Chapter Twenty-Eight: Emotions That Cannot Be Concealed

These seven were all exceptionally powerful young men and women, regarded almost as deities among those taking part in the trials. Some say that those truly capable have no need to show off—their presence alone speaks volumes—and in truth, that is precisely the case. Ke Li watched as these seven, in only a few minutes, organized themselves with such orderliness. Especially Siyan, who, without warning, became the de facto leader, stepping up under pressure yet handling everything with perfect composure. Ke Li couldn’t help but feel a deep admiration. It is one thing for someone to excel alone, but to command with such skill, to lead comrades through peril and adversity—that is the mark of a true master, a rare talent one must never let slip by. Ke Li glanced at Fu Hui and Qi Shanghe nearby and saw that they too were watching Siyan arrange the tasks, clearly interested in his abilities.

Siyan had not intended to stand out so soon; after all, the tallest tree catches the wind, and with his particular identity, being discovered would be no mere matter of explanation or apology. But now, with their lives hanging by a thread, if there was no clear division of labor, no matter how great their individual skills, a single misstep could spell disaster. Siyan realized that none of them were adept at giving orders, each unsure of their own role, so he took up this burden out of sheer necessity.

Direct combat was by far the most dangerous task and required immense strength. Ye Qianling’s prowess was beyond doubt—even gravely wounded, her skill with hidden weapons remained uncannily precise. There was no question she could hold the front line. Among the seven, Siyan only knew Chu Zimu, his fellow lodger at the same inn; they’d met rescuing a young woman together, and Siyan had witnessed Chu Zimu’s martial skill firsthand, knowing he was more than capable of taking the lead.

“It is my honor to meet you all and to fight by your side. Should we prevail against the odds today, I’ll call you my dearest friends.” After assigning the roles, Siyan extended his hand, holding it in the air before the seven of them.

“Of course. To have friends so like-minded is my greatest fortune,” Zhao Mengge placed his hand atop Siyan’s, glancing at the others. Though danger loomed, he remained gentle as spring breeze, exuding the spirit of a true knight.

“If we return safely, we must celebrate together—drink till we’re drunk and our worries forgotten,” Jian Suifei added, his voice, usually wild and unrestrained, now changed by the gravity of the moment.

At last, all six placed their hands together and turned to Ye Qianling, who had yet to move. As usual, she seemed dazed and detached, her gaze making no effort to hide her sense of displacement. The others waited for her to respond. Looking at them all in turn, her eyes showed no trace of the fierce war goddess—only confusion and helplessness. Even now, Ye Qianling found it hard to trust, to believe in a bond untainted by self-interest.

Siyan, seeing her apparent fragility, couldn’t help but feel the protective instinct of a man toward the vulnerable. He spoke gently, “Miss Wu, not every act of help in this world demands something in return. You just saved a life for no gain. So are we now.”

His words struck her deeply. It was the simple truth, yet Ye Qianling still wavered in doubt. But then Siyan added, “Trust me.” His gaze was firm as he looked at the frightened Ye Qianling, and the force of it rooted her to the spot. “Trust us. Trust everyone.” Realizing his earlier words had been too personal, he amended them to include the group.

That sentence worked like a charm, tearing out the root of doubt in Ye Qianling’s heart. She reached out her hand almost unconsciously.

“Let’s do it!” All seven flung their hands down together, and the surge of unity filled Ke Li with joy. He looked over at Qi Shanghe—this scene was so reminiscent of their own youth: loyal, forthright, united in purpose, overcoming every foe together.

Ye Qianling gazed at her companions. People who grow up feeling unsafe learn only to rely on themselves and find it hard to trust strangers. But Siyan’s simple “trust me” opened her heart at last.

Ke Li watched the invisible current between Siyan and Ye Qianling and sighed inwardly—this would be another story of unrequited effort. There are millions of lovers in the world, yet sometimes the one you desire is but a moon reflected in water, a flower in a mirror, always out of reach.

The cage was opened. Zhao Mengge, swift as the wind, darted to the tiger’s right. As the beast lunged, Jian Suifei on the left stabbed its tailbone with a blade. The tiger, in pain, spun faster toward Jian Suifei. He shifted right, while Siyan, Ye Qianling, and Chu Zimu lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, less than a meter apart—a formation that allowed their skills to be used to the fullest, unimpeded by space or each other.

Chu Zimu, nearest the right side of the cage, feinted an attack, but the king of beasts was quick to sense the ruse. Surrounded on three sides, it chose the front for its assault—perhaps a born creature of battle, its instinct told it that if it focused on the center, it could better fend off attacks from the sides, reducing unseen injuries.

Alone, Chu Zimu could not withstand the tiger. On the right, Zhou Xiaojie, and, in the center, Siyan, both aimed their swords at the tiger’s head—the most vital part, filled with sensitive nerve points. But with a sweep of its mighty paw, three swords were knocked loose, their wielders barely able to hold on. Against raw power, skill alone often means little. Only Siyan’s grip remained steady; the other two staggered under the blow. The tiger lunged for the nearest, Zhou Xiaojie, but Ye Qianling, light as a feather, leaped to the beast’s neck and drove her sword into its flesh. She was not strong, but managed to steady herself atop its back.

The others attacked from every direction. Above, Ye Qianling plunged her sword into the tiger’s neck; as the beast thrashed, the rest hacked at its limbs. Ye Qianling twisted her sword, and blood gushed from the wound. Within seconds, the tiger crashed to the ground.

Those watching outside could hardly believe their eyes. Humans, with nothing but ordinary swords, had slain the king of beasts—it defied all expectation. For a moment, there was silence. Then the arena erupted in thunderous applause.

“Well done! These people are truly extraordinary. Surely they’ll make it into the Southern Garden at Xijiao.” Among the crowd, someone spoke with a tinge of envy, their voice hoarse.

Too cowardly to risk their own lives, now they begrudged others their hard-won reward. Ke Li followed the sound and silently marked the speaker in his heart, determined to expel them later, or at least ensure they were never allowed to compete again. Years of battle had taught Ke Li to despise those whose hearts had gone astray.

The seven only relaxed their guard when the tiger lay still, lowering their swords at last. Ye Qianling slid down from the beast’s back, her grip loosening so that her sword clattered to the ground.

Ye Qianling had exerted herself too hard, and in keeping her balance on the tiger’s back, the wound on her chest reopened. Pain seized her, and she nearly dropped her sword. As she landed, the agony made her body curl inward unconsciously, her happy and relaxed expression vanishing in an instant as she clutched her chest and coughed softly.

All seven had survived a deadly ordeal, and even someone as placid as Zhao Mengge could not hide his joy—let alone the others.

“Are you all right?” Siyan was beside her, steadying her as she bent over in pain, concern in his voice. “Is it the wound from the other day acting up again?”

Ye Qianling was puzzled by his care. Why did he look after her so? He’d stepped forward first to save her, and now again comforted her at just the right moment. Ever since they met, he’d watched her every move. They were strangers, after all—how could she not wonder what he wanted?

Turning it over in her mind, Ye Qianling couldn’t help but think: is it possible he fell in love with me at first sight? But she was nothing special now, with no value to exploit. There was nothing to gain by deceiving her.

Ye Qianling’s imagination ran away with her, sinking into self-flattering fantasies. Yet she could think of no other explanation. Gradually, her expression softened. Without a word, she removed Siyan’s supportive hand from her arm and awkwardly explained, “It’s nothing, just a minor bump. It doesn’t hurt much, really.”

She dared not meet Siyan’s eyes, lowering her gaze. “Thank you for helping me. If it weren’t for you—for all of you—I don’t know if I’d have made it out unscathed.”

In Siyan’s eyes shone a thousand stars; though hard to define, their brightness and the cool, serious look in his phoenix-shaped eyes drew Ye Qianling in, making her forget the world around her.

How could anyone be so beautiful? For a moment, Ye Qianling was nearly beside herself with awe. So handsome—how could anyone look like this? She had seen many attractive men among the imperial family of the Ye Dynasty, but this foreign beauty was something else entirely—enough to make her lose herself, unable to restrain her heart.