Page 14 of Dynasty of the Wicked

The other soldier dragged the corpse by the ankle, and a stream of semi-thickened blood followed in its wake. Zhi Ruo’s stomach turned and she hugged herself deeper against the wall.

“Princess, I’m talking to you.” Feng Mian was glancing in her direction, though his unfocused gaze didn’t fall on her completely.

Zhi Ruo blinked back, her eyebrows pulling together as the two soldiers shouted something—the taller one complained about the heavy body, while the stout one cursed and didn’t seem to know what to do. What had Feng Mian asked of her?

“Do you know their language?” he asked again.

“Wha—” She could see the shorter soldier yanking out a ring of keys from his waist. “Y-yes. Do you?”

“I do.”

“So you should understand that they’re furious,” she said slowly, watching from the corner of her eye as the soldier jammed a key into the padlock, cursed again, and tried for another. Her heart picked up in pace. “Do you think you can overpower them and kill them too?”

“It’s worth a try.” The corner of his mouth rose, and then twitched into a frown. “But use this opportunity to escape, if you can.”

She ground her teeth together to keep from scowling at him; as if he truly cared about her. She couldn’t be fooled by his occasional kindness—it was only meant to further his own freedom.

Feng Mian jumped up to his feet, his hands clenched together tightly. Apprehension swirled in the pit of her belly and she continued to hug the wall. If the soldiers both jammed themselves inside here, she wouldn’t have much space to escape without them noticing. But since both of them had their swords on them … she feared she would get caught in the crossfire.

But Feng Mian had a blade on him, she reminded herself.

Even now, she could see him angling his foot where he had slipped the knife in away from their line of sight. Surely, he could snatch it and slit their throat. They wouldn’t expect him to?—

“Hey!” The old prisoner grasped the bars of the cell and pointed at Feng Mian. “This one’s got a knife on him!” he shouted in their tongue. “He’ll cut you!”

The soldier messing with the padlock froze, lifted his gaze to Feng Mian, and then the corner of his mouth curled into a snarl. “Youbastard.”

The second soldier cursed and dropped the body he had been trying to haul down the hallway. With one fluid swoop, he drew his own sword, stepped over the corpse, and came to stand beside his companion. Both sent apprehensive glares at her cellmate.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Feng Mian muttered under his breath.

“Don’t do anything careless,” the shorter of the two snapped, aiming his sword through the slats. “I’ll skewer you like a pig.” Another string of curses followed, half of which Zhi Ruo didn’t completely understand.

The soldier twisted the key with one hand while keeping an eye on Feng Mian, and the padlock clicked open.

Zhi Ruo’s heart thudded loudly. Sweat beaded down her breasts and soaked through her armpits. She glanced between Feng Mian, whose body was tense like a spring, and the two scowling soldiers.

The two soldiers exchanged quick glances and the shorter one kicked the door open and leaped inside, his sword pointed at Feng Mian. The second soldier barreled in after him. They instantly crowded the cramped cell.

“Give the weapon here, blind bastard.” The soldier twisted the sword in his hand, his stance tensing when Feng Mian didn’t move. “I know you can understand me.”

The taller of the two licked his lips, glancing back at the darkening hallway. Zhi Ruo could sense his nervousness by the tightness of his shoulders, the way he stayed further back than his partner, as if he could run away if it came down to it. But Feng Mian was blind, could he read the man as easily as she could?

“Feng—” she started, but the tall one snapped his attention to her and aimed his sword at her.

“Stay put,” he snapped, Adam’s apple bobbing. He seemed to have no trouble corralling her in place. “Hey, what if she has a weapon too?”

The dough-faced soldier glanced at her sidelong, the corner of his mouth lifting into a snicker. “Strip her down. Might as well enjoy the view.”

All the color drained from her face. Her hands flew to her chest, eyes widening at the cruel grin glinting off their faces. The old prisoner in the next cell hooted and cackled.

A muscle on Feng Mian’s jaw twitched. “You wouldn’tdare,” he growled in their language. “Touch her and I’ll fucking kill you.”

The stout soldier’s brows came together in confusion—either at the threat, or that Feng Mian knew his language.

It was all the distraction Feng Mian needed to lunge forward with a snarl. The soldier cursed and slashed his head, but Feng Mian was too fast and ducked before the blade could even reach him. The sword smacked into the wall and rang loudly. He twisted around, swinging his weapon with him as he went. The sword sliced Feng Mian’s bicep and a rush of blood bloomed over his dark clothes, splattering the floor as he rolled away from another slash.

Zhi Ruo didn’t have time to watch the fight because the other soldier stalked toward her, his sword angled toward her throat.

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