Chapter 133: Meeting
Song’s lips pressed into a thin line. "You intend to confront him directly?"
Her gaze flickered with ice. "No. Not yet. Confrontation would be too easy. What I intend is to draw him and his hidden intentions out. To let him think he’s pulling the strings, while I carve away at the truth beneath his silk robes."
She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming in the dim lamplight. "That’s why you need to keep the others hidden. No matter what happens to me tonight, don’t reveal yourselves, and don’t act rashly. Understood?"
Song was silent for a long moment. His hand, resting on the table, curled into a fist. "Understood."
But the storm in his eyes betrayed him. Ling Yu reached across the table, placing her hand lightly over his. The gesture was rare between them, intimate not in romance, but in trust.
"Song," she said softly, "you’ve always been by my side even when I was at my lowest. But this... this is my fight. You cannot take it from me."
His shoulders eased, though only slightly. He bowed his head. "As you command, Master. But if the moment comes where you cannot escape alone, I will disobey your orders without hesitation."
Ling Yu’s lips curved into a small, helpless smile. She didn’t argue with Song because she knew him too well to waste breath on words that would never sway him.
Instead, she rose, her robes whispering against the floor. "Then it’s settled. Tonight, I’ll meet Xu Mochen. And we’ll see just how much silk can hide the rot of a snake."
As the hours passed, Ling Yu prepared quietly.
She checked her weapons, the short blade hidden beneath her sleeve, the vial of powdered Dragoshard concealed in her belt, the thin wire coiled at her wrist. Each tool was placed with purpose, each detail attended with the precision of someone who had learned the price of mistakes.
This was not the Ling Yu who had once wept when Xu Mochen abandoned her; rather, this was the Ling Yu who had clawed her way back from the ashes, who had lived and died once already, and who carried vengeance like a blade in her soul.
When she opened her eyes again, they gleamed like cold stars.
Tonight, only one of them would leave with teeth sunk into the other’s throat.
***
The fortress city’s lamps glowed faintly as dusk descended, painting the cobblestone streets in shades of rust and gold. The gates of the lord’s district loomed tall ahead of them, the kind of ostentatious architecture that screamed of power hoarded at the expense of others. The high walls were etched with sigils, decorative but not functional, and guards in fitted black armor lined the entrance like silent statues.
Ling Yu walked with a calm gait, her robes flowing softly around her. She gave no indication of nerves or hesitation, but her mind was alert, weighing every detail: the number of guards, the routes of escape, the flicker of resentment in the eyes of the commoners who glimpsed her passing in the company of powerful men.
To her left, Xie Lingzhou kept pace. His presence was steady but not overbearing, like a dark shadow pressed at her shoulder.
"I didn’t expect the former movie king to show up to pick me," Ling Yu said coolly, her lips curling in a faint smirk.
Xie Lingzhou’s eyes flickered sideways to her, sharp even in the dim light. "Well, I just want to make sure that sneaky bastard doesn’t attempt anything ridiculous."
His voice carried neither warmth nor softness, but there was something in the cadence, something protective hidden beneath the veneer of cold indifference.
Ling Yu chuckled under her breath. "How noble of you."
"Noble?" His lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Don’t misunderstand. I simply don’t like seeing wolves dress in silk and pretend they’re gentlemen. Makes the whole fortress stink."
Their words, though biting, were low enough not to carry to the guards. By the time they reached the main gate, the two had fallen silent, the tension between them humming like a live wire.
The guards saluted stiffly and opened the way.
Xie Lingzhou escorted her as far as the main hall, his boots tapping against polished marble that looked far too pristine for a fortress in the apocalypse. At the threshold of towering double doors, he came to a stop.
"This is where I leave you," he said flatly. His eyes lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, searching, calculating, as though measuring the risks. Then, with a small tilt of his head, he added, "Remember, wolves rarely dine alone."
Ling Yu’s smirk returned, colder this time. "Don’t worry. I’ve sharpened my fangs."
The doors opened, and the performance began.
But the atmosphere inside was not what she expected.
No iron chains were clinking against stone, no cages to display dominance, no cold military severity. Instead, the air carried the faint fragrance of sandalwood and wine. The hall was draped in silk banners, its chandeliers flickering with soft golden light. Cushions were scattered along divans; tables were laden with delicacies that most of the fortress would never taste.
It wasn’t a fortress lord’s war room; rather, it was a parlor designed to impress others.
And at its center, reclining with the practiced ease of someone who thought the world was his stage, was Xu Mochen.
The man she once knew as her ex-fiancé wore a finely tailored coat of deep blue, embroidered with threads that shimmered faintly in the light. His hair was perfectly styled, his every gesture polished. His face, handsome by worldly standards, carried a warmth that might have fooled any ordinary girl into believing him a benevolent host.
But Ling Yu knew better.
She remembered the way those same hands had once lifted a wine glass to toast with her, only to discard her like spoiled fruit when Jiang Meng’s shadow fell across his path. She remembered the coldness hidden behind that smile, the calculation behind those so-called gentle eyes.