“Damn it!”
Gu Wan couldn’t hold back a curse. She shot upright, eyes locked tensely on the passage outside the cell.
Two figures rushed straight to the small prison, pulling out a key and snapping the iron lock open. With a harsh creak, the heavy door swung wide. At the same instant, a shadow wielding a strip of white silk slipped inside, crouched low, and in one swift motion looped it around the target’s neck!
Their strike was lightning-fast. Xie Ci, feigning unconsciousness, paid dearly for it. He sensed something wrong as the door opened, hesitated for a heartbeat—and in that instant the silk whipped around from behind his head. Shocked, he jerked up in a desperate kip, but the chance was gone. The attacker twisted and pulled, tightening the noose around his throat!
The man at the door froze, then lunged forward, pinning Xie Ci’s hands and clamping hard over his mouth.
It all happened so abruptly. No voices, only the violent rustle of footsteps grinding against straw. In the pitch-black prison, a murder was unfolding.
Xie Ci thrashed wildly but was crushed down. The white silk cinched tighter and tighter. At this force, he wouldn’t last more than a minute—perhaps not even half. Within ten seconds, the pressure could shatter delicate tissue at the hyoid, bringing death.
Cold wind whistled through the vent. Gu Wan’s blood surged hot.
“Shit—damn it! What do I do?!”
She froze in the channel, fists clenched, wavering for two seconds. Then—“To hell with it!”
Bending low, she shoved the cover aside with the smallest force she could muster, sprang off the stone lip, and launched herself forward. Feet left the ground—her whole body hurtled into the cell. She appeared too suddenly—those two shadowy figures never imagined that in this ward of dying prisoners, someone could still crawl up, move with agility, and even carry a weapon. The sluice was barely five or six meters from the small cell.
As Gu Wan landed, she sprang forward and slammed hard into the back of the man bound with white silk!
The silver pick clenched in her palm stabbed straight into the cloth, and with a fierce tug— The taut white silk snapped with a clean tear!
Her leap and collision carried such force that the man was knocked flat, both of them crashing against the wall. His head struck with a dull thud, and he went limp at once.
The other man was dealt with by Xie Ci.
The sudden turn of events left the second assailant scrambling—he reached to grab the loosened ends of the silk, but Xie Ci yanked it free in a flash. Panicked, the man fumbled for the long sword at his waist. He had barely drawn it halfway when Xie Ci, risen from the brink of death, rolled and locked an arm around his throat!
In barely ten seconds, sweat poured down Xie Ci’s face, his skin still tinged with the bluish pallor of suffocation, fury blazing in his eyes. He kicked the man’s sword hand, lunged, and clamped down on his neck with unyielding strength.
Neither had proper weapons; one was grievously wounded, yet the raw surge of life-or-death desperation lent Xie Ci crushing power. He held on until the man ceased to move.
Both were left gasping for breath.
They staggered up from the ground—Gu Wan grimacing from a bruised knee, Xie Ci feeling hot liquid trickle down from his brow into his eye. Blood or sweat, he couldn’t tell. He wiped hard; the sticky crimson confirmed it was blood.
In the pitch-black, foul-smelling cell, the two bodies lay motionless. The corridor outside was eerily quiet, yet they could clearly hear the sycophantic chatter of guards flattering their superiors at the far end.
Soon, they would realize these two had not returned.
Gu Wan steadied herself for a moment, then scrambled to her feet. She whispered urgently, “Quick—come with me!”
Xie Ci leaned against the wall, barely able to stand. The thick stench of blood filled his nose; the violent struggle had torn his wounds open again. Yet years of military discipline had drilled into him the habit of straightening his spine, even when his body was at the brink of collapse.
Gu Wan thrust out her hand, her words rapid and sharp. They couldn’t stay here. To linger meant certain death. Oddly enough, at this point she felt a strange calm.
A fugitive—this was never what she had expected. What a cursed twist of fate!
And yet, if she had to choose again, she suspected she would still do the same. The time for hesitation had already passed. She pressed him: “We have to go. They’ll realize something’s wrong any moment now.”
Whether enemies or the court’s ruthless purge, it was clear—these men could walk freely here only because the entire prison system was rotten to the core.
Her heart pounded wildly as she reached for Xie Ci, who was swaying on the edge of collapse. He drew a ragged breath, braced himself against the wall, then set his hand on her shoulder. Stumbling, staggering, he followed her toward the air shaft.
Together they pushed and pulled their way out through the vent. Gu Wan quickly shoved the cover back into place.
Only then did Xie Ci cough, the sound harsh but muffled, forcing it low. The fit lasted long, his breath rasping and choking until at last it steadied. Half-kneeling, he pressed the iron cover down silently, easing it flat.
The snow had stopped. A crescent moon hung in the night sky, its pale light mingling with the glow of snow. Gu Wan could see clearly the hands gripping the cover—scarred, crisscrossed with whip marks and the bruises of finger-crushing torture, streaked with blood. The calluses between thumb and forefinger stood out starkly against the dried, dark stains.
Xie Ci had trained through the bitter cold of winter and the sweltering heat of summer, his hands gripping spear and blade countless times. He might have been mischievous in youth, but the soul and steel of the Xie family ran deep in his bones. If not for this calamity, after his sixteenth birthday he would have formally enlisted, starting as a common soldier without complaint. That was the way of all Xie men who took up arms.
He was unruly, yes—but never a spoiled wastrel.
Now, the swagger of the boy who once rode proudly through the streets had vanished from his eyes in just a matter of days. The brilliance remained, but fractured—grief and desolation glimmering, fragile as glass, ready to shatter at a touch.
From the original memories, Gu Wan could still see that proud youth, calling friends to his side, vibrant and unyielding. Infuriating, yes—but not wicked. Her heart softened. She dug out the rough timber she had hidden in the snow for emergencies and wedged the cover firmly shut. “Are you all right?” she asked, reaching to steady him.
Her voice carried both concern and resolve: “We’ll make it out safely. We will.”
She turned her gaze toward the prison itself. The Tiekan Temple Prison—formally Zhongdou Prison—was dominated by four towering walls of blue brick and white stone. The foundations were laid in thick white stone, rising nearly four zhang high—over ten meters, close to four stories. From anywhere in the vast compound, front court or rear cells, those walls loomed in plain sight.
Xie Ci rasped, his voice hoarse: “The Tiekan Temple Prison has two walls—an inner ring and an outer ring.” His throat was injured, his voice rasping so harshly that Gu Wan had to lean close to catch his words.
This Tiekan compound had once been the Eagle Guard’s training ground. Xie Xinzhong and his father had brought Xie Ci and his younger brother here many times for drills, so he knew the place well. Though he hadn’t been involved in the later reconstruction, he still remembered clearly: there were two walls.
A proper prison—no prisoner could sprout wings and escape.
The wind carried a strip of cloud across the sky, dimming the moon.
In that shadowed light, Gu Wan tilted her head, thinking for half a second. “We… set a fire?”
Fire—chaos.
It was indeed an effective tactic. But Xie Ci rasped: “We don’t have flint.”
“I do!” Gu Wan darted into the wood shed, rummaging through the haystack until she pulled out an old firestone and steel striker. She had found them earlier behind a clerk’s desk, where half a basket of discarded tools lay. She hadn’t touched the new ones, but she had pocketed this worn pair and hidden them in the shed.
Now was the time.
She struck it—clack, clack, clack—but no spark came. Xie Ci took it at once, and with a single strike, sparks flew. Gu Wan quickly cupped a bundle of dry grass to catch the ember, and flame leaped up. She scattered the burning straw across the shed, then seized a blazing stick and rushed out, pulling the door shut behind her.
By now, faint footsteps and angry shouts echoed from the vent. Gu Wan’s heartbeat quickened—she hurriedly erased traces in the courtyard, then glanced up and flung the burning stick toward the left side!
“Go!”
The dry winter air fed the flames; the wood shed caught instantly, fire licking up the pillars with a crackling roar. Gu Wan and Xie Ci, who had been tidying away signs of struggle, scrambled to their feet and dashed toward the farthest corner post.
At the wall’s base, Xie Ci dropped to one knee. His face was pale, streaked with blood, but there was no time to care.
Gu Wan sprinted, leaped into his interlocked hands, vaulted onto his shoulder, and kicked off the wall—hauling herself up. She reached back, pulling him after her.
Xie Ci held his breath, forcing his bloodied body not to smear against the stone, and with her help, he made it over. They landed hard. Behind them, firelight flared. “Fire! Fire—!”
Bronze gongs clanged in alarm. By sheer luck, the stick Gu Wan had tossed had flown into a warehouse storing tung oil, hemp rope, lamps, and wooden stocks. The blaze spread faster than in the shed, devouring paper windows and racing through the storeroom.
Shouts for water, the chaos of sick prisoners, the pounding of gongs—all merged into a deafening uproar. The outer prison, silent moments before, now boiled with noise. Patrol squads split their forces, half rushing to fight the fire.
Gu Wan seized Xie Ci’s hand, dragging him around a corner. Torchlight flickered outside, red and wavering. She ducked her head, eyes fixed on the ground—on a manhole cover. Even in this chaos, they couldn’t simply run out through the gates. She had crawled the dry channels countless times. Her decision was instant: “We’ll go underground!”
Together they pried open a cover, slipped down one after the other, and before vanishing, dragged snow across the lid and set it back in place.
Gu Wan never underestimated others. In a prison this vast, there was no shortage of clever minds. It wouldn’t take long for someone to connect the fire with the sick-ward incident. Once the search turned up nothing, they would soon think of the dry channels—and from there, the sewers.
She led the way, crawling fast, fearless, following the path she remembered straight toward the office quarters where Squad Leader Cao and his men worked.
In the winter snow, the channels held no water—cold, yes, but otherwise clear. After ten minutes of crawling, Gu Wan pressed herself against the opening of a manhole, peering out through the gap. She tested the latch several times, then forced it open.
She emerged. The courtyard was empty—this seemed to be the quarters of a senior prison officer. Everyone had likely rushed off to direct the firefighting.
She and Xie Ci climbed out. He replaced the cover, scooping snow to erase bloodstains and footprints. Gu Wan darted down the corridor, pierced the paper window, and peered inside. Almost instantly, she had an idea.
“Quick—come here!”
She ran to the side chamber, broke the lock, and found what she had hoped for: the guards’ dormitory. Her heart leaped.
Four men in total—two on duty, two at rest. But the resting pair had already thrown off their quilts and rushed to the fire. The bedding was still warm. She opened the chest, pulled out their armor, compared sizes, and snatched the smallest set to strap on.
“Xie Ci—can you manage?”
“If I can… then we walk straight out.”
Xie Ci was grievously wounded, suffocated, bleeding heavily. He had crawled all the way, leaving a trail of blood behind. His body, only just recovered from a raging fever, was at its weakest—and now, with his throat crushed anew, his face was pale as paper, tinged with the deathly blue of a corpse. Yet he clenched his jaw and refused to faint. He was conscious, but the thick stench of blood and his ghastly complexion showed how close he was to collapse.
Gu Wan had already finished dressing herself, swiftly adjusting her sleeves. Her long legs in leather boots carried her steadily to the window, each step firm and deliberate.
Xie Ci rasped, “I can!”
Blood seeped through, but from his broken body surged a sudden strength. He bit down hard, tasting iron, and stood straight. Quickly, he pulled on several layers of underclothes to mask the smell of blood, then donned the armor. He was well-versed in the way of armor; his speed was not much slower than Gu Wan’s.
She handed him a regulation longsword. The two stood for a moment, then Gu Wan pulled open the door. Together, the two “guards” strode out into the courtyard.
Outside, the fire had reached the tung oil barrels—explosions thundered, curses and running feet filled the air, mingled with the shouts of search parties rushing to comb the grounds.
In the chaos, Gu Wan and Xie Ci moved in formation, one behind the other. Their numbers were few, but amid the confusion they drew no notice.
“My sister-in-law, my nephews, my mother…” Xie Ci’s breath came ragged, but he had not forgotten. Even at the edge of death, with escape within reach, his mind leaped at once to the family still imprisoned in the women’s ward—the last of his kin. Panic surged in his voice.
“Get out first!”
Boots struck the snow with a crunch. Slipping into the shadow beyond the wall, Gu Wan lowered her voice: “Everything else—we’ll talk about it once we’re outside!”
She had already bricked up the hole in the women’s ward and scattered snow over it. Squad Leader Cao would surely do his utmost to cover that matter.
But once Xie Ci escaped, Madam Xun and the others still imprisoned would stand out all the more. That, however, could only be faced after they themselves got out alive. Even if Xie Ci were executed, his kin would still meet death—whether by the swift blade or the slow torment of a dull knife.
Gu Wan, who had once drilled younger cadets, snapped now with the harshest tone of a drill instructor: “If you want them to live, you must live first! Otherwise I wouldn’t have come for you at all!”
The two strode quickly toward the inner gate of the first wall. Gu Wan raised her voice, barking as they approached: “Why are you still standing there? Split the men again! Fight the fire—quickly!”
The guards had just heard the explosion. Suspicious and unsettled, they craned their necks toward the noise. At her command, they hastily opened the gate they had only moments ago been ordered to keep shut.
“Yes! Yes! Please wait, my lords—”
Gu Wan cursed, kicking the guard hard, then stepped through the inner gate into the outer compound.
After a string of scolding, she abruptly cut her voice, turned with Xie Ci, and sprinted toward the nearest outer wall.
The final gate was guarded not by petty wardens but by prison troops—heavily armed, entry and exit strictly controlled by passes and orders. There was no chance of bluffing their way through. Her aim had never been the outer gate—only the inner one. Their lie would soon be exposed.
Hand in hand, Gu Wan and Xie Ci ran full tilt toward the towering wall.
Behind them rose the chaos—boots pounding in disorder, a flood of men pouring out from the inner gate, whistles shrieking, piercing through the vast Tiekan compound.
Life or death in a heartbeat. Gu Wan and Xie Ci clenched their jaws, racing through alley after alley, bursting past the barracks, until at last they reached the high wall.
From a distance, Gu Wan already had the weapon in hand—a grappling hook she had fashioned from a guard’s spiked halberd, bound into a long rope. Her eyes were sharp, but the hook was heavy, too heavy.
Xie Ci rasped, “Give it to me!”
She handed it over at once. He swung the massive hook. His right arm was torn and bloodied; as he heaved, droplets spattered onto the snow.
The two of them sprinted at full speed, racing to the end. Xie Ci swung the grappling hook—its heavy iron head soared skyward and landed with a sharp clack, locking firmly onto the wall’s crest. He wrapped an arm around her waist, braced his right arm, and with a surge of strength vaulted them both up the four-story wall.
Xie Ci dropped to his knees atop the battlement. The wall was thick, its top barely a foot wide. He knelt there, chest heaving, breath ragged.
The wind howled, rising suddenly; cold gusts laced with snowflakes struck their faces under the pale moonlight.
Xie Ci trembled.
Gu Wan turned swiftly, gathering the rope, shifting the hook to the other side to secure it. Behind them, the thunder of boots and the glare of torches surged closer, encircling the outer wall.
A heartbeat away from disaster.
One step more, and they would be free of the prison. Yet at that very moment, Xie Ci felt his legs weighed down with a thousand pounds. He could not move. He knelt, body shaking, tears streaming.
Like all the Xie men, he was young but broad-shouldered, his waist lean and strong. Torture had not broken him. Yet now, atop the wall, he collapsed to his knees, trembling, his face wet with grief.
Gu Wan understood instantly.
For her, becoming a fugitive was something she had hesitated over—after all, she had received five years of education as a “servant of the people.” She had never imagined herself in such a role. Yet this was not the era that had birthed and raised her, and so the psychological barrier was not insurmountable.
But for Xie Ci, the matter was entirely different. Loyalty and duty were carved into the bones of the Xie family. It was a legacy of faith, a soldier’s soul, a subject’s soul, a family’s soul—generation after generation of Xie men had died for it. Their flesh and blood, their very marrow, bore its weight.
If he had the choice, Xie Ci would rather die—shattered, dismembered, reduced to ashes—than live as a fugitive, staining the honor his ancestors and brothers had built with their blood.
Gu Wan’s heart ached, but she was resolute. She gripped his shoulder and turned his face toward her. The wind howled, cold and sharp. In its roar, she heard her own voice, calm and severe: “The dead are gone. The living must endure. For the sake of your mother, your sisters-in-law, and the children who remain—you must live!”
“If you die, there is nothing. If you live, there is still hope.”
Xie Ci’s tears fell in a sudden rush. Scalding hot, they soaked into the pads of her fingers.