"Eat, eat, eat..."
Er Gouzi was so scared that he couldn't speak clearly for a moment.
But among their group, some had already reacted and knelt on the ground, kowtowing. "I didn't eat! I didn't, they forced me!"
Song Qingchao just watched Er Gouzi without speaking.
She wanted to pull out her hairpin again but found her head was bare. Just as she was about to give up, someone from her own team darted out and handed her the hairpin from her head.
Song Qingchao looked at this person with satisfaction.
Though he was lean and strong, his face suggested he was particularly clever.
"Thank you."
Song Qingchao pulled her cloak tighter, then bent down, staring coldly at Er Gouzi, toying with the hairpin in her hand.
"Sir, why don't you answer my question?"
Her voice was toneless, yet at this moment, it sounded ethereal, like a demon escaping from hell.
The hairpin in her hand hooked onto Er Gouzi's face, poking him repeatedly.
Er Gouzi, terrified, kicked and squirmed backward, "Guards! Kill her!"
Song Qingchao merely held the end of the hairpin and watched him with a smile, not stopping his shouts.
However...
The smell of urine in the air refused to dissipate even with the strong wind.
Song Qingchao twitched the corner of her mouth. "Si Wu Liu, how long are you going to wait?"
As she spoke, Zhou Si and Zhou Wu descended from the trees.
"Master."
Song Qingchao slowly stood up, lazily drawing the sword sheathed at Zhou Si's waist.
"Young Master Su, tell your people to stay put." She stretched her neck. "It would be a shame to injure them by mistake."
"Can the three of you handle it?"
Song Qingchao turned back and smiled at him. "Don't worry, I will cherish the opportunity you've given me."
She walked at a leisurely pace, sword in hand, directly towards the fleeing Er Gouzi.
He retreated, and his followers advanced.
Like an opening mouth, ready to swallow him, to hide him.
But Song Qingchao was determined to be the one to pull out his tongue.
"Leave him alive."
Zhou Si and Zhou Wu guarded Song Qingchao on either side, clearing all obstacles for her.
Song Qingchao's eyes were fixed solely on Er Gouzi.
She charged forward recklessly, much like a bounty hunter splitting open an alligator's belly to explore the depths of the swamp.
The blood-stained hairpin spun on her fingertips before "swishing" into the calf of Er Gouzi's leg.
The panicked Er Gouzi instantly fell to the ground but still dragged his injured leg forward in an attempt to escape.
As he fled, he roared, "Kill her! She will ruin us!"
Song Qingchao, whose pace had been slow, suddenly accelerated and kicked him.
Er Gouzi rolled halfway across the ground.
He coughed, trying to open his eyes, his leg still trying to drag forward.
Song Qingchao looked down at his pathetic state, her eyes devoid of pity.
She stepped on the wound on his calf.
"Ah—"
A sharp, tragic scream instantly enveloped the entire Ling Shi Valley.
Everyone present was momentarily stunned.
But Song Qingchao was not. She merely sighed softly, then thrust the blood-dripping sword into the snow.
Elegantly pulling at her skirt, she crouched down and drew out the hairpin.
She
Ignoring the wailing Er Gouzi beside her, she held the hairpin level in one hand and extended a finger to catch the blood dripping from it.
She smiled playfully at Er Gouzi, then thrust the hairpin into the hollow of his neck.
"Ah—"
Another howl of pain erupted, but she didn't find it bothersome at all. In fact, she thought the scream was still too reserved.
She moved forward again, then, finding it too troublesome, she simply sat down on the snow with her cloak draped over her side, supporting herself with one hand on the ground, while the other gripped the hairpin.
Er Gouzi's face had turned sallow, his lips trembling uncontrollably. The way his snot mingled with his words was quite comical.
But Song Qingchao found this scene pleasing to the eye.
"Meng Long? Is that right?"
With every word Song Qingchao spoke, the hairpin was pushed further down.
Crimson blood seeped from between her fingers, sliding down her pale hand, past the jade-green bracelet, and finally dripping onto the white snow.
Plum blossoms bloomed one after another on the snow.
But Song Qingchao felt it wasn't beautiful enough.
She looked at the man whose pupils were widening, then lazily withdrew her hand.
"Ying Zhong, come and don't let him die."
Song Qingchao turned her head, looking at the scene controlled by Zhou Si and Zhou Wu, her approval of the two men growing.
"Zhou Liu, is Aunt Song Fang returning?"
"Yes," Zhou Si replied. "Aunt Fang is fine, she just fainted from being too nervous. Once Zhou Liu makes arrangements for Aunt Fang, she will come with others to rendezvous."
Song Qingchao merely nodded. "Are they all dead?"
Zhou Wu answered, "Reporting to Master, we didn't strike with fatal force. Everyone is still breathing."
"Tie them up."
Song Qingchao said softly, simultaneously refusing their offer to help her up.
She wanted to calm herself.
After the two men left to attend to their tasks, Song Qingchao finally let out a tired sigh.
She would not let these people die so easily.
No pain, just a single stab and they could be delivered to the "heaven" they desired.
Therefore, she would not fulfill their wishes.
Death was too easy.
But what about Sheng Haiming, who was brutally murdered, and the innocent women and children?
They died unprepared, without dignity, and with their passing, their families would endure a lifetime of pain.
Death did not solve problems.
A life for a life was also impossible to exchange.
Song Qingchao tightly clenched the hairpin, the inlaid peach blossoms digging into her hand.
Yet, she felt no pain.
She raised her blood-stained hand, twisting her waist, and turned her body in a new direction.
Her bloodied hand touched the ground, adding the most vibrant stroke to the scene.
She smiled wantonly, appearing in the midst of the falling snow like a freshly bloomed red plum blossom—vibrant and captivating, beautiful yet dangerous, drawing the gaze irresistibly.
Everyone was mesmerized.
The man behind Su Nan, whether happy or fearful, stood rooted like a post, awaiting her unfolding.
Song Qingchao knew what these people were thinking.
She didn't ask, nor did she want to say.
But just as she was about to proceed with her plan, she saw the person she least wanted to see.
How could he be here...
Song Qingchao felt a moment of panic.
She looked down at her blood-soaked skirt, awkwardly trying to hide the blood with snow.
But the more she tried to conceal it, the faster the blood soaked her skirt.
Until...
Until a pair of boots appeared in her line of sight.
If she could, she wished he wouldn't see her like this.