Chapter One: Fatal Journey Chapter Three: The Deadly Butterfly

“It’s already night—how could there still be butterflies?” With a flick of her wrist, Lady Die drew the Ice Jade Sword hidden within her purple flute, dispatching a few stragglers before following Ling’er’s gaze to the embattled figures locked in a deadly dance of blades and shadows. She had no heart to admire the fluttering butterflies; what concerned her was whether the man among them remained unharmed.

She did not know why, but a sense of foreboding weighed heavily on her. Though he had braved countless battles, for the first time, her heart was filled with uncertainty—she was even afraid.

“Butterflies?” As she sent a few more souls to the underworld with her silver needles, Yunniang looked at the graceful spirits dancing in the moonlight and suddenly recalled a terrifying rumor, blurting out, “Could it be Paradise Powder?”

The scholar, hearing his wife’s exclamation, froze. He too had heard the rumors, though he’d never had time to verify them. It made sense; the Sacred Lord was hardly one to be trifled with—he would stop at nothing to achieve his ends. Given his suspicious nature, how could he possibly allow them to live until now? Especially when they still held evidence that could destroy him. No wonder he would use Paradise Powder!

“What is Paradise Powder? Is it harmful to my husband? Tell me, quickly!” As she slit the throat of a man in black, Lady Die saw Yunniang’s alarm and grew even more frantic.

“Paradise Powder is a poison deadlier than even the most lethal known to man. To this day, no one has found an antidote. It’s made from the rare paradise bird flower and thousand-leaf grass: the fruit pits, flower stamens, and stems of the paradise bird are dried and ground into a fine, off-white powder called ‘paradise powder.’ On its own, it’s harmless. But add even a trace of thousand-leaf grass, and it becomes a colorless, tasteless, and instantly lethal poison. Even silver needles cannot detect it—perhaps because it emits a faint floral scent only butterflies and bees, highly sensitive to flowers, can perceive. Its contagion rivals that of a plague—it spreads with terrifying speed!”

At this, Yunniang’s fingers trembled slightly around her silver needles. Such a vicious poison! She was beginning to feel her inner energy falter. She remembered then the rare herb her master had left her, said to cure any poison. It was but a single leaf—who knew if it would work against Paradise Powder? Still, better than nothing.

Without hesitation, she plucked the dry leaf from her sleeve and hastily placed it in Ling’er’s mouth, channeling a thread of energy to send it down.

“Mother, what did you just give me?” Ling’er asked, curiosity bright in her eyes. Glancing at the black-clad men still locked in combat with Lady Die, she added, “Who are those people?”

“Don’t ask, Ling’er. Some things you’ll understand when you’re older. Take these things, and make sure no one else finds them. Do you understand?” As she spoke, Yunniang tore a piece of canvas from the carriage, wrapped together the folding fan and a few books from her treasure pouch, and strapped the bundle to Ling’er’s small body.

“But I don’t understand!” Ling’er was at a loss. Why, on the way to celebrate Grandfather’s birthday, had they been ambushed by men in black? Who were these people? What did Father mean by telling her to remember his words? Why did Mother say she would understand only when she grew up? Why not now?

And last night, why did Father, after midnight, insist on going to see Aunt Empress at the palace, only to return in a hurry and tell them to leave at once? What had happened at the palace?

Did Aunt Empress know all this?

So many questions filled her little head with confusion and no answers. “Maybe Mother is right. Maybe I’ll understand when I’m older,” she thought. Ling’er asked no more, but became all the more attentive to everything around her.

The young man, locked in a fierce duel with Azure Dragon, saw Lady Die carving a bloody path to aid him and couldn’t help but shout, “Lady Die, take the master and the others and leave now, or none of us will escape!”

No sooner had the words left his lips than a sword pierced his chest, blood gushing forth. In a contest of masters, there could be no carelessness. “Go! Quickly!”

“My love!” Lady Die cried, desperate as she saw him wounded yet still fighting on. “There are so many assassins—what will you do if we leave?”

He spat out a mouthful of dark blood; his mind clearing for a moment, he saw that the others had no intention of leaving. He roared, “Go! Don’t worry about me—I’ll catch up!”

Tears welled in the scholar’s eyes as he gazed at the moonlit battlefield. He knew that if they left, the young man, with no more worries, might still have a chance.

At last, as though steeling his resolve, the scholar called out, “General Li… take care!”

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“My husband—will he… will he be able to break through?” Liu Yunniang looked at the predatory assassins and could not help but worry for the gravely wounded youth.

“If he has nothing to hold him back, he’ll have a chance.” The scholar handed Ling’er to Lady Die and urged her again, “Please, take Ling’er and go. I beg you.”

Lady Die understood. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—she knew the reasoning behind it. She cast one last lingering look at her beloved, bathed in moonlight, then nodded resolutely. “Very well. We’re leaving!”

“No need for such trouble. None of you are going anywhere!” Suddenly, an ethereal voice echoed from all directions.

“Who’s there?” the three cried out in unison.

Only an eerie, rustling sound answered them, growing and fading, as if something moved swiftly among the branches.

Blood trickled down the blade, gathering at its tip before dropping heavily to the ground, soaking into the soil. The moonlight made the crimson blade glow, blurring the line between whose blood it was—enemy or his own.

How many remained alive? He no longer knew. How many had he killed? He couldn’t recall.

He was numb to pain. Dozens of wounds covered his body—the price of slaying Azure Dragon.

At last, the cold-blooded killers began to fear. Their eyes flickered with terror each time they looked at him.

The young man grinned inwardly. Even ruthless, well-trained assassins were still human—humans have weaknesses. If you terrify them enough, if you kill until they dare not fight back, that fear becomes their weakness.

Now was the perfect time to finish them. He moved—the chain-blade in his hand whistling through the air like a soul-reaping dirge.

Suddenly, his face turned deathly pale. Only six or seven assassins remained—if he killed them, he would be through.

But to his horror, he found he could no longer move. His formidable inner strength had vanished without trace.

He understood: the poison was deep within him—damn it, but he did not even know what poison it was. He was unwilling to yield!

He had accompanied the scholar through countless perils, braved even the dragon’s lair alone—and now he could only watch as six or seven blades pierced his body, blood gushing forth. If he could do nothing else, he would take a few of them with him.

His body staggered, nearly falling, but he forced himself upright one last time. With his final strength, he roared, “Lady Die, go!”

With a last, desperate sweep, the double-edged daggers in his hands slashed the throats of six men before clattering to the ground.

“My love!” The youth’s dying voice echoed in her ears. There was no time to wonder who the new enemy was, or where they hid.

Lady Die turned, following the sound, and saw her beloved’s body pierced with blades, blood raining down upon the earth. Her heart shattered.

She even heard the sound of her heart breaking. Clutching her chest, she fought to suppress the agony, turning numbly to watch as his body finally fell.

A metallic taste rose in her throat, and she spat blood. Her grief, her sorrow, fell like crystalline rain. At last, she could no longer stand—her body crumpled to the ground.

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“General Li!” The youth’s passing cast a pall of grief over them all.

Seeing Lady Die collapse, Yunniang rushed to her side. “Lady Die!”

“Father, why is Uncle Li lying on the ground? Won’t he catch cold?” The others mourned in silence, but innocent Ling’er understood nothing.

She tilted her head, looking at the silent scholar, her lively eyes full of curiosity.

“Ling’er, your Uncle Li is sleeping. Let’s not wake him, all right?” Forcing back his tears, the scholar patted Ling’er’s head, closed his eyes in pain, and replied softly.

“Shh, then we mustn’t wake him!” Holding a finger to her lips, she nodded obediently.

When she saw blood at the corner of Lady Die’s mouth, she cried, “Auntie Die, you’re bleeding!”

She hurried over, knelt beside her, and gently wiped away the blood with her tiny hand, frowning with concern. “It must hurt a lot, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it hurts terribly.” Lady Die, barely able to catch her breath, could not take her eyes off the corpse in the distance. Heaven knew how much she longed to rush over and embrace him, but she could not—who knew how many assassins still lurked in the moonlit shadows?

She could only answer numbly, “Ling’er, do you know? Auntie Die’s heart aches so badly she can hardly breathe.” She clutched her chest, sobbing in despair.

“Auntie Die, it hurts me to see you like this!” Ling’er reached up, trying to smooth the furrows from Lady Die’s brow.

“Lady Die, I think he wouldn’t want to see you so heartbroken,” Yunniang said gently, weeping herself as she wiped away tears from Lady Die’s cheeks. “Please, don’t cry anymore. Be strong, for all of us.”

“No, I can’t. I can’t do it!” Lady Die finally tore her gaze away, looking at Yunniang as tears streamed down her face and she shook her head desperately. “Yunniang, don’t you understand? He’s dead! He’s dead—he’ll never come back! I’ve lost him forever!”

“Yes, he’s dead!” The scholar, who had stayed silent, suddenly opened his eyes and said firmly, “Precisely because he is dead, you must live well—live the life he could not! What use is your weeping? Don’t you want to avenge him?”

“Yes, I want vengeance!” The words jolted Lady Die from her despair. She had to be strong—otherwise, none of them would survive.

Wiping away her tears, she stood once more, tightening her grip on the Ice Jade Sword, her face hardening with resolve.

The scholar, seeing that Lady Die was no longer lost in grief, forced back his own tears. He could not say if his words were right, but at least Lady Die would not be consumed by sorrow. He bowed three times to the youth’s body in the distance. “This is all I can do for you. General Li, may you rest in peace.”

The moon, as if bearing away a hero’s spirit, retreated behind gathering clouds. A wind brought thick darkness, and the night deepened.

“You go first; I’ll cover the rear,” Lady Die said quietly, burying her sorrow deep within. She wiped away her tears—she still had to finish what Li Yuanfang had left undone.

She would see the scholar and his family safely away—her wounded heart could not bear to lose anyone else.

“The day the Sacred Lord falls will be the day of vengeance!” Her dearest brother in hardship was gone forever, separated by life and death. “Remember, Lady Die: a gentleman’s revenge may wait ten years.”

Yes, she must live on. No matter how many assassins she killed, it would not quench her hatred. She had to kill the Sacred Lord with her own hands, no matter who he was.

She took a deep breath and spoke calmly, “Rest assured, my lord. I am not so easily broken.”