As the breathtakingly beautiful woman approached step by step, the icy chill radiating from her made Xu Yuan feel as though he were trapped in an icehouse.
At this life-or-death juncture, Xu Yuan's mind was crystal clear.
He had already spoken; regret would achieve nothing now. Even if it brought him to tears, he could only brace himself and keep acting the part.
Under the crushing pressure of Ran Qingmo's aura, Xu Yuan slowly released his grip on the wooden pillar beside him, steadied his stance, and gritted his teeth to meet her gaze levelly:
"Mr. Ran, you seem quite surprised?"
"......" Ran Qingmo said nothing.
Enduring the immense pressure, Xu Yuan offered a faint smile.
"Understandable. A secret of this magnitude—why would my father ever let a good-for-nothing like me know about it?"
With that, Xu Yuan slightly narrowed his slender, phoenix-tail eyes.
"However, Mr. Ran, rather than wondering about me, his third son, I am far more curious about how a disciple of the Sword Sect like you came to know such a secret."
"......"
The air in the temple instantly fell deathly still.
For now, the only ones who knew of this matter had to be this body's father and a few of his most trusted confidants. The implication behind Xu Yuan's words was already self-evident.
Ran Qingmo's eyes locked onto the young nobleman before her, the gloom of the rainy night doing nothing to hinder her gaze. She spoke, enunciating each word:
"What do you mean by that?"
As she spoke, her footsteps halted, and the blade in her hand dipped slightly.
Xu Yuan felt the bone-chilling cold that had weighed on him like Mount Tai suddenly ease. Seeing this, he let out a silent breath of relief.
The thrill of brushing against death had stripped Xu Yuan of many hesitations. At a time like this, he could not afford to chicken out.
"What do I mean?"
Taking slow strides in the dark, he circled Ran Qingmo with an air of intrigue, his gaze sweeping over her supple figure as his tone grew progressively heavier:
"In official terms, Great Yan's reign has lasted for over thirteen hundred years, and the Tianyuan Sword Sect was founded alongside the dynasty itself. Every generation's sect master has served as Great Yan's Imperial Preceptor, and the current sect master even holds the esteemed position of martial mentor to the Crown Prince. The Sword Sect and Great Yan prosper and fall together.
"In private terms, my father and Mr. Ran's master have been close friends for decades.
"And you, Mr. Ran, are the esteemed disciple of the sect master. Is it truly so hard to understand why I wonder whose words could convince you that my father would move against the Sword Sect?"
"......"
Listening to his words, Ran Qingmo tightened her grip on her sword slightly.
She felt that the man before her had changed somehow.
From his unconscious state to waking up just now, he seemed like an entirely different person.
Her meticulous qi sense allowed her to perceive that this calm-faced Third Young Master's heart was beating furiously; inside, he was nowhere near as composed as he appeared on the surface.
Yet when widely known rumors proved unreliable, she could not be certain how much Xu Yuan truly knew, nor how many hidden cards he held.
Watching the silent block of ice standing rooted to the spot, Xu Yuan's racing heart gradually settled.
Shifting his step, he turned and walked straight toward the woman in black, meeting her gaze.
Under Ran Qingmo's watchful eyes, the man stopped a meter in front of her, looking down at her:
"Mr. Ran, put your sword away."
Ran Qingmo met his gaze impassively. She could sense that his heartbeat had steadily returned to normal.
And in the next moment,
she saw the man before her smile. Leaning forward slightly, he caught the lowered edge of her blade between two fingers, steadily lifting it until he rested it against his entirely undefended neck.
With the blade at his throat, he looked into her eyes:
"If you won't sheath it, Mr. Ran, why not just kill me?"
Knowing the plot inside and out, Xu Yuan was certain that the woman before him would not deliberately kill him.
The moment the words left his mouth, Ran Qingmo's grip on the hilt tightened slightly, and the blade pressed against his neck hummed with a low vibration.
A colossal surge of killing intent crashed over him.
In a daze, Xu Yuan saw a vision of his own head flying high into the air.
Yet in the next breath, the illusion vanished. The woman still stood before him with sword in hand, and his head remained firmly on his shoulders.
The brush with death left Xu Yuan's eyes wide. Born and raised in an era of peace, he had never experienced anything like this, and the aura of death she had radiated in that split second left his legs feeling weak.
Though merely venting her aura was enough to leave him in such disarray, the fact that she had only released killing intent confirmed that she truly would not kill him at this point in time.
Xu Yuan stared at her, repeating each word with deliberate emphasis:
"Mr. Ran, an empty threat is nothing more than a joke. Put your sword away. Let us talk. I can help you."
The cold wind howled bleakly, and the blade against his throat was bitterly frigid.
Xu Yuan had no system, no ancient master residing in a ring, and the Third Young Master's body was merely that of an ordinary mortal. His intimate familiarity with the plot and characters of Cangyuan was his greatest asset, yet that very reliance was also a death warrant.
In the story of Cangyuan, this third son of the Prime Minister met a miserable end, condemned to die in every single worldline.
To survive, Xu Yuan had to act ahead of time; he had to take certain gambles.
Ran Qingmo's eyes cast downward, her thoughts unreadable, but she did indeed put away her weapon.
The blade twirled into a sudden flourish, rippling with azure light in the dark before sliding smoothly into its scabbard with a crisp click.
Quite dashing.
Xu Yuan instinctively touched his own neck.
Hmm... head is still there. No line of blood or anything.
Ran Qingmo shot Xu Yuan's gesture a slightly odd look.
Xu Yuan offered her a faint smile, quietly gathering his thoughts to frame his next words.
Yet in the very next instant,
Xu Yuan's smile froze.
Having sheathed her sword, Ran Qingmo quietly picked up the thick, long wooden stick from the ground and held it in her hand once more.
"......" Xu Yuan.
His pupils constricted slightly, and Xu Yuan hurriedly parted his lips to speak:
"Wait—"
Thud!
With a dull smack, Xu Yuan collapsed stiff as a board before he could finish his sentence.
Chapter 3