By the time the wind gradually fell silent, the wilderness beneath the night sky had been completely transformed.

Two enormous cracks split the earth, as though cut by a white blade — jagged and terrifying.

The palm force that had been condensed into a blade of light — if it had landed on a person’s body, that person would have died without question.

Xuegu slowly opened her eyes, hardly daring to believe she was still alive.

She knew the Ninth Prince’s secret — and at any moment she might reveal it. Even if the Ninth Prince was not a cruel man, his soft hand tonight was the greatest unkindness he could have shown her.

He could not afford to have his whereabouts exposed. So why had he not simply killed her?

She looked down at the two deep, elongated fractures in the earth at her feet. Even Xuegu, who had witnessed many a dramatic scene, could not stop herself from drawing a slow, quiet breath.

His power was truly formidable.

If that palm force had landed on her directly, she would have been split in two.

“Ninth Prince, why did you…”

If he denied being the Ninth Prince, she simply would not believe it.

She had only suspected before. But tonight, when he used his own blood to make the Blood Spirit Mushroom bloom — she saw it plainly.

Before this Blood Spirit Mushroom had been delivered, it had already drunk the Ninth Prince’s blood. Afterward, Tuoba Keyan had taken over, and it must have taken some time before the mushroom grew to accept his blood.

Yet tonight, the moment Jiu Qing’s blood fell, the Blood Spirit Mushroom showed not the slightest rejection. That could only mean Jiu Qing had fed his blood to the Blood Spirit Mushroom before.

And if Jiu Qing was not the Ninth Prince — who could possibly believe that?

Jiu Qing stood watching the figure of Xuegu between those two fractures in the ground. His lips were pressed together, and he said nothing.

He himself did not know why, in that final instant, he had let his palm force strike the earth beside her rather than taking her life directly.

Perhaps it was because he had seen clearly tonight that her feeling for Jiu’er was genuine and wholehearted.

“If you care about Jiu’er, then why do you still betray her?” Time and again, the messages that had been sent out — all of it was her doing.

The color drained from Xuegu’s face in an instant. She met Jiu Qing’s gaze, and her eyes held not a single glimmer of light.

She had never wanted to betray Jiu’er. Not once had such a thought crossed her mind. Yet what she had done — was, in truth, a betrayal.

“You choose not to kill me tonight, Ninth Prince. Are you not afraid I’ll send word of your presence here to others?”

Jiu Qing merely gave her a flat, cool look. His lips pressed shut, and he turned and walked away.

He truly had no intention of killing her.

Yet in this moment, for Xuegu, that felt more unbearable than death.

The Ninth Prince knew she was a spy planted within. Still he had not moved against her. What feeling could the Ninth Prince possibly have for her? He simply did not want to wound Jiu’er’s heart.

If she truly sent word of his presence here to their mistress and caused him to lose everything he now had — what face would she have left to live on in this world?

Was that any way for a person to live, with a clear conscience?

The Ninth Prince had truly left. This young man — his spirit and bearing were extraordinary. Xuegu had never seen such a breadth of character.

He did not truly trust her. Nor was he unafraid she might send out word.

But to him, Feng Jiu’er mattered more than all of it.

What was more — Xuegu knew that if she really did send word of the Ninth Prince leaving Bei Mu’s borders, he would have his own way of handling it.

He was, without question, a figure of a depth that was difficult to even imagine.

For Jiu’er to encounter someone like him in this lifetime was her great fortune.

Only — it seemed their mistress had no intention of allowing Jiu’er and the Ninth Prince to be together.

Whatever the outcome of this matter in the end, once war came, how could Jiu’er and the Ninth Prince still stand side by side?

One was her birth mother. The other was the man she loved. Had their mistress ever considered that Jiu’er’s life ahead might be one of profound suffering?

Did she truly not care in the slightest?

When Jiu Qing returned to the relay station, Feng Jiu’er and Tuoba Keyan were both still searching for Xuegu.

Seeing Jiu Qing coming back from the rear courtyard just as she was about to head that way to search the back mountain, Jiu’er came to meet him.

“Jiu Qing, have you seen Xuegu?”

Jiu Qing looked down at her. Her face was full of worry — her feelings for Xuegu ran deep, clearly.

He gave a single nod and said plainly: “She’s on the back mountain. She’ll be back soon.”

“Then why…” Jiu’er still wanted to ask, but Jiu Qing had already moved past her and returned to his own room.

That cold, distant manner of his — she was long used to it. But what had happened between Jiu Qing and Xuegu on the back mountain?

Earlier, she had faintly heard that thunderous boom — like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky — and it seemed to have come from the back mountain.

What had the two of them been doing just now? Had they truly come to blows?

But Jiu Qing and Xuegu — why?

Before Feng Jiu’er could think it through, the slender figure of Xuegu appeared in everyone’s line of sight.

Tuoba Keyan, who was feeling a little weakened tonight, took several unsteady steps as he went to meet her.

“Why are you all out here?” When Xuegu returned, there had still been a trace of hesitation in her stride. But the moment she saw the two of them, that hesitation seemed to vanish in an instant.

Her pace quickened as she walked toward Tuoba Keyan and Jiu’er.

“Didn’t you just take the Blood Spirit Fruit tonight? What are you doing out here at this hour?”

It was still the middle of the night. This was when they ought to be resting properly.

To come outside now was far too draining on their vital energy.

Feng Jiu’er and Tuoba Keyan exchanged a glance. Tuoba Keyan said nothing. Jiu’er spoke: “There was a kind of… uneasy feeling.”

Xuegu’s heart tightened. Her eyes grew suddenly warm.

Uneasy — because she had come so close to dying just now?

She had never been watched over and worried about like this by anyone. Even before, when she had followed Long Feiyan — it had been more of a bond between mistress and servant.

Though their mistress had always treated them well and never put on airs, they had always understood — their mistress was their mistress. That boundary was one they themselves would not overstep.

But Jiu’er treated her as family. Plain and simple.

And in Tuoba Keyan’s eyes, she was closer than a mother.

Her life and death — it turned out there were still so many people thinking of her, caring about her.

If just moments ago there had been a drifting, uncertain feeling — a question of whether she even had any reason to remain in this world — then now, for Xuegu, it was as though she had found her way back to the will to live.

She too had people she wanted to protect. They were still facing danger. How could she let go and leave like this?

“I’m sorry…” Xuegu said, her voice rough.

Jiu’er looked at her and said nothing.

Tuoba Keyan looked startled. “Godmother, why do you say you’re sorry?”

Jiu’er smiled and took Xuegu’s hand. “It’s just that you weren’t watching over me tonight and slipped out for a little walk on your own. What is there to be sorry or not sorry about?”

She squeezed Xuegu’s hand — one firm, deliberate grip — and then simply held it gently.

“Let’s go home. It’s late.”

She said: go home.

When in truth, this was merely one relay station among many in Phoenix City. It would not be long before they left here as well.

This was not home. But wherever they were together — there was home.

Xuegu lowered her eyes. When she raised them again a moment later, they had returned to their habitual warmth.

“Yes. Let’s go home.”