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Zhao Yun's gaze softened, his eyes flinching as a whirlwind of emotions played out across his master's weathered features. Jing Ke's hands slowly moved away from his neck, drifting towards his face in a rare display of vulnerability. Zhao Yun watched, transfixed, as his mentor's bloodshot eyes gradually dwindled, returning to their usual steely composure, yet the underlying tension and unease was palpable.

Zhao Yun's own breath came in ragged gasps, his teary eyes searching Jing Ke's, desperate for some sign of reassurance or clarity amidst the chaos unfolding around them. A sharp, searing pain lanced through his heart, causing him to instinctively step back, cradling his chest. The vivid green lines snaking along his wrist seemed to have grown longer, a visual testament to the turmoil raging within him.

The poison coursing through his veins was reacting with unprecedented volatility, leaving Zhao Yun to wonder if he was nearing the end. Why was he now assaulted by a confusing mixture of emotions - the overwhelming need to cry, to scream, to be overwhelmed by the sensations of light, taste, touch, and sound? Everything seemed to bombard his senses, loud and disorienting, as if he had just been thrust into the world, struggling to acclimate to his surroundings.

"L-Luo'Er?" Jing Ke's voice, laced with a rare vulnerability, cut through the maelstrom of Zhao Yun's thoughts.

Zhao Yun stepped back once more, his hands clutching at his chest in a futile attempt to alleviate the erupting pain radiating through his veins. "You shouldn't be here. You have to leave before they get back." The words felt hollow, even to his own ears, as he squeezed his eyes shut, his trembling hands still pressed against his tormented body.

Despite the agonizing torment, Zhao Yun forced himself to look up, retorting with a surprising firmness, "We're leaving together." Jing Ke's eyes widened in surprise, and he slowly moved back, the chains rattling with each retreating step. "I can't leave. I won't leave," he said, shaking his head.

A surge of determination welled within Zhao Yun. He had to find a way to free his master, no matter the cost. Forcing his qi, he gradually regained more control over his body, his resolve strengthening. "Shifu, I'm not leaving without you this time. We can figure out how to control the poison in you later." He strode forward, scooping up the chains from the floor and, with one swift slash of his sword, he watched in dismay as the links remained stubbornly unbroken.

"Luo'Er! Listen to me!" Zhao Yun shook his head, undeterred, as he continued to wrestle with the unyielding restraints. "As long as you, Youlian and Yi'Er are fine, that's all that matters." Tears welled in his eyes as he remembered the bloody aftermath at Yihua Palace, the lifeless forms of his fallen comrades seared into his memory.

Zhao Yun was the sole survivor, bearing the unbearable weight of his sister's death and Jing Yi's passing. He couldn't - he wouldn't - lose his shifu too. No matter what, he had to find a way to save Jing Ke and escape this hellish nightmare together. Zhao Yun's resolve hardened, his eyes burning with a fierce determination that belied the anguish ravaging his heart.

"Jing Yi, Youlian.."

As Jing Ke grasped the gravity of the situation, his eyes fell silent, like a still pond reflecting the weight of his emotions. He had deluded himself for years, clinging to the hope that at least one of his disciples or his daughter had survived. But now, the harsh reality dawned on him - only he and Zhao Yun remained. This realization redoubled his determination to ensure Zhao Yun's survival, for as long as he lived, Yihua Palace would stand tall, a beacon of resilience.

With a resolute grip, Jing Ke seized Zhao Yun's shoulder, drawing him close, their faces inches apart. "Listen to me!" he urged, his voice low and urgent. Zhao Yun's eyes searched his, a hint of defiance flickering like a candle flame. "I can extricate you from this perilous situation safely. Trust me."

Jing Ke's gaze swept the surroundings, his eyes drinking in every detail. "I've been incarcerated here for five years, familiarizing myself with every brick, stone, and intricate design. As the leader of the sects, I had strategically situated these buildings in each state, anticipating emergency situations like this."

Zhao Yun's eyes widened in astonishment, his mind reeling from this revelation. "The sect leaders have been colluding with Duke Wei to uncover the secret of crafting the Guo Se sword, the sole weapon you now wield. They've kept me alive solely to extract this information, but I've managed to stall, buying time." The poison's insidious effects had ravaged his body, corroding his organs, leaving him with a death sentence. "Even if you summon all your strength to rescue me, the entire edifice will collapse. My days are numbered, and I can see the defeat etched on your face."

Zhao Yun retreated, his eyes betraying his despair. "Mo Qin can assist us. I encountered him in the forest a few months ago." Jing Ke's sigh was a mournful whisper, his eyes clouding like a stormy sky. "It's too late for me. The poison has progressed too far." Zhao Yun's voice trembled, his words a desperate plea. "Since we know the creator of the poison, there's still a glimmer of hope." Jing Ke's expression turned grave, his eyes flashing like a warning signal. "No, Zhao Yun. This is a lost cause. Leave now, and save yourself."

Zhao Yun refused to accept defeat, his hands grasping the chains like a lifeline. Jing Ke's eyes dilated, the green veins thickening like a warning, as the poison coursed through his body, reacting to the futile attempt to escape. "What if—" Zhao Yun began, but Jing Ke cut him off, his voice a soft whisper. "I know what you're thinking. You saved Jing Yi by transferring the poison to your own body, but that method only works when the poison is newly introduced, and the person must be a skilled martial artist. And it can only be done once."

Zhao Yun's face set in determination, his voice a low growl. "We'll discuss that later, when we're free." Jing Ke's head shook, a slow, mournful motion, as he backed away, his eyes fixed on the wall behind Zhao Yun. The crack in the wall seemed to mock him, a cruel reminder of his impending fate.

With a heavy heart, Jing Ke turned, his qi bursting forth like a tempest, smashing the wall, and sending dust swirling around them like a vortex. His mouth spewed blood, a grim testament to the poison's deadly grip. As the dust settled, Zhao Yun stumbled forward, his eyes scanning the devastation, searching for his shifu, his voice a desperate whisper. "Shifu?"

A sudden tug at the wall caught Zhao Yun's attention, his eyes widening in astonishment. A small tunnel, hidden from view, led to the outside. The realization struck him with a force that left him breathless. All this time, he had possessed the means to escape, yet he had chosen to remain, a prisoner of his own despair. Had he truly given up on life?

"Shifu–" he began, his voice trembling.

"The tunnel leads to the outskirts, near the Ming Palace," Jing Ke replied, his voice calm. "You can escape from there easily."

Zhao Yun shook his head, tears streaming down his face. He rushed to his shifu, grasping his hand tightly. "I have lost so much in this life," he pleaded. "Ever since I became your disciple, you have been more than a father to me. Even if Jing Yi and Youlian are gone, we can still rebuild Yihua Palace together. Please, let's go together. Trust me!"

Jing Ke's heart was torn. He was overwhelmed by Zhao Yun's unwavering loyalty, his selfless devotion. But he knew that accompanying Zhao Yun would only put them both in danger. His own strength was fading, and his identity was a precious secret that must be protected at all costs.

With a heavy heart, Jing Ke summoned the last remnants of his qi. With a final burst of energy, he pushed Zhao Yun away, sending him flying through the tunnel. The walls behind him began to crumble, the weight of the collapsing building threatening to crush him.

Zhao Yun landed on the ground outside, his body trembling. He struggled to stand, his mind reeling from the shock of what had just happened. The building had collapsed, trapping Jing Ke inside.

Zhao Yun attempted to speak, but his voice was choked with emotion. He had lost another loved one, another sacrifice made in the name of Yihua Palace. How many more would he lose?

The halls of the palace were alive with the bustling activity of servants and guards going about their daily routines. Xu Feng, standing in his post, observed the scene with a weary sigh. His eyes were drawn to a familiar figure, Gui Li, disguised in men's attire. Her expression was one of simmering impatience, her gaze darting from side to side as she listened to the gossip of the maids.

"Did you hear about the building collapse in the outskirts?" one maid asked, her voice filled with excitement. "They say that's where the traitor Jing Ke was being held!" Gasps erupted from the group as they shared the shocking news. "I heard his daughter was also captured there, by Mr. Lu," another maid added, her voice dripping with contempt.

Gui Li's eyes narrowed, her grip on her sword hilt tightening. Xu Feng watched her closely, sensing her growing agitation. "And what of the recent defeat of Song?" she inquired, her voice laced with a hint of anger. "I heard the Crown Prince of Great Wei led the seizure of their capital. Compared to the Crown Prince of Ming, he seems to have achieved far more."

The maids nodded in agreement, their laughter filling the air. But their mirth was abruptly cut short when Gui Li pointed her sword at the first commentator, her eyes blazing with fury.

The maids shrank back in fear, their heads bowed in submission. "Keep your gossip to yourselves," Gui Li warned, her voice low and menacing. "One more word about the royals, and you will lose your heads."

The maids nodded repeatedly, their faces pale with fright. As soon as the maids dispersed, Gui Li stormed off, her anger evident in every step. Xu Feng followed her, closing the door behind them.

"Gui Li–" he began, his voice filled with concern.

She turned to face him, her eyes filled with determination. "Is there any truth to what they said?" Xu Feng hesitated, his heart heavy with the weight of the truth.

Xu Feng bowed his head, exhaling a weighty sigh. "I–"

She swiftly raised her sword, positioning the tip at his neck. He retaliated, but she deftly maneuvered, securing an advantageous aim at his chest, a mere inch from his heart. "Did you perpetrate the governor's demise?"

He audibly gulped, his resolute façade now shattered. She had cornered him with remarkable alacrity, despite her earlier pretense of frailty when he had proposed the arrangement. She could have easily escaped unscathed with such exemplary skills, yet she had feigned compliance.

"When did you intend to disclose this to me?" Xu Feng inquired. She turned away, but maintained her sword's unwavering focus on him. "Answer my query. Did you or did you not?"

Before he could respond, a contingent of guards entered. She lowered her sword, stepping back. "Guangzhou city is under attack!"

The guards' eyes widened in startled surprise. "The instigator is Xu Jing, the esteemed second prince of Dawei."

As the clouds congregated, their darkness intensifying by the minute, a solitary raindrop alighted upon my hand, prompting me to gaze upward, my lips compressing in a mixture of frustration and despair. "I demand to see Shifu!"

A'Ying, her resolve unwavering and unyielding as ever, unsheathed her sword, its tip directed at me with unrelenting precision. My eyes locked onto hers, searching for a glimmer of recognition, but instead, I found an unbridgeable chasm, a testament to the erosion of our former bond. My feet, seemingly possessed of a will of their own, edged closer, defying the implicit warning.

"I'm aware of our irreconcilable differences," I continued, my voice laced with a poignant desperation, "but I implore you, set them aside. Shifu was gravely injured in the cell; his well-being is paramount. I must know his condition, and I fail to comprehend why you're obstructing my path." A'Ying's countenance remained impassive, her sword unwavering, as she declared, "Take another step forward, and I cannot guarantee the consequences."

My eyes, brimming with unshed tears, searched hers for a flicker of hesitation, a glimmer of the sisterly affection we once shared. But it was a fleeting mirage, a momentary lapse in her otherwise unyielding demeanor.

"What if we had not been born into this palace, if we were merely ordinary siblings, unencumbered by the burdens of royalty?" A'Ying's response was a deep, measured breath, her lips compressing into a thin line. "That possibility was extinguished the moment you testified against my mother alongside Duke Wei. We have long since become sworn enemies, a reality you refuse to acknowledge."

As I stood there, my mind racing with the labyrinthine complexities of our shared past, I realized the unpalatable truth: I had been clinging to a fantasy, a chimera of sisterly love that had never truly existed.

A'Ying's aloofness, her emotional distance, had been a constant throughout our lives. And I, in my pathetic desperation, had clung to it, blackmailing her with guilt and obligation. I laughed silently, a mirthless, despairing sound, as my head bowed in defeat.

"It would be wise for you to return to Liang, wed Zhen Lan, and quell the unrest in the kingdom," A'Ying advised, her tone laced with a hint of condescension.

My blood boiled. "I will not marry Zhen Lan," I declared, my voice firm. "As a princess, I have the right to choose my own husband."

She chuckled, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "Choose who? Shifu?" The words hung in the air, a chilling revelation. Had she seen through my deception?

Tension thickened the atmosphere as her sword remained pointed at me. "How–"

The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted our conversation. A'Ying lowered her sword, preparing to leave. "Is Zhao Yun in?" Mo Yan's voice carried a sense of urgency.

A'Ying sighed, her expression softening. "He is meditating and does not wish to be disturbed."

Disappointment etched itself on Mo Yan's face. He stood in silence for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts.

"Very well," he said finally. "Inform me when he is finished. I wish to discuss Mo Qin with him."

My ears perked up at the mention of that name. Mo Qin? Where had I heard that name before? As I turned to face Mo Yan, I recalled the day I had met him in the forest while still in Liang. Shifu and I had been caught in a dangerous situation, surrounded by assassins.

"I met him in a forest while I was still in Liang," I explained, my voice filled with a mix of curiosity and excitement. "Shifu and I were caught there when assassins attacked."

Mo Yan's eyes widened. "According to the portraits he had on his wall, he has been traveling through the states, curing people," he said, his voice filled with urgency. "Based on his pattern, I believe he is currently in Ming."

I nodded, my mind racing. Shifu had never mentioned Mo Qin to me, but now that I knew Mo Yan's connection to him, everything made sense. It seemed that the rumors about Mo Yan being Shifu's son were true.

Mo Yan pushed through the bustling crowd, his sword at his side. The people thronged about, their faces filled with the mundane concerns of daily life.

"Sorry," he apologized, his voice barely audible over the din. He pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes scanning the streets for a sign of a healer. As he reached the south wing of the city, the scent of incense and herbs filled his nostrils. He paused to catch his breath, his gaze drawn to an elderly man tending to an elderly woman.

The old man smiled at the woman, handing her some herbs. "Apply these for three days, and you will be well again," he said. The woman nodded and left the queue. Mo Yan joined the line, his heart pounding with anticipation.

As night fell, he stood before the healer, his eyes fixed on the man's face. Mo Qin looked up, a smile spreading across his features. He motioned for Mo Yan to sit down so he could check his pulse.

Mo Yan complied, his nerves on edge. After a moment, Mo Qin's expression turned serious. "Your pulse is strong," he said, his voice filled with concern. "Is there something troubling you?"

Tears welled up in Mo Yan's eyes. He hesitated, his throat tight with emotion. "Don't you recognize me?" he finally asked.

Mo Qin's eyes widened as he looked at Mo Yan more closely. He noticed the disciple name tag on his chest and stumbled backward, his hand instinctively moving away from Mo Yan. Fear flickered in his eyes as he scanned the surroundings. "You shouldn't be here," he whispered.

Mo Yan stood up, his anger rising. "Is that all you have to say to me?" he demanded, his voice filled with disappointment.

Mo Qin looked down, his face filled with guilt. His eyes widened again as he saw a group of guards approaching. He pulled Mo Yan into his house, closing the door behind them.

"It would be better if you pretended you have never seen me," Mo Qin said, his voice trembling.

Mo Yan's lips parted in disbelief. "Mo Qin!" he exclaimed, drawing his sword and pointing it at Mo Qin's neck. His gaze was cold and menacing.

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