Baili Weisheng had been digging steadily toward the damp sand, but the deeper he dug, the drier the sand became, drier and drier, until at the very end there wasn’t a single grain of moisture left — not even one.

In other words, because of this storm — supposedly the opening of the gate to the world of poison beasts — the very terrain and geology of this region around Akebachu had changed completely.

That damp sand had merely been what remained from before, buried too deep to have dried out yet.

To put it more plainly: the deep pool that had once been here was gone. The entrance to the world of poison beasts had vanished entirely.

How could this be?

Baili Weisheng kept his head bowed, still dressed as an ordinary soldier among the crowd, yet the air around him had shifted entirely — everyone nearby felt an inexplicable chill run down their spine, without knowing why.

Beneath the brim of his hat, his clear, bright eyes flickered in and out of view, fixed unblinking on the dry sand. No one could read the darkness in them — none of his usual carefree, easy laughter, only a wall shutting everyone out.

Both Yingzi and Yelu Qianqian sensed something was very wrong. No one dared make a sound; only the howling northwest wind broke the silence — a wind that blew ceaselessly year-round. With Mingsha Mountain no longer there to block it, this wind would keep blowing without end, and the pit they’d dug would soon be filled back in by the drifting sand.

Suddenly, in the silence, Yelu Qianqian sprang up. “Yingzi, let’s go to Nangong City!”

Only then did Yingzi look over, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Yingzi, no body means Ziqing isn’t dead — she definitely wasn’t here! Let’s go to Nangong City and ask them — maybe they know where Ziqing went!”

Situ Haonan had said before that he’d lured Ziqing here so the people of Nangong City could have their revenge!

Wasn’t it possible that whatever had happened here was something they didn’t know about, but the people of Nangong City might?

She’d been avoiding the word “corpse” this whole time, but now, thinking it through, she said it anyway. “No body — at least that proves she isn’t dead!”

But a cold sneer curled at the corner of Yingzi’s lips — Yelu Qianqian really was hopelessly naive!

No body only proved the Princess Consort hadn’t died here — it didn’t prove she hadn’t died at all!

The tornado had been enormous; anyone could have been swept up into the sky. There was no controlling yourself in a wind that powerful, and there was only one outcome — torn apart by the wind, falling back to earth wherever it scattered you.

In truth, Yingzi had already considered every possibility. He simply hadn’t said so, because he was afraid — he’d wanted so badly to find, somewhere in this underground chamber, a place where she might have taken shelter!

But they’d dug down a full ten zhang, and still found nothing.

Ten zhang — that was five times the height of the tallest palace hall in Akebachu!

Yingzi stared blankly at the sand, unable to help thinking of his master. Finally, he said quietly, “Princess Qianqian, has my master… has my master woken up?”

He’d given orders before that no news of his master should reach him. But now, he couldn’t bear it any longer.

He wanted so badly to go and ask his master what to do.

He’d followed Prince Yao since childhood — they weren’t far apart in age, Yingzi only a few years younger. No matter how impossible the situation before, he’d never despaired, because he could always go and ask Prince Yao.

However difficult the question, if he went and asked, he would always get an answer.

That master of his could point the way forward with just a word or two. That master of his had never once been at a loss.

Could he ask him now too — where exactly was the Princess Consort, how were they supposed to find her?

Thinking this, Yingzi couldn’t help but clutch his head in his hands. He wasn’t sobbing, but somehow it was even more heartbreaking than if he had been.

He knew he couldn’t ask.

“Jun Beiyue still hasn’t woken… Haonan… Haonan hasn’t woken either.” Yelu Qianqian’s voice caught, though she didn’t cry. Instead she rose and pulled Yingzi up, gritting her teeth as she hauled him to his feet. “Get up. We keep searching! I’m telling you — unless I see Han Ziqing’s dead body with my own eyes, I will believe she’s still alive!”

“Get up. We’re going to Nangong City first to get answers!”

“Even if Nangong knows nothing, I’ll search to the ends of the earth and bring her back!”

“Even if it’s a corpse, I’ll carry her back myself!”

…

At this moment Yelu Qianqian looked nothing like a princess at all — she was every bit the fierce, unyielding woman warrior. Seeing Yingzi still slumped in despair, she kicked him hard. “Pull yourself together! Save your crying for after your master is dead! Get up! Get up, now!”

Yelu Qianqian barked sharply, and when Yingzi still didn’t rise, she suddenly slapped him across the face. “I’ll ask you one last time — are you getting up or not? If not, get out of Xijing!”

The moment the words left her mouth, Yingzi shot to his feet. “I wasn’t crying!”

Yelu Qianqian showed no surprise at all, only said coldly, “Good, no crying then. Let’s go — Nangong City first!”

Yingzi took a deep breath. Of course he had to pull himself together, had to hold on — if a frail woman like Yelu Qianqian could manage it, how could he not?

Yelu Qianqian was right. Without seeing a body, the Princess Consort was not dead.

And even if they found a body, they’d carry it back regardless!

The two of them immediately split their men into groups — some to the northern desert, some to Nanzhao, some to Xiliang, some to Da Zhou, to Dongqin, to the Xiongnu.

While the two of them headed toward Nangong City.

The others had all scattered, but one man still stood there in silence. He tore off his guard’s uniform, revealing the clean, elegant white robes beneath — his robes fluttering lightly in the wind. From a distance he looked like a banished immortal who had descended into the desert, unmistakably refined, yet as arrogant as a demon.

He knew perfectly well that the person they sought wasn’t anywhere else — she was underground. Yet he hadn’t stopped Yelu Qianqian and Yingzi from leaving. People who had nothing to do with him — whoever they were — he never gave them a second thought.

He crouched down slowly, scooped up a handful of sand, and rubbed it between his fingers. His eyes remained as dark and clouded as before, his handsome brow furrowed.

Impossible.

The entrance to the deep pool had been destroyed — how could whoever was trapped inside possibly get out?

And if she couldn’t get out, what use would cultivating a human Gu even be?

There must be a secret he didn’t know. There must be.

“Nanny…” he murmured to himself. Ever since he’d escaped from Nanny Gu’s grasp all those years ago, he had spent his whole life avoiding her, fearing that old woman.

Yet now, he actually wanted to seek her out on his own!

Whatever secret he was missing had to be hidden in that scripture — and the scripture was in Nanny Gu’s hands.

His clenched fist slowly loosened, fine sand trickling down through his fingers. He seemed to come back to himself from deep thought, the corner of his mouth curving slightly, his starry eyes brilliant, a radiant smile breaking across his face. “Little Qingqing… just wait…”