“You think I don’t want to kill him?” Lu Qihong — no, Feng Qiongcang — his eyes now thick with murderous intent.

“So — even if this is your timeline to control, you still don’t have the power to control the fates of the Ninth Imperial Uncle and Mu Mu, do you?”

Feng Qiongcang merely raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

That question must have been the wrong one to ask.

Feng Jiu’er took a deep breath, letting her mind settle.

Then she said, “You’ve sealed away the memories of the Ninth Imperial Uncle and Mu Mu. But you’re so anxious right now, trying to get Mu Mu to move against the Ninth Imperial Uncle, because you know their memories could be awakened at any moment.”

“Perhaps the key to awakening their memories… is me?”

“What do you think?”

“Feng Qiongcang, you’re breaking the rules — you can only answer yes or no.”

But Feng Qiongcang refused to answer.

By Feng Jiu’er’s estimation, even if she wasn’t entirely right, she herself was clearly a key figure in all this.

“So — if the Ninth Imperial Uncle and Mu Mu recover their memories, this timeline will disappear, is that it?”

Which was also why he was so anxious to get rid of the Ninth Imperial Uncle as quickly as possible.

But he couldn’t do it himself — if he could, he wouldn’t have waited until now.

So then, what exact possibility would let the Ninth Imperial Uncle “die” in this timeline forever?

“Third Master!” Outside, a figure burst in. “Third Master, they’re almost here.”

A flicker of surprise crossed Feng Jiu’er’s eyes, but she quickly composed herself.

“I really didn’t expect that He Muling would turn out to be your person.”

The one who’d come in was indeed He Muling.

Though now, He Muling no longer bothered keeping up the pretense.

“You killed the professor, didn’t you?” Xia Zi — clearly also one of Feng Qiongcang’s people, though Xia Zi was foolish enough that she never realized, even in death, that in Feng Qiongcang’s eyes she was nothing but a tool.

Poor girl — she’d fallen in love with this heartless man, even carried his child for him, yet never received a shred of tenderness from him in return.

He Muling looked at Feng Jiu’er and, seeing that the Third Master made no move to stop her, said, “Why does someone about to die need to ask so many questions?”

“Exactly, I’m going to die either way — why can’t I at least die knowing the full truth?”

Jiu’er curled her lips into a smile. “If I die without knowing the truth, my unresolved spirit won’t be able to reincarnate — and I might just come back every night to haunt you, the same way the professor’s spirit haunts you now!”

He Muling’s expression darkened, and she instinctively took two steps back.

Sure enough — killing someone left you guilty, left you afraid.

Jiu’er’s smile grew even colder.

“He found out my secret himself. If I hadn’t killed him, he would have exposed me!” He Muling snapped coldly.

“Enough talk.” Feng Qiongcang had run out of patience. “Bring them here.”

“Yes!” He Muling turned and walked out.

Feng Jiu’er looked at Feng Qiongcang, a growing sense of unease creeping through her.

“Why do you want to lure them here?”

Feng Qiongcang only repeated the same words: “Guess.”

Feng Jiu’er didn’t want to guess, because she felt she’d already, vaguely, guessed part of it.

Could this be the very method by which the Ninth Imperial Uncle and Mu Mu would be “killed” in this timeline?

“You can’t kill their souls directly, so you can only use someone else’s hands — making them slaughter each other? Dying at each other’s hands?”

Feng Qiongcang’s expression shifted, and he glared at Feng Jiu’er, murder flashing in his eyes.

Jiu’er’s heart sank abruptly.

She’d guessed right! She’d really guessed right!

If the Ninth Imperial Uncle and Mu Mu died in this timeline, then their souls would be sealed here forever.

And in that real timeline, they would never wake up again, would they?