Under the Escort Team’s protection, Mu Xi and Little An passed through the long corridor of the Manor, returning to their room.
The wall lamps along the corridor cast ambiguous shadows, outlining Mu Xi’s slender figure.
She caressed the Crystal Vial in her hand, the icy chill at her fingertips involuntarily making her recall Ye Lan’s words: “Those who betray me never end well.”
Her throat tightened.
When they turned the final corner, Mu Xi abruptly halted her steps.
“Little Master?” Little An approached in concern, then saw the scene ahead as well.
Mu Xi’s room door was wide open, like a wound violently torn apart.
The thick oak door had almost been split in two, several Daggers thrust around the frame—evidence of a fierce struggle.
Mu Xi’s pupils contracted sharply.
Inside the room, seven Black-Clad Female Bodyguards knelt on the carpet, hands clasped over their heads, their posture so neat it looked like a grotesque performance.
Standing behind them were four Imperial Guard members, dark gun muzzles pressed to the backs of the women’s heads, cold metal glinting in the room’s light.
Mu Xi stepped into the room, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest.
A mixture of sweat, fear, and gunpowder filled the air.
“These people came for you.”
An Imperial Guard member stepped forward, voice low, “After they broke in and failed to find you, they tried to leave, but we intercepted them. By the Master’s orders, anyone who tries to lay a hand on you is a traitor.”
Mu Xi slowly surveyed the kneeling bodyguards, her gaze sharp as a blade.
She recognized some of them—had seen them around the Manor, a few had even smiled or nodded at her.
Thinking back now, those smiles might have hidden desire for her body, or murderous intent.
“The Master said, the right to deal with traitors is in your hands,” the Imperial Guard member’s eyes flickered with anticipation.
“How do you want them to die?”
Little An sucked in a sharp breath behind her, shock in her eyes.
Since coming to the Manor, she had seen Mu Xi’s shyness, her obedience before Ye Lan, but never this side of her—facing a choice of life and death.
“All of them—kill them all.” Mu Xi’s voice was unexpectedly calm, as if discussing the dinner menu rather than seven lives.
Little An’s eyes widened, her lips trembling.
The kneeling Black-Clad Female Bodyguards let out muffled sobs, several beginning to weep in silence.
Mu Xi turned and walked to the window, fingers gliding gently over the glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.
Outside, the Manor stretched into the night, speckled lights scattered like stars.
Her eyes flicked, lips curling into a faint smile.
“But, I want their deaths to have…some meaning.”
A subtle expectation surfaced on the Imperial Guard member’s face: “Please instruct us.”
“Give each of them a Dagger,” Mu Xi turned, her gaze sweeping over the kneeling women, “Let them slaughter each other. The last one alive can go down to the Dungeon to amuse the Prisoners for a few days, then die.”
As her words fell, the room plunged into a dreadful silence.
All color drained from the bodyguards’ faces, even their breaths nearly inaudible.
Little An stared at Mu Xi in disbelief, unable to imagine such a cruel order coming from the usually meek Little Master.
Mu Xi walked to the bed and sat down calmly, hands folded on her knees.
She leaned forward slightly, gaze blazing: “Begin. I want to see just how ugly people become for the sake of survival.”
The Imperial Guard acted swiftly.
Seven glinting Daggers were thrown onto the carpet, each landing with a heavy thud.
“The rules are simple,” Mu Xi’s voice spread slowly, inky as a drop of dye in water, “You have twenty minutes. When time’s up, if more than one is left, all of you will die.”
She leaned against the headboard, fingers gently stroking the Crystal Vial as if it were a precious artwork.
“In this room, I am the sole sovereign. Your fates are in my hands.” Her tone was soft, strangely tender.
The bodyguards looked at one another, terror and despair flashing in their eyes.
At last, a young woman reached out trembling for a dagger on the floor.
“I just want to live…” she muttered, tears sliding down her cheeks.
The others began to move as well, and at once the room filled with low sobs and the sound of Daggers scraping over carpet.
Mu Xi reclined against the headboard, coldly watching this unfolding tragedy of human nature.
Inside, she was far less calm than she appeared.
Part of her was sickened by the bloody spectacle; another part trembled at her own power over life and death.
‘Is this the taste of power? Is this the thrill Ye Lan savors each day?’
She turned to look at Little An, and the shock and fear on the girl’s face stirred a flicker of unease in Mu Xi’s heart.
But she quickly suppressed the feeling and returned her gaze to the women about to butcher each other.
“There are only two kinds of people in this world,” Mu Xi whispered, so softly only Little An could hear.
“Masters and slaves. And I…am done being a slave.”
A trace of cold cruelty flashed in Mu Xi’s eyes as she suddenly recalled what Ye Lan had once told her: The world is not divided into good and evil, only the strong and the weak.
The room’s air seemed to freeze.
Seven Black-Clad Female Bodyguards knelt, their Daggers reflecting a chill, like death’s scythe ready to reap lives.
The first to take up a weapon was the young woman named Lin—Mu Xi remembered her as the one who always smiled at her in the garden’s corners.
Her wrist trembled so hard she could barely grip the Dagger.
“Twenty minutes, starting now.” Mu Xi’s voice was like a drop of icewater falling into hot oil, shattering the deadly silence.
The first Dagger sliced through the air, stabbing toward the eldest bodyguard.
That woman twisted aside, kicking at the attacker’s abdomen.
The two tangled at once, the sound of metal and flesh colliding interweaving in the room.
The others seemed to have some switch thrown, joining the bloody game one by one.
“Weren’t you all so united before?” Mu Xi laughed softly, her fingertip tracing the rim of the Crystal Vial.
“Now you scramble to kill each other.”
Little An stood to the side, her face white as paper.
Her throat bobbed as if swallowing some nameless terror.
“Little Master, this…”
“It’s fine. Watch.” Mu Xi glanced at her sharply, though inside she was churning.
Her soul screamed.
This is too much, too cruel.
But another voice retorted: ‘Has this world not been cruel enough to me? I’m only returning a fraction of it.’
On the carpet, the first pool of blood spread.
Lin’s thigh was slashed open, blood spurting and staining her pants crimson.
She let out a cry between pain and rage, like a wounded beast pouncing on her attacker.
“Fifteen minutes.” Mu Xi announced calmly.
Two bodyguards already lay in pools of blood—one’s carotid cut, another with a dagger in her chest, life draining with every heartbeat.
The remaining five had no trace of camaraderie left—only the raw instinct to survive, and naked terror.
Lin dragged her wounded leg to the corner, panting against the wall.
Opposite her, a short-haired bodyguard licked her lips, eyes darting between the remaining opponents, calculating her next move.
Suddenly, she feinted left but dove right, Dagger flashing for another woman’s throat.
A muffled sound of metal sinking into flesh, blood spraying to blossom like a strange flower on the dark green wallpaper.