Chapter Ninety-Five: Rumors of Crow Mountain

She returned to her room and sat on the couch-bed, lowering the curtains with a gentle wave of her hand. Her figure was soon enveloped in a faint shadow.

Now that she knew where Ji Wuqing was, she had no reason not to go. Although the venomous insect within her body had been temporarily suppressed, she still felt weak and found it difficult to move.

Thinking of this, she recalled her Soul Capturing Technique. Though it could not cure the root of her ailment, it would ensure her safe arrival at Crow Mountain.

The next day, there was no trace of Blood Snow in Crane Hill Manor.

“Where could she have gone? Her body isn’t healed yet, and in this bitter cold, where could she possibly be?” Qiu Hua was so anxious she paced in circles, worried not only for Blood Snow but also for how she would explain things to Wuqing. She’d lost sight of her charge and was at a loss.

“It’s all my fault. I should have guarded her day and night…” Taoxin, beside her, was nearly in tears. “Could someone have broken into the manor and taken her away?” She thought, given Blood Snow’s frail state, it was unlikely she had left on her own.

“No.” Wuma Chou shook his head. “She may have gone to Crow Mountain.”

“Crow Mountain? Old Wuma, did you let it slip?” Crow Mountain was precisely where Wuqing had gone this time; only a few knew, and they had kept it from Blood Snow.

“Please punish me, Miss. It is indeed my fault,” Wuma Chou knelt, accepting responsibility.

“…Finding her is our top priority now. We’ll deal with your mistake later,” Qiu Hua pressed her temple, exasperated that it was old Wuma who had ultimately revealed the secret to Blood Snow.

Meanwhile, Blood Snow had reached the foot of Crow Mountain after traveling day and night.

She lifted the curtain and stood behind the coachman. The coachman was completely wrapped up, his appearance obscured, sitting upright and motionless like a statue.

Standing behind him, Blood Snow waved her hand lightly over his head. Instantly, without a sound, the coachman slumped over, leaving only scattered clothes. Inside, there was no flesh or bone, only a heap of white snow.

Blood Snow stepped out of the carriage, tore off the garments haphazardly wrapped over the snow, and threw them back inside. Only then did she stride away, ascending Crow Mountain.

The mountain was eerily quiet, yet vegetation flourished, tall plants brushing against Blood Snow’s white fox-fur cloak.

Crow Mountain was strange—there was no snow at all, only fallen leaves carpeting the forest floor, some already decayed and sticking to the soft earth.

It wasn’t long before her shoes were covered in rotting leaves, the ground beneath silent yet sticky, like muddy soil.

What was wrong with this mountain?

A sense of uncanny strangeness lingered…

At the foot of Crow Mountain, the empty carriage fluttered in the wind, its curtains billowing. An elegant figure approached the carriage. Even in this wild, desolate place, he maintained his noble bearing.

His black cloud boots drew near the carriage, the ground at his feet still muddy, not yet fully melted from the snow.

“How is there snow in such a place? Who could have left it?” He brushed his white robe aside and crouched to examine the snow, his gentle eyes reflecting the cold, though the smile on his lips remained warm, creating a curious contrast.

Beside him, his attendants, dressed in sturdy clothing, quickly ascended Crow Mountain, swift as the wind, ready to sweep over the hill.

Blood Snow wandered Crow Mountain, tilting her head in thought, pondering the mountain’s oddities. Suddenly, she halted, lost in contemplation.

The lonely mountain wind whispered by, but could not conceal the cold killing intent surging nearby.

A group of black-clad men perched silently in the trees, observing her. Seeing her as frail and harmless, they exchanged glances, crouching in the branches, watching without acting.

It wasn’t until the man in white slowly approached and stood before Blood Snow, keeping a measured distance between them.

“Miss, are you from the mountain? Yue and his companions have lost their way. Would you kindly guide us?” he asked, bowing politely, not realizing Blood Snow was blind.

“You’re mistaken. I cannot guide you,” she replied calmly, lowering her eyes and turning to leave.

“Wait, miss, don’t be afraid. We’re not bad people,” he called gently, his tone unusually soft.

“Our paths differ. Please find your own way,” Blood Snow turned, attempting to leave quickly, but a black-clad man struck at her in an instant.

Blood Snow sensed the undercurrents between them, steadied herself, and subtly moved her hand, ready to retaliate. But the black-clad man was suddenly struck by a powerful force and fell into the grass with a swift cry.

With this sudden turn, the man in white pressed his sword to Blood Snow’s throat. “Please, sir, look carefully before you act. This blade does not discriminate.”

His voice remained gentle, but the sword in his hand was deadly.

“I hope you are not blind to reason,” Ji Wuqing, clad in snowy white robes, stepped out slowly, half smiling as he watched the man in white and his sword pressed against Blood Snow.

“As you say, Yue is someone who cherishes beauty. I could never harm her.” The man called Yue suddenly withdrew his blade, but his attendant mimicked his earlier action, pressing a dagger to Blood Snow’s throat.

The gesture was glaringly offensive.

“Let’s make a deal. I will release Gongshen Ling’er, and you will return Blood Snow to me unharmed.” As he spoke, Gongshen Ling’er was brought forward by his attendants, rather roughly.

Gongshen Ling’er was not angry; instead, she looked calmly at the man in white. “Elder Yue has come in person, so I suppose the Lord has already been rescued?”

She said this deliberately for Ji Wuqing to hear—a king going to such lengths for a woman, she wondered what he thought at this moment.

“Be assured, young master, everything is under Yue’s control.” The man nodded, his demeanor courteous and gentle.

“Is that so? You’d better bring her back safe first,” Ji Wuqing responded without emotion, as if unconcerned, showing no sign of anger.

He stood there, graceful and refined. Though his white robe was stained with mud, it did not diminish his bamboo-like elegance, nor the warmth of his presence.

While he seemed detached, Blood Snow was inwardly puzzled. According to Gongshen Ling’er, Ji Wuqing had captured Zuo Qiu Liye? What was that about?

“Then let’s follow King Ji’s suggestion and exchange both sides at once.” The man Yue nodded, his gaze probing as he looked at Blood Snow. “So she’s the blind girl the Lord values so highly. You truly have a connection with our Dance Kingdom.”

Blood Snow listened without reacting.

She analyzed the situation silently. These people meant to use her as a hostage to exchange for Gongshen Ling’er…

How rude! To use her without permission—it was utterly disrespectful!

“The Dance Kingdom’s persistent entanglement with me is a real headache.” It truly was.

She suddenly blurted out, and at the same time bent her arm to attack the attendant holding her. She had a sharp hairpin concealed in her hand, prepared for self-defense upon sensing danger.

The attendant was completely unprepared, and instinctively retreated under her sudden attack, giving her a chance to escape.

Unfortunately, escape was only momentary; the surrounding attendants were quick to react, swinging their swords at her. But a warm, familiar embrace caught her, shielding her from harm.

“Blood Snow, you really are a handful.”

He gently held her in his arms, affectionately embracing her with a hint of helpless doting in his tone. His snowy robe, though touched by dust, could not hide his brilliance. His handsome face bore a smile like the lingering sunset—bright yet tinged with a faint melancholy.

Blood Snow felt a stir in her heart, but her nose caught a subtle scent of blood.

Was he injured?

“I wasn’t disobedient. I missed you.” She nestled in his arms, whispering softly, her voice too low for others to hear, yet Ji Wuqing caught every word.

He held her tighter, but the faint scent of blood lingered.

Who was hurt?

“This young lady has remarkable skills, so vigilant—it’s admirable,” Yue commented gently, seeming unperturbed by Blood Snow’s sudden action.

However, the attendant who had held Blood Snow was struck down with a single sword, losing his life without even a cry.

Yue sheathed his sword, its edge still stained with blood. With a flick, it gleamed sharp and clean once more.

Unable even to hold a woman—such uselessness had no place in the Dark Pavilion, nor in the Dance Kingdom!

“Don’t think that such behavior will earn you forgiveness for your offense against Blood Snow,” Ji Wuqing, beauty in his arms, smiled more deeply, but his gaze hinted at deadly intent.

At his command, the two sides clashed, not in minor skirmish, but in a fight to the death, every blade stained with blood.

Soon, Yue’s attendants were reduced to three or four. Dark Pavilion men, even when outnumbered, resisted fiercely, not one fleeing the battle.

Yue stood aside, observing with his usual gentle manner, giving off the air of a scholarly gentleman—yet the reality was chilling.

Seeing his attendants nearly annihilated, Yue finally shook his head. “It seems I cannot take the young master home today. This was Yue’s miscalculation.”

“Elder Yue, you may leave. I will take care of myself,” Gongshen Ling’er said, her face expressionless.

“Then Yue will withdraw.” He nodded. “Yet this young lady is extraordinary. King Ji, are you aware of the power hidden within her? If so, do you intend to use it?”