One Hundred: Do Not Seal the Coffin While the Person Still Breathes

Collaborating with the Chaos Rippers was something Ming Tian found deeply repulsive. Although his exposure to this organization had been limited, he had already formed a basic understanding of what they were.

Disgusting, narcissistic, perverted, cruel, boring, unimaginative in their naming sense, idiotic, narcissistic—wait, I think I said narcissistic twice. In short, they were nothing but trouble. To put it bluntly, they were a group of trash who fancied themselves the protagonists of a novel or film, yet lacked the mettle to actually be one.

Even so, they were transmigrators—people from different eras with unique advantages. A group of such trash, when gathered together, possessed a quality that far surpassed anything the local inhabitants could muster. Yet, as things stood, the enemy of his enemy was his friend; the Chaos Rippers were the only ones left with whom he could cooperate.

"Cui Jue, there is no time to lose. We shall split into two groups. You go gather our forces and meet me at the Swallow Cloud Inn. I will head back first to stall De Yi'ao."

"Understood."

Without further ado, Cui Jue mounted the only horse An Luo had managed to scrounge up and galloped away. Cui Jue was a formidable rival, and while Ming Tian disliked him, he held him in high regard. Back at Purple Flower Mountain, faced with a disadvantage and extreme provocation, Cui Jue had made the rational choice to retreat. Most other self-important transmigrators would have brainlessly chosen to fight to the death. For that alone, Ming Tian could trust him. He was an enemy, yes, but he was certainly not a man who acted on mere impulse.

The inn was only five or six hundred meters away; they could reach it quickly on foot. Ming Tian led Yin Chan, An Luo, Zhao Yu, and Feng Mowang, sprinting toward the inn with all their might. According to Feng Mowang, De Yi'ao should have set out half an hour ago and arrived at the inn long ago.

Under the cover of night, the streets were empty, allowing them to run unimpeded. If Xin Zhu had been deceived and had already left by horse, it would mean De Yi'ao’s lie had become reality. If he rushed into the inn under those circumstances, he would undoubtedly be throwing himself into the lion's den. De Yi'ao would surely kill him on the spot—he was useless now—to ensure his lie remained the truth.

I have to catch up!

After five minutes of sprinting, Ming Tian ran even faster than An Luo, whose physical conditioning was superior. In his anxiety, he even forgot how to breathe.

Rounding the final corner, the inn came into view, its windows shattered and its doors torn off during the battle with the Jie tribe.

They had arrived.

Slamming to a halt, Ming Tian signaled the others to stay behind and not enter. He crept to the entrance to observe the situation inside. Sure enough, as soon as he neared the door, the sound of Xin Zhu and Mo'er crying reached his ears.

Peering through a gap in the window, he saw over twenty burly men standing in the lobby, maintaining the "at ease" posture Yin Chan had taught them. At the long table, Xin Zhu sat clutching Mo'er, weeping bitterly. On the table lay the sleeve-darts De Yi'ao had stripped from Ming Tian’s body. That weapon was crafted by Yin Chan—it was one of a kind!

"I am so sorry. When we arrived, the Prince Consort’s body had already been exposed to the elements. This is all we could bring back for you. I am truly sorry."

De Yi'ao wore a look of feigned remorse as he sat beside Xin Zhu, one arm draped over her shoulder.

*You bastard! You dare lay a hand on my woman?!*

Ming Tian felt his blood boil at the sight.

"Prince Consort!" Xin Zhu sobbed heart-rendingly, her snow-white face flushed crimson from the sheer intensity of her grief. "Why, why did it have to end like this?" She stroked the blood-stained sleeve-darts, unable to stop her tears.

"Master!" Mo'er buried her face in Xin Zhu’s chest, wailing loudly. The young girl’s face had healed significantly over the past three days, revealing her naturally delicate features, but now her face was a mess of snot and tears.

"The Prince Consort died for Yangzhou; he was our hero. Princess, please do not grieve too much. If the Prince Consort were watching from the afterlife, he would not want to see you suffer." As he spoke, De Yi'ao leaned in even closer, practically pressed against Xiao Xin Zhu, his arm tightening around her shoulder.

Xin Zhu was so consumed by grief that she didn't even notice.

*You bastard, you locked me up and now you dare to touch my woman? That left hand, is it? I’ve noted it! I will personally tear that arm off you myself!*

Ming Tian could no longer hold back. He gestured for the four others across the street to move in. Although De Yi'ao’s tone was apologetic, the Princess and Mo'er were focused on the sleeve-darts and could not see his face. But from his vantage point through the window, Ming Tian saw it clearly: a voice of sorrow, a handsome face, but wearing a look of fanatical, twisted glee.

"Princess, take revenge for the Prince Consort! If not for the people of Yangzhou, then do it for him! Return to the Di tribe, bring an army back, and avenge him! I will send men to help you carve a path out of the city." De Yi'ao spoke with a mournful tone but a crazed smile. "By the way, before he passed, the Prince Consort entrusted you to my care. Do not worry, Princess; I will take good care of you."

As he said this with his sad voice and manic grin, he leaned in closer, his expression tinged with a lecherous glint.

*Crunch.*

Ming Tian’s teeth nearly shattered from the pressure of his rage.

Hearing this, Xin Zhu’s sobbing abruptly ceased. "I love only the Prince Consort." As she spoke those words, she lifted her head, her blood-red eyes hollowed out by hatred. "...I will have my revenge. I will avenge the Prince Consort! Wait for me, my love! Once I have avenged you, I will follow you into the afterlife!"

Ignoring the latter part of De Yi'ao’s statement entirely, Xiao Xin Zhu rose in a daze and walked toward the door. Ming Tian had seen that look before—it was the same expression Pan Yunu had worn that night. Xiao Xin Zhu’s heart had died in this very second.

*If I really were dead, what would become of her?*

Ming Tian dared not imagine it. He watched as Xiao Xin Zhu stumbled, tripping over her own feet, walking toward the door as if her soul had been ripped from her body.

"Prince Consort, I will avenge you, I will avenge you..."

With her heart dead and hope shattered, Xiao Xin Zhu prepared to take a horse and flee Yangzhou under the cover of night with the rebel group. However, a voice stopped her.

"Xin Zhu, you're leaving without your armor. Aren't you afraid the sun will burn you tomorrow?"

"Mind your own business! Get out of my way!"

Distraught, Xiao Xin Zhu reached out to shove the person standing in the doorway. But as her pupils focused and that familiar face entered her vision, her outstretched hand trembled. The heart that should have been dead began to beat once more.

"You... you..."

Ming Tian revealed a gentle smile. He reached out, using his thumb to wipe the tears from the stunned Xiao Xin Zhu’s cheeks. "What’s the matter? It’s only been three days, and you’ve already forgotten what your future husband looks like?"

His smile was so tender. In an instant, her sorrow turned to joy.

Xiao Xin Zhu trembled, her body shaking as if she couldn't believe her eyes. She rubbed them, and the suppressed emotions within her erupted.

"Prince Consort!!!"

She lunged into Ming Tian’s arms, weeping with joy. "It’s wonderful! You’re alive! My Prince Consort, you’re alive! Thank goodness!"

The sudden reversal left Mo'er completely stunned. She stopped crying, staring blankly as if she had seen a ghost, unable to tell if she should be afraid or overjoyed.

"How is this possible?!"

Inside the lobby, De Yi'ao could never have anticipated this. The manic grin on his face froze the moment Ming Tian appeared. He scrambled to his feet, his face turning beet red in an instant.

"How are you here?"

Ming Tian stroked the head of the girl in his arms, comforting her while looking up at De Yi'ao.

"Yo, what's wrong, you twisted-faced freak? Your face looks a bit distorted. Did the urology department mess up your plastic surgery?"

With that, his expression darkened, and his killing intent radiated through his eyes.

"I told you earlier today that I would make you regret this. And I always keep my promises."