Chapter 3: Sap/Bludgeon

Like a woman who had stolen the city's breath, she approached step by step, her icy aura making Xu Yuan feel as though he stood within a frozen cellar.

At the brink of life and death, Xu Yuan's mind remained sharp.

His words had already been spoken—regret now served only to deepen the wound. Even if he wept, he would have to force himself to carry on.

Under the crushing pressure of Ran Qingmo's presence, Xu Yuan slowly loosened his grip on the nearby wooden pillar, steadied himself, and met her gaze with a clenched jaw:

"Mr. Ran, you seem quite surprised?"

"... "Ran Qingmo.

Under the weight of pressure, Xu Yuan offered a faint, wry smile:

"Indeed, such a secret—how could my father have entrusted it to me, a useless outcast?"

As he spoke, the long, slender phoenix eyes narrowed slightly:

"But Mr. Ran, compared to being the third son of my father, I find it far more puzzling how a disciple of the Sword Sect could possibly know such secrets."

"........."

The air within the temple instantly fell into silence.

The only people who knew of this matter were the old man who had once inhabited this body and a few of his most trusted confidants. The implication in Xu Yuan's words was unmistakable.

Ran Qingmo's eyes locked onto the nobleman before her, unshaken by the dimness of the rain-soaked night. Her gaze was steady, each word spoken with deliberate clarity:

"What do you mean by that?"

As she spoke, her steps halted, and her sword blade gently lowered.

Xu Yuan sensed the crushing cold that had pressed down upon him like a mountain suddenly ease. Seeing this, a breath of relief passed through his mind.

The near-death experience had stripped away many of his hesitations. At this moment, he could not falter.

"What do you mean?"

He slowly moved forward, curiously circling Ran Qingmo in the darkness, his eyes sweeping over her graceful form, his tone growing more intense with each passing moment:

"As for public interest, the Great Flame Dynasty has endured over a thousand and thirty years. The Heaven's Sword Sect was founded alongside the establishment of the dynasty. Each abbot has served as the state's chief advisor, and the current abbot is even the martial arts master to the prince. The sect's fate is inextricably linked to that of the dynasty—its prosperity or decline mirrors the nation's own."

"As for private matters, my father and Master Ran were once lifelong friends, sharing a bond stretching over decades."

"And yet, Master Ran, as a disciple of the Sword Sect, I find it hard to comprehend—what could possibly make you believe that my father would strike at the sect? Is it not obvious that such a thought is beyond rational understanding?"

"........"

Hearing these words, Ran Qingmo tightened her grip on the sword in her hand.

She sensed a shift in the man before her.

From the time he had been unconscious, to the moment he awoke just now—his demeanor seemed entirely transformed.

A subtle sense of qi allowed her to detect the rapid pulse beneath the calm surface of the third prince's heart. His inner world was far from the stillness he projected.

But when the widely circulated rumors no longer held truth, she could no longer be certain how much of the truth he knew—or how many hidden cards he still held.

Watching the large, motionless figure standing silently in place, Xu Yuan's inner turmoil gradually settled.

The step beneath his feet suddenly shifted, turning directly toward the black-robed woman, meeting her gaze with unwavering resolve.

Under the steady gaze of Ruan Qingmo, the man stood before her at exactly one meter's distance, looking down upon her with an air of superiority:

"Mr. Ruan, sheathe your sword."

Ruan Qingmo's indifferent eyes fixed upon him. At that moment, she could feel his heartbeat gradually slowing, calming.

But then—

She saw the man smile, bending slightly forward, lifting two fingers to grasp the dangling edge of her sword, lifting it inch by inch, guiding it ever closer to the vulnerable skin of his own neck.

The blade resting against his throat, he looked into her eyes:

"Since you won't withdraw it, then Mr. Ruan—shall I be killed by you?"

Xu Yuan, familiar with the script, was certain the woman before him would not strike him willingly.

As the words left his lips, Ruan Qingmo's hand tightening slightly around the hilt, the blade pressed against his neck suddenly emitted a low, resonant hum.

The immense killing intent surged forth,

in a fleeting moment, Xu Yuan saw himself his head soaring skyward.

But in the next instant, the vision vanished, the woman still standing with her sword, and his head still firmly attached.

The near-death experience made Xu Yuan's eyes widen slightly. Having lived in a time of peace, he had never witnessed such a display. The death aura radiating from her in that instant sent his legs trembling with weakness.

Even the mere presence of that woman—her mere emission of aura making him so helpless—proved that she would not kill him at this moment.

Xu Yuan stared at her, repeating each word with deliberate slowness:

"Mr. Ran, an unfeasible threat is just a joke. Sheathe your sword. Let us talk. I can help you."

The cold wind howled, the blade pressing against his throat was truly icy.

Xu had no system, no grandfather, and this third prince’s body was merely ordinary. His only strength—his deep familiarity with the plot and characters of *Cangyuan*—was now a curse, a death sentence.

In the story of *Cangyuan*, the third prince of the Chancellor’s household met a tragic end. Every timeline led to certain death.

To survive, Xu Yuan had to take risks, had to gamble on things before they happened.

Ran Qingmo lowered her gaze slightly, as if lost in thought, yet she had indeed sheathed her sword.

The blade suddenly spun into a flourish, casting a ripple of vivid blue light through the darkness before it vanished into its scabbard with a soft sound.

Stunning.

Xu Yuan instinctively reached up and touched his neck.

Hmm... his head was still there, no wounds, no blood leaks.

Ran Qingmo glanced at Xu Yuan's movement with a faint expression of confusion.

Xu Yuan gave her a subtle, warm smile, silently preparing his words.

But the next instant,

Xu Yuan's smile froze.

Ran Qingmo sheathed his blade and silently picked up the thick, long wooden stick from the ground, holding it in his hand.

"........." Xu Yuan.

His pupils narrowed slightly, and Xu Yuan quickly opened his mouth to speak:

"Wait...".

"Boom!"

A heavy sound echoed, and before Xu Yuan could finish his words, he collapsed straight to the ground.