Imperial Consort Chen was shocked, her eyes widening as she looked at Yan Qige’s cold face in disbelief. After a long while, she suddenly laughed, lowering her head while laughing and shaking it repeatedly, saying, “I understand now. Prince Yan truly has such excellent schemes… I thought you were too sentimental, and was being presumptuous myself. But rest assured, Your Highness has shown me great kindness. Since it’s what Your Highness wants, I shall give you my soul.”

Without saying much more, Yan Qige reached toward the room, and the Soul Collector lantern on the table flew into his hands. Yan Qige lifted the lantern and began the incantation, then asked, “Are you willing to enter the Soul Collector lantern as its core?”

“Yes.” Imperial Consort Chen answered with her head lowered, but Yan Qige stopped at that moment, his fingers positioned before his chest, but not continuing with the soul collection.

“If you regret this, there’s still time now.”

Imperial Consort Chen raised her head to look at Yan Qige and smiled, “Do it. I don’t blame you. I know about the Soul Collector lantern. Your time is running short. To find a soul with a suitable fate who is also willing to enter the lantern as its core, you don’t have much time left.”

Yan Qige moved his lips as if wanting to say something more, but in the end said nothing. He simply waved gently at Imperial Consort Chen’s forehead, and her soul separated from her body and entered the lantern. The lantern’s light brightened for a moment, then returned to normal. On the ground before him appeared the corpse of a gray swallow.

On the other side, after leaving the city, Yusang encountered a familiar person on the desolate plain covered with withered grass outside the city. Dressed in purple brocade robes, mounted on horseback on a small hill, seeing Yusang approaching from afar, he showed a smile as if deliberately waiting for Yusang to arrive.

“Didn’t you become emperor? How are you here?” Yusang stepped forward to ask.

“Waiting for you.” Zhao Yirong sat arrogantly on his horse and smiled as he spoke.

Yusang smiled coolly, seeing a white horse standing nearby. She casually took its reins and mounted the saddle, saying, “You came to see me off, I suppose.”

“This is the second time. Yan Qige has hurt your heart, and both times it’s me who comes to see you off. Aren’t you moved?”

“Thank you.” Yusang didn’t want to argue much and was about to pull the reins to leave.

“That day, I said if Yan Qige no longer wanted you, you could come follow me. Now it’s happened twice. Won’t you consider it?”

Yusang stopped her movements and turned to look at Zhao Yirong, smiling with deliberate eeriness, “Let me tell you something. I’m not human—I’m a demon. Do you still dare to marry me?”

She thought any mortal hearing such words would be scared out of their wits, or at least greatly alarmed, but Zhao Yirong appeared unusually calm, smiling, “I’ve known all along. I knew from the first moment I met you in the forest.”

“Then aren’t you afraid of me?”

“Since ancient times, imperial harems have had enchanting demons. Those favored consorts throughout dynasties—three or four out of ten were transformed demon spirits, only the world doesn’t know it.”

Now it was Yusang’s turn to be surprised. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say, coughing dryly twice before saying, “Your Majesty truly speaks with great boldness.”

“I’ve never told you anything. Twenty-five years ago, on the very day the late emperor and Yan Qige were born, was also when I was born. Those supernatural arts Yan Qige possesses—though I don’t know them all, I understand some basics. Distinguishing ghosts and recognizing demons is more than sufficient. Others say the twin dragons’ descent refers to him, Yan Qige, and Zhao Zhang, but Zhao Zhang was born mentally incomplete. It was the Empress Dowager who had Yan Qige use supernatural arts in exchange, trading his remaining lifespan for Zhao Zhang’s intelligence, allowing Zhao Zhang to be emperor for these ten years. Now that I reclaim the imperial throne, it’s only proper.”

Yusang felt nothing about Zhao Yirong’s claims, but when she heard about using supernatural arts in exchange, she frowned and pursued, “The Empress Dowager?”

“Speaking of the Empress Dowager, I’m reminded that the hair ornament on your head was her most beloved piece in life. How did it end up on your head?”

Yusang raised her hand and took down the hair ornament Yan Qige had given her from atop her head. Holding it to examine carefully, then testing it with spiritual energy, she couldn’t help but be shocked and pale—this was indeed a soul artifact.

Yusang sat stunned on horseback, then couldn’t help but look back toward the direction of the capital, Huadu. She didn’t know what Yan Qige meant by placing such a soul artifact in her hands. If he had given it to her by coincidence without knowing, that would be too much of a coincidence. If he knew she was collecting soul artifacts and deliberately gave them to her, then he should suspect her unusual purpose and identity. What exactly was he thinking? Yan Qige—just how many more secrets did he have?

Autumn wind rose from the ground. Yusang pulled her horse around and kicked its belly hard, galloping westward away from the capital. Zhao Yirong pulled his horse to stand on the slope, watching her leave, laughing loudly, “If you ever change your mind someday, come back. My word will always count.”

Yusang waved her hand without looking back as a response, spurring her horse to gallop forward quickly. The ground wind grew stronger and stronger, sweeping up the withered yellow wild grass and sand dust everywhere, seeming to pull up a gray-yellow gauze curtain between heaven and earth. Yusang’s figure gradually disappeared in this wild wind and sand dust.

Yellow sand rolled, camel bells jingled around their necks, and the fiery red sun slowly rose over the yellow sand wasteland of the Western Regions, reflecting the weathered city walls that had endured hundreds of years of wind and sand into brilliant fiery red, gorgeous and beautiful like a mysterious foreign woman veiled in red gauze.

Morning wind blew past, yellow sand was swept up, and in the wind and dust, the faint sound of Qiang flutes could be heard, growing closer and louder. A camel caravan appeared from distant dunes, merchants with their faces covered by cloth riding camels slowly down from the dunes, finally stopping beneath the broken walls.

“Master Sang, there’s someone ahead.” Someone reported loudly through the wind and sand.

The caravan leader looked in the direction the reporter pointed and saw on the broken city wall illuminated by the morning sun, a red figure supporting her forehead with her hand, lying sideways. Her gauze dress was caught by the wind, tumbling endlessly in the air. She could faintly be recognized as a woman, but with thin gauze covering her face against the sand, only a pair of closed eyes were visible outside, making it impossible to discern her appearance.

“Miss, miss!” the leading man called up.

The woman on the broken wall slowly opened her eyes—a pair of eyes with some silver-gray that were unusually bright. She glanced at the man below whose appearance couldn’t be discerned, then looked toward the direction of the sunrise on the horizon, saying, “Leave quickly. The wind is about to rise here—a very strong wind.”

“Miss, it’s truly dangerous for you to be here alone. Why don’t you come down and travel with our merchant caravan?” the man invited warmly.

The woman on the wall paid him no heed, slowly standing up from the broken wall. She squinted and gazed into the distance, seeing a thin line appear on the yellow sand earth where heaven and earth were one color in the distance. That line quickly moved toward them—it was a great storm rising from level ground.

“Leave quickly.”

The woman spoke. The man turned to look in the direction of the woman’s gaze and was frightened enough to widen his eyes slightly. He quickly commanded loudly for the merchant caravan behind him to hide behind the broken walls to avoid the wind.