Chapter Eight: Meeting Again

On a night shrouded in darkness and fierce winds, three figures clad in black descended lightly onto the rooftop of the headquarters of the Thousand Poisons Sect. These three were none other than Zhan Yan and her maids. Concealing their presence, they lay steadily upon the tiles, lifting a single piece to peer below, where the scene unfolded with perfect clarity.

"Mo Qing, I think you’re not fit to be a leader. You can’t even handle such a trivial matter," one masked figure in black complained to Mo Qing, the voice sounding no older than twenty.

"Forgive me, Master. I truly did not expect Feng Youran to appear there so suddenly," Mo Qing replied, bowing humbly to the young man.

"Hmph, Feng Youran must be tired of living, daring to meddle in my affairs." The man scoffed coldly. "Have someone keep an eye on him. I want him to pay the price. Let’s hope you don’t disappoint me again."

With that, the man turned to leave, but after a few steps he abruptly paused and glanced up toward the rooftop. With a swift leap, he charged onto the roof. Zhan Yan cursed inwardly—clearly, Lan Yun and the others had failed to fully suppress their presence, and he had detected them. She hadn’t expected his martial arts to be so formidable.

"Quick, run!" Zhan Yan cried. They poured all their strength into retreating, but their pursuer was closing in rapidly. Zhan Yan said, "You two go ahead, I’ll hold him off."

"Miss, we can’t—we’d rather die than let you take such a risk," the two replied in unison.

"Go now. That’s an order. When did you lose faith in me?"

"Miss…"

"Do you mean to defy me?" Zhan Yan’s urgency grew, on the verge of anger.

"We wouldn’t dare," the two said, seeing the black-clad man closing in. Knowing their presence would only hinder her, they left reluctantly, determined to seek reinforcements.

"You’ve got some nerve. Now that you know my secret, you needn’t live any longer," the black-clad man declared arrogantly, his voice icy.

"You’ll have to see if you’re capable, you disgrace of the martial world," Zhan Yan retorted, undaunted.

As soon as she finished, they attacked simultaneously—the black-clad man unleashed his full strength, aiming to kill Zhan Yan with a single blow. Zhan Yan’s agility was exceptional; she dodged the strike in a leap and countered at the same time. The man was startled by the prowess of this young woman—it would not be so easy to kill her tonight. He drew a paper packet from his chest, opened it, and flung a handful of powder at Zhan Yan. She hastily shielded herself with internal energy, hoping to keep the powder at bay, but the distance was too close and his movements too swift—some powder still clung to her.

Immediately, Zhan Yan felt her internal energy obstructed. This poison was rare indeed, even her body, immune to hundreds of toxins, could not fend it off. She cursed inwardly, seeing that her prospects were grim. Unable to win, her only choice was flight, but her opponent’s agility was equally superb, and now, poisoned, escape seemed impossible.

Seeing her intent to flee, the black-clad man laughed heartily. "Do you think you can still get away? You’ve been struck with Seven Steps Soul Sever. If you so much as move, you’ll die instantly."

Zhan Yan’s fury flared—such despicable tactics! She never imagined her life would end so obscurely at such a young age. Unwilling to accept it, she wondered if there was any chance of rebirth. If she were to die, she’d at least drag him down with her. She unleashed her full power, seeking a desperate clash. Though her internal energy was hindered, her body seemed to be counteracting the poison on its own—there was still resistance. If she could kill him, perhaps she could survive.

Just as she prepared to meet his assault, a man wearing a dark brocade robe landed lightly before her. With a swift palm strike, he attacked the black-clad man. Zhan Yan’s own strike met empty air as the man intercepted. The black-clad man retaliated—there was a resounding thud, and he staggered back five steps, while the brocade-robed man stood firm. Sensing danger, the black-clad man leapt away and vanished into the night.

The brocade-robed man turned to Zhan Yan, seeing sweat beading her brow, and knew she was suffering. He lifted her in his arms and, employing his agility, soared toward a distant mountain peak. In moments, they arrived at the entrance to a cave. He pushed open a stone door and carried her inside, laying her gently upon a stone bed. He paused at her bedside to check her pulse.

"I’ll be fine. I’ll recover soon enough," Zhan Yan said, gazing at the man and inwardly sighing at his alluring presence. She recognized him as Feng Youran, whom she had seen earlier that day—a man impossible to forget.

"Hmm, your body is neutralizing the poison on its own. This toxin originates from Xiyuan. People from Xiyuan can dispel it naturally—are you from Xiyuan?" Feng Youran inquired in a low voice.

"No."

"That is strange, then."

"There’s nothing strange about it—I was born immune to all poisons."

"Oh? Immune to all poisons?" Feng Youran glanced up at her. He studied the woman before him; her eyes, especially, seemed familiar, as though seen somewhere before.

"Thank you for your help, Master Feng. I am unharmed and will leave on my own after a short rest," Zhan Yan said, her tone politely dismissive.

"Very well, I’ll take my leave," Feng Youran replied, his eyes clouded. He did not understand what came over him—meeting her gaze, he found himself lost. He needed to clear his thoughts.

As Zhan Yan met Feng Youran’s deep, enigmatic eyes, she, too, felt a moment of confusion, a sensation of familiar recognition.