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Swords clashed in mid-air as soldiers fought to the death at the gates. Hanfu stained with the blood of comrades and enemies, the warriors' screams echoed through the air. More blood venom puppets stormed the gates, slaughtering villagers indiscriminately.

Xu Feng spun around, breathing heavily, as he witnessed the gruesome scene unfold. People fell dead, one by one, while others rose after a few seconds, their transformation horrifying. Bloodshot eyes, crawling nails, and scrounging fingers marked the survivors.

"Accept defeat, brother!" Xu Jing exclaimed, his voice laced with sarcastic joy. His head tossed back, hands raised, and sword held aloft, as he laughed maniacally.

Xu Feng inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering closed at the sight of the carnage. The dead bodies and the horrific appearance of the survivors etched a haunting image in his mind.

The city teetered on the brink of destruction, ravaged by Xu Jing's ruthless ambition and his backer's influence. They disregarded the people's rights and freedoms, driven solely by a lust for power. Xu Feng's father had fallen victim to Xu Jing's insatiable hunger for control, murdered to secure command of the Fengwu Army.

Xu Feng's heart heavy with anguish, he acknowledged the painful truth: his brother had crossed a line beyond redemption. The only way to stop Xu Jing's reign of terror was to end his life. But could Xu Feng bring himself to kill his own brother with his own hands?

As he slowly raised his sword, Xu Feng's gaze met Xu Jing's, and for an instant, his eyes welled up with reluctance. His hands trembled as cherished childhood memories flooded his mind: laughter-filled days playing in the park, innocent and oblivious to the intricate web of court politics and the weighty responsibility of protecting their citizens.

Xu Feng's nostalgia was palpable, but Xu Jing's mocking tone snapped him back to reality. "You're renowned as one of the greatest swordsmen, and I won't dispute that," Xu Jing sneered, his eyes gleaming with contempt. "But your weakness lies here," he said, striking his chest with a derisive chuckle. "You're too soft, too humble. Those traits make you unworthy of the throne."

Xu Jing turned, surveying the army that had encircled them. "You see, they all belong to me. I possess the courage and ambition you lack. I'm the one who deserves to rule, not you." His voice dripped with venom. "Father was blind to my accomplishments, and he paid the price for his ignorance. Even in his final moments, he didn't acknowledge me. Today, I'll prove which of us is truly worthy of the throne. Only one of us will walk away alive."

Xu Jing raised his sword, and with a battle cry of "Kill!" the army charged. Xu Feng, his heart heavy with reluctance, lifted his own sword, slicing through the puppets that swarmed him. They attacked from all angles, but Xu Feng fought valiantly, taking down each opponent with precision.

However, despite his exceptional skills, he couldn't fend off the relentless onslaught alone. A puppet slashed his back, and as he spun to counterattack, another stabbed him in the shoulder. Xu Feng fell to one knee, his sword slicing the neck of the attacker behind him.

Xu Jing watched with calculated interest, waiting for Xu Feng's exhaustion to set in. It was only a matter of time before his brother's defenses weakened, and Xu Jing would seize the opportunity to strike the final blow.

Xu Feng clutched his sword, the blade stuck in the ground, as he panted heavily, his eyes locked on Xu Jing. The puppets closed in, forming a tight circle around him. Xu Feng's screams echoed through the air as he struggled to break free from their crushing pressure.

Desperately, he hurled his sword at the puppets, the blade slicing through the air in a deadly arc. The battle raged on for what felt like an eternity - minutes ticking by, stretching into an hour. Xu Feng stumbled, falling back as blood spurted from his lips. He collapsed against his sword, the blade still lodged in the ground.

Xu Jing observed the scene unfold, his eyes gleaming with calculation. He watched as his brother's strength waned, his exhaustion evident. Xu Jing's patience was wearing thin; he knew it was only a matter of time before Xu Feng's defenses crumbled completely.

Xu Jing offered a calculated smile, his voice dripping with condescension. "If you surrender, I can spare your life. All you need to do is acknowledge my supremacy and bow to me as your majesty. You were once my treasured brother, after all."

Xu Feng's exhausted eyes sparkled with amusement as he let out a weak chuckle. Summoning his last vestiges of strength, he stumbled to his feet, requiring several attempts to stand upright. He wiped the blood from his lower lip with the back of his arm, his gaze locking onto Xu Jing's once more.

Xu Feng's words cut deep, his tone resolute. "You've lost all sense of right and wrong. I might have considered surrendering ten years ago, but not now. You're not worthy of my respect, let alone my allegiance."

Xu Jing's laughter echoed through the desolate streets, his fists clenched in rage. Even at the brink of death, Xu Feng refused to yield. With a fierce determination, Xu Feng grasped his sword from the ground and charged at the blood venom puppets.

The city lay in ruins around them, buildings reduced to rubble, and streets slick with the blood of the innocent. The once-clear skies were now shrouded in a thick, ominous haze.

Xu Jing watched with a mixture of fury and fascination as Xu Feng fought valiantly, his sword slicing through the puppets with deadly precision. With each attack, Xu Feng's movements grew slower, his breathing more labored. Yet, he refused to yield.

At every sword cut, Xu Feng's face contorted in pain, his fists clenched in defiance. He yelped out in agony as the puppets managed to land a few blows, but he continued to fight, dodging and weaving between the relentless attacks.

Xu Jing's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed intently on his brother's every move. With each strike, his expression twisted in a mixture of anger and admiration. He had underestimated Xu Feng's determination and skill.

As the battle raged on, Xu Feng stumbled, his sword trembling in his grasp. Xu Jing's eyes lit up with anticipation, sensing victory within his grasp. Yet, Xu Feng refused to surrender, summoning his last vestiges of strength to launch a final, desperate counterattack.

Xu Feng stumbled backward, blood gushing from his mouth, as a final, vicious stab struck him. Xu Jing's expression transformed, a flicker of concern dancing across his face. He took a step forward, poised to deliver the killing blow.

Just as Xu Jing was about to strike, Gui Li burst onto the scene, her sword flashing in the dim light. With swift, deadly precision, she cut down the remaining puppets surrounding Xu Feng.

As Xu Jing attempted to land a fatal blow on Xu Feng, Gui Li intervened, intercepting the attack. She took the stab, her body jerking backward as blood spurted from her lips.

With a fierce cry, Gui Li spun around, her sword slicing through the air. She struck Xu Jing unawares, her blade biting deep into his flesh. Xu Jing's eyes widened in shock, his face contorting in pain.

Xu Jing's eyes bulged in horror as he gazed down at the blade lodged in his chest, his heart racing wildly. He looked up at Xu Feng, his vision blurring, and for an instant, his expression softened. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he whispered, "Good... At least you didn't get to kill me yourself. You still lost to me... with her."

As the reality of his situation set in, Xu Jing's face contorted in a mixture of shock, pain, and despair. His legs buckled beneath him, and he crumpled to the ground, his body trembling. His chest heaved with ragged breaths, each one growing shallower than the last.

Xu Jing's gaze remained fixed on Xu Feng, his eyes pleading for something - forgiveness, understanding, or perhaps a glimmer of brotherly love. But as the life seeped out of him, his eyelids grew heavy, and his vision began to fade. With one final, defeated whisper, Xu Jing's body went limp, and he succumbed to the darkness, his chest still rising and falling with faint, fading breaths.

As Xu Jing's lifeless form slumped to the ground, Gui Li struggled to speak, her voice barely audible. Her hanfu was rapidly staining with crimson blood, and her sight was dwindling. She swayed unsteadily, her balance failing her. With a final, heroic effort, she looked up at Xu Feng, her eyes filled with a deep, unspoken message.

The sudden loss of their commander sent the remaining soldiers into disarray. They began to disperse, abandoning their posts as the city descended into chaos. The blood venom puppets, still at large, continued their rampage, ransacking the city and reducing it to ruins. The once-majestic streets were now a scene of utter devastation, the sounds of screams, wailing, and clashing steel echoing through the desolate landscape.

Gui Li's voice was barely audible, her words punctuated by faint gasps. "P-Promise me... You must keep the citizens safe." Her eyes, cloudy with pain and exhaustion, pleaded with Xu Feng to vow to protect the innocent.

Xu Feng's face contorted in anguish as he struggled to contain his emotions. He gently covered her abdomen wound with his hand, applying pressure to stem the bleeding. His touch was tender, yet desperate, as if he could will her wounds to heal.

Gui Li's gaze never wavered, her eyes burning with an intense urgency. "P-Promise me... There shouldn't be another Song. You must s-survive." Her words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the devastating consequences of Xu Jing's tyranny.

Xu Feng's resolve crumbled, and he nodded reluctantly, tears welling up in his eyes. He clung to Gui Li's hand, his fingers intertwining with hers as he nodded repeatedly, as if the motion could somehow anchor her to life.

"Thank you for helping me till now. I never got to say this-" Gui Li's voice trailed off, her words hanging in the air like a poignant whisper.

Xu Feng's gaze snapped back to hers, his heart racing with a sense of foreboding. But it was too late. Her hand slipped from his, her eyes glazing over with a pale, ethereal light. Her gaze wandered, unfocused, into the atmosphere.

"Gui Li?" Xu Feng called out, his voice cracking with desperation. But she didn't respond. Her body lay still, her chest motionless.

With a heavy heart, Xu Feng gently closed her eyes with his trembling hands. He fought to hold back the anguish that threatened to consume him, the need to scream his devastation into the void. The pain of losing her was suffocating, a crushing weight that pressed upon his chest.

The memories of their time together flooded his mind - the human hunt, their shared moments of tenderness, and her unwavering dedication to their cause. Despite saving her from the human hunt, he couldn't save her from this fate. The realization was a bitter pill to swallow.

How could he hope to protect the entire population when he couldn't even save the woman he loved?

Xu Feng gently laid Gui Li by the wall, his reluctance palpable as he tore his gaze away from her lifeless form. He stole one last glance, his lips compressing into a thin line. With a resolute determination, he turned away, his grip on his sword tightening.

He sprinted out of the building, dashing toward the next imperiled city, Guangzhou. The soldiers who had been standing idly by Xu Jing's lifeless body looked down, their eyes widening as they spotted Xu Feng approaching.

Immediately, they dropped to their knees, reciting in unison, "Your Highness! Please spare us!" Xu Feng's fists clenched in rage, the memory of Gui Li's dying moments seared into his mind like a branding iron.

With a swift, deadly motion, he slit the throats of two soldiers, their screams echoing through the air as they fell dead, their blood splattering across Xu Feng's face. His sword flashed in the fading light, poised for the next strike.

Xu Feng's eyes blazed with fury, his vision tinged with a reddish haze. His anger and frustration boiled over, fueled by the injustice of Gui Li's senseless death and the betrayal of his own brother.

Qian Zhao rushed back, his breathing labored as he took in the scene before him. Xu Feng stood frozen, his blood-stained hands trembling with rage. The soldiers cowered at his feet, their heads shaking in terror.

Qian Zhao's gaze swept the area, his eyes widening as he took in the bloodstains and Gui Li's absence. His lips compressed into a thin line, and he approached Xu Feng with a measured calm.

"I know I have no right to interfere in Wei's disciplinary matters," Qian Zhao began, his voice low and even. "But we need every able-bodied soldier we can get. It would be prudent to utilize their assistance to our advantage, at least for the time being. You can mete out punishment later, once the chaos has subsided. Alright?"

Qian Zhao's words were laced with a subtle caution, his eyes locked onto Xu Feng's as he sought to reign in his temper. The tension between them was palpable, the air thick with the weight of Xu Feng's grief and anger.

The soldiers exchanged terrified glances, fearful of Xu Feng's wrath. His hand trembled, poised above the neck of the army leader, as if hesitant to relinquish his grip on vengeance.

With visible effort, Xu Feng retreated, taking a step back. His voice, low and menacing, sent shivers down the spines of the soldiers. "Those who wish to follow me should retreat to Guangzhou and protect the citizens. Show no mercy to the traitors. Those who refuse..."

Before he could finish, the soldiers bowed in unison, reciting, "We will retreat!" They scrambled to their feet, gathering their armory as they awaited Xu Feng's signal to depart.

As he raised his hand, the soldiers formed a line, their faces set with determination. Xu Feng mounted a horse, Qian Zhao following suit. The soldiers trailed behind them, their horses' hooves pounding the blood-stained streets.

As they sped away, the city descended into chaos. Flames engulfed buildings, casting a fiery glow over the streets. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and the scent of blood. The sound of screams and clashing steel echoed through the streets, a haunting reminder of the devastation left in their wake.

Zhao Yun's eyes scanned the horizon as he sped across the desert, the dusty breeze whipping his face and disturbing the horse. The horse neighed, lifting its legs in protest, and Zhao Yun quickly brushed his hands over its neck, loosening his grip on the reins.

He dismounted quietly, standing before the horse as he took a deep breath, clinging to his chest. The relentless ride had taken its toll; he'd been riding non-stop for hours without rest. Even the horse refused to move, its exhaustion evident.

Zhao Yun's gaze swept the vast expanse, his mind racing with the distance still to cover before reaching Rouran on time. The silence from Su Ruo and Xiao Fan weighed heavily on his mind, fueling his growing worry. Yet, he'd kept his concerns hidden.

His predictions and plans had always been flawless, until the brutal deaths of his shifu and Jing Yi. The memory still seared his soul, a painful reminder of his failure. He couldn't even provide a proper farewell, unable to mount a worthy tablet to honor their memory.

Zhao Yun's thoughts swirled with the memories of Yihua Palace's brutal annihilation. Despite their tireless efforts to seek redemption for the wandering souls, they were met with cruelty and destruction. The weight of their bad reputation still lingered.

As he stood on the mountain, the screams of his sect members echoed in his mind, a haunting reminder of the slaughter he witnessed. The helplessness still lingered, a burden he carried as the sole survivor of Yihua Palace. Dragging innocent people into this mess only amplified his guilt.

Feng Liu's death still stung, and the green mark spreading up his arm served as a grim reminder that he might be next. He raised his hand, and another gust of wind blew, carrying with it the sound of horse hooves.

As he looked up, a horse came into view, running through the wind. Zhao Yun's eyes narrowed, and then, in an instant, they brightened with hope. His deduction had been correct - she survived. A wave of relief washed over him.

"Shifu!" a voice called out, and Zhao Yun's heart skipped a beat as he saw a familiar figure emerge from the distance.

A'Ying leapt off her horse and rushed to Zhao Yun's side, her smile radiant as she approached. However, her expression faltered as she took in his pale, gaunt appearance.

"Shifu, you..." A'Ying's voice trailed off, concern etched on her face. She followed Zhao Yun's gaze as he looked beyond her, searching for another companion.

"Where's Mo Yan?" A'Ying's head jerked back, her hands falling limp beside her. Zhao Yun's eyes narrowed, confusion etched on his face.

"A'Ying, did you two get separated by chance? Or did he go ahead?" A'Ying's eyes welled up with tears as she shook her head. With a trembling hand, she pulled out a strand of hair caught in her hanfu and extended it, her voice barely above a whisper.

"H-He's dead." Zhao Yun's eyes widened in horror, and he stumbled backward, his gaze darting wildly as if searching for an escape from the devastating truth.

He refocused on A'Ying, his hand grasping her shoulder as if seeking anchor. "Where's he?!" A'Ying shook her head, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to speak.

A'Ying's voice trembled as she continued, "After receiving your message, I planned to leave with him. But we were ambushed by blood venom puppets. Luckily, Zhen Lan helped us escape, but we got separated. To keep me alive and deliver this letter, he took a stab from one of the puppets."

She handed Zhao Yun a worn letter, its contents revealing Mo Yan's research on the Blood Venom. The words spilled out Mo Yan's inner turmoil, his acceptance of death, and his longing for redemption.

"I might be dead by the time you receive this letter," Mo Yan's words echoed. "One of the happiest days of my life was when I brought you and your sister to join the sect. For the first time, I felt useful and honored by my sect master. I made new friends, and you guys brought joy to the palace. I wanted to help during the massacre, but my master locked me up. It's been a burden on me all these years, not being able to help when you needed me the most."

Mo Yan's words poured out his anguish, his regret, and his shame. "Jing Yi and Elder Jing are dead, all because of my father's obsession with the throne. I've wondered how your life would've been if I hadn't brought you to the sect. You might've lived a peaceful life without this weight. I don't have the courage to face you now, so I write this letter, hoping you'll receive it when I'm gone. You must survive, no matter what. Hang my tablet by my mother's death place. Please...survive."

The letter ended, leaving Zhao Yun's eyes brimming with tears, his heart heavy with grief.

Zhao Yun's body convulsed, his hands trembling violently as he clutched his chest. Blood spurted from his mouth, and A'Ying rushed to his side, her voice shrill with panic.

Zhao Yun's eyes closed, his face contorted in agony. The poison coursed through his veins with alarming speed, its sting intensifying by the second. Even as his life force ebbed away, his thoughts lingered on Mo Yan, his mind reeling with questions.

Why had Mo Yan felt so compelled to help him, despite the danger? Was it guilt over his father's actions or a genuine desire to make amends? Zhao Yun had never blamed Mo Yan, yet the younger man had shouldered the weight of his family's sins.

A'Ying's frantic cries pierced the air. "Shifu!" she screamed, but Zhao Yun's voice was barely audible. "Step back..." A tear welled up in his eye as he spat up more blood, the poison warring with his dwindling qi.

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