The street was deserted, a palpable aura of death hanging over the entire skyline.
On Qingyao's side, though outnumbered, each individual radiated an intense killing intent, their eyes bloodshot. In stark contrast, the guards, despite their numbers, were consumed by fear and cowardice. In terms of presence alone, they were clearly outmatched, leaving them trembling with inexplicable dread.
Yin Xuan and Qingyao led their group forward. The soldiers dared not charge, yet they refused to let them pass, forming a tight cordon around them.
Suddenly, the rhythmic thud of hooves echoed, kicking up dust. In moments, a troop of soldiers clad in armor appeared, swiftly surrounding them. The hooves striking the ground beat a unified, resonant rhythm; there were easily a thousand of them.
Yin Xuan and Qingyao raised their eyebrows, their cold gazes sweeping towards the approaching force. At its head rode a man adorned in a brocade robe of imperial yellow, his hair bound by a golden coronet. He exuded nobility and commanding presence. It was none other than Changsun Zhu, the Crown Prince of Qingluo Kingdom.
He sat high upon his horse, his demeanor one of arrogant dominion over all beneath the heavens, utterly unrestrained. His eyes blazed with a chilling, intimidating glint, and the curve of his lips betrayed a smile as cold as water. He cast a sinister gaze towards Yin Xuan.
This man actually dared to disregard his authority. Today would be his last.
Yin Xuan showed no fear, facing him with unwavering composure. Their gazes locked in a silent, lethal battle.
Finally, Changsun Zhu gave a command: "Seize everyone here."
Prince Yin was injured today. He was determined to capture all the assassins. Otherwise, how would the world speak of him, Changsun Zhu? They would accuse him of plotting against his own brother, a grave accusation. Therefore, he had to capture these assassins.
"Yes, Your Highness."
These elite soldiers were from the Crown Prince's own retinue, cultivated by Changsun Zhu himself. They were all exceptionally skilled. Coupled with the previously hesitant guards, their morale surged upon seeing the Crown Prince appear with such a formidable force. Every soldier's expression became animated as they re-enclosed their prey.
Qingyao glanced around. It seemed a bloody battle was inevitable today. While she, Mochou, and Moyou were prepared, she worried about the innocent women. She was determined to minimize casualties.
"Attack."
Qingyao's command was followed instantly by Mochou and Moyou. As their crescent shovels appeared, they emanated a powerful shimmer, but simultaneously revealed something crucial.
Only then did Changsun Zhu notice the woman in the white gauze dress. Her aura was steeped in killing intent, her eyes clear and cold. The biting chill emanating from her person could only belong to Qingyao, and she wielded the crescent shovels.
It was her, after all.
Had he known it was them earlier, he might have arrived a little later, allowing them to depart.
However, now that he was here, there was no way he would let them slip away quietly.
Furthermore, he did not want her to leave. If he captured these people, he could secretly release her. After careful consideration, Changsun Zhu remained outwardly impassive, his face darkening. He leaped from his horse, soaring to meet them. Fearing for Qingyao's safety, Yin Xuan also leaped up, directly confronting him. Their weapons clashed, sparks flying as they met with a deafening roar, erupting like thunder in mid-air.
The thousand elite soldiers charged, engaging Qingyao and her companions.
The guards, however, dared not confront the formidable Qingyao and her group. Instead, they turned their attention to the women of the brothel. Cries of terror immediately filled the air. These women had never witnessed such a scene.
Beneath the dark night, the lamplight flickered, casting a seductive crimson glow, filled with chilling hostility.
Qingyao's expression turned grim. She leaped into the air, the light breeze lifting her gauzy attire. The silk veil slipped, revealing a face of unparalleled beauty. Many froze in stunned silence, only to be captivated by the melodious zither music that followed.
A beauty such as this, accompanied by ethereal music.
In this moment of imminent slaughter, such enchanting allure arose, stirring the hearts of many.
Changsun Zhu, possessing profound internal energy, recognized from Qingyao's music that the zither carried killing intent; it was a demonic instrument. His face immediately fell, and he issued a command.
"Concentrate your attention. Do not be swayed by the music."
His forceful shout, resonating from his dantian, brought the thousand elite soldiers back to their senses. They dared not be negligent, continuing their fight while fiercely controlling their minds to resist the zither's control. Once controlled, they would die, their orifices bleeding.
Qingyao's zither was not yet perfectly formidable, but it was sufficient to counter ordinary individuals. Furthermore, this zither had no effect on those without internal energy, so she harbored no concern for the women of the Chunfeng Brothel.
The situation on the street transformed dramatically. The thousand elite soldiers and the guards not only had to fight but also maintain their emotional control. This significantly benefited Mochou, Moyou, and Yin Xuan's subordinates. The group fought as if entering a state of selfless combat, and soon, people began to fall injured, blood splattering, the scent of death growing ever stronger.
The zither music grew increasingly melodious, its notes carrying far into the distance.
At this very moment, from not too far away, another zither melody emerged, soon blending seamlessly with hers. Upon hearing this music, Qingyao's face lit up with joy, a smile curving her lips.
"Wuqing."
She called out softly, looking up at the sky. Indeed, in the blink of an eye, a man in silver robes appeared, seated on a chair, playing his zither. He soon descended beside her. As they landed together, their music merged, a perfect harmony, like the most beautiful and moving melody in existence.
Their zither music was not only intertwined, but their attire and expressions were remarkably similar, exuding a serene, ethereal, and windswept grace.
The music began softly, like a gentle spring breeze caressing one's cheeks, warm and inviting sleep. Slowly, it led them into a crisp autumn wind, and finally, the melody shifted abruptly, becoming intense. Those whose minds had been captivated suddenly felt a sharp pain in their chests, as if countless tiny needles were piercing their hearts.
Mochou and Moyou immediately focused their minds, withdrawing their killing intent. This music was lethal.
As long as one's mind was focused and one remained calm, they would not be harmed by the zither.
As for Yin Xuan's subordinates, Mochou and Moyou had already instructed them, so this group remained unharmed.
Observing the thousand elite soldiers brought by Changsun Zhu, many tumbled from their horses, convulsing on the ground, soon bleeding from their mouths and noses before dying.
On the other side, many of the guards also perished.
A few of the women from the Chunfeng Brothel were killed by the guards. The remaining women's faces were pale, their eyes wide with terror as they stared at the unfolding scene.
The situation was now completely under the control of Qingyao and Wuqing.
Perhaps Qingyao's zither was not yet perfected, but Wuqing's zither was a deadly weapon. Under his melodies, how could anyone survive?
Only those with exceptionally profound internal energy could remain unaffected by the zither's influence.
Just like Yin Xuan and Changsun Zhu, although the music disturbed them, it was not enough to kill them.
Yet, the thousand elite soldiers were quickly wounded or killed, along with the two thousand guards. Casualties were immense.
Changsun Zhu's heart constricted, his mind becoming chaotic. This gave Yin Xuan an opening. Without hesitation, he delivered a palm strike. Seeing the approaching palm wind, Changsun Zhu hastily dodged.
However, he was half a beat too late. He was struck and fell to the side, spitting out a mouthful of blood.