Mystique Soul: A Cultivator's Flame
Chapter 93: Chaoter 93

Chapter 93: Chaoter 93

The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the small room, its dim glow barely illuminating the tension in the air. Feng Jiao Xue sat at the simple wooden table, fingers lightly tapping against the surface, her expression unreadable. The letters Tian Heng had delivered lay untouched beside her, but her focus had long since drifted from them.

She wasn’t alone.

A subtle shift in the air. A breath out of place. The faintest creak of wooden floorboards, nearly imperceptible but clear to her trained ears.

Assassins.

They had moved in silence, slipping into the room like phantoms in the night. Black-clad figures lurked in the shadows, their weapons gleaming under the dim light. Their presence was suffocating, pressing against the space like a vice. Some crouched low, ready to strike; others lingered near the walls, blocking any path to escape.

Feng Jiao Xue remained still, her heartbeat steady, her posture unruffled. The scent of steel and poison lingered in the air. A dagger gleamed near her periphery, close, too close but she did not flinch.

A soft exhale escaped her lips as she finally acknowledged them, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

"So... who sent you?"

No answer. Not that she expected one.

The assassin closest to her moved first, lunging without hesitation, the gleam of a curved dagger aimed straight for her throat.

Feng Jiao Xue moved just as swiftly.

Her chair toppled backward as she shifted, her body twisting to avoid the deadly arc of the blade. The moment her feet met the ground, she sprang into action, her whip unfurling from her waist with a sharp crack. The thorned length of it slashed through the air, its tip finding purchase against flesh, forcing her attacker back with a strangled hiss.

The other assassins took that as their cue.

The room exploded into motion.

Blades flashed, shadows twisted, and the fight truly began.

The room erupted into chaos.

Blades sliced through the air, gleaming with lethal intent. Feng Jiao Xue moved like flowing water, her body weaving effortlessly through the onslaught. A dagger aimed for her side, she twisted, letting it graze harmlessly past her robes before lashing out with her whip. The thorned length coiled around the attacker’s wrist, a sharp pull forcing him to drop the weapon with a strangled grunt.

Another assassin came from behind. She felt the shift in the air before the blade struck. Her foot slid back in a half-turn, and she ducked just in time, the cold bite of steel barely missing her throat. Without hesitation, she slammed her elbow into the attacker’s ribs, followed by a precise kick to the chest, sending him sprawling.

A third one was faster, lunging with twin daggers.

Feng Jiao Xue pivoted. Her whip snapped outward, wrapping around one blade, yanking it free from the assassin’s grasp. But he didn’t hesitate, his remaining dagger thrust toward her stomach.

Too close.

She caught his wrist mid-strike, fingers tightening like an iron vice. With a sharp twist, she redirected the force, sending the blade plunging into another assassin’s shoulder instead. The wounded man let out a choked cry before collapsing, blood staining the wooden floor.

But there were too many.

They surrounded her in a deadly circle, their movements precise, disciplined. This wasn’t a reckless attack whoever sent them knew what they were doing. These were trained killers, not mere thugs.

Feng Jiao Xue exhaled slowly, centering herself.

Then she moved.

A flash of silver was seen as some throwing daggers shot toward her. She deflected it with a flick of her whip, the force sending it clattering against the wall. Her other hand reached into her sleeve, fingers curling around a hidden needle. With perfect aim, she flicked it forward, striking an assassin’s exposed neck. He staggered, choking, before collapsing.

Another one down.

The remaining assassins hesitated, reassessing. She took the moment to act.

Gathering her energy, she channeled it into her whip. The air hummed with power as she lashed out, striking the floor. A ripple of force spread outward, upending furniture and forcing the assassins back. Their footing wavered, and she seized the opportunity, darting forward with speed beyond their comprehension.

One,two,three swift strikes.

Two assassins fell instantly, their bodies hitting the ground before they could even react. The last one standing barely had time to raise his sword before the thorned edge of her whip wrapped around his throat. She yanked hard, and with a final choked gasp, he crumpled.

Silence.

The candle flickered, the only sound left was her steady breathing.

Feng Jiao Xue stood in the wreckage of her room, surrounded by fallen bodies. Blood pooled beneath them, mixing with the shattered remains of furniture and scattered weapons.

Her gaze was cold as she stepped over one of the bodies, retrieving the dagger she had disarmed earlier. She twirled it once between her fingers, her expression unreadable.

Whoever sent them had underestimated her.

And that was a mistake they wouldn’t live to make again.

On the other side of town...

Tian Heng strolled through the bustling streets, hands tucked into his sleeves as he glanced at the man beside him. Mo Tianze walked with his usual quiet demeanor, but there was a tension in his posture, his gaze flickering back toward the direction of the inn they had just left.

He wasn’t a fool. He knew Feng Jiao Xue had sent them away for a reason.

Tian Heng, however, had no intention of letting him dwell on it.

"You know, for someone so wide-eyed with wonder earlier, you sure look like you’ve swallowed something bitter," Tian Heng said, his tone light. He picked up a piece of fruit from a vendor’s stall, tossing it in his hand before paying for two. "Here. Eat. It won’t solve whatever you’re brooding about, but at least it’ll give your mouth something else to do."

Mo Tianze took the fruit but didn’t bite into it. "She sent us away for a reason." His voice was softer than before, laced with an uncertainty that he didn’t seem to like admitting. "She wouldn’t just..."

"She wouldn’t" Tian Heng agreed, biting into his own fruit. "But she did. And unless you plan on disobeying her, you’ll have to trust that she can handle whatever it is."

Mo Tianze frowned but said nothing. He was always quick to obey Feng Jiao Xue’s words, and Tian Heng could see the struggle playing out in his mind.

Tian Heng exhaled, shaking his head. "Look, I get it. But you worrying about it isn’t going to change anything." He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully before adding, "So, how about this? If you can prove to me that you’re stronger than me, I’ll let you go back."

Mo Tianze blinked at him, momentarily thrown off. "...What?"

Tian Heng smirked. "You heard me. We spar. If you win, I won’t stop you from going back."

Mo Tianze narrowed his eyes. "That’s unfair."

Tian Heng shrugged. "Life is unfair. Now, are you in or not?"

For the first time since they left, the tension in Mo Tianze shifted, his competitive spirit stirring beneath the surface. Tian Heng knew Feng Jiao Xue had sent them away to keep them safe, but he also knew that keeping Mo Tianze occupied was the best way to keep him from running straight back into whatever she was dealing with.

And if distracting him meant letting him take a few swings at him?

Well, Tian Heng had endured worse.

Tian Heng let out a long breath, stretching his sore arms as he walked alongside Mo Tianze. Their little spar hadn’t lasted too long, not because Mo Tianze was weak, but because he had fought with an edge of distraction, his mind clearly elsewhere. In the end, Tian Heng had called it off, claiming he was bored of fighting someone who wasn’t giving their all.

Now, as they made their way back to the inn, Mo Tianze was noticeably more restless. His steps were quicker, his ears twitching slightly as they neared the rented room.

The moment they stepped inside, they were greeted by an undeniable mess. The scent of something acrid lingered in the air, and objects were scattered across the wooden floor. However, in the midst of it all, sitting with perfect poise, was Feng Jiao Xue, calmly threading a senbon needle between her fingers.

She didn’t look up as she spoke. "You’re back."

Mo Tianze’s eyes darted across the room, his nose twitching. "What happened here?"

Feng Jiao Xue paused for only a moment before exhaling, her voice even. "The cauldron blew up."

Tian Heng barely held back a snort.

Mo Tianze, however, straightened in alarm. "What? Are you hurt?"

"I’m fine," she said, flicking her wrist as another senbon joined the neat row in her hand. "It was a minor mishap."

Tian Heng eyed the room with quiet amusement. Burnt marks on the wooden beams, overturned furniture, and what looked suspiciously like a sliced rope hanging loosely from the ceiling. A ’minor mishap,’ indeed.

Mo Tianze didn’t seem entirely convinced, his brows furrowed as he scanned her face for any sign of injury. "Are you sure?"

Feng Jiao Xue finally met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Would I lie to you?"

Mo Tianze opened his mouth, then closed it. His ears drooped slightly, but he eventually sighed and nodded. "Alright... just be careful next time."

Tian Heng bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to chuckle. This woman was terrifying in her own right, but she was even scarier when she could lie so smoothly and get away with it.

Feng Jiao Xue gave him a sidelong glance, as if daring him to say anything.

Tian Heng only smiled and plopped down on the nearest intact chair. "So, what’s for dinner?"