Expected Turn

The aid arrived too quickly—could it really be allies?

Su Qing was skeptical.

Tang Jiu hesitated, saying, “Tang Yu, don’t get excited. I’ll check it out. If something’s off, you all retreat.”

He parted the bushes and left, leaving the group exchanging uneasy glances.

Su Qing worried he might not return.

If Wang Wu’er’s group got ambushed by someone else, their stolen belongings might be lost for good.

Fortunately, Tang Jiu soon returned, accompanied by two white-robed clan disciples.

Even Su Qing, with little worldly experience, instantly recognized their high-born status.

Their pristine clothes and gleaming swords at their waists said it all.

After days of trekking, everyone else was disheveled and weary.

Yet these two looked as if they’d dropped from the sky—hair unruffled, possibly not even a speck of dust on their feet.

Su Qing wondered if it was her imagination, but they exuded an ethereal aura.

It was hard to describe, like the flawless jade-like grace of cultivators, unmarred by mortal flaws.

Tang Jiu was deferential, explaining the situation in detail.

When introducing them, he only said respectfully, “They’re from the Qi Clan.”

Su Qing blinked, not fully grasping it.

Tang Yu visibly shrank, mumbling, “The Qi Clan came to help. Thank you both.”

Xiu Fu tugged Su Qing’s sleeve, signaling her to lower her gaze, avoiding direct eye contact.

The two Qi Clan members, Qi Libei and Qi Lifeng, casually scanned the group, singling out Su Qing’s trio: “Who are they?”

Tang Jiu quickly explained, “They were also ambushed by Wang Wu’er. Thanks to their help, we escaped.”

Qi Libei glanced at Tang Jiu. “No need for modesty.”

Once assured everything was under control, Qi Lifeng nodded. “Come with us to retrieve your things.”

Su Qing sighed in relief, huddling with Xiu Fu and Zhu Xing’er, following the Tang Clan forward.

The Qi Clan seemed formidable, likely a great clan even the Tangs couldn’t afford to offend.

Though they probably looked down on her group, high-born types often had strict etiquette.

One wrong move might set them off, so she kept a low profile.

Su Qing adopted a demure posture, eyes on her nose, nose on her heart.

Tang Jiu was sweating too—the Qi Clan!

The Tang Clan wasn’t insignificant, but outside Tianque City, their name carried little weight.

Their connection to the Qi Clan was only because half the city was Qi territory.

Su Qing didn’t know these intricacies.

All she knew was: a glimmer of hope—they could keep moving.

Xiu Fu and Zhu Xing’er wanted to talk after their escape, but with the Qi Clan ahead and the Tangs silent, they held back.

At the front, they saw more white-robed Qi members—about fifteen, clustered together, eyeing them with calm scrutiny.

Su Qing meant to glance at the Qi Clan’s stature.

But her gaze froze.

One figure stood out, breathtakingly stunning.

Snow-white skin, flowing black hair, ink-dark brows and eyes, an icy aura—carved from ice and snow, untouchable.

Every move was serene, undisturbed by the world, like jade cliffs or emerald pines.

Su Qing swore she’d only seen such beauty in fictional characters.

She knew clan children, trained from youth, were often ethereal, but this otherworldly grace was unmatched.

Surrounded by over a dozen Qi members, this person was the center of attention, called “Daozi.”

Su Qing remembered her role, quickly lowering her eyes to her feet.

Her shoe tip was torn—her big toe nearly poking out.

She wasn’t the only one stunned; Zhu Xing’er froze too.

Staring at this revered figure, she recalled her mother’s words: The scholar’s son, the butcher’s, the cloth merchant’s—all good families in town. You’ll live well marrying them. Would your parents harm you?

But those mundane, weed-like lives, unchanging and dull.

All of it, combined, couldn’t compare to a speck of dust under this person’s feet!

Her ears flushed rose-red with excitement, breath quickening.

She yearned for this life—beautiful, dazzling, dreamlike as clouds, radiant as dawn.

Xiu Fu, though struck by the beauty, was grounded by her humble roots.

The more beautiful, the costlier—she lost interest, pulling Zhu Xing’er’s sleeve to keep her from gawking before the elders.

Qi Lifeng respectfully asked Daozi, “I’ve brought the Tang Clan. How should we deal with these shameless rogues?”

Su Qing snapped back, catching the term “shameless rogues.”

She noticed Wang Wu’er’s group nearby, battered—faces swollen, mouths bleeding, unable to moan.

Though furious at Wang Wu’er, Su Qing flinched at his heavy bloodstains.

Just a knocked-out tooth, right?

But why did his injuries seem so severe?

The blood by his mouth looked mixed with organ fragments.

Coming from a civilized society, she’d never seen such brutality.

Her body chilled, limbs numb.

Daozi’s voice was light but cold: “As usual.”

What did “as usual” mean?

As the white-robed Qi disciples drew swords, Su Qing panicked: Are they going to kill them?

Tang Jiu protested, “Wang Wu’er’s crimes don’t warrant death!”

Though he ambushed them, he hadn’t harmed anyone.

Killing was too far.

Qi Libei, sword in hand, sneered, “These lowly scum aren’t worthy of dying by my blade—just sever their tendons.”

Just sever their tendons?

A prickling numbness shot from Su Qing’s limbs to her scalp, as if she felt their pain.

She didn’t know where to look, eyes unfocused, throat clogged with nausea.

She spoke carefully: “But severing their tendons means they can’t survive the mountains. Have mercy, immortals—give them a chance to reform…”

Qi Libei’s brow arched unkindly. “Are you displeased with our Qi Clan?”

His clan-based pressure made Tang Jiu sweat.

He clasped his fists: “Neither I nor Miss Su meant that. Why dirty your hands? Let us handle it.”

But Qi Libei locked onto Su Qing, ignoring Tang Jiu.

Tang Jiu, frantic, didn’t know what to do.

Su Qing sensed something wrong but shook her head. “Before the exam, the Sword Sect elder said no harming each other.”

Qi Libei laughed, gripping his sword. “Think we fear Tianxia Sword Sect? Using their name to pressure us?”

“Sadly, a mere Sword Sect means nothing!”

His face darkened, sword flashing through fluid forms.

White sword qi surged, slashing at Wang Wu’er’s group, blood blooming at their limbs.

It happened too fast.

Su Qing couldn’t process until a blood-tinged sword qi grazed her face.

She touched it—trembling, warm, scarlet blood.

Unfathomable!

In ancient times, losing limbs was as good as death.

Even if Wang Wu’er’s group survived the mountain, they couldn’t work—and without work, they couldn’t live.

But with Qi Libei’s gleaming sword before her, she could say nothing.

She might be next.

Or Xiu Fu, or Zhu Xing’er.

Qi Libei, pleased she’d shut up, flicked his sword, blood rolling off, vanishing as if nothing happened.

Su Qing’s hands trembled, strength drained.

Xiu Fu gripped her hand tightly, hers shaking too, palms sweaty.

Perhaps for the Tang Clan’s slight face, or just to avoid hassle, the Qi Clan didn’t pursue Su Qing’s words and left.

When their figures vanished, everyone exhaled.

Zhu Xing’er, pale, said, “That man’s too cruel—no mercy in his strikes!”

Tang Yu, shaken, retorted, “Say it louder—see if they come back to cut you!”

Zhu Xing’er snapped, “What’s wrong with you?”

Xiu Fu frowned. “What about them? We have to help.”

She meant Wang Wu’er’s group, sprawled like broken limbs, blood soaking the ground.

Tang Yu grumbled, “They started it—serves them right.”

Su Qing couldn’t fathom it. “But they didn’t deserve death. They just tied you up, didn’t kill you. If they meant to, we wouldn’t have escaped.”

Fair point.

Tang Yu scratched his nose, muttering, “Why yell at me? I didn’t do it. Why didn’t you speak up when the Qi Clan was here?”

Su Qing was stumped.

She didn’t speak because she didn’t dare.

Tang Jiu sighed, speaking gently, “It’s fine. Tianxia Sword Sect will send aid. The exam’s under their watch. My clan elders say no major casualties have ever occurred during selections.”

Su Qing and the others approached to bandage Wang Wu’er’s group, ensuring they didn’t bleed out before help arrived.

Closer, Su Qing noticed a golden talisman by their side.

Tang Jiu recognized it: “Silence Talisman.”

No wonder they didn’t scream.

They were barely breathing, more out than in.

Su Qing, heart racing, wrapped their limbs with rough cloth.

The sword qi wounds looked clean but were festering inside, brutally effective.

Tang Yu muttered, “No surprise from the Qi Clan—sword qi at their age. It works without spiritual energy.”

Zhu Xing’er turned Wang Liu’er to ease her breathing.

The poor girl, nearly unconscious, kept calling for her mother.

Pitiful.

Zhu Xing’er retrieved her hairpin and slipped the silver earrings back into Liu’er’s clothes. “Find a good doctor when you’re out.”

They’d done what they could.

The group reclaimed their belongings and tokens, tying them securely, and continued.

Su Qing accepted Tang Jiu’s invite to travel with the Tang Clan for safety in numbers.

Her heart was heavy with unease and fear.

Xiu Fu looked grim too.

As the “elder sister,” she hid her distress.

Zhu Xing’er, oddly, was the least affected, even showing a strange excitement.

Xiu Fu, worried she was bottling it up, feared she’d fall ill.

Zhu Xing’er said, “I’m young, but I’ve seen farmers handle thieves, officials execute criminals. This doesn’t scare me. Besides, Wang Wu’er provoked the nobles. If we’re careful and avoid trouble, we’ll be fine.”

Su Qing thought: The ancient world is dangerous.

The banter lightened her mood.

But soon, it sank again.

After some distance, they ran into Qi Libei again.

He told Tang Jiu, “Lend us a few people.”

Pointing at Xiu Fu, he said, “She’ll do.”

Xiu Fu’s face paled.

Su Qing stepped forward, half-shielding her. “What do you need her for?”

Tang Jiu, sweating again, asked, “Brother Qi, what’s the purpose?”

Qi Libei, impatient, sneered, “What’s with the faces? The Qi Clan doesn’t eat people. Forgot who saved you?”

“When the Qi Clan calls, you come—whether you like it or not.”