“Your Majesty, Nanzhou City cannot be stayed in for long. This minister requests that Your Majesty return to Yujing as soon as possible!”

Inside the temporary palace of Nanzhou City, Lingxiao Guard Commander He Zhongting knelt upon the floating bridge, the hem of his dark cyan robe hanging down, soaked by the melted snowwater on the bridge.

“He Qing, you know clearly that this southern tour of mine is for the Baiyu Zichang Temple on Tianshao Mountain in Tingzhou.” Emperor Chunsheng stood with his hands behind his back, not turning around.

Baiyu Zichang Temple was a famous temple known throughout the realm. It was said that several hundred years ago, the renowned Daoist Lingxu Zi attained the Dao and ascended to immortality in this very temple.

Since ancient times, countless scholars, poets, and seekers of immortality had come to Zichang Temple to pay visits and inquire about the Dao. This time, Emperor Chunsheng’s southern tour was to personally see the statue of the Heavenly Venerable that he had ordered built against the cliff within the temple six years ago.

He Zhongting cupped his hands. “Your Majesty, this band of rebels was originally entrenched in the northwest—why have they now appeared in Nanzhou? I fear that…”

“Fear what?”

Emperor Chunsheng turned back to look at him.

“I fear that these people may not necessarily be related to the rebels of the northwest, but instead may be connected to the great clans of the south…”

He Zhongting did not finish his sentence, yet Emperor Chunsheng’s expression froze for a moment. Soon after, his face shifted through several changes. He rubbed the jade thumb ring on his finger and murmured thoughtfully, “These past few years, I may indeed have pressed those great clans too hard.”

Yunchuan had four great clans. From the founding of Great Yan three hundred years ago, these four great clans had already entrenched themselves in Yunchuan. The people of Yunchuan trusted and revered the great clans far more than the emperor thousands of li away.

To win the hearts of the realm, the founding emperor of Great Yan permitted the entirety of Yunchuan to be jointly governed by the four great clans.

The wealth and manpower accumulated by century-old clans—even as the emperor of Great Yan, he truly could not underestimate them. After all, he was now already in the south, and Tingzhou, where he intended to go, lay very close to Yunchuan at the southernmost edge.

“But Mingyue…” Emperor Chunsheng was already somewhat wavering inwardly, yet when he thought of the princess who had accompanied him on this southern tour, his worries multiplied. “He Qing, Mingyue has never left the palace before. This is her first time. The weather is bitterly cold… I wonder how she is now.”

“Your Majesty, please be at ease. This minister’s son, He Xingjin, will lead men to remain here and continue searching for the princess’s whereabouts. This minister has also ordered her portrait to be sent to every prefecture, instructing them to search secretly.”

He Zhongting bowed down again, his palms full of snow, and declared in a clear voice:

“If He Xingjin does not find the princess, he will never return to Yujing!”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Simply by taking a few extra medicinal ingredients from the medical hall, then mixing them into an unknown tree bark extract and boiling it down into a gelatinous substance, it could be made into such a “face skin,” thin as a cicada’s wing.

Though this thing could not change a person’s facial features, the creases molded into it while half-dry were exactly like wrinkles on a human face. Its color also closely resembled a waxy yellow complexion.

This was Zhezhu’s favorite trick when hiding from people in the past.

Thanks to this thing as well, whenever Shang Rong encountered the casual gazes that fell upon her in such a strange place, she would faintly gain a trace of comfort from this wrinkled outer skin.

It was midday. The inn in town was crowded. Shang Rong instinctively rejected such lively places in her heart, yet Zhezhu held her wrist, and she had no choice but to follow him step by step upstairs.

The shop attendant pushed the door open with a beaming smile. Seeing the two of them enter, he immediately closed the door and went downstairs to instruct the kitchen to prepare the meal.

Zhezhu released her sweat-damp hand, lifted the hem of his robe, and sat down at the table. He poured himself a cup of tea, but upon lifting the cup and finding it cold, he set it down again with distaste. Turning back, he noticed Shang Rong was still standing there without moving, and raised a brow. “What are you thinking about?”

The young man had already guessed part of it, yet still asked knowingly.

“Zhezhu, I’m going to leave.”

Shang Rong touched the soft, lifelike mask on her face and added, “You have people you need to hide from. I also have things I need to escape. Thank you for giving me this.”

There were too many things hidden in her heart, so there was rarely even a trace of an easy smile in her eyes. Now she stood before him with the light behind her, slowly lowering her gaze.

“That golden butterfly hairpin, I really don’t need you to return it…”

Before she could finish speaking, she heard the young man interrupt her, “Even if you’re leaving, at least finish this meal first.”

Shang Rong lifted her head.

It was still that aged, wrinkled face, yet the eyes with which he looked at her were still like stars washed in melted snow—unconcealed, it was his clean and clear expression.

Shang Rong still sat down at the table. Before long, the shop attendant knocked and entered, setting down a table full of dishes and a pot of hot tea. Saying “Please enjoy,” he hurriedly withdrew.

The moment the dishes were set down, Shang Rong caught an unmistakable fishy smell. Of the four dishes on the table, two were meat dishes.

“So—meat smells this fishy?”

Shang Rong pushed the dish in front of her a little farther away.

“You’ve never eaten meat?”

Zhezhu was momentarily surprised, but in Great Yan today, the practice of the mysterious Dao was flourishing. Among households that believed in Daoism or Buddhism, some emphasized ascetic cultivation, and there were always those who ate only vegetarian food so it was not anything unusual.

Those who had always eaten vegetarian were indeed extremely sensitive to the smell of meat.

Zhezhu held his tea bowl. The loose tea leaves floated and sank within, and beneath the drifting steam, his brows and eyes softened somewhat. Perhaps on a sudden whim, a smile touched his lips. “If you dare to eat it, then I will agree to let you leave.”

Shang Rong immediately looked up at him. “But just now you clearly said…”

The latter half of her sentence was suddenly swallowed when she met the young man’s eyes.

The world was vast. When Shang Rong stepped beyond the palace walls for the first time in her life, she already knew this. She had thought she might gain freedom, but after coming out, she realized that this unfamiliar mortal world was yet another enormous cage.

She had nowhere to go at all.

But even so, she still had to leave this place—leave Nanzhou far behind, even—leave far behind this mysterious young man, impossible to see through, whose intentions she knew nothing of.

She would rather be alone.

The fingers holding Shang Rong’s chopsticks tightened more and more. She fixed her gaze on the dish she had just pushed away, mustered her courage, picked up a piece, endured the fishy smell, and with her eyes tightly shut, forced it into her mouth.

“Mingyue, meat is impure, and you were born pure. You must never touch it.”

That voice lingered at her ears like a nightmare.

The sinews on the back of Shang Rong’s hand tensed. By this point, she was clearly no longer forcing herself to eat that piece of meat because of the young man’s single sentence.

At some unknown moment, her eyes had grown moist. One chopstick after another, she picked up pieces of meat, forcing down the fishy taste as she ate them with rice.

Fifteen full years of rules, she ate them away bite by bite.

Zhezhu watched her silently—watched her finish that bowl of rice, watched her set down the bowl and chopsticks, raise her head to meet his gaze, and ask him, “Can I go now?”

Zhezhu did not speak. He merely took a sip of hot tea and gave a slight nod.

Shang Rong stood up. Only when she reached the door and was about to open it did she suddenly stop and turn back.

A great wash of daylight streamed in through the window lattice. The noise from upstairs and downstairs only made the quiet here stand out more sharply. He sat at the table, meeting her gaze with cool indifference.

“Zhezhu, thank you. Truly.”

She could not smile, only pulling her mouth into a strange expression toward him.

——“Creak.”

The door opened and closed again. The shifting light fell across Zhezhu’s side profile and then faded. The room became completely quiet. Zhezhu carelessly lowered his gaze at the tea bowl that had lost its warmth and set it aside at will.

He felt along the edge near his temples and easily peeled off the thing on his face. Then he fastened the diexie belt at his waist. The soft sword brushed against the jade belt’s golden clasp, producing a clear, cold sound. He pushed open a window. Below lay a silent old alley, the snow not even fully cleared.

Soundless, the young man’s figure lightly swept into the wind and snow. He stepped across flying eaves and green tiles, moving through the fierce wind, and soon landed upon a tree before a dilapidated temple.

The temple doors were on the verge of collapse. Scattered dry grass lay all over the ground, stained with blood. Hidden among the dark green-black shadows of the branches, he quietly watched for a while as the tall young man carried the corpses from the temple into the courtyard one by one.

Leaning against the tree trunk with his arms folded, Zhezhu called out, “Jiang Ying.”

Hearing this sudden voice, the young man immediately looked around. “Seventeenth Protector?”

Before his words had even fallen, he saw the black-robed youth leap down from a nearby tree, landing lightly in front of him.

“Seventeenth Protector, when did you arrive? Do you know He Ren and the others…” The moment Jiang Ying saw him, he hurriedly pointed toward the six corpses behind him.

But before he could finish speaking, he heard the young man’s cool voice:

“I killed them.”

Jiang Ying’s eyes widened in shock.

“My hiding place was fairly concealed, yet this morning, Eleventh Brother’s people found it.” Zhezhu walked slowly to the corpses. “Later, I pretended to be gravely injured and left my mark at Kangping Medical Hall in town. He Ren arrived so quickly. Tell me—why is that?”

Zhezhu had ordered He Ren to investigate Eleventh Brother’s movements from half a month ago, yet He Ren had appeared today in Yuling Town.

“Seventeenth Protector! This subordinate absolutely harbors no intent of betrayal toward you!” Jiang Ying looked at He Ren’s blood-stained face, now lifeless, and dropped heavily to his knees.

“I know.”

Zhezhu nodded. A biting wind lifted a strand of his dark, thick hair. He turned back to look at the kneeling young man. “Otherwise, you’d be lying here too.”

The young man’s voice was clear and fresh, like rainwater, yet Jiang Ying’s back was nearly drenched with cold sweat. Lowering his head, not even daring to wipe the sweat from his brow, he hurriedly took out a golden butterfly hairpin from his chest and offered it up with both hands. “Seventeenth Protector, regarding the matter you entrusted to me, this subordinate has already found some clues within Nanzhou City.”

From the moment he obtained this golden butterfly, Jiang Ying had rushed nonstop to Nanzhou City. When he returned to the mountain today and saw only corpses strewn across the ground, he knew something was wrong. Following the marks to Yuling Town and arriving at this ruined temple, He Ren and the others were already cold.

If he had truly betrayed the Seventeenth Protector like He Ren, how could he have missed such a perfect opportunity when the Seventeenth Protector was gravely injured—let alone remain here to collect the bodies?

Jiang Ying felt increasing dread in his heart. He deeply understood that the reason this sixteen-year-old youth could sit firmly in the position of Protector within the world’s foremost assassin tower was not only because of his exceptional martial skill, but also because his intelligence was almost monstrous.

In the bright daylight, the wings of the golden butterfly hairpin trembled slightly. Each lustrous pearl sparkled with radiant brilliance. The moment Zhezhu saw it, he reached out to take it. “Speak.”

“This item indeed comes from Yufeng Studio in Nanzhou City. There are five hairpins of this style in total, each worth a hundred gold, all sold to the wives and daughters of wealthy households in Nanzhou City.”

Jiang Ying reported truthfully.

“Any officials’ wives or daughters?”

“Yes. The wife of Shen Yutai, the Provincial Administration Commissioner of Jiangling.” As Jiang Ying spoke, he could not help lifting his head to look at the young man before him. “Seventeenth Protector, could it be that Shen Yutai has some connection with the Gu family of Yongxing Guning Prefecture?”

“Probably not.”

Zhezhu shook his head.

“Then who else could she be?”

Jiang Ying truly could not guess.

Zhezhu lowered his gaze. He casually flicked the wings of the golden butterfly as he played with it. His pale lips curved faintly.

“The princess of Great Yan—Mingyue.”