Xiao Nanhui’s words stirred the atmosphere of the prison cell into something delicate and charged.
Pan Mei’er had not anticipated that this half-dead, filthy creature would suddenly bite back at her. Fury tipped over into laughter. “So that’s why you’ve been keeping quiet all this time — you were lying in wait for this moment. You think someone will believe your wild fabrications? You’re a lowly, worthless lackey. You couldn’t produce any useful information even if you tried. If I feel like it, I’ll humor you a while; when I grow bored, you won’t be able to get out another word.”
Xiao Nanhui laughed coldly. “Fortress Chief Pan has no shortage of ways to silence me. I’m a lowly lackey — I can only let you do as you please.”
These words were plainly intended to fan the flames, and Pan Mei’er felt fury rising in her chest. She was about to reach out and cut off this infuriating tongue — but in the next instant, she caught Sun Taishou’s reaction and stopped herself.
She couldn’t fall into a trap. If this person died, so be it, but she would be unable to wash herself clean even by jumping into a river.
With that thought, she composed herself into an appearance of calm and moved slightly closer to Sun Taishou’s direction.
“I’ll give you a chance to speak. I want to hear what sort of nonsense you have to say.”
Xiao Nanhui had been waiting for exactly this moment. She gathered herself for quite some time before she snapped her head up.
In truth, she didn’t need much preparation — the pain had already left her eyes bloodshot, her expression like someone facing a mortal enemy.
“Elder Sister! Even now — even at this point — you still refuse to acknowledge me?”
Those words shattered the air like a thunderclap.
The composure Pan Mei’er had just assembled crumbled to rubble in an instant. Her scarlet lips stretched into an inverted trapezoid from sheer agitation.
“Nonsense! Who is your elder sister?!”
Xiao Nanhui summoned the last of her strength and screamed at the top of her voice, her cry somehow rising above Pan Mei’er’s own: “You are my elder sister! I am your own blood-born younger sister! Back then, you killed our brother with your own hands, staged a performance of avenging him, and used the chaos to eliminate your rivals and seize the chieftain’s seat—”
Pan Mei’er slapped her hard across the face. “Shut your mouth! What filthy creature are you, crawling out of nowhere, daring to speak of our elder brother?! Today I will flay you alive—”
Forcing herself not to look at that rage-distorted face, Xiao Nanhui fixed her gaze rigidly on Sun Taishou’s eyes: “My lord! My lord, if you don’t believe me — look at my face!”
The tip of Pan Mei’er’s finger instantly sprouted a coral-red needle blade, and she swiped it back-handed toward Xiao Nanhui’s face.
“Fortress Chief Pan.”
Sun Taishou’s voice rang out, slow and measured. Pan Mei’er ground her silver teeth, but had no choice but to wrench that murderous motion to a dead stop.
She was still on Sun Taishou’s territory. And this old schemer could not yet be offended.
Sun Taishou paid not the slightest attention to the woman beside him and her rage-flushed face. He took a few steps closer to the woman on the punishment chair, seeming about to reach out and push the tangled hair away from her face — but in the end, he withdrew his hand.
Xiao Nanhui knew: he found her face too filthy to look at properly.
“There is some resemblance.”
Pan Mei’er’s expression grew even more rigid. Xiao Nanhui, however, smiled.
What did it matter whether he looked or not? She had already placed the cleaving knife in Sun Taishou’s hand. Now it was only a matter of how he chose to use it.
“Speak. Continue what you were saying.”
Xiao Nanhui spat out a mouthful of bloody foam and labored to steady the wildly pounding heart inside her chest.
She had never been good at lying by nature — the more she spoke, the more likely she was to slip up, and she knew it would show on her face. But the circumstances right now demanded she try even if it meant bleeding from the head. Every beginning is difficult; there always had to be a first time.
She tried to recall that person’s face with its half-smile, the manner in which he spoke — detached of sorrow or joy, weaving a self-contained and self-consistent web — and licked the blood from her teeth. Then, slowly, she began.
“She killed our elder brother, then staged a grand performance of avenging him herself, using the opportunity to purge her rivals and claim the chieftain’s seat. Now she intends to use the same trick on you, my lord. She made contact with the Southern Qiang people long ago. Taking advantage of the current conflict between Bijiang and Tiancheng, she plans to use the chaos to assassinate you, after which she can swallow the territory around Sanmu Pass. The reason I infiltrated the mansion in the first place was to get close to you, my lord, so as to foil that vicious woman’s scheme.”
Pan Mei’er’s needle blade twitched impatiently in her hand, and the hatred in her eyes had reached its limit: “Empty accusations without a shred of evidence — why should Lord Sun believe you?”
Sun Taishou was content to watch the spectacle unfold, and nodded: “The Fortress Chief makes an excellent point. Do you have evidence?”
Evidence. They wanted evidence.
Xiao Nanhui racked her mind desperately — yet her head remained an utter blank.
The seconds ticked by one after another. Cold sweat fell in more drops, and she could feel the impatience and killing intent accumulating rapidly in the air around her.
She needed a spark of inspiration. Just one — a spark of inspiration to turn this desperate situation around.
In the next second, Pan Mei’er’s piercing laughter came, dripping with mockery: “Lord Sun, I think we should forget it. This dead lackey was searched before she was brought in here. Not even a scrap of paper was found on her — what evidence could she possibly have?”
Xiao Nanhui blinked. Something rushed into her mind in that single instant.
“I have evidence.”
“Oh? And where is this evidence?”
“Before — I had a message tube on me. The evidence is inside that tube.”
“A message tube?”
Xiao Nanhui’s lips shifted slightly, and she spoke with deliberate care: “Yes. No longer than three feet. Made of refined steel — exquisitely precise.”
A momentary hush fell over the prison cell, so complete that every breath in the room could be heard distinctly.
Those brief seconds felt, to Xiao Nanhui, like an entire long day passing.
Sun Taishou finally raised his hand and waved it toward the two guards standing by the door: “You two — go and look. See if there’s an object matching her description.”
The guards received their orders and left. Before long they returned, carrying something in their hands.
Xiao Nanhui struggled to control her gaze, willing it not to betray the desperate longing in her eyes.
“Is this the message tube you mentioned?”
She nodded. “This object is extremely important, which is why I kept it close to my body all along.”