“Brother Han!” Zhao Xiaoli immediately darted back to flank the door leading into the room. The moment she called out, Han Wenyan barged through the door, taking aim at Zhao Shun with an arrow nocked long in advance.

  Before the door could even swing out to the limits of its hinges, the arrow had already been loosed.

  With an unfaltering calm, Zhao Shun set one half-step forward, reaching his sword out to meet the arrow in flight, before drawing back again one half-step, guiding the arrow away from his body with the gentlest touch of his blade. Though it takes a moment to describe, it happened in only the brief time it takes a spark to fly off a piece of flint.

  “What a monster…” Han Wenyan was taken aback at the prince’s absurd defense. Unphased, Zhao Shun stowed his sword. “So, you’ve brought company? Good, like this, he won’t be a waste of money.”

  Clapping his hands a single time, the prince called out to the windows. “Come on in, whatever your name is.”

  From the corner of one window, the blade of a saber slid effortlessly through paper and wood alike as it carved an opening wide enough to accommodate its wielder. “Done with your private chat? It’s a bit too cold out there.” Stepping down from the windowsill, a young man dressed in the robe of the Inner Sect cast his gaze around the room.

  Both Zhao Xiaoli and Han Wenyan were aware of the young man’s identity: Sun Huan, a disciple who, up until recently, had been part of the Outer Sect. Within less than a year of joining the sect, he had reached the Crimson Palace stage and entered the Inner Sect, his ascent being matched in speed only by the likes of Jun Li and Ren Liwei in recent years.

  To Zhao Xiaoli, the fact that her brother had hired help wasn’t unexpected, yet the fact that he was both willing and able to buy the loyalty of a member of the Glass Cloud Sect bothered her more than she expected. ‘If our Ancestor could see you picking through the disciples of the sect he founded like common mercenaries…’

  “Yes… I believe the time for talking has ended. Would you mind escorting my sister’s companion away?” With a less than eager expression, Sun Huan scratched his head as he listened to the Third Prince’s order. “Back out into the cold then… Senior Brother Han, come on.” Lazily walking towards the hole he carved in the nearby window, Sun Huan beckoned Han Wenyan to follow.

  Han Wenyan sent a questioning glance towards Zhao Xiaoli before he dared move a step. “Go, it works out better this way.” Hesitating only a moment longer, Han Wenyan moved on and followed behind Sun Huan.

  One after the other, the two stepped out of the torn window and plummeted out of sight.

  “I’m a bit surprised at how little you resisted.” Zhao Shun let out a laugh. “You do understand that fighting me alone is suicide, right?”

  Not dignifying her brother with a response, Zhao Xiaoli pulled a small sandalwood box from her pocket. Moving quickly and steadily, Zhao Xiaoli slid the top of the box off, revealing a trio of dark pellets that immediately filled the room with the smell of death.

  ‘Jun Li… I’m sorry for not being honest about why I needed your referral… but without Director Zhu’s help, this really would be suicide…’ Balking for only a moment, Zhao Xiaoli quickly dropped one of the pellets into her hand, before swallowing it whole.

  Mere seconds after consuming the strange medicine, Zhao Xiaoli attempted to speak, only for her breath to catch in her throat as a sudden and burning heat radiated up from her stomach.

  Seeing the apparent discomfort his sister was in after ingesting one of the pills, Zhao Shun had his interest piqued. “Let me guess, some sort of Medicinal Pill that overdraws your vitality for short-term benefit? Good! If you’re going to-“

  Unable to hear her brother prattle on through the sound of blood pumping in her ears, Zhao Xiaoli shot forward at an unnatural speed, rivaling, if not exceeding, that of Han Wenyan’s arrow.

  In a well-practiced reflex, Zhao Shun’s sword rose to meet the glinting arc of his sister’s strike. The moment their blades met, Zhao Shun was forced off his feet, having vastly underestimated the weight behind Zhao Xiaoli's stroke.

  Even as he was thrown across the room, Zhao Shun maintained both his levity and his guard.

  "Impressive!" Zhao Shun slowed himself mid-air with a swipe of his hand and landed on one foot atop the backrest of a chair, as if he weighed nothing at all. "To think there's an alchemist in this backwater capable of making such a potent medicine… the local Alchemist's Association branch leader must be quite overqualified."

  Still as a statue after her strike, Zhao Xiaoli felt as if she was pushed to the border of passing out, but chemically forbidden from crossing that line.

  The last vestiges of self-concern and hesitation drew her mind towards the distressing feeling of her muscles and tendons trembling from instantly being pushed beyond their limits, yet, Zhao Xiaoli could feel no pain from them. An almost disturbing feature of the Blood Burning Pills that Zhu Enlai had provided her.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  'The more I hesitate, the worse the backlash will be…' With this sentiment pushing her forward, Zhao Xiaoli launched forward once more, and in one clean motion, closed the gap, kicked the chair out from under Zhao Shun's foot, and reached for her concealed sword.

  Before her sword could leave the sleeve it was hidden away in, however, Zhao Shun's foot stomped down and into her shoulder at an unreactable speed, shunting the two apart once more.

  The moment he touched the floor, Zhao Shun pulled a large waterskin from his Spatial Ring. "Unfortunately, the difference between us can't be bridged by medicine, no matter what kind of suicidal conviction you have."

  Zhao Shun altered his breathing and formed a handsign with his off-hand. "Allow me to demonstrate…" With one hand, he threw the waterskin into the air and cut it open with his sword.

  Water streamed out of the split vessel, not falling to the ground, but following the path Zhao Shun's sword drew, flowing around his body in a loop.

  Dropping his obsolete sword to the floor, Zhao Shun conducted the flowing waters with both hands. In a split second, the pace of the water's flow changed from a smooth stream to a violent whirling, the sharp sound of the water's chaotic flow bouncing off the walls of the room.

  As Zhao Shun stepped towards his sister, the waters that encircled him glanced against a small table, tearing it into pieces and scattering it across the far side of the room in the blink of an eye, massive splinters of crushed furnishing impaling into the wall.

  Zhao Xiaoli had felt her collarbone crack under the force of her brother's kick, and it had phased her little, but seeing the odd sorcery he now wielded, she knew it would do far worse.

  Zhao Xiaoli once more reached for the sandalwood medicine box; this time, however, there was no hesitation before she consumed the second and third pills. With the sensation of burning from the inside out, time seemed to slow down for her before the pills had even reached her stomach.

  Zhao Xiaoli felt no fear or regret as blood began to seep from the seven apertures of her head; she felt only a sense of shame, feeling it was a cruel thing to exploit Jun Li's connection to Zhu Enlai for this. 'Don't blame yourself for this if I die, Jun Li…'

  Zhao Shun's expression hardened, realizing that, for a few moments, his sister would completely eclipse him in strength and speed.

  Immediately, the raging torrent around his body split into a web of overlapping, razor-sharp currents. Almost as soon as they were formed, Zhao Shun sent them expanding outwards, carving through the furniture, walls, and floor in a sublime combination of offense and defense.

  In Zhao Xiaoli's eyes, it was just barely slow enough to respond to. Jolting towards the expanding sphere of razor-water, she found there was no gap large enough to pass through unharmed, even if she were to retreat to the edge of the room.

  Passing unharmed wasn't her intention, however. Leaping forwards, Zhao Xiaoli plunged her sword into one of the currents, and her left hand into another, dulling them just enough to let her pass through alive.

  Zhao Shun, seeing his sister pass through his spell with a deformed sword and mangled arm, abandoned his sorcery and fled backwards, hoping to evade her long enough for the medicine to fully overdraw her vitality.

  But it was hopeless, the moment he began to retreat, Zhao Xiaoli's one intact hand wrapped around his throat like an iron vice.

  With the full force of her overdrawn strength, Zhao Xiaoli pulled her brother towards the exterior wall of the room, the wall now torn open to the back of the palace grounds by his sorcery.

  Although the fingers digging into his throat were painful, Zhao Shun still looked derisively at his sister. He could feel her grip weakening as the blood fled her body, he could see the lucidity leaving her eyes.

  To lay even a finger on him, Zhao Xiaoli had to burn through every last drop of vitality in her body, and yet she hadn't been able to injure him meaningfully.

  The thought brought a smile to Zhao Shun's lips. "I told you…" Zhao Shun spoke hoarsely through his sister's weakening grip. "...it's suicide, you never had a chance to kill me."

  The very instant those words left his mouth, a sharp pain shot through his neck, as an arrow cemented those words as his last. With his hands grasping towards his throat out of reflex, Zhao Shun pointlessly tried to turn around to see where it had come from, but Zhao Xiaoli's grip had tightened, and he was forced to look into her face one last time.

  There was no emotion, no surprise on her face, no pain even as the arrow pierced her palm, just as it did her brother's throat.

  Just outside the palace grounds, Han Wenyan and Sun Huan were standing side by side, Han Wenyan carefully confirming his shot had hit its mark, and Sun Huan counting the many taels of purple jade that had been offered for him to turn the other way.

  Although neither Zhao Shun nor Zhao Xiaoli could see them, so preoccupied as they were.

  Releasing Zhao Shun's throat, Zhao Xiaoli held tight onto the arrow and jaggedly tore it from his throat as she pushed away from him, ensuring it would not stem the flow of blood.

  Dropping to the floor, Zhao Shun immediately slipped into a meditative posture, focusing his Qi in an attempt to slow the blood loss.

  It was a bizarre sight to Zhao Xiaoli, who wondered if he truly thought he had a path to survival at this point.

  Taking a deep breath, Zhao Xiaoli fought off the fatigue that threatened to consume her. Staying still for even a few moments was too much of a risk.

  Looking down at her brother, she saw that blood continued to pour from his throat as he meditated silently. Though the flow had slowed, it was surely fatal.

  Zhao Xiaoli sat down next to her brother. "You were right," she quietly spoke. "I never did have the chance to kill you."

  Hearing these words, a spike of indignant rage caused Zhao Shun's Qi to backlash, causing him to cough up blood one last time, before he slumped forward limply.

  As Zhao Xiaoli finally allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness, leaning against the half-destroyed wall of the room, she saw a white glint slip into the room and heard the clamor of rushed footsteps in the hall beyond.