Deep in the night, the moment Shiliang left Ziqing’s courtyard, she vanished. Even though Yingzi had chased after her promptly, she disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Yingzi knew perfectly well what Shiliang was capable of—she couldn’t have gotten far. Prince Yao had said her true master was Xuanyuan Lige, not the Empress of Eastern Qin. She was certain not to stay anywhere near the envoy’s compound.
With that thought, Yingzi made his way outward in search of her. Sure enough, the moment he stepped through the main gate, he heard a familiar voice not far ahead.
The corner of Yingzi’s mouth curled into a cold sneer. If it weren’t for the fact that she still had some use, he’d have loved nothing more than to cut her down where she stood, sparing Prince Yao’s household the disgrace.
He immediately leapt into pursuit. Shiliang quickly noticed and darted frantically into a narrow alley, trying to flee. Yingzi took to the rooftops, watching coldly as Shiliang ran straight into a dead end—only then dropping down to block her path.
“Guard Yingzi, what exactly do you mean by this?” Shiliang said coldly, panic hidden beneath a veneer of calm.
“What do I mean? My lord never does business at a loss. Come with me,” Yingzi said coldly.
“It was Han Ziqing who told me to leave. Don’t tell me you people intend to go back on that now?” Shiliang demanded furiously.
“The princess consort told you to leave—Prince Yao never said any such thing! You… aren’t you flattering yourself just a little too much?” Yingzi laughed with open disdain. This wretched girl had absolutely no sense of her own worth, still fantasizing about earning the prince’s affection—what a pathetic delusion.
“I don’t believe you. Unless Prince Yao comes here himself, don’t even think I’ll go with you!” Shiliang said, already scanning her surroundings for an escape route.
Yingzi advanced step by step. Behind her stood a high wall—even if Shiliang had sprouted wings, she couldn’t have escaped now. “Wretched girl, who exactly do you think you are? Let me tell you something—my lord doesn’t even want to spare you a second glance. Wuzheng was fake, everything was fake. My lord saw through your little scheme long ago. Hah, and you thought you could drive a wedge between the prince and his consort? You could cultivate for three thousand years and still not stand a chance. In the end, you’re nothing but… a scheming little vixen.”
“You!” Shiliang was so furious she choked on her own words—sharp-tongued as she was, she was no match for Yingzi’s venomous mouth.
“What ‘you’? I’m talking about you—you’re not even fit to be called a fox spirit. Hah, don’t think that keeping Xuanyuan Lige’s name out of it will let him escape unscathed either. And have you even considered—something as important as Wuzheng, would Prince Yao really have handed you the real thing?”
Every word from Yingzi struck straight at Shiliang’s heart, twisting her features with rage. “Shut your mouth!”
“You think I want to waste my breath on you? I’m advising you to surrender obediently, or don’t blame this young master when—”
Yingzi’s words cut off mid-sentence. In a flicker of movement, he closed the distance and was suddenly right before Shiliang. She had nowhere left to run—a few steps back and she was pressed against the wall.
But just as Yingzi reached out to seize her, a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder from behind!
“Who’s there!” Yingzi spun and shook it off at once. In that split second, the figure behind him had already pulled Shiliang away, shielding her behind him!
Yingzi turned to look and saw a figure in black, face concealed, slender of build, jet-black hair bound high atop his head, eyes cold and sharp as blades.
“Who are you!” Yingzi barked, lunging forward.
The man in black stepped back at once, seeming to pay Yingzi little mind, pulling Shiliang around to flee.
Both Shiliang and Yingzi, seeing that jet-black hair, could tell at once this was not Xuanyuan Lige.
Shiliang would honestly rather fall into a stranger’s hands than into Yingzi’s.
Yingzi, having practiced martial arts since childhood, could tell at a glance that this man in black possessed no small skill. Yet after a few exchanged blows, the man only dodged and evaded, clearly capable of far more than he was showing, but never once striking back.
“Who exactly are you! Do you dare stand against Prince Yao!” Yingzi said coldly, sword drawn.
“Hah, what do I care what Prince Yao is. This little girl caught my eye—that makes her mine.”
“Catching your eye is one thing—I doubt you can afford her!”
Yingzi pressed his blade forward with all his strength, gripping it with both hands, but the man in black brushed him aside effortlessly with a single hand, dragging Shiliang far away. Before Yingzi could close the distance again, their two silhouettes had vanished together into the darkness.
Yingzi was in a panic—failing to complete his mission carried grave consequences. And worse, a third party had inserted themselves into this matter entirely, and it had happened right here in Nanzhao—which meant this affair was far from simple.
Unable to catch up, Yingzi decided at once to rush back to the envoy’s compound to report.
By then, dawn was just beginning to break, faint and hazy, and yet Ziqing and Jun Beiyue were both still wide awake, absorbed in the hundred scrolls of Lishang. At last, ten of the scrolls were complete. Following the musical score she had found in the Guyue Cave, Ziqing had added the totem into the first ten scrolls—though she still didn’t know what note that totem represented, or how it was meant to be played.
But at least, for now, those ten scrolls were whole. As for the remaining twenty, the score from the Guyue Cave had one blank spot—Ziqing marked the corresponding position on Lishang’s score accordingly. She still had no idea what note belonged there, but at least now she knew its location.
Perhaps, in the end, this was the greatest gain from their entire journey to Nanzhao.
“This totem—there must be someone who can explain it,” Jun Beiyue said thoughtfully. He knew of several scholars who specialized in ancient totems, though tracking one down would take some effort.
Ziqing knew what Jun Beiyue was thinking, and said seriously, “We have to find them before Prince Nanzhao does.”
Now that this totem had surfaced, Prince Nanzhao wouldn’t only be sending men across the continent of Longyuan searching for traces of the lone island—he would also be sending people to find anyone capable of interpreting the totem itself.
The totem’s appearance, combined with the enormous incident in the Guyue Cave—how could Prince Nanzhao not be anxious?
“By the way, what did Prince Nanzhao say to you?” Ziqing suddenly remembered and asked hurriedly.
“Same as last time. Extremely tight-lipped. Wouldn’t even mention the score in the Guyue Cave, just kept saying it must be kept secret,” Jun Beiyue said with a cold smile. What would Prince Nanzhao’s reaction be, he wondered, if he knew Ziqing could actually read the ancient score?
“Beiyue, why are they so determined to wipe out every trace of the lone island? Does its existence threaten Nanzhao in some way?” Ziqing asked earnestly. This was the question that had haunted her the longest, the one she most wanted answered—more urgently, even, than finding the lone island itself.
What reason could possibly exist that made the lone island’s very existence unbearable?
What had happened to the lone island, all those years ago, that drove Lishang’s creator to go to such lengths, leaving behind clues to find it in so hidden a form?
“I can’t make sense of it either. Let’s rest. We should set out again in a day or two. Xijing and Xichu already have results—if we can, let’s invite Yelu Qianqian to Da Zhou,” Jun Beiyue said mildly.
With Jun Beiyue’s generous assistance, having opened the gates of the Three Western Cities, there was little reason for Xijing not to prevail. Xichu’s unconditional surrender was likely only a day or two away.
Inviting Yelu Qianqian… Ziqing was still mulling it over when, suddenly, an urgent knock sounded at the door.