By the time the commotion was over and both Feng Jiu’er and Tuoba Keyan had been laid down to rest, it was already the small hours of the morning.

Seeing that Feng Jiu’er’s breathing had steadied and she would be in no danger, Jiu Qing immediately took his leave.

“You stay and watch over Jiu’er. I’ll see Yan back first.” Xuegu helped the semi-conscious Tuoba Keyan to his feet.

Mu Mu nodded, watching them go before turning back to pull the blanket over Feng Jiu’er.

The girl’s face was still very pale, but color was returning to it, little by little.

The efficacy of the Blood Spirit Fruit was truly extraordinary — the moment she had taken it, the pain had vanished rapidly.

What remained unknown, however, was whether the Gu Poison had been truly and completely expelled.

That answer, it seemed, would have to wait until the next full moon night.

The world was full of wonders. The Heartless Gu was the kind that left no trace of toxin to detect — even Feng Jiu’er’s extraordinary medical skill had been unable to undo it.

Until the following month, there was simply no way to know whether the cure had worked.

Still — why had Jiu’er been calling for both Jiu Qing and her Ninth Imperial Uncle at the same time? Could she suspect that Jiu Qing was Zhan Qingcheng?

Yet judging by her behavior on ordinary days, it did not seem as though she had already reached that certainty.

What on earth was she thinking?

The night had grown very deep.

After Xuegu had seen Tuoba Keyan settled, she pushed open his bedroom door to leave and began making her way back toward her own quarters.

She had barely stepped outside when — without warning — something came whistling through the air, aimed directly at the vital point over her heart.

It carried a biting, freezing chill, and its sender showed no sign of holding back.

Ferocious inner energy surged straight for her heart. If Xuegu’s own inner energy had not been formidable enough, there would have been no possibility of dodging it.

Her footing shifted in an instant; she moved at her quickest — and barely, only barely, evaded it.

The hidden projectile grazed past her arm. The force it carried sliced like a blade, and with a sharp sound, left a vivid red streak of blood across her forearm.

Not struck by a lethal blow, Xuegu let out a long, harsh breath and looked down. What she found on the ground was nothing but a single fresh, tender leaf.

Yet the power behind this projectile was frightening in its ferocity.

A dark shadow flickered in the treetops. Xuegu did not pause to think — she moved immediately and gave chase.

Leaving the relay station behind, it took only a brief moment before she had pursued the figure into the wilderness at the back of the mountain. Then — she lost all trace of them.

Xuegu stood in the darkness of night. Gradually, her heart grew calm.

“Ninth Prince, if you wish to silence me, go ahead and strike.”

Yes. Tonight, she saw it with absolute clarity — Jiu Qing was the Ninth Prince, Zhan Qingcheng.

This “Jiu Qing” was most likely the name shared between Jiu’er and Zhan Qingcheng.

Young people — they truly knew how to play. But she supposed she would have little chance now to watch them continue their games.

If tonight she truly died by the Ninth Prince’s hand, perhaps for her, it would be a kind of release.

Suddenly — a thunderous boom. From flat, still ground, a violent gust tore upward, swirling directly toward Xuegu.

She gathered her inner energy in her feet, steadied her base, and thrust out both palms, channeling her most powerful inner energy to meet the incoming strike.

When masters clash, there is often no need for elaborate technique. A single palm strike, and the difference in their levels is plain.

The windstorm raised by that surging energy was like a dense, enveloping net, enclosing her completely.

But in that final instant, Xuegu suddenly withdrew her palm force and stood quietly, watching as the already-formed strike came rushing toward her.

She was truly exhausted.

Loyalty and righteousness — since ancient times, the two could never both be kept. To remain faithful to Long Feiyan was to fail Jiu’er. To be sincere toward Jiu’er was to become a disloyal subordinate.

She was Long Feiyan’s subordinate — she ought to do as Long Feiyan commanded. Yet what her mistress was asking of her now filled her with deep uncertainty.

The Ninth Prince cared so deeply for Jiu’er that he could cast aside even a kingdom. With such an ideal match before her, could their mistress truly be unhappy?

After so many years away from her mistress’s side, even Xuegu could no longer see through her. She could not tell what her mistress’s true intent was this time.

To help Emperor Qiwen reclaim his kingdom — what was the point of that? What benefit would it bring her mistress?

Could it be that she wanted this kingdom for herself?

Yet ten years ago, her mistress had thought of nothing but the people’s welfare. Why, ten years later, had she abandoned even the people’s peace and stability?

If it was said her mistress wanted this kingdom for herself, Xuegu could not bring herself to believe it — not even a little.

Xuegu closed her eyes. What she could not see through — let her carry that uncertainty down with her into the underworld.

She did not wish to be disloyal. She was equally unwilling to be faithless. If that was where she stood, why go on living in this world?

A thunderous impact — in the stillness of the night, sand flew and stones scattered.

The cold blade formed of condensed inner energy slashed through the air, which had nearly been frozen solid with frost—

Mu Mu watched through the window.

The night was clearly this quiet — yet that distant thunderous boom had swept through him like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky, leaving a vague unease passing through his heart.

Why, in this night that had finally grown still, had his heart suddenly become so unsettled?

“Xuegu!” Jiu’er suddenly opened her eyes and sat bolt upright.

Mu Mu startled. He moved to support her, but apart from a slightly pale complexion, she showed no other sign of distress.

In less than half an hour of sleep, her consciousness had fully cleared. Her physical strength, too, seemed entirely restored.

The Blood Spirit Fruit’s efficacy truly was extraordinary.

“Mu Mu?” Jiu’er rubbed her eyes and raised her hand, instinctively pressing it over the place where her heart was.

There was a faint, tugging pain here. She asked almost without thinking: “Where is Xuegu?”

On the night of the full moon, if Xuegu was not watching over her, she would certainly be looking after Tuoba Keyan.

But why — why did she suddenly feel such a sharp ache in her chest? Why this sudden, urgent need to see Xuegu?

“Earlier, after Yan drank the remaining half cup of Blood Spirit Fruit juice, he lost consciousness. Xuegu took him back to his room to rest.”

Mu Mu looked at her face — which now showed little sign of anything amiss — and said gently: “It’s not yet dawn. Lie back down and sleep a little more.”

“I’m not tired. And I’m not sleepy.” She had slept enough today.

Feng Jiu’er threw back the blanket in one motion. She had been about to ask where Jiu Qing was.

But then — all at once — she recalled something she had been thinking about before the poison had struck.

From now on, she could not keep depending on Jiu Qing for everything. She certainly could not keep him in her heart.

The person she should be thinking of was her Ninth Imperial Uncle. To think of Jiu Qing any further would be a betrayal of her Ninth Imperial Uncle.

“I’m going to check on Keyan.” She moved to get out of bed.

Mu Mu gently steadied her and eased her back. “No. You’ve also just taken the Blood Spirit Fruit juice. We don’t yet know how the toxin in your body is responding. Rest for a while first.”

“But I…” She was genuinely uneasy — though she could not quite say where the unease was coming from.

She simply had an overwhelming, urgent need to see Xuegu. Without seeing her, something ached and would not settle.

“Mu Mu, let me…”

Outside, a sudden flurry of disorganized footsteps. The two of them exchanged a glance — then saw a figure stop at the doorway.

Tuoba Keyan, leaning against the doorframe, quietly pushed the door open. “Have either of you… seen my godmother?”