Qiao Mu had just wrung out her cloth when she went still for a moment before leaning in to gently wipe the bloodstains from his face.

Feng Jiang watched her, pressed his lips together, and stopped fidgeting.

“The child is not mine. I have not touched any of those women.”

Feng Jiang’s words left both Qiao Mu and Feng Jiu’er briefly stunned.

Just briefly. Then Feng Jiu’er let go of his hand. “Your pulse is quite erratic. Are there moments when you lose control of yourself?”

Feng Jiu’er leaned forward, extending her long, slender fingers to press against the pulse point on Feng Jiang’s neck.

“Yes.” Feng Jiang looked at her and gave a faint nod. “I am the piece Father placed beside Lei Shenbao.”

“In order to increase my cultivation in the shortest possible time, Father taught me a unique and exclusive martial technique. I…”

Feng Jiu’er withdrew her fingers, closed her eyes, and drew a slow, deep breath.

“No. It’s not just to make you stronger — it’s also to control you more effectively.”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her palm over the area of Feng Jiang’s heart gate and remained still for a moment.

She drew her hand back, then once again lifted his hand and laid her fingers on his pulse.

“There is an extraordinarily powerful and peculiar internal energy within your body. I cannot identify it fully, not yet.”

“But there is one thing I can say with certainty: this internal energy is something you, at your current level of strength, cannot control.”

Feng Jiang moved to withdraw his hand. Feng Jiu’er pressed it back firmly.

“And if it reaches a certain level, it will turn on your body and begin consuming you from within.”

“You already knew all of this, didn’t you?”

Feng Jiu’er was genuinely furious. How could he be so foolish — knowing full well it was a path to death, yet accepting such an arrangement?

“Jiu’er.” Meeting her eyes, filled with disappointment, Feng Jiang closed his hand around her small one. “I’m sorry.”

Feng Jiu’er closed her eyes for a moment, willing herself to calm.

“You have nothing to apologize to me for.” She withdrew her hand from his grip and pulled out her needle case.

“The one you’ve wronged is yourself — and the people who care for you.”

A single, crystalline, warm teardrop fell with a soft pat onto Feng Jiang’s chest.

Both Feng Jiang and Feng Jiu’er looked up at the same instant — toward Qiao Mu, who still held the cloth in her hands.

Only then did Qiao Mu realize her nose had grown sore and her vision had blurred.

She spun around at once, turning her back to the two of them, and pressed the cloth to her face.

“What kind of awful place is this — it’s so hot in here!”

She threw out the words, wiping at her forehead and neck, then strode behind the folding screen.

“I should never have come. I’m sweating all over the place!”

The harder she tried to hide it, the more impossible it was to conceal.

Qiao Mu could no longer remember the last time she had cried. In her life, there had been no room for words like tears or weeping.

When she was in a bad mood, she would pour herself a few jugs of strong spirits, drink herself thoroughly senseless, and wake up the next morning to find it a brand new day — nothing so serious as all that.

And yet just now she had shed tears for a foolish man. Qiao Mu thought she must have lost her mind.

The sound of splashing water came from behind the folding screen.

Feng Jiu’er glanced back, shook her head with a helpless little smile, then turned her attention back to Feng Jiang.

“That girl has been thinking of you ever since she came back. I suspect this is the first time she has ever cried for a man.”

“Third Imperial Brother, do you know how foolish you are? What you choose to do with your own body is your own business — I can’t stop you.”

“But could you not make the people who care about you grieve and weep?”

At this point, Feng Jiu’er could only accept what was and move forward. There was no use being angry about what had already come to pass and could not be changed.

“I’ll clean your body for you in a moment.” Feng Jiu’er opened her needle case and pinched a silver needle between her fingers.

“Tell me — what mission did Feng Qiongcang give you?”

Her words had barely fallen before a silver needle was already pressed into Feng Jiang’s shoulder.

“Lei Shenbao’s power in the south has been growing ever larger. Father grew uneasy and arranged for me to come here and deal with him.”

“Jiu’er, has there been any progress finding Fourth Imperial Uncle? I know Father has been searching for him.”

“I know as well. You came — I just never expected you would end up in Li City.”

“The information I can gather, Father will certainly be able to gather too. Jiu’er, do you understand how dangerous your situation is right now?”

“No matter how dangerous, I cannot abandon Father.” Feng Jiu’er continued treating Feng Jiang with her needles.

“But this is the Feng Clan’s territory. You cannot fight Father.” Feng Jiang dared not move carelessly and disrupt Feng Jiu’er’s work.

He looked at her, brows creasing.

“Can’t win or not — we fight all the same.” Feng Jiu’er said it lightly.

“By the way — how much do you know about Lei Shenbao?”

“Jiu’er, are you thinking of…” Feng Jiang’s brow creased again.

“I have exactly that thought.” Feng Jiu’er nodded.

“Since Lei Shenbao holds such a vast power base in the south, if we could bring his entire army under our control, our chances against Feng Qiongcang would be considerably stronger.”

“No!” Feng Jiang caught the hem of her robe.

“Why not?” Feng Jiu’er fixed her eyes on Feng Jiang’s, her delicate brows knitting gently. “Do you think I am wrong to reclaim the throne of Feng Qiongcang?”

“Father is a son of the Feng Clan. I am a daughter of the Feng Clan. That throne never rightfully belonged to Feng Qiongcang.”

“Third Imperial Brother — even now, do you mean to hold onto the fact that Feng Qiongcang saved your life and support him against your own conscience?”

“No.” Feng Jiang shook his head. “I have never had any intention of supporting Father. But he is the current sovereign of the Feng Clan — that is an undeniable fact.”

“You cannot defeat him. In the end, there is only one path — death.”

“Jiu’er.” He closed his hand around her small one. “I don’t want you all to die.”

“If you truly can help find Fourth Imperial Uncle, that would save me considerable trouble.” Feng Jiu’er gave Feng Jiang a flat look, withdrawing her hand from his. “Look at yourself — you can barely protect your own life right now.”

“Besides — even if we wanted to leave, would your father allow it?”

“Unless we die, he will chase us to the ends of the earth without ever relenting. You, as his dutiful son, should know that ambition of his better than anyone.”

The silver needles at his shoulder had been placed. Feng Jiu’er turned her attention to the area around Feng Jiang’s heart gate.

“Fighting in the ring was one thing — but throwing the match on purpose and letting yourself get beaten this badly? Have you lost your mind?”

Feng Jiu’er placed both hands on Feng Jiang’s body, and her long fingers pressed down on a particular point. “Here — does it hurt?”

Feng Jiang shook his head. Feng Jiu’er gave him a flat look. “If it hurts, say so. Don’t just grit your teeth and endure.”

“Watching you get pinned under that giant fat pig — both Qiao Mu and I nearly flew up onto that stage to slaughter it!”

“Does it hurt or not? I need to check whether any bones were damaged.” Feng Jiu’er pressed down again with more force. “Well? Does it hurt?”

“It hurts.” Feng Jiang’s words came out as if they had to be squeezed free.

“How badly?” Feng Jiu’er eased her pressure.

“Still within bearable limits.” Feng Jiang steadied himself and shook his head.

Feng Jiu’er looked at his face once, then drew back her gaze and moved her hands to another area of his body.

“And here? If it hurts, tell me. Tell me how badly.”

Feng Jiang bore everything in silence, never allowing a sound to escape, answering each time with only a few short words.

Fortunately, after Feng Jiu’er’s thorough examination, she confirmed that Feng Jiang had suffered no damage to the bone.