"L… Li… Li…"
The word refused to leave Bao's mouth. Shock strangled it before it could fully form. What business did a woman of her standing have in a mass burial ground meant for nameless soldiers and discarded slaves?
His knees buckled beneath him. He dropped hard, then threw himself forward, pressing his forehead into the dirt in an exaggerated bow. Yet his display did not earn even the faintest glance from Lady Lian.
Her gaze remained fixed entirely on the strange, beautiful young man seated before her.
When the housemaids spoke of him, two things always surfaced in hushed whispers.
He is mad.
And it is a waste, because he is frighteningly beautiful for a man.
After hearing it repeated too many times, curiosity had finally overcome restraint. She had ordered a guard to observe Si's routine and had been startled to learn he spent his nights within the burial grounds.
After some reluctant deliberation, she decided to see for herself.
"The rumors of your beauty were not exaggerated," Lady Lian said, her voice smooth as silk as she looked down at the boy seated in the dirt, draped in rags.
Even caked in grime, the beauty was undeniable. Yet it was not merely his features. His eyes held a composed assurance, the kind that allowed a slave to remain steady beneath a master's gaze when he should have been trembling.
Most of all, there was depth.
His calm stare lingered on her as though he were studying something precious, something long awaited. It was the kind of gaze reserved for someone deeply invested. The kind she once exchanged with heroic men in the brightest days of her youth.
"I am also beginning to doubt your insanity," she added.
"Well, I am not insane, my lady. As you just witnessed, I was cultivating."
Si inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, yet remained seated.
That alone ignited the guard's fury.
"You filthy, lowborn, corpse-washing grave rat. How dare you address my lady without permission?!"
Yan Cheng had already drawn his saber. The blade rose, poised to fall.
Lady Lian lifted her hand, and he froze.
"Dark cultivator?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. Her raised hand lingered in the air like a judge's decree. The moment it dropped, his life would be forfeit.
Si remained unmoved. He knew it would never fall. And even if it did, it would not be he who died tonight.
"Yes."
He nodded casually, his gaze steady and unflinching.
The firmness in his eyes sent faint ripples through Lady Lian's heart. A subtle flush crept onto her cheeks before she could suppress it.
Who was this person?
How could someone with a temperament surpassing most nobles be reduced to a slave?
Surely there had been some mistake.
As for his path, dark cultivators were frowned upon, but they were not criminals. Some even held high office within the kingdom. As long as one upheld the law and defended the realm, they were tolerated, sometimes even respected.
Demonic cultivators were another matter entirely. They surrendered themselves fully to the darkness of their legacy and committed atrocities to hasten their growth.
She had no reason to kill this beautiful young man.
His friend, however, was another matter.
"Kill him instead," she said coldly. "I cannot have anyone aware of my late-night… activities. If my husband finds cause to divorce me, one of his many harlots will gladly take my place."
Resentment edged her voice, but Si knew that bitterness was not directed at him.
Bao's body jolted violently. His head snapped up just in time to see a silver arc tearing toward him.
"Kill who?"
Si's voice rang out like a struck bell.
Bam!
Silence followed.
Even Lady Lian's brows lifted slightly as she watched Yan Cheng's saber halted by a bare hand. Si remained seated, his arm extended protectively before Bao, the blade embedded deep into his palm, so deep it had reached bone.
Yet it could go no further.
Blood streamed from his hand, dripping steadily from his fingers, but his expression did not change. His gaze never once left Lady Lian.
"If your guard continues attempting to kill my brother, I may have to kill him tonight. Please order him to withdraw."
His words hovered between request and command, indistinguishable in tone. Lady Lian felt herself drawn further in, while Yan Cheng's fury ignited.
Not only had this man lured his lady into the freezing night, risking scandal, he was now humiliating him before her very eyes.
No.
Even if Bao lived, Si had to die.
For a fleeting instant, a sinister smile tugged at Yan Cheng's lips before urgency masked it. He stepped swiftly between Si and Lady Lian.
"Careful, my lady! This boy is dangerous!"
Without hesitation, he unleashed his Flowing Petal Saber.
For a brief moment, time seemed to slow.
His blade blurred. His hands moved with dazzling speed. Each slash overlapped the last, like petals carried upon a spring wind, graceful yet relentless.
"Die for me!"
Si answered with a faint, unimpressed snort.
This child dared challenge him with a human-grade martial technique?
He was courting death.
The Flowing Petal Saber was elegant, fluid, built upon speed and visual pressure. Its strength lay in layering countless shallow cuts, overwhelming weaker opponents through spectacle rather than substance.
It lacked penetration.
Against most foes, that flaw would remain hidden. Against him, it was fatal.
Yan Cheng's eyes gleamed with vicious intent as his saber carved across Si's body. Bloody mist sprayed into the air as shallow wounds opened along his flesh. Yet Si did not retreat. He did not even flinch.
"Harrumph."
The storm of steel came to an abrupt end.
An ordinary-looking fist forced its way through the cascading slashes and struck Yan Cheng squarely in the chest.
Bang!
He was lifted from the ground by the impact. The force was not enough to send him flying far, only a chi upward and a few staggered steps back.
But the damage ran far deeper than the surface.
On his fourth step, his legs gave way. Yan Cheng collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest.
"Blegh!"
Blood spilled from his mouth.
His eyes burned with disbelief as he stared at the crimson staining the ground.
He had been winning.
He had done everything right.
So when had it changed?
How?
A shadow fell over him.
He looked up.
Si stood above him, his rags shredded, his body lined with cuts, blood soaking through cloth and skin alike. Yet he remained upright, composed, wearing that same unchanging expression.
"Who the hell is this kid?!"
His heart trembled.