The sound of the carriage wheels changed. The crunch of dry gravel disappeared, replaced by the sound of wood pressing against softer, thicker earth.
The ground beneath the copper-scaled beasts' paws turned red like rust. The fresh wind from the prairies had died kilometers ago. Now, the air rose hot from the cracks in the black stone ground, carrying a strong smell of sulfur and old iron.
Up ahead, a massive, silent volcano marked the center of the valley. Around the stone slope, the pavilions and forges of the Unique Path Sect spread out.
Zhì Yuǎn pulled the reins slowly. The carriage stopped a few steps from a tall black stone wall. The main gate was open, but the path was blocked by thirty guards. They were not the sect's young talents. They were middle-aged and older men, wearing sweaty leather armor and holding iron spears.
One of the middle-aged guards walked to the front of the draft beasts. He stopped and pointed the tip of his spear toward the driver's seat.
— What is your purpose here? — the guard's voice came out rough, mixed with the sound of the hot wind.
On the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn did not change his posture. His large hands remained loose on the leather reins.
— We came to visit Elder Gāo.
The guard frowned. He opened his mouth to respond with ignorance, but the creak of the carriage door cut off his words.
The heavy door opened. Yù Méi stepped down onto the road.
The soldier froze in place. The words vanished from his throat. The figure that stepped into the red dust was not just any teenager. The golden dress, freshly washed and dried, marked a body that had grown and developed far too quickly, nourished without pause by the remnants of her brother-in-law's Primordial Qi. She now stood at the same height as Yù Qíng. Her dull brown hair had disappeared, replaced by strands of metallic, heavy blonde that fell over her shoulders. Her almond-shaped face had lost the roundness of childhood, gaining the contours of a stunning woman in her twenties. No one would say she was the same person from days ago.
The Fourth Stage Mortal guard fell silent. His eyes locked onto the woman, unable to look away from that sudden beauty appearing in the middle of the dust. He shook his head slowly and tried to focus on the driver again to finish his question.
He never finished.
The guard's world spun. He did not see the golden dress move. From one second to the next, the ground disappeared beneath his boots. His throat was crushed by fingers as cold and hard as stone, lifting his body into the air. He tried to draw breath, but his trachea was already closed. His vision went dark before the pain even arrived.
Crack.
Yù Méi twisted her wrist. The man's neck snapped to the side. She opened her hand and the heavy body fell onto the red dust with a dull thud, completely dead.
The girl did not look at the corpse. She turned her face toward the driver's seat. Her almond eyes no longer held any confusion or fear. They shone alive and warm.
Her gaze met Zhì Yuǎn's. Her voice came out low, intimate, finally dropping the title of respect she had always used:
— A-Yuǎn… — she murmured, a small smile appearing on her lips. — May I do the honors?
Inside the passenger cabin, Yù Qíng heard her husband's name leave her sister's mouth. The eldest's jaw locked tightly, but she remained seated on the cushioned seat in silence.
On the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn looked at the girl standing on the dirty ground and gave a short nod.
Yù Méi's smile widened. She bent her knees and shot toward the remaining twenty-nine guards.
The red earth exploded beneath Yù Méi's boot.
She crossed the space in the blink of an eye. The first guard in line did not have time to lower his spear. The woman's pale, delicate hand pressed directly into the middle of the man's chest.
The thick leather armor was useless. The soldier's chest caved inward with a hollow crack of breaking bone. The impact threw his body backward, knocking down two more guards who were right behind him in a cloud of dust and blood.
The scene paralyzed the patrol for a second. The image made no sense. A stunning woman, with blonde hair falling over her shoulders and a golden dress, crushing a veteran's sternum with a single slap.
— Kill her! — one of the men shouted, snapping out of his stupor and backing away.
Five iron spears descended at the same time.
Yù Méi did not try to dodge. She simply raised her left arm in front of her face. The iron tips struck the woman's clean skin. The metal did not cut. The wooden shafts bent and three of them snapped in half from the hard impact against her hyper-dense bone.
She stepped on the broken iron on the ground, grabbed the nearest man's neck, and squeezed. His trachea crushed with a wet sound. Without releasing the soldier, she used him as a shield against another guard's sword and advanced at the same moment.
Her right fist struck the swordsman's face from the side. His teeth turned to powder and the man collapsed limply into the dust.
Blood began to spray.
The hot droplets flew and stained Yù Méi's face. The dark liquid ran through her light hair and began soaking into the silk of her golden dress. The filth and death clung to her, ruining her delicate beauty, but she did not stop. There was no refined technique or flashy skills. It was only the raw weight of the body forged in Zhì Yuǎn's Qi destroying weak flesh.
A tall man swung a heavy cleaver directly at the back of her neck. The blade struck her skin and stopped. The steel bent with a sharp screech.
Yù Méi turned her body, grabbed his wrist, and pulled hard. The bone snapped with a dry crack. Before the man could scream, she drove her fingers into his throat and tore.
Blood flowed hot between her fingers. Yù Méi did not grimace. On the contrary. She felt her chest tighten in a strange way — not from pain, but from something that felt like relief. As if her body had finally found a language it understood.
The guard fell onto his back on the burning earth.
She did not let him roll.
Yù Méi's boot stepped directly onto the fallen man's chest, pinning him to the ground. The woman arched her back, grabbed both of the soldier's ankles with her dirty hands, and pulled upward in one motion.
Her strength met no resistance. The guard's hips snapped. His pelvic bone split in half with the sound of thick cloth being torn.
Blood gushed like a hot waterfall, washing over the woman's legs and arms. She threw the pieces of the body into the red mud.
Yù Méi stood in the middle of the massacre. Her chest rose and fell quickly, hot and alive. Her eyes shone, free of any fear. The weakness of her entire life had died.
Terror finally consumed what remained of the guard unit.
The men left alive began to retreat, weapons trembling in their hands as they stared at the monster disguised as a woman who now blocked the path.
The five remaining guards turned their backs and ran.
Their boots skidded on the red earth. One of them, face pale with terror, dropped his spear and sprinted toward the stone staircase leading to the top of the black wall.
— Ring the bell! — he shouted, stumbling on the steps.
He reached the platform, grabbed the wooden mallet beside the bronze bell, and struck with all his strength. Dong. The metallic boom rang out loudly. The sound vibrated through the valley, drowning out the hot wind. He struck again. And again.
The alarm cut through the sect's routine. Behind the wall, the sound of dozens of running boots began to echo. The large wooden and iron doors creaked and swung wide open. More than forty men poured onto the road. They were well-armed guards, carrying cleavers and crossbows, descending the red-earth slope directly toward the gate.
Yù Méi did not retreat. She crouched and picked up a fallen saber from the ground, the blade still stained with the captain's blood. Her golden dress was heavy, dark-stained, and clinging to her body. She tightened her grip on the weapon's hilt. Her breathing was fast, but her body felt no fatigue. She looked at the crowd running toward her and gave a small, corner-of-the-mouth smile, gasping, simply feeling the heat of her own living body.
Behind her, the Mobile Palace remained stopped.
On the driver's seat, Zhì Yuǎn watched in silence, his hands loose on the reins. Beside him, Yù Qíng observed the scene with a cold, satisfied smile behind her veil.
Neither of them moved.
They only watched as the youngest — now covered in blood, with her golden dress clinging to her body — prepared to face all those armed men alone.