Behind her, the skin-crawling scraping sound grew closer and closer.
Ba He, that monster, dragged his broken body along like a vengeful ghost crawling out of hell, stubbornly inching closer. With every bit he moved, Mu Xi felt her scalp tingle with dread. The shadow of death seemed to take physical form, pressing down on her back like a suffocating weight.
Ye Lan knelt there, swaying precariously, like a blood-red rose on the verge of wilting—so fragile it seemed she might lose her last breath at any moment.
I can’t let her die!
That thought overwhelmed everything else.
It crushed the shame, the fear, even the hatred and pain that had once been carved into her very bones.
Those things suddenly seemed far less important in the face of Ye Lan’s dying fragility.
Mu Xi jerked her head up, a flash of resolve burning in her eyes.
She stopped looking at Ba He’s twisted, spiteful face. She stopped caring about the stabbing pain radiating through her own body.
She scrambled to her feet on all fours, her movements clumsy and desperate, staggering as she lunged toward Ye Lan.
The cold air touched her skin, making her flinch uncontrollably.
Her fingers trembled from tension and fear, barely able to unbutton her top.
Those tiny buttons had somehow become the most impossible puzzle in the world.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly.
Her pounding heartbeat, Ba He’s ragged breathing, Ye Lan’s faint breaths, and her own…
Finally, the buttons came undone.
She was simply following that overwhelming thought—save her! She didn’t hesitate for even a moment, didn’t stop to think about what this meant.
She leaned down, her back to Ba He, exposing herself to the open air as she brought her lips close to Ye Lan’s cracked, blood-stained mouth.
Ye Lan’s body gave a barely perceptible shudder. Her previously unfocused phoenix eyes suddenly contracted, locking onto Mu Xi’s face just inches away. Her gaze was impossibly complex—shock, disbelief, but beneath it all, a deeper, ignited dependence and hunger.
She seemed to want to say something, vague sounds escaping her throat, but she couldn’t form a single complete syllable.
“Drink…” Mu Xi’s voice was choked with tears, barely above a whisper, almost swallowed by Ba He’s heavy panting.
Ba He was right behind them, less than two steps away!
His remaining functional arm was already raised, the last of his power gathering in his palm, ready to deliver a killing blow.
His face was twisted and crazed, filled with the grim satisfaction of impending revenge.
“Die… Ye Lan!” he roared hoarsely.
As if Mu Xi’s faint urging had awakened her final instinct—or perhaps it was the lure of the life-sustaining “essence” so close at hand—Ye Lan slightly parted her lips and sucked hard…
A warm, sweet liquid, carrying Mu Xi’s unique, pure, and vibrant life force, flowed into Ye Lan’s parched, dried-out mouth and throat.
It felt like a dying traveler finally discovering an oasis in the desert.
Ye Lan’s tense body seemed to relax for a moment. The dullness in her eyes slowly rekindled a faint glimmer of light.
An extremely subtle flush crept across her pale, almost translucent face.
Though still weak, the guttering flame of her life seemed to have gained a small piece of fuel.
Suffocating silence.
A dull, heavy crash accompanied by the shattering of glass broke the silence of the room.
A lithe figure burst through the window, charging in with the smell of gunpowder and icy killing intent, landing steadily on the ground.
It was the Captain of the Personal Guard!
She was drenched in blood, her purple combat suit torn in multiple places, clearly having just fought a vicious battle. She locked onto the scene in the room almost instantly—then her movements came to an abrupt halt.
The captain stood at the entrance, staring at Ye Lan on one knee, at Mu Xi crouched protectively before her, disheveled and half-undressed, her expression a mixture of shame and resolve.
Then she looked at Ba He, whose face had frozen mid-motion as he was about to deliver his final strike… Even for someone accustomed to life and death, the sheer shock of the scene before her left her frozen in place.
What… is going on here?
Ba He’s smile froze, replaced by extreme shock and unwillingness.
He could clearly feel that Ye Lan’s aura had stabilized somewhat—no longer in the state of being on the verge of death.
His last chance… was gone just like that!
“Ah—!”
Ba He let out a desperate, beast-like roar. He refused to accept it!
Using every last shred of remaining strength, he threw himself recklessly toward Ye Lan, his still-functional hand descending with destructive force aimed at her head!
If he was going to die, he’d take Ye Lan with him!
Gunshots!
A sharp crack tore through the air, almost simultaneous with Ba He’s desperate roar!
Not one shot—two!
The first came from the doorway—steady, precise, carrying the cold characteristic of metal.
The bullet spun, parting the air, and drilled perfectly into the joint of Ba He’s raised arm!
“Crack!”
The dull sound of shattering bone was unmistakable. Ba He’s arm, which had been gathering his last strength, twisted and drooped grotesquely, like a dead branch snapped by an invisible force.
The madness and resentment on his face instantly froze. Agony bulged his eyes outward, yet he couldn’t even manage a scream.
The second gunshot followed almost immediately, but was far more startling.
That was… Feng Ming!
The silver handgun traced a cold arc through the dim light. The faint blue glow at the muzzle flared, then spat out a thin beam of light carrying a thread of devastating energy.
The one who fired was Ye Lan!
She was still on her knees, still drawing from Mu Xi’s life essence—yet the hand that had been hanging limply at her side had somehow risen, steady as stone, gripping the uniquely shaped silver handgun.
Her movements were impossibly fast, as if her body’s weakness had been nothing but an illusion.
The beam struck Ba He squarely between the eyebrows. There was no loud report, only a faint, subtle “pfft” sound.
Ba He’s body jerked violently. The eyes filled with venom and despair instantly lost all light, becoming hollow and vacant.
His expression was still frozen in its final moment of savagery, but his body went limp, toppling backward and hitting the floor with a heavy thud. No more movement.
Dead silence.
A silence heavier than before descended upon the room.
The air was thick with gunpowder, blood, and an indescribable, strange mixture of life essence and intimacy.
The Captain of the Personal Guard remained in her firing stance, tendrils of smoke curling from her muzzle.
She moved forward quickly, silent and swift, her combat boots tapping lightly against the floor.
She didn’t look at Ba He’s fallen corpse. Her gaze locked onto Ye Lan immediately.
When her eyes swept over the small figure before Ye Lan—half-undressed, pale-faced yet flushed with an unusual heat—even through her tactical mask, the shock in her gaze was unmistakable.
She quickly averted her eyes, dropped to one knee, and began checking Ye Lan’s condition. Her voice was calm and professional, but a note of genuine concern bled through:
“My Lady…?”