he appeared. At first, he refused to take me. He told me I was the son of his sworn enemy—that there was no room for me in his life. But in the end, he didn't leave me behind."
Ma Jingguo spoke for hours, his voice the only sound in the dark dungeon. He told her of the long silences, the harsh training, and the small, quiet ways Mu Dishi had saved him over and over again.
"So..." Changchang said after a long silence, her voice soft and thoughtful. "You love him because of a bowl of congee and some bitter medicine?"
Ma Jingguo smiled in the dark. "Mmm."
"And you've felt this way since you were ten years old?"
"Mmm," he confirmed again.
Kuo Changchang let out a long, shaky breath, a weight seemingly lifting from her expression. "I understand now. I finally understand why you could never marry me."
"Thank you, Shijie," Ma Jingguo said, his voice full of genuine gratitude.
"So, what now?" she asked, looking up at the sealed ceiling.
"Now? We wait for the cavalry," Ma Jingguo replied. "Either Xiao shushu will tear this place apart, or Wenqian Shijie's message will bring Shifu and the Tianshan Sect down on their heads. Either way, we aren't staying in this hole for long."
As Ma Jingguo and Kuo Changchang sat in a desperate attempt to meditate, a faint, rhythmic hissing filled the small room. A sweet, cloying floral fragrance followed, accompanied by a thick white mist seeping through the vents in the ceiling.
"What is that?" Kuo Changchang asked, her voice tight with rising alarm.
"Shijie, hold your breath!" Ma Jingguo warned, his heart sinking. "Xiao shushu said the Yueguang Sect specializes in poisons —don't let it in!"
They both pressed their sleeves to their faces, but the scent was pervasive, heavy, and impossible to escape. The world began to tilt. Within minutes, the sweet aroma overwhelmed their senses, and the two companions slumped to the concrete floor, slipping into a forced, heavy slumber.
When Ma Jingguo finally groaned back to consciousness, his head felt like it was filled with lead. He looked over to find Kuo Changchang still motionless. He shook her shoulder, but she didn't stir. As his gaze fell upon her face, a sudden, violent impulse surged through him—a desperate, unbidden hunger to lean down and kiss her. His lips were inches from hers before his mind caught up to his body.
He recoiled, sitting up so fast his head throbbed, and delivered a stinging slap to his own cheek. "What are you doing?" he hissed at himself. "The only person you belong to is Xiao shushu!"
His body began to rack with waves of feverish heat. He tore at his outer robes, desperate for a breath of cool air, but the fire was coming from inside his veins. He realized with a jolt of horror that the mist was an aphrodisiac—a poison designed to strip away reason and replace it with raw, uncontrollable lust. His breathing became a series of ragged pants as the urge to reach for Changchang grew into a physical ache. Trembling and drenched in sweat, he stumbled to the furthest corner of the room, pressing his forehead against the cold stone wall.
Suddenly, soft, warm hands wrapped around his waist. He felt her lips press against the back of his neck, and a shuddering jolt of electricity raced down his spine.
Ma Jingguo tore himself away, his movements clumsy and desperate. "Shijie, you have to fight it!" he pleaded, his voice cracking.
Kuo Changchang's eyes were unfocused, her breathing shallow and heavy. "Ah Chen... I can't... I'm so hot, it hurts..."
He turned to face her, seeing her disheveled state and the haze of desire in her eyes. His own pulse was thundering in his ears, a treacherous voice in his head telling him to give in. Fighting the rising tide of passion, he reached out with shaking hands to pull her robes shut, then scrambled to the opposite side of the room.
"Stay back, Shijie!" he wheezed, his knuckles white as he gripped the stone floor. "Xiao shushu... please... hurry..."
Time became a blurred torture. He felt his strength beginning to fail, a heavy lethargy creeping over him as the poison entered its second phase.
"Ah Chen," Kuo Changchang mumbled, her fingers weakly clutching at his shirt as she crawled toward him. "I feel... like I'm shutting down. Let's just do it. I won't blame you. You don't have to take responsibility."
Ma Jingguo shook his head violently, even as his vision blurred. "I can't."
"I told you," she whispered, her warm breath ghosting over his shoulder. "No responsibility. No one has to know."
"It's not about that," Ma Jingguo gasped, his voice strained to the breaking point. "I know that if we do this... Xiao shushu... he would never forgive me. He would never look at me the same way again. I can't lose him. I'd rather die than lose him."
He pushed her away with the last of his strength and crawled toward the opposite side. "Don't come any closer! If I can't control myself, I'll end it right here!"
He knew the truth of it. If he gave in, Mu Dishi's rigid sense of honor would force him to marry Changchang and then disappear from Ma Jingguo's life forever. The thought was more terrifying than any poison. He reached into his sash and withdrew his dagger, the cold steel a sobering contrast to his burning skin.
With a steady hand, he pressed the blade to his left forearm and made a sharp, clean cut. The sudden, biting sting of pain cleared the fog in his mind, if only for a moment. He stared at the red line of blood, using the agony to anchor his soul.
Above ground, the courtyard had become a graveyard of failed ambition. Mu Dishi delivered a devastating kick to Miao Mingzhu's chest, the force of the blow slamming her against the heavy doors before sending her skidding across the polished marble floor. She collapsed in a heap, coughing up a thick mouthful of blood that stained the white stone.
As six Yueguang disciples charged from his right, Mu Dishi didn't even turn to face them. With a motion as swift as a lightning strike, he flicked ten golden needles into the air. They whistled through the space, finding their marks with lethal precision and dropping the attackers before they could draw a second breath.
He blurred forward, a shimmering guzheng string singing as it left his sleeve. It lashed out like a living snake, coiling twice around Miao Mingzhu's throat. With a brutal yank, he hauled her upward, forcing her to her knees before him.
His expression was a mask of cold, terrifying calm. With a single, flawless motion, he tightened the string. The razor-sharp wire bit deep into the soft skin of her neck, the pressure so intense it began to dent the flesh, cutting off her panicked gasps.
"The door," Mu Dishi whispered, his voice a low vibration of pure killing intent. "Open it now, or I will take your head and find the lever myself."
"Kill me," Miao Mingzhu replied defiantly, a soft, wet chuckle bubbling past her blood-stained lips. "There is no way I am opening that door."
"What is it you want?" Mu Dishi's voice was like the edge of a frozen blade.
She looked up at him, a seductive, mocking smile playing on her face despite the wire at her throat. "I've already told you what I want, handsome. Your threats are empty air to me. I hold the high card here, and you? You have no choice but to obey."
"You may have your poisons," Mu Dishi said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. He withdrew a handful of golden needles, their tips glinting with a cold, metallic light. "But I have these. And with them, I can make your remaining minutes a living hell."
Miao Mingzhu glanced at the slender needles and scoffed. "I am a leader of the Yueguang Sect. You think I am frightened of your paltry little toys?"
"The Mu Clan has its own methods of extracting the truth," Mu Dishi replied, his eyes devoid of any mercy. He held a needle just inches from a specific nerve on her neck. "Tell me—have you ever seen someone laugh until their lungs burst and they beg for the sweet release of death?"
Miao Mingzhu's eyes widened, the bravado finally flickering. "Mu? Then it's true... you are Mu Dishi, the last survivor of the Mu Clan." She shook her head, a twisted look of pity crossing her face. "If Mu Jiao Long had simply joined our Great Leader back then, your entire clan might not have been massacred. They could have lived."
The courtyard was suddenly flooded with reinforcements. Fu Yuanjun led the way, followed by the ten elders, Nun Chingmei, Kuo Jingsong, Kuo Ju, and Wenqian. A sea of disciples from various clans trailed behind them, their weapons drawn.
Elder Tong stepped forward, eyeing the woman bound in Mu Dishi's wire. "Dishi, who is she?"
"A branch leader of the Yueguang Sect," Mu Dishi replied, his voice flat and dangerous.
"Childe Mu, where is Ah Chen?" Wenqian asked, her voice bordering on hysteria.
"He fell through a trapdoor directly beneath us," Mu Dishi said, his gaze never leaving the stone floor.
"Mu Da-ge," Fu Yuanjun interjected, looking at the prisoner. "Has she refused to tell us where they've been taken?"
Mu Dishi nodded once, a cold, sharp movement.
"Who says I refused?" Miao Mingzhu countered, a bloody smirk stretching across her face. "You lot simply didn't ask nicely."
"Then, Miss," Fu Yuanjun requested, his tone dripping with forced politeness, "please show us where the two are being held."
"With pleasure. Follow me," Miao Mingzhu giggled.
She led the grim procession down a flight of narrow stone stairs and into a vast, subterranean hall. The air was damp and smelled of stagnant water.
"Where are they?" Fu Yuanjun demanded, his hand on his sword hilt.
"Don't be in such a rush," Miao Mingzhu said, her eyes glinting with malice. "I think we should wait a moment before barging in. After all, Lady Kuo is a woman of high standing. It would be such a scandal if we interrupted them while they were... occupied."
"What are you talking about?" Wenqian asked, a cold dread settling in her chest.
Miao Mingzhu erupted into a fit of giggles. "It would be quite a tragedy to walk in while the two of them are in the heat of passion, wouldn't it?"
"Hold your tongue and open the door," Kuo Ju commanded, her voice like iron. She ignored the taunt and scanned the empty room, her sharp eyes noting the spacing of the twin candlesticks along the walls. "Even without your help, I believe I've found the mechanism."
Miao Mingzhu scoffed. "Oh... so the rumors are true. The wife of Master Kuo is exceptionally clever. What a pity such a brilliant woman married such a dull man."
"I have never once felt shame in marrying Jingsong," Kuo Ju replied, her head held high. "I feel incredibly fortunate to have a husband who trusts me enough to let me lead. You, girl, will never know the luck of having such a man."
Miao Mingzhu's face darkened instantly. "We shall see who has the last laugh."
"The candle holders are the key," Kuo Ju said, turning her back on the villain.
"You three, assist her!" Fu Yuanjun commanded.
Under Kuo Ju's direction, the disciples began pulling the heavy brass candlesticks. One by one, hidden panels slid open, revealing nothing but empty, stone-cold cells.
"There are only two left," Wenqian whispered, her hands shaking.
"Do it," Kuo Ju ordered.
Wenqian reached for the next candlestick and pulled. With a heavy, grinding rumble, a fifteen-foot section of the wall slid into the floor. The sight that met them left the entire group paralyzed in a horrified silence.
Ma Jingguo was draped over Kuo Changchang, his movements feverish and desperate as he kissed her.
Miao Mingzhu's laughter tore through the silence like a jagged blade. "Ha! Ha! Master Kuo!" she cackled, pointing at the couple. "Who would have thought your respectable daughter would behave so shamelessly? A common harlot in the arms of a scholar!"
"Shut your mouth!" Kuo Ju screamed, her face contorting with a mother's bridge-burning rage.
Ma Jingguo felt a sudden rush of cool air against his sweat-slicked back. He looked up, his vision a blurred, kaleidoscopic mess of colors and shadows. He couldn't recognize the faces—only the overwhelming weight of the poison in his blood.
Kuo Ju lunged forward, violently shoving Ma Jingguo aside. She didn't look at him; she only grabbed her daughter, frantically pulling Kuo Changchang's disheveled robes back together to cover her skin.
Fu Yuanjun hurried to Ma Jingguo, catching him as he slumped toward the floor.
"Xiao shushu..." Ma Jingguo slurred, his eyes half-lidded and glazed with fever. His hand reached out feebly toward the empty air. "She's... she's not breathing..."
His strength finally gave out. His head fell back, and his eyes drifted shut as he slipped into a dark unconsciousness.
In the ensuing chaos—the shouting, the weeping of the Kuo family, and the frantic checking of pulses—Miao Mingzhu noticed a chilling absence. Mu Dishi was no longer standing among them. A prickle of genuine fear touched her spine. Realizing her masterpiece of a plan might have a fatal flaw, she began to back away, blending into the crowd of shocked disciples. She slipped toward the stairwell like a shadow and vanished into the darkness of the upper levels.