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Clinging to his injured arm, Xiao Fan winced in pain. Blood seeped through the fabric of his sleeve, staining it a dark crimson. He lowered himself gingerly onto the long grasses, his breaths ragged and shallow.

Su Ruo sat beside him, her mind still reeling from the earlier events. Vivid flashes of the massacre plagued her thoughts, the screams and carnage echoing in her ears. Yet, the faces of the fallen remained obscured, a cruel twist of fate denying her even the comfort of recognition.

Xiao Zhan, tears streaming down his face, mirrored his brother's actions, sinking down onto the ground. His young heart ached with the loss of his father, the village elder, and the countless others who had perished in the unprovoked attack. The senselessness of it all gnawed at him, leaving him with a void he couldn't seem to comprehend.

Su Ruo, slowly regaining her composure, reached out and grasped the hilt of her sword, her grip tightening with each passing moment. A fierce determination hardened her gaze. However, before she could act, a hushed warning from Xiao Fan stopped her.

"Don't move. They're still here," he whispered, his voice hoarse. His hand instinctively went to his other arm, where a bloody arrow protruded, the fletching catching the dying light of the setting sun. Gritting his teeth, he tore the arrow free with a sharp intake of breath, discarding the shaft with a practiced flick of his wrist.

The pain from the crude extraction forced him to shut his eyes momentarily, his face contorted in a grimace. Meanwhile, the assassins continued their search, their arrows whistling through the air in their direction. Su Ruo, quick to react, grabbed Xiao Zhan by the hand and pulled him deeper into the tall grass, seeking further concealment.

"Xiao Fan, what are you doing?" she hissed, her voice laced with concern as she saw him remain exposed.

He squinted in the direction of the incoming arrows, his gaze sharp despite the pain. Then, with a decisive nod, he began crawling towards them, his movements surprisingly agile despite his injury. The arrows continued to rain down, but thankfully, they landed a safe distance away.

With a grimace, Xiao Fan pressed his hand against the wound, attempting to stem the flow of blood. He reached the edge of the taller grass and stepped out, leaving Su Ruo bewildered by his actions. "What are you planning to do?"

Xiao Fan locked eyes with Su Ruo, his gaze conveying a wealth of emotions - sorrow for his fallen village, unwavering determination to protect his remaining family, and a deep-seated love that fueled his sacrifice. "There's a cave over there," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the drumming rain. "Run. Don't look back."

Su Ruo's brow furrowed. His words were a desperate plea, a one-way ticket to oblivion. Despite their strained relationship, the thought of watching him march towards certain death was unbearable.

Xiao Zhan, sensing the turmoil within her, sobbed anew, his small frame wracked with grief. He buried his face in his knees, his tiny body trembling.

With a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world, Xiao Fan pushed himself to his feet, his injured arm hanging limply at his side. He stepped out of the tall grass, the movement drawing gasps from Su Ruo and a collective shift from the hidden assassins.

Su Ruo's scream died in her throat, replaced by a choked sob. She watched helplessly as Xiao Fan broke into a desperate sprint, his form weaving erratically as he dodged the flurry of arrows that rained down upon him. The rain, falling in sheets, seemed to mock his efforts, blurring the world into a canvas of grey and red.

As he neared the edge of the clearing, he stumbled, a fresh wave of pain erupting from his wounded arm. "Shoot!"

He instinctively reached up, his fingers brushing against the jagged tear left by the arrowhead. Ignoring the throbbing agony, he focused on his objective, his eyes never leaving the approaching figures of the assassins.

A surge of defiance replaced the pain in Xiao Fan's eyes. Ignoring the throbbing in his arm, he snatched his sword from the earth and rose to his feet. With a snarl, he hurled the discarded arrows that had missed their mark, clanging them against the ground in a challenge.

Su Ruo, tears blurring her vision, continued her desperate flight, her heart hammering against her ribs. Every instinct screamed at her to stop, to turn back and fight alongside Xiao Fan, but the weight of his words, "Run. Don't look back," echoed in her mind.

Xiao Fan remained standing, a solitary figure etched against the backdrop of the relentless rain. He stood there, not as a frightened boy, but as a protector, his stance resolute and his gaze unwavering. He observed the assassins, his keen eyes dissecting their movements, their attack patterns. With each observation, a plan began to form in his mind.

Soaked to the bone, his azure hanfu clinging to his body like a second skin, he waited for the opportune moment. The rain, falling in sheets, blurred his surroundings and hampered the assassins' vision as well. This knowledge ignited a spark of hope within him.

Without a moment's hesitation, he charged forward, the edge of the tall grass swallowed by the approaching fog of rain. Reaching his destination, he flung a handful of a white, choking powder into the air. The damp atmosphere, though not ideal, would be enough to buy him precious time.

A hacking cough erupted from the ranks of the assassins as the powder reached them, momentarily disrupting their aim. Seizing this opportunity, Xiao Fan sprinted towards the far end of the clearing, disappearing into the swirling mist created by the rain and the powder.

But fate, it seemed, wasn't quite finished with him yet. An arrow, loosed through the dissipating fog, found its mark, piercing his chest. The impact sent him crashing to the ground, a gasp escaping his lips. With a grimace, he fumbled for the arrowhead, his fingers slick with blood, and hacked it off with his sword.

Ignoring the searing pain that lanced through his body, he rose to his feet, a determined glint back in his eyes. He stumbled forward, his steps unsteady on the rain-slicked stones, the cave entrance, his only hope, beckoning in the distance.

Battling through the searing pain in his chest, Xiao Fan stumbled towards the cave entrance. His vision swam, the rain blurring the world into a watercolor of red and grey. Every step felt like an eternity, his lungs burning with exertion. Finally, he reached the cave mouth, collapsing against the cool stone entrance.

With a surge of adrenaline, he grabbed several sturdy branches he'd collected during his desperate sprint. Using the last vestiges of his strength, he wedged them into the cave entrance, forming a makeshift barricade. Sweat mingled with the rain on his brow as he finished his task, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

Moments later, Su Ruo emerged from the cave's depths, her face etched with worry. Relief flooded her features as she spotted him huddled at the entrance, his emerald hanfu clinging to him like a second skin, soaked and stained crimson. But her relief was short-lived.

Two arrows protruded from his chest, their fletching catching the dim light filtering through the cave entrance. Another pierced his shoulder, its feathered end brushing against the stone wall beside him. A choked gasp escaped his lips as the pain threatened to overwhelm him.

Su Ruo didn't hesitate. She rushed towards him, her heart pounding in her chest. He crumpled into her arms, surprisingly heavy for such a young boy. Ignoring the growing ache in her own arms, she dragged him deeper into the cave, towards the flickering fire she had set to ward off the chill.

"Xiao Fan!" she screamed, the sound echoing through the cavernous space. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gently laid him down beside the fire, her gaze fixed on his pale, pain-stricken face. He coughed weakly, blood staining his lips, but his eyes met hers.

"Xiao Fan, wake up," Su Ruo pleaded, her voice trembling. She gently tapped his cheek, and his eyes fluttered open momentarily before fluttering closed again, his brow creased in pain. Time seemed to stretch into an agonizing eternity as she watched him struggle to stay conscious.

With trembling hands, she ripped open his soaked hanfu, revealing the horrifying extent of his injuries. A deep gash marred his chest, the edges raw and inflamed, and another arrow protruded from his shoulder, its fletching stained a dark red. As she reached for his pulse, her breath hitched in her throat. It was weak and erratic, sending a jolt of fear through her.

Desperate to help, she sprang up and scanned the cave for any sign of medicinal plants. Her frantic search was interrupted by a small hand reaching out from the shadows. Xiao Zhan, his face pale and drawn, held out a cluster of dark green leaves towards her.

"Here," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "This can stop the bleeding."

Relief washed over Su Ruo as she saw the familiar herbs. Nodding gratefully, she took the leaves and quickly began grinding them into a paste on a smooth stone. Tears streamed down her face as she worked, blurring her vision.

Xiao Fan turned away, leaning against the cave wall, his body wracked with shivers despite the warmth of the nearby fire. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he mumbled incoherently, his voice laced with pain.

Su Ruo finished preparing the paste and carefully smeared it over Xiao Fan's wounds. As she worked, she noticed him tense, his jaw clenched.

"Let me check the wound," he requested, his voice gentle yet firm.

He slowly turned his head towards his, wincing in pain. With trembling hands, he removed the herbs, revealing the angry red wounds beneath. He closed his eyes, focusing on his pulse as he felt his thin wrist. His brow furrowed in concentration.

After a tense silence, he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "The arrow didn't affect his meridians, so these herbs should help control the bleeding. But..." he trailed off, his face etched with concern.

Su Ruo's heart sank. "But?" she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. The weight of his unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

Xiao Zhan, his expression grave, carefully tucked his hand away and turned to face her. "There are two opposing forces battling within his body," he explained, his voice low and serious. "I can't pinpoint their origin, but one of them is undeniably a result of practicing some form of unorthodox, perhaps even immortal, techniques."

Su Ruo recoiled slightly, a mixture of disbelief and apprehension flashing across her face. She stared at him, her gaze filled with a mixture of annoyance and concern. "Delusional," she muttered under her breath, finding it hard to believe his fantastical explanation.

Suddenly, a wave of pain washed over Xiao Fan. He threw his head back and forth, his body twisting in agony as incoherent words spilled from his lips. "No! I don't want to do it!" he cried, his voice laced with raw terror.

"No!" he shrieked again, followed by a heart-wrenching sob, "Dad!"

The sight of his suffering shattered Su Ruo's disbelief. Witnessing his torment, she couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for the young boy. Xiao Zhan, his lips pressed into a thin line, fought back his own tears as he watched Xiao Fan writhe in pain.

"We have to stay here for the night," he declared finally, his voice firm despite the tremor in his hands. "But we can't stay here long. We need to get him to a skilled physician, someone who can understand and treat these...unnatural forces within him."

He paused, his eyes meeting Su Ruo's. "There's one such physician," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "In Rouran State."

Su Ruo's breath hitched. Rouran State? The thought sent a shiver down her spine. How could they even consider taking Xiao Fan there, injured and vulnerable, with assassins possibly still searching for them? It seemed like an impossible journey, fraught with danger and uncertainty.

With a chilling smirk, the Emperor swivelled his gaze towards me. "So, Princess Li You Rong," he drawled, his voice dripping with a mockery that sent shivers down my spine. "What do you say?"

Zhen Lan and Jing Yi, sensing the shift in atmosphere, attempted to rise from their seats. However, their movements were met with a swift response as the guards surrounding the grand hall surged forward, their swords glinting menacingly in the dim light.

I swallowed hard, a wave of anger surging through me as my fists clenched involuntarily. As I began to rise in defiance, Zhao Yun reacted instantaneously, his firm grasp on my hand silencing my retort. His unwavering gaze held a silent plea for me to remain calm, a plea I reluctantly heeded.

The Emperor tapped his chin thoughtfully, his amusement evident. "I believe I heard whispers of another princess," he mused, his words sending a jolt of unease through the room. Was he truly considering A'Ying as well? Knowing her spirit, I was certain she wouldn't succumb to his demands as easily as I feared.

"Bai Ying! What about her? Where is she?" A young woman's voice, laced with defiance, sliced through the tense silence. As I turned my head, I saw A'Ying rise amongst the dancers, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. The young woman standing beside her, sensing the impending storm, reached out and grasped A'Ying's hand in a calming gesture.

Mo Yan's nimble fingers poised over the guqin strings, froze, mirroring the sudden stillness that had descended upon the room. The sole exception was the lone musician, his haunting melody continuing to flow from the flute hidden behind the silken curtains.

"Since she appears to be absent," the Emperor continued, his voice laced with a cruel amusement, "it seems you, Princess Li You Rong, are the only option at hand. Don't you agree?"

His son, the Crown Prince, sat rigidly beside him, his gaze fixed on me with an unsettling intensity. I tore my own gaze away, my hands balling into fists, a potent cocktail of fury and frustration churning within me. I desperately hoped A'Ying would not intervene, for if she did, neither of us would escape unscathed.

My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs as the Emperor's offer hung heavy in the air. "It's a lifelong decision," he declared, his voice dripping with false sincerity, "so I won't pressure you. You can stay and ponder it over. But remember, Princess Li You Rong, you have only five days."

He offered a forced smile, turning his attention to his son, the Crown Prince, who beamed back with an enthusiasm that felt utterly misplaced. My unease deepened. There was something about him, a hidden agenda lurking beneath his surface smile, that sent shivers down my spine.

As if sensing my thoughts, Zhao Yun offered a silent understanding, his firm grip on my hand loosening slightly. The Emperor's guards relaxed their hold, mirroring the shift in the atmosphere. Even the Empress, her earlier laughter fading, rose from her seat with a curt bow and exited the hall, followed by her maids.

I rolled my eyes, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I glanced at Jing Yi and Zhen Lan, their faces etched with concern. A'Ying, her eyes blazing with defiance, seemed on the verge of action, but the young woman at her side held her back with a pleading hand.

"Oh my," the Empress' voice, tinged with feigned forgetfulness, echoed from the doorway. "I almost forgot about you all. Tip the entertainers generously, my dears. Their performance was truly delightful."

The maids bowed and scurried towards the musicians, laden with gifts of gold, silk, and precious golden leaves. A'Ying averted her gaze, her eyes fixed on the Emperor's stoic form. The lone flutist emerged from behind the curtains, accepted his reward with a curt nod, and brushed past Zhao Yun, his expression unreadable.

The room fell silent once more, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. My stomach churned with a mixture of fear and defiance. Five days. I had five days to make a choice that would alter the course of my life forever.

The flutist, as he departed, surreptitiously slipped a folded piece of paper into Zhao Yun's sleeve, his eyes flitting across the room with an enigmatic glint. I watched him leave, my brow furrowing in deeper confusion. What secrets did this palace hold? And why did he, too, seem vaguely familiar?

My musings were interrupted by Mo Yan, who bowed gracefully before departing. He cast a lingering, concerned glance in our direction before disappearing through the heavy doors. We watched him go in silence, then turned back to A'Ying and her enigmatic companion.

The woman's aura, unlike those of the immortal martial artists or the royalty surrounding us, emanated a dark power I couldn't quite decipher despite scrutinizing her meticulously. With a resolute yet hesitant nod, A'Ying swept past us, her companion trailing closely behind.

I pursed my lips, meeting the Emperor's gaze - a gaze filled with an unsettling anticipation. "Escort the princesses to their respective chambers, Tong," he commanded, his voice devoid of warmth.

His personal guard, Qian Xiantong, inclined his head curtly and barked orders. The guards surrounding us lowered their swords, their expressions hardening. They closed the distance, herding us towards the exit like prisoners.

A surge of anger flared within me as I witnessed Zhen Lan and Jing Yi exchange worried glances. Before I could react further, the guards reached me, their rough hands clamping around mine. "What do you think you're doing?!" I spat, struggling against their hold.

But their grip was relentless, forcing my hands together and securing them with cold metal cuffs, mimicking the fate of Zhen Lan and Jing Yi. Panic bubbled in my chest as I realized the gravity of the situation. We were guests turned captives, our fate hanging precariously in the balance of this scheming Emperor and his cryptic court.

My eyes darted towards Zhao Yun, the only one among us left uncuffed. A flicker of hope ignited within me. "Aren't you concerned about the Jingbei army retaliating for this blatant disrespect?" I challenged, my voice laced with defiance despite the fear gnawing at my core.

The Emperor, his laughter echoing in the tense silence, rose from his throne and approached me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, but his touch sent shivers down my spine rather than any sense of comfort. His gaze then shifted to Zhen Lan, a glint of something akin to hunger flickering in his eyes.

"Why leave him untouched?" Zhen Lan echoed his sentiment, his voice trembling slightly. Both she and I swerved our attention back to Zhao Yun, his stoic expression betraying no hint of surprise at the contrasting treatment. His hand rested firmly on the hilt of his sword, his unwavering composure only fueling my growing curiosity.

A forced smile stretched across the Emperor's face as he addressed his son. "He hails from the esteemed Luoxia Sect, a distinguished guest we wouldn't dare mistreat with such crude methods." His voice dripped with an insincerity that made my skin crawl. "Besides," he continued, his gaze returning to me, "this is standard protocol. In five days, you will be bestowed with a most esteemed title, wouldn't you agree?"

I spun away, his words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. The very notion of accepting anything from him repulsed me. The Crown Prince merely offered another saccharine smile, his courteous wave doing little to ease my mounting apprehension.

"Shall we?" he inquired, his voice laced with a deceptive charm.

Furious and unwilling to cooperate, Jing Yi and Zhen Lan remained rooted to the spot. The guards, their faces devoid of emotion, shoved them roughly towards the exit, their destination undoubtedly the dreaded prison cells. I wasn't spared their forceful treatment either, dragged along like a common criminal. As they manhandled me past Zhao Yun, I threw him a desperate look, hoping for some form of intervention.

He met my gaze briefly, his expression unreadable. However, instead of following us towards the cells, he turned and strode out of the palace with a determined glint in his eyes.

He marched out of the palace, not towards the prison cells where we were being taken, but into the bustling capital. His eyes scanned the throngs of citizens with a newfound intensity, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.

Suddenly, a gentle tug from behind startled him. He whirled around, his sword drawn in a flash, ready to strike. But the figure before him lowered his arms hastily, his voice laced with urgency.

"It's me, Xu Feng, from Dawei!" the man exclaimed, his hands raised in surrender.

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