Chapter Fifty-One: Danger!

The shopkeeper had been arrested, and now the person responsible for handing things over to Mo Nianian and her party was another manager from the store. Mo Nianian had already dealt with those involved in the affair, giving every shop a thorough shake-up. She remembered this new manager vaguely—capable and efficient, someone who had followed the Regent for many years.

Because the sum involved was so enormous, Mo Nianian had reclaimed all that had been embezzled, counted it piece by piece, and sold off whatever could be sold. Only recently had the matter been fully resolved.

Today, Mo Nianian and Jiang Hu had come to the money house to withdraw all the funds. With the money in hand, the next phase of their plans could finally proceed.

A staff member handed a package to Mo Nianian. “Miss, here are all the banknotes, totaling nine million. Please check them.”

Mo Nianian counted the bills. “Good, that will do.”

“Thank you for your efforts.” She drew out one of the notes and handed it to him. “You’ve worked hard these days.”

The inventory was both tedious and endless; Mo Nianian herself had no desire to handle such matters.

“It’s my duty,” the man replied with a smile, accepting the banknote.

At that moment, Mo Nianian caught a strange scent in the air.

Jiang Hu reacted even faster than she did, suddenly pulling Mo Nianian behind him to shield her. “Mistress, be careful!”

[Host! It’s poison! They’ve poisoned you!] The system’s terrified warning rang in her mind.

At the same time, both Mo Nianian and Jiang Hu felt a wave of weakness wash over them. Mo Nianian’s limbs went limp—simply remaining upright became a struggle.

Jiang Hu clapped his hand over both their mouths and noses, sword in hand, and slashed at the man before them.

But the man had anticipated this. Besides, Jiang Hu had already inhaled a fair amount of poison, and his sword hand trembled.

The man easily sidestepped Jiang Hu’s blade, stepping back with a radiant smile. “Miss, you overestimate human nature.”

Seeing such a fortune slip through his fingers—how many could resist such temptation? He admitted to being an ordinary man, susceptible to desire.

Mo Nianian gritted her teeth. Indeed, she had been careless. Life in this world had been too smooth, and she had grown complacent.

She had failed to notice the poison.

“Miss, I did wish to continue serving you, but alas, such a pity…”

He waved his hand, and all the staff of the money house dropped their pretense, surrounding them.

Jiang Hu placed himself in front of Mo Nianian, wary and alert.

In the past, they would never have regarded these people as a threat, but now both of them were poisoned—standing was already a feat.

“It’s pointless to make excuses for your own treachery. Come then.”

Mo Nianian subtly shifted to shield Jiang Hu. He had protected her just now, and had breathed in even more poison—he must be feeling far worse.

“Miss, I’m sorry,” the man said, his expression hardening, eyes full of murderous intent. “Get them!”

Today, these two had to die here. With them gone, all this silver would be theirs.

Everyone was intoxicated by the prospect of riches, rushing at them with blades drawn.

Mo Nianian and Jiang Hu fought back with all their remaining strength.

Mo Nianian whispered to Jiang Hu, “How are you?”

“Mistress, I’m fine.” Jiang Hu’s eyes were shadowed and fierce, fixed on their enemies like a demon from hell.

To dare attack his mistress—he would make them pay!

Yet he cursed himself as much as them. How could he have made such a basic mistake?

Mo Nianian said, “As long as you’re fine, take care of yourself.”

With that, she snatched Jiang Hu’s sword and charged forward.

“Mistress!” Jiang Hu shouted, moving to stop her.

But Mo Nianian was faster than he’d imagined, colliding head-on with two assailants while he was held back by another.

Mo Nianian gritted her teeth, her body trembling, as though she might collapse at any moment—yet she swung her sword and wounded several.

But she, too, was injured; blood dripped steadily from her arm to the ground.

Her grip faltered—the sword clattered from her hand, slick with her blood.

The remaining men surged forward, intent on finishing her off.

In a flash, Jiang Hu went berserk. Ignoring the blade before him, he took the blow head-on and dashed to Mo Nianian, shielding her from the remaining attacks.

He placed himself between her and the blades, an impenetrable barrier.

Every knife found its mark on him.

Mo Nianian heard the sound of steel tearing flesh and the air grew thick with the scent of blood.

“Mo Hu! Are you alright?” she asked anxiously.

“I’m fine, Mistress.” Jiang Hu’s eyes were gentle as he tried to reach out to her, but hesitated, fearing his blood-stained hand would taint her.

He withdrew his hand, picked up the fallen sword, and shielded her once more.

His eyes were dark as night, the gaze of a wraith from the depths of the underworld—a coldness that saw only corpses.

They had delayed too long. The man grew impatient. “Finish this quickly! Whoever kills them both, double the reward.”

These two were even more difficult than he’d imagined—despite the drug, they’d wounded his best-paid killers. Formidable indeed.

But this was the end.

At his words, the attackers’ eyes grew wild with greed and they rushed forward.

“Go, now! I’ll hold them back,” Mo Nianian urged, shoving Jiang Hu.

He froze, then broke into a dazzling smile.

His mistress truly cared for him.

That was enough—more than enough.

“I will get you out of here alive, Mistress,” Jiang Hu vowed. As he spoke, his whole bearing shifted—no longer a servant, but a god of slaughter.

With sword in hand, he carved a bloody path.

He led Mo Nianian through the breach they’d torn.

“How can it be? How can he still use his inner strength?” The man’s face twisted with disbelief. “After them! Don’t let them escape!”

Mo Nianian was losing too much blood, and the poison was taking its toll. Her head spun; she was on the verge of collapse.

Jiang Hu sent out a signal for help, hoisted Mo Nianian onto his back, and ran as fast as he was able.

The farther they got, the greater her chance of survival.

He was more gravely wounded than she, his face drained of all color.

“Put me down,” Mo Nianian said, biting her lip, forcing herself to stay conscious.

“We’re almost safe, Mistress.”

If he could just last a little longer, she would survive—he was sure of it.

“Mo Hu! Put me down! I won’t say it again.”

Mo Nianian could see clearly how dire Jiang Hu’s condition was. If they continued like this, they would die before help could arrive.

“Mistress, I can manage,” he panted, staggering, but even in that moment he was careful not to let her fall.

His vision darkened, his body nearly spent. With grim resolve, he sliced another wound into his own arm.