Ling would have laughed, a bitter, hysterical sound, if she hadn't felt so close to the precipice of utter despair. I should have heeded Dr Lucas's warnings. Demons did indeed dwell in these mountains.
"Well?" Yan lie prompted, his violet eyes impatient. "What is to be done with her?"
Each of the men turned their attention back to Ling, and she made a desperate lunge for the fallen blade. Her fingers closed around the cold hilt, and she straightened, the tip of the blade wavering in their direction. The sword was heavier than she anticipated, her arms trembled under its weight, but she held it firm.
Her captors merely watched her with detached curiosity. Their lack of fear did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves. Though her acquaintance with Jiang Lang had been brief, a fierce protectiveness, a raw grief, surged within her, demanding retribution for his death.
Jiang Lang. His name echoed in the innermost chambers of her heart. He was gone. Forever. A painful clench seized her stomach. "I should kill you all. He was innocent."
"Innocent?" Luo Chen scoffed, the sound laced with disbelief.
"She threatens us. So, the hunters have finally found us," Yan lie said with a sneer.
"A hunter would not speak of Jiang Lang as innocent. Not even in jest."
"A spy might say anything. Remember, their words are often lies cloaked in innocent faces."
"I witnessed Jiang Lang strike down four men on the scrying mirror, men who were far from innocent. And it is unlikely that a guiltless woman would stumble into our forest at this precise moment."
"Does she possess any skill with that weapon?"
A derisive snort was made by Bai Long. "Clearly not. Observe how she holds it."
"A brave little thing, nonetheless."
Ling stared at them, her mind reeling, struggling to keep pace with their cryptic conversation. "Does no one care that a man was murdered here? That you are the ones who committed this atrocity?"
The black-clad angel laughed, it was Li Fan, a hollow sound that held a disturbing undercurrent of pain in his green eyes. "Believe me, little mortal. Jiang Lang will thank us in the morning."
"If he does not slay us for bringing her here in the first place," Feng Yue retorted, a hint of dark humor in his voice.
To Ling's astonishment, several of the men chuckled, nodding in grim agreement. Only the one who had delivered the fatal blow remained silent, his gaze fixed on Jiang Lang's still form, his face was a mask of anguish and guilt. Good. Let him suffer the weight of his actions.
The sensual one, the man with the impossible blue eyes, Feng Yue, turned his attention back to her, a slow, seductive smile playing on his lips once more. "Put the sword away, little flower, before you harm yourself."
Ling held the sword tighter, her resolve hardening. "Come and take it from me, you... you... beast!" The word escaped her lips, like a challenge born out of desperation. "I may lack skill with this weapon, but if you approach me, I swear I will hurt you."
There was a collective sigh from all the men in the room, a soft chuckle, and a muttered, "What manner of woman can resist Feng Yue?"
"I propose we confine her to the dungeon," Yan lie stated, his violet eyes hard. "There is no telling what mischief she might concoct otherwise."
"Agreed," the others echoed, their voices filled with a chorus of dark consent.
Backing towards the door, Ling shook her head, her grip on the sword tightening even more. "I am leaving. Do you hear me? I am leaving! And mark my words, justice will find you. Every single one of you will face the court's justice."
"Jiang Lang can decide her fate when the sun rises," the scarred Luo Chen with mismatched eyes said calmly, dismissing her threat as if it were a child's tantrum.
As if Jiang Lang could decide anything now.
Her chin trembled, a wave of despair washing all over her again for a third time now. Then, her eyes widened in terror as each of his killers began to advance, their movements were deliberate, their intentions were also clear in their unwavering gazes.
Don't hurt me. Please, don't hurt me.
A pause was heard in their movement. Before a sharp crack followed.
An anguished cry echoed through the chamber.
My arm! Huge, wrenching sobs tore through the silence. You broke my arm! Ling's own arm throbbed in phantom sympathy. I did not... do anything... wrong.
The voices, inside her which had been silent for so long, returned with a vengeance, a cacophony of pain and fear.
She huddled on the cold, damp floor of a dark cell, shivering uncontrollably. "I only sought someone who could understand," she whispered into the oppressive silence. Instead, she had stumbled into a nightmare, a twisted folk tale with no promise of dawn.
I will. I will. Just... need... a... moment.
The one-sided lament echoed in her mind, an endless loop of anguish, desperation, and pain. Above it, however, a single voice, sharp and clear, cut through her mind: Jiang Lang's. Not a recent echo, but a memory, a sudden burst of screams.
"You abandoned the Institute for this." She shook her head, a wave of grief and disgust washing over her. She wanted to believe this day was nothing more than a terrible dream, that she hadn't witnessed a man brutally murdered. But the memory was too vivid, too real. His shouts... heavens, his shouts. His rage at being bound and beaten, his torment... unlike anything she had ever sensed from another human soul.
Tears streamed down her face. The image of him, both before and after the fatal blow, was seared into her mind. His harshly handsome face, almost savage in its intensity. Now, the sharp angles softened in death, his violet eyes closed forever. His tall, powerful body, now broken and lifeless, lying in a pool of its own blood.