"You lost."
Xiao Yan stood in the center of the square, looking at Nalan Yanran as she knelt on one knee.
"Xiao Yan, you won... According to our agreement back then, if I lost the final match, I, Nalan Yanran, was supposed to become your slave and servant."
"But for the sake of my sect's reputation, forgive me for not honoring that promise."
Nalan Yanran sat on the ground, the blood at the corner of her mouth still unwiped. She looked at Xiao Yan for several breaths, then slowly pushed herself up.
She picked up the broken half of her sword and gripped it, turning its tip toward her own throat.
Nalan Yanran's sudden action made every Misty Cloud Sect disciple in the square, including the elders, pale in alarm.
Some elders wanted to save her, but they were too far away. They could only watch helplessly as the sharp blade drew closer and closer to Nalan Yanran's throat.
Xiao Yan simply watched coldly.
The boy whose engagement had been broken off in public in Wutan City three years ago would have rushed forward to stop that blade.
But he was no longer that Xiao Yan.
On the battlefields of the Chu Yun Empire, he had seen too many people die. The lives and deaths of tens of thousands had flashed before his eyes.
Nor did he fear the Misty Cloud Sect or need to worry about its retaliation if anything happened to Nalan Yanran. The Xiao Clan's forces were now no weaker than the Misty Cloud Sect's.
Besides, what would stopping Nalan Yanran's blade accomplish?
She had made herself clear. For the sake of her sect's reputation, she could not honor the agreement. She would rather die than fulfill her promise to become his "slave and servant."
If he