In mere moments, the lively chaos of the Beiming Outbound Market shattered into a nightmare.
Dozens of people—merchants mid-haggle, young women browsing silk scarves, parents shielding children—were seized without warning. Black-cloaked cultivators moved like shadows made flesh, their sharp weapons flashing under the midday sun. Blades pressed against throats, wrists twisted behind backs, no one given time to scream before they were dragged toward the center of the plaza. Resistance was met with swift, brutal efficiency: a merchant's arm snapped with a sickening crack, a woman's cry cut short by a gauntleted hand over her mouth.
Despair hung thick in the air, heavier than the winter chill.
"This can't be!" Yu Xiao murmured, her voice trembling as she watched those people being herded like livestock. Her hands clenched at her sides, nails biting into palms. The bright daylight that had felt so welcoming moments ago now exposed every horror in merciless clarity—the blood on the snow, the wide-eyed terror on familiar faces, the children's kites lying trampled and forgotten.
Without realizing her own peril, she took an instinctive step forward—to help, to shout, to do something. Before her foot could fully land, two gleaming blades crossed in front of her face with a metallic hiss, blocking her path.
She froze.
Slowly, she turned her head. Two cultivators stood before her—tall, cloaked in dark gray, faces half-hidden beneath hoods. The one on the left tilted his head, studying her with cold, predatory eyes that seemed to peel away every layer of pretense. The stare cut straight through her, stripping away courage, leaving only raw fear.
A chill slithered beneath her robes, colder than any mountain wind.
She exhaled shakily, shoulders sagging in silent defeat.
"Move," the first man barked, jerking his blade forward an inch—close enough that she felt the edge kiss the air near her throat.
Her legs refused. Fear had turned them to stone; her knees trembled, but her feet stayed rooted. The second man leaned in, breath hot and sour against her veil.
"Move. Or die."
The ultimatum snapped something inside her. Fighting the paralysis, she forced one foot forward, then the other. Each step felt like wading through deep snow—slow, heavy, inevitable.
They herded her toward the center of the plaza, where the captives had been forced to kneel in ragged rows on the cold marble. Rough hands shoved her down; her knees slammed into the stone, pain lancing up her thighs. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp.
What are they trying to do? Why are they doing this?
Her mind raced, eyes darting across the other captives—merchants with torn sleeves, mothers clutching torn robes, elders staring blankly ahead. All of them are silent now, broken by shock and the promise of worse to come.
From the far side of the group came the sound that nearly stopped her heart.
Children's voices—small, frightened, huddled together in a separate cluster, guarded by two more cultivators. Their cries were muffled sobs, tiny hands clutching at each other.
"Sister! Sister!"
The voice pierced her like a blade.
She knew that voice.
Her blood turned to ice.
Her head jerked up, eyes wide with dread, searching through the captives until she saw him—the young boy she had played tag with earlier, the one who had called her "pretty big sister." His clothes were torn at the shoulder, blood seeping from a shallow cut. Dirt streaked his small face, bruises already blooming beneath one eye. He had fought. And lost.
"Sister! Go away! They are bad people—don't go with them!" he shouted, voice cracking with desperation as he struggled against the hand gripping his collar.
The nearest cultivator snarled in irritation. Without hesitation, he drove a boot into the boy's chest.
"Shut up!"
The child crumpled, curling into himself with a choked gasp, small hands clutching his ribs as pain twisted his features.
"Bao Wen!" Yu Xiao's voice tore from her throat, raw and anguished. "You're evil!"
The words had barely left her lips when the cultivator who had struck the boy whirled toward her. In two strides, he was upon her, rough fingers seizing her veiled chin and yanking her face up to meet his gaze.
His eyes were flat, merciless—predator staring down prey.
"Keep your mouth shut," he hissed, fingers digging into her jaw until she winced. "One more word—one more—and every single captive here dies screaming. Starting with the brat."
He released her with a rough shove, her head snapping back. Pain bloomed across her cheek where his grip had bruised.
Yu Xiao's breath came in shallow, trembling bursts. She stared at Bao Wen, still curled on the ground, wheezing softly. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall—not yet.
The market, once bright with laughter and sunlight, had become a cage.
And she was trapped inside it.
The captives were forced into tighter rows, knees grinding against the cold marble as the black-cloaked cultivators moved methodically among them.
One by one, rough hands yanked open robes, tore pouches from belts, and emptied storage rings with practiced cruelty. Spirit stones—low-grade, mid-grade, even a few precious high-grade ones—clattered into heavy sacks held by waiting subordinates. The air filled with the dull clink of stone against stone, punctuated by sharp cries when someone dared resist.
A middle-aged merchant clutched his pouch to his chest. "This is everything I have—please, my family—"
A cultivator backhanded him without hesitation. The man crumpled, blood trickling from his lip as his stones were ripped away. Another woman tried to hide a small jade bottle behind her back; a blade flashed, slicing a shallow line across her forearm. She gasped, dropping the bottle, which shattered on the ground in a puff of wasted medicinal fragrance.
"Empty everything," the lead cultivator barked, his voice flat and bored. "No exceptions. Refuse, and you bleed."
The line moved forward relentlessly. Yu Xiao watched in helpless horror as person after person surrendered their belongings—eyes downcast, shoulders shaking, some weeping silently. The children's cluster had gone eerily quiet; even their sobs had been beaten into small, hiccuping whimpers.
When the cultivators reached her row, the same man who had struck Bao Wen stepped in front of her.
He paused.
His gaze was fixed on the white veil still covering the lower half of her face. In the harsh daylight, the thin fabric looked almost luminous, fluttering slightly with her shallow breaths. Something about it—its simplicity, its deliberate concealment—caught his attention.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing with sudden curiosity.
"Well now," he muttered, voice low and mocking. "What's a little bird hiding under there?"
Before Yu Xiao could react, his hand shot out. Fingers hooked under the edge of the veil and yanked.
The fabric tore free with a soft rip.
Her face was revealed.
For a heartbeat, the plaza seemed to be still. Even the wind paused.
Yu Xiao's dark hair framed features that were delicate yet striking—skin pale as fresh snow, lips slightly parted in shock, eyes wide and luminous with a depth that didn't belong to an ordinary mortal. The faint silver-blue sheen from her lunar qi flickered subtly in her irises under the sun, unnoticed by most but impossible to miss for anyone with a sharp cultivation sense.
The cultivator froze, hand still clutching the torn veil.
His companions noticed the sudden halt. One leaned over his shoulder, then let out a low whistle.
"Look at that," he said, grinning. "Not just another face in the crowd."
The man who had pulled the veil stepped closer, crouching until his face was level with hers. He studied her like a rare beast caught in a trap—curious, calculating, hungry.
"Such pretty eyes," he murmured. "And that qi… faint, but strange. Not pure mortal. Not quite cultivator either." His lips curled. "You're hiding something interesting, aren't you?"
Yu Xiao's breath came in short, panicked bursts. She tried to shrink back, but the cultivators behind her seized her shoulders, pinning her in place.
The man reached out again—this time slower, almost gently—brushing a strand of hair from her cheek with the back of his gloved finger.
"Don't be afraid," he said softly, the gentleness a mockery. "We'll find out exactly what you are… soon enough."
Behind him, Bao Wen—still curled on the ground—lifted his head just enough to see her face fully revealed. His small, bruised features crumpled with fresh terror.
"Sister…" he whispered, voice breaking.
The cultivator glanced over his shoulder at the boy, irritation flashing across his face.
"Quiet," he snapped, then turned back to Yu Xiao. His smile widened, cold and predatory.
"Strip her of everything. Rings, pendant, clothes, if she resists. We'll take our time figuring out what makes those eyes glow like that."
Yu Xiao's heart hammered so hard she thought it might burst.
The jade pendant at her waist—Xue Wuya's gift—suddenly flared with a faint, desperate warmth against her skin, as if it, too, sensed what was coming.
But the cultivators closed in, hands reaching.
Unexpectedly, the cultivator who had struck Bao Wen—the same one who had ripped away her veil—raised his hand sharply, palm out in a commanding gesture that silenced the others around him.
His eyes remained fixed on Yu Xiao, raking over her revealed face with a slow, deliberate hunger. The midday sun caught the cruel curve of his lips as they twisted into a sinister sneer.
"Spare this one," he said, voice low and thick with dark amusement. "She's... exceptional. She'll satisfy our lord nicely."