Nie Jiuluo raised her knee to strike at Yan Tuo's groin while her left hand chopped downward to seize the gun. Yan Tuo reacted swiftly, pressing down hard with his left hand to force her knee back. At the same time, his fingers slid along her kneecap and clamped around her calf, yanking it outward with force.
Nie Jiuluo’s plan to grab the gun was thwarted—her fingertips had barely brushed the weapon before she was flung aside. With Yan Tuo’s strength, there was no way she could resist.
But her advantage lay in her agility and quick reflexes. Spotting the belt around Yan Tuo’s waist, she instinctively hooked her fingers into his waistband, gripping the buckle to halt her momentum. In the same motion, she vaulted upward like a nimble monkey, wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to his back.
Seizing the fleeting opportunity, she dug her fingers into the base of his skull near the cervical vertebrae and hissed in his ear, “Go to hell.”
Then she twisted hard.
The moment she latched onto his back, Yan Tuo knew it was bad. The cervical vertebrae were a vulnerable spot—even a little force could knock someone out, and a strong twist could be fatal. Almost simultaneously with Nie Jiuluo’s words, he grabbed her shoulders and wrenched her downward, roaring, “Get off!”
Nie Jiuluo’s world flipped upside down. With no leverage, her second killing move was wasted. But even in freefall, she refused to let him stay standing. Though inverted, she coiled her arms around Yan Tuo’s like vines, locking onto his arm while her leg hooked around his neck. “You’re coming down too!”
They crashed to the floor with a resounding impact—the sofa shifted, the reading lamp toppled, and the small round coffee table flipped over and rolled away.
Twisted in midair and unable to brace herself, Nie Jiuluo hit the ground in agony, stars bursting in her vision. Through the haze, she spotted Yan Tuo’s throat right by her mouth. In a fight between experts, every second counted. Without hesitation, she bit down.
Yan Tuo didn’t realize her intent until the last moment. Catching her movement from the corner of his eye, he jerked his head aside—but not fast enough. Her teeth sank into the tender flesh of his neck, far more sensitive than an arm or leg. A sharp pain shot through him, blood rushing to his head. Enraged, he clamped his hands around her waist and hurled her away.
Nie Jiuluo slammed into a bookshelf, dozens of volumes raining down on her. Worse, her waist nearly snapped from the impact, pain searing through her like fire. The first attempt to rise failed; only on the second try did she manage to drag herself up, gasping, gripping the shelf for support.
Yan Tuo staggered to his feet, stumbling backward until he collided with a workbench. The dragon skeleton model perched atop it wobbled precariously before steadying.
A few meters apart, they glared at each other—cold, wary, unyielding.
In the west wing of the courtyard house, Sister Lu jolted awake, fumbling for the bedside lamp in panic.
Yan Tuo touched the bite mark, his fingers coming away smeared with blood.
Nie Jiuluo’s lips tingled, the coppery tang of blood spreading as she licked the split corner of her mouth. She swallowed it—her own blood, after all.
First round—no winner, no loser.Looking down again, she noticed her sash had loosened, leaving her chest slightly exposed.
Nie Jiuluo covered her chest with one hand while tugging at the sash with the other, her eyes fixed on Yan Tuo, brimming with defiance. "Yan, can't beat me, huh? I'm barely dressed and unarmed. If you've got any guts, ditch the gun. What kind of man are you?"
Yan Tuo smirked. "You don’t have a gun, but you’ve got teeth."
Nie Jiuluo grinned back. "And you don’t?"
Yan Tuo studied her for a few seconds before loosening his grip on the gun. The weapon spun halfway around his trigger finger before he tucked it back into his waistband. "Even without a gun, I can still pull your teeth out."
Round two.
Neither rushed to move, each gauging distance and position, calculating the most effective strike.
Prolonged battles spanning thousands of moves over days were fantasies from martial arts novels. Nie Jiuluo lacked the stamina for that. In reality, high-intensity combat exhausted her within minutes—she excelled at swift, cunning ambushes. Whether it was Gou Ya or Yan Tuo, her victories relied on surprise and decisive ten-second takedowns. The longer the fight dragged on, the more she was at a disadvantage.
She needed to speed things up.
Nie Jiuluo dashed forward, stepping onto an overturned coffee table to launch herself at Yan Tuo. Mid-air, she grabbed a cushion from the sofa and hurled it at his face.
A cushion wouldn’t hurt even if it hit, but Yan Tuo, ever cautious, sidestepped to avoid both the cushion and Nie Jiuluo’s lunge.
Nie Jiuluo missed her target, her body skidding across a tabletop—but this was part of her plan. She braced herself with her left hand, her right snatching a hand axe from the table. Without looking, she pivoted at the shoulder and swung it backward in a sweeping arc.
Caught off guard, Yan Tuo barely registered the cold glint arcing toward his face and throat. He jerked back but was a fraction too slow. A chill brushed his shoulder as his sleeve split open, warmth seeping through the fabric.
Before he could react, Nie Jiuluo spun, swinging the axe a second time.
Yan Tuo was furious. Perfect—she’d tricked him into holstering his gun, only to pull out an axe.
Steeling himself, he didn’t retreat. Instead, he charged forward, ducking and sidestepping at the last moment. His left arm wrapped around Nie Jiuluo’s waist, pinning her left arm as he pivoted behind her, effectively trapping her in his embrace. His right hand seized her wrist, forcing it down inch by inch with relentless strength.
It became a contest of brute force again. Nie Jiuluo felt like she was bound by unyielding iron, powerless as Yan Tuo forced her arm down. When the axe blade drooped, he tightened his grip. Pain shot through her, her fingers spasming as the axe clattered to the floor.
Desperation sparked inspiration. Summoning all her strength, she jerked her head back in a vicious upward strike.
Yan Tuo, taller than her, took the blow squarely on his chin. His teeth clamped down on his tongue, his vision swimming with black spots as his grip slackened.
Nie Jiuluo seized the chance to break free, stumbling forward several steps.
But she wasn’t unscathed. Her head wasn’t made of iron, and neither was Yan Tuo’s chin. This move might have hurt him, but it cost her just as much. Dizzy and unsteady, she swayed as she turned back, panting heavily—just in time to see Yan Tuo spit out a mouthful of blood.
The impact must have made him bite his tongue.Strike while the iron is hot—with relentless momentum. If two strikes couldn't take him down, it was time for the ultimate move. Nie Jiuluo, her eyes burning with fury, let out a fierce cry as she charged forward. Yan Tuo raised his arms to block, but she aimed low instead, delivering a powerful sweep to his legs. Grabbing hold of him, they tumbled to the ground together once more.
This fall was even more violent, slamming the workbench aside by over half a meter. The saws, hammers, sculpting knives, and chisels on top clattered to the floor, and even the dragon skeleton finally lost its balance, toppling toward them.
Seizing the moment, Nie Jiuluo ignored everything else, flipping over to pin Yan Tuo beneath her. With a sharp tug of her right hand, the bracelet on her left wrist stretched taut into a gleaming silver wire, which she looped toward Yan Tuo’s neck.
Yan Tuo was familiar with this bracelet, but even in his wildest nightmares, he hadn’t imagined it could be a lethal weapon.
A wire this fine—if it wrapped around his neck, he’d be done for.
He jerked his head aside and grabbed the fallen dragon skeleton to block. With a sharp shick , the wire coiled tightly around the wooden skull of the skeleton. The force of the attack couldn’t be retracted, and the thinner wooden joint connecting the head to the body gave way. In the next instant, the wooden head was severed by the wire’s tension, rolling away with a clatter.
Nie Jiuluo didn’t pause, looping the wire again.
Seeing the silver thread flash toward him once more, Yan Tuo realized his mistake: unlike a blade, which had to be drawn back for another strike, the wire could snap straight again after being fully extended, allowing a seamless second attack.
He reached out blindly, his fingers brushing something soft and smooth. His wrist bumped against something hard, and an idea struck him. His hand slid swiftly up Nie Jiuluo’s leg, yanking out a dagger. Just as the wire tightened around his neck, he pressed the dagger’s tip against her chest.
Nie Jiuluo froze, motionless.
The dagger’s point was sharp enough to pierce skin. A slow stain of red seeped through the tear in her robe, and beneath the fabric, a single drop of crimson blood trickled down her abdomen.
The wire had already broken the skin around Yan Tuo’s neck. He grinned at Nie Jiuluo. “Unarmed, huh? Miss Nie, you’ve got quite the arsenal on you.”
Neither dared move, unwilling to provoke the other. The throat and the heart weren’t like an appendix—neither was expendable.
At that moment, Sister Lu’s trembling voice echoed from the stairs. “Miss Nie? Is everything all right?”
Nie Jiuluo tensed and barked, “None of your business! I’m dismantling something. Come clean up tomorrow morning!”
Sister Lu: “Oh, oh, alright then.”
It wasn’t that Sister Lu was careless. Her cleaning company had a group chat for those serving writers, artists, designers, and the like—professions with a higher-than-average share of eccentric personalities prone to incidents. Self-isolation, self-harm, drug use—one client had suddenly been struck by inspiration in the middle of the night and painted a grotesque, blood-red heart on a white wall with their own blood, leaving the cleaning lady plagued by nightmares for a week.
So, Nie Jiuluo dismantling something in the middle of the night, even with all the noise, was still within the realm of normalcy.
Yan Tuo waited until Sister Lu’s footsteps faded. “Miss Nie, are we going to stay like this… until dawn?”
Nie Jiuluo swallowed but didn’t answer. The hand gripping the bracelet trembled imperceptibly—holding a position for too long would do that.Yan Tuo: "I'm someone who values my life. With all these career pursuits and hobbies filling your house, you must cherish your life too. Look, rather than both of us dying here, why don't we each take a step back and stay alive for now? How about it?"
Nie Jiuluo seized the opportunity to back down: "Fine, you first."
Yan Tuo sneered: "Me first? A habitual liar like you has no right to ask me to go first. You first."
The phrase "habitual liar" wasn't entirely unfair to her.
Nie Jiuluo said, "Fine, I'll go first."
She kept her eyes locked on Yan Tuo as she released one end of the bracelet. The band had a retractable spring, quickly coiling back around her wrist and returning to its original form. She raised her hands slightly, palms open, to show she was no longer a threat, then slowly stood up and stepped back.
Yan Tuo also kept his gaze fixed on her as he released the dagger, pushed himself up with his arms, and stood. As he rose, he kicked the dagger far away.
Round two—no winner, no loser. Back to square one.
Nie Jiuluo spat out two words through gritted teeth: "Again."
Yan Tuo had no intention of continuing the fight. "Miss Nie, I came here to talk. You're acting a bit unhinged right now—not the best state for a conversation. Let's do this another day."
With that, he turned and headed toward the staircase, the gun holstered at his waist gleaming conspicuously in her direction.
Another day? Matters like this were best settled quickly—who could bear the anxiety of waiting for the inevitable? Nie Jiuluo shouted, "Get back here!"
As she spoke, she lunged forward, reaching for the gun.
Yan Tuo had deliberately let her see the gun, confident she wouldn’t get it. The moment she moved, he darted diagonally forward, leaped up, and shoved a statue—wrapped in transparent plastic—off the high display shelf against the wall.
He had noticed this statue earlier—a Water-Moon Guanyin. Even through the plastic, the exquisite craftsmanship was evident. The statue’s elongated eyes were slightly closed, gazing downward, its robes intricately detailed with folds.
He was certain that someone who treasured their work would never stand by and watch it get destroyed.
As the statue toppled, Nie Jiuluo’s mind buzzed, her scalp prickling with alarm. In the end, professional instinct won out. She abandoned her pursuit of Yan Tuo and threw herself forward to save it.
This was the statue Lao Cai had referred to with, "Three years—you should be ashamed to keep dragging this out." Progress had been painstakingly slow because she insisted on perfection. Of course she treasured it. Seeing that catching it outright would cause major damage, she slid across the floor in desperation, using her own body as a cushion. At the last moment, she steadied the falling Guanyin with her hands.
Face-to-face with the compassionate visage through the plastic, Nie Jiuluo gasped for breath, her heart pounding, her back drenched in cold sweat.
The sound of shattered tiles reached her ears. Yan Tuo hadn’t taken the stairs—that had been a feint. He had climbed out the window, dislodging several roof tiles in the process. The eaves led straight to the courtyard wall; once he dropped down on the other side, he was gone—he had escaped.
Nie Jiuluo lay on the floor for a while before gritting her teeth and sitting up, carefully righting the statue as she did.
Despite her best efforts, the fall had taken its toll. The bodhisattva wasn’t entirely unscathed—small fragments had broken off inside the plastic cover: the thumb of the lowered hand, a piece of the beaded necklace, and a corner of the jeweled crown.
Though easily repairable, each lost piece felt like a chunk of her own flesh being torn away. It hurt.
After a moment, she clenched her jaw and stood, walking over to the open window.The air was filled with a faint floral fragrance, and broken tiles were scattered across the ground. Sister Lu's room light was still on—on, and then suddenly off.
Judging by the situation, at least for tonight, that person wouldn’t be coming back. Hating was useless, and waiting was pointless.
Nie Jiuluo latched the window, picked up the dagger Yan Tuo had kicked aside, and stepped over the mess of scattered nails and tools. Midway, she suddenly remembered something and turned back to the sofa, flipping the cushion aside.
A damn bomb? It was just a stainless steel snap buckle—clicking when weight was applied.
She clenched the buckle in her hand, staggering toward the bedroom. Her head was still spinning from the collision, her thoughts jumbled as if everything inside had been knocked out of place.
Nie Jiuluo tightened her grip on the buckle.
Next time she saw him, she’d shove this thing down Yan Tuo’s throat and make him swallow it whole.
Remember: . , .
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