Chapter 1
“Ah, such a fine weather in this crisp autumn air. Could it be that my brother is leisurely enjoying the scenery? Come back soon, Yun’er is getting worried.”
“Hehe…” Reading the words on the tiny note at his fingertips, a faint smile curved the corner of the man’s mouth beneath his veil. His eyes held both indulgence and resignation. This was the fifth carrier pigeon today since he sent word back home about his return this year. Each message from the little maid was nothing but urgent reminders.
Gently rubbing the white head of the carrier pigeon with his jade-like fingers, he murmured, “You’ve worked hard, little one.”
The pigeon seemed to enjoy the attention, cooing lazily with its eyes closed.
With a casual gesture, Murong Qiufeng plucked a leaf from the roadside to replace the note. He wrote “On my way” on the leaf and placed it inside the bamboo tube attached to the pigeon, then released it.
Only after the pigeon disappeared from sight did he chuckle and shake his head. Then, he tightened the reins with both hands, exhaling softly, “Let’s go!”
The chestnut horse, like a flash of lightning, instantly transformed from a leisurely pace to a swift gallop.
Dressed in white as pure as snow, his robes fluttered in the breeze, resembling a celestial being descending to earth. His figure alone captivated the eyes, but the face beneath the veil remained a mystery.
Suddenly, the sound of clashes and the scent of blood mingled with the crisp autumn air reached his ears, dispersing the refreshing fragrance of autumn leaves.
He furrowed his brows and pulled the reins, observing the distant woods where a battle seemed to be taking place.
To go or to wait? That was the question. He didn’t want to invite trouble, yet he also didn’t want to waste time. But this was the only path he could take.
As he hesitated, a dark figure flew towards him like a bolt of lightning, as swift as a panther.
His eyes narrowed, his grip on the sword tightened, preparing to strike. However, the figure suddenly changed direction as it approached him, leaping away towards another direction.
The sword, gleaming with cold light and chilly aura, thrust directly towards him. He widened his eyes, realizing the intentions of the figure. They were using him as a shield to buy time and deliver him to the blade’s edge.
With a hint of anger flickering in his heart, he snorted disdainfully. Releasing the reins, he dismounted from the horse and caught the sword mid-air, the blade slicing cleanly in two.
Before the attackers could react, the other half of the broken sword was propelled towards them by an unseen force, striking them squarely in the chest.
Meanwhile, Murong Qiufeng had swiftly remounted his horse, the sword already sheathed. He watched in astonishment as the two assailants fell lifelessly. Realizing it was the work of the dark-clad figure, he turned, only to feel his horse growing restless beneath him. Then, a firm body pressed against his back.
Surprised, he felt the speed at which this person moved, but also their cunning and rudeness. First, they used him against the attackers, and now, what did they intend?
“You…”
“Let’s go.” Before he could protest, a deep and magnetic voice sounded in his ears. Despite its pleasing tone, the coldness and arrogance in the words infuriated Murong Qiufeng.
But the man didn’t give him time to refuse. Strong arms wrapped around him, seizing the reins and urging the horse into a gallop towards the dense forest.
The wind rushed past them, stinging their faces. Murong Qiufeng’s veil was swept away by the branches, and he couldn’t help but wish he could send this troublemaker flying with a single stroke of his sword. However, feeling the hot and rapid breath against his neck, he realized the person behind him was injured.
As they rode, the pungent smell of blood filled the air, wrinkling his brow even more. He sighed inwardly, realizing he wouldn’t be able to return home today. Surveying the area, he spotted a nearby town and urged his horse towards it, eventually finding a modest inn where they could stay.
“Waiter, prepare some hot water and food, please.” Giving a simple command, he led the troublesome companion into the room and settled him on the bed.
The waiter, seeing the injured man accompanied by such an ethereal gentleman, didn’t dare delay. He hurried to fulfill the request, assuming they were young masters from a prestigious family facing pursuit, a common occurrence in these parts. However, he couldn’t help but marvel at the striking appearance of the gentleman.
Soon, the water was brought.
After cleaning his hands, Murong Qiufeng approached the bed, casting a brief glance at the man. Despite wearing a half-black iron mask, the exposed side revealed a handsome face marred by a long, deep scar stretching from his chest to his shoulder. Murong Qiufeng, uninterested, didn’t bother to remove the mask. Instead, he focused on the wound.
“Let’s consider this a simple act of kindness.”
His white robes stained red, he discarded them, leaving only a plain white shirt. Rolling up his silver-white sleeves, he reached for the man’s collar and tore it open, revealing a bloody chest with a seven-inch-long scar.
Frowning, he turned to fetch a towel and some hot water mixed with white wine, gently wiping away the blood.
Although his movements were careful and light, the man still furrowed his brows, obviously in pain.
With a helpless sigh, Murong Qiufeng thought to himself whether saving this man was right or wrong. But since he was here, he couldn’t just watch him die.
After cleaning the wound, he poured some medicinal powder onto it and covered it with gauze. Thankfully, being from the martial world, he always carried such supplies. Otherwise, in this remote town, finding them would’ve been difficult.
By the time he finished, it was nearly dawn, and he hadn’t slept all night. The man suddenly developed a fever in the middle of the night, forcing Murong Qiufeng to stay up and watch over him. Fortunately, his knowledge of medicine proved useful; otherwise, they might have been at the mercy of fate.
As the fever subsided with the approaching dawn, Murong Qiufeng, feeling exhausted, leaned against the table, his head resting in his hand, and allowed himself a brief moment of rest.
