Outside the territory of the Golden Tribe stood Dingfeng Mountain, with its magnificent and precipitous peaks. Within the mountain was a vast valley plain with warm earth qi and evergreen vegetation through all seasons.

Cheng Gumo’s army conquering the Golden Tribe was camped here for rest and reorganization.

Last winter, Cheng Gumo had requested the State Preceptor’s seal to attack the Golden Tribe, but the Golden Tribe was no pushover either. After years of recuperation, they had strategic reserves. More importantly, Jin Zhaolong of the Golden Tribe had learned from past lessons and connected several large swamps around the Golden Tribe’s periphery, forming a natural barrier. Cheng Gumo’s one hundred thousand Kanglong Army had to halt before such natural defenses. In the first half of this year, both sides had minor skirmishes. Though Cheng Gumo won them all, he couldn’t inflict major losses on the Golden Tribe. Later, as weather gradually grew cold and swamp conditions became even worse, making army movement difficult, both sides were deadlocked at the front lines. Several times, the Golden Tribe took advantage of night and terrain to infiltrate Cheng Gumo’s camp, causing moderate damage.

Under these circumstances, Cheng Gumo wanted to withdraw to Di Ge, but having mobilized troops for distant conquest with no gains, returning to court would surely bring impeachment. He also knew he had deeply offended the State Preceptor. Returning in such disgrace would give the State Preceptor perfect excuse to strip his military command. He deeply regretted why he had impulsively requested to attack the Golden Tribe in his anger. Now riding the tiger was difficult—he couldn’t attack successfully nor retreat. Court provisions were becoming increasingly scarce, and the State Preceptor frequently issued orders saying grain was tight near year’s end, commanding him to procure provisions locally and quickly punish the Golden Tribe before returning to court.

Returning to court was what he hoped for, but the prerequisite was punishing the Golden Tribe while procuring his own provisions. Cheng Gumo therefore had to move his army back, selecting Dingfeng Mountain—a place with surrounding peaks as barriers and flat land inside—hoping to fight a respectable battle before year’s end to escape his current predicament.

Cheng Gumo was now on the mountaintop, watching soldiers below searching for harvests in the valley marshes. He had also tried Jing Hengbo’s mulberry-dyke fish pond rotation farming method in the swamps, but time was still short with little harvest yet. Court provisions were becoming increasingly scarce, soldiers increasingly hungry, only able to search for food in mountains or swamps all day. As weather grew colder, food would only become scarcer. Continuing this way, never mind defeating the Golden Tribe—it would be good if a batch didn’t starve to death.

In the distance, Cheng Gumo saw a group of soldiers, apparently from two battalions, fighting over a rabbit. They were pushing and shoving, apparently coming to blows…

This was the third incident he’d seen today. His face dark, he waved his hand, and the enforcement squad went to handle it. After the squad arrived with shouting and scolding, giving several lashes each, the situation calmed down. The laboring soldiers below looked up with gloomy eyes.

Cheng Gumo looked up at the equally gloomy sky and sighed in frustration. This was no good omen. With more such incidents, harsh suppression wouldn’t work—it would eventually brew mutiny.

Mutiny…

He himself had used mutiny to force the Queen and Gong Yin that day. Now a year later, feng shui had turned, and it seemed about to fall on his own head.

Was this the State Preceptor’s revenge?

Suddenly someone behind him said quietly: “Does the Marshal not seek to break this deadlock?”

Cheng Gumo started and turned, discovering a masked gray-robed figure had appeared behind him at some point.

The other’s attire was somewhat familiar. He turned over his palms, revealing a brand in the palm shaped like a sword—pointed at bottom, flat at top.

He recognized this symbol.

Before the Di Ge palace coup incident, this person had delivered messages to him several times, facilitating his alliance with Fei Luo, Xuanyuan Jing and others.

After a long absence, this person had appeared again.

While secretly alarmed that he’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed this person’s approach, he said coldly: “What are you here for?”

“The Marshal is trapped here, unable to advance or retreat,” the gray-robed figure said. “Why not mobilize troops northward for a new enterprise?”

Cheng Gumo’s eyes narrowed, cold light flashing: “What are you saying? Northward?”

“Exactly.”

“Northward where? You don’t mean Daimao, do you?” Cheng Gumo laughed loudly. “Absurd! Never mind the long northern journey with troop losses along the way—even if I led troops there, would I compete with the Queen for territory to become a martial world overlord? I’m a dignified general of Dahuang—why would I become a martial world overlord of just the Blackwater Marsh area?”

“If there were only a Queen there, it truly wouldn’t be worth your risk,” the gray-robed figure said unhurriedly. “But if you add one more person, what you’d seize wouldn’t be Daimao, but all of Dahuang.” He opened his palm, revealing the character “Gong.”

Cheng Gumo exclaimed in shock: “What? How is that possible? He’s clearly in Di Ge!”

“Even clever rabbits have three burrows,” the gray-robed figure said. “Haven’t you heard of body doubles?”

Cheng Gumo’s expression was half-believing, half-doubting. He’d been away from Di Ge for some time, and all court documents he received bore the Jade-lit Palace Master’s seal, so naturally he couldn’t detect any changes.

“Since you know he has a double,” Cheng Gumo made a killing gesture, “why haven’t you struck?”

“What use is killing or capturing a double? Moreover, since he dares do this, he naturally has ample preparations,” the gray-robed figure sneered. “Military power is in his hands. Over this past year, those who dared oppose him initially have been quietly demoted and exiled. Court ministers now don’t dare suspect true from false—they don’t even dare look up at him. Otherwise, how would he dare be so bold?”

Cheng Gumo knew this was true. The crowd that had aggressively come to force the palace that snowy night at Jade-lit Palace walls had, over this past year, been ground into dust by either Jing Hengbo or Gong Yin through different methods. Soon it would be his turn, Cheng Gumo. If not for commanding the Kanglong Army, he couldn’t have persisted until now.

But this persistence clearly showed signs of decline. Gong Yin had iron will and schemes, and would never spare him. If he didn’t struggle now while commanding a large army, his fate wouldn’t be better than the vanished Fei Luo or the crippled Xuanyuan Jing.

If he killed Jing Hengbo and Gong Yin, leaving the Jade-lit Dragon Cavalry leaderless, then led troops back to attack Di Ge which he knew best, there would truly be no one left in the world who could contend with him…

Fierce fire burned in Cheng Gumo’s heart, yet he still had concerns.

“But you also said he has preparations. If my army moves, how could he not know?”

The gray-robed figure, hearing his tone soften, smiled: “My master said that as long as you’re willing to deploy troops, he’ll naturally help you greatly.”

“Oh?”

The gray-robed figure unfolded a map, pointing to one location: “Daimao currently has cavalry at two places, guarding Qiyu Pass and Baotian Ridge. These two cavalry units also need grain transport. You can deploy troops to seize these grain convoys and transfer soldiers to Daimao under the pretense of transporting grain.”

Cheng Gumo couldn’t be bothered asking why cavalry had appeared in Daimao, urgently saying: “There are actually court troops there? That would be Jade-lit Dragon Cavalry! But seizing and disguising as grain convoys can only send infantry. Infantry against cavalry, especially Dragon Cavalry—that’s suicide!”

“You’ll naturally send cavalry,” the gray-robed figure smiled. “The difference between cavalry and infantry is just horses, right? Rest assured, when the time comes, there will be horses.”

Cheng Gumo fell silent. He had considerable confidence in this person’s master. The Di Ge palace coup incident had been planned step by step under his guidance, nearly forcing the Queen out of Di Ge entirely. Only Gong Yin was too formidable—like a poisonous snake biting its own arm, a brave man severing his limb—preventing complete success.

“Then,” he slowly rolled up the map, “I’ll trust him once more.”

“May the Marshal achieve swift victory,” the gray-robed figure smiled.

“May all who deserve to die perish on Blackwater soil,” he replied.

…

In the eleventh month of the Gengshen year, the Blackwater Queen single-handedly entered and exited Shangyuan City successfully, rescuing her subordinate female official. On that day, people welcomed her outside the city with cheering crowds lining the way.

The Queen’s reputation for benevolence and courage spread throughout Daimao.

During those days, the Queen’s experiences in Shangyuan also became hot topics of conversation for Shangyuan’s people over tea and meals. Shangyuan people’s attitudes toward the Queen began subtle changes—from initial complete hostility gradually shifting to admiration, vigilance, worry, wait-and-see, and other complex emotions.

Shangyuan City still seemed like an iron monolith, silently facing Blackwater Marsh’s front, but internally, undercurrents had already formed due to the Queen’s appearance.

Therefore, other forces in Daimao and surrounding tribes couldn’t help but raise their gazes toward that land shrouded in gray mist.

On the first day of the twelfth month of Gengshen year, Daimao’s martial world forces held a conference at Yinglan Mountain, forming an alliance with each sect’s leaders creating an alliance council of elders to jointly decide affairs. At the meeting, the bosses reviewed past storms, expressed mutual brotherhood, envisioned the martial world’s bright future, and made the most sincere wishes for Daimao’s future martial community.

At the meeting, the bosses tearfully said this was the first truly meaningful grand alliance since Daimao’s martial world began, and also the most important alliance in Dahuang’s martial history. It fully embodied the spirit of martial world people with martial world hearts, and martial children as one family.

To this, Her Majesty the Queen said: “Ptui! Why say such nice things? You just can’t beat me individually, so you’re joining up to gang fight. Come on, come on, come fight me!”

The Queen’s subordinates indicated the Queen’s speech was always rather crude, asking everyone not to mind too much. They were peace-loving and would only peacefully subdue Daimao. Whoever was unwilling, they would peacefully send to the cemetery. Martial world people with martial world hearts, martial children as one family, thank you.

The bosses indicated: The Queen is too rough. Bah, good men don’t fight women.

Outside Daimao, nearby places like Sunken Iron, Jade, Merchant Country, and Meng Country each had different attitudes toward this.

Sunken Iron tribe cared least because they had their own busy affairs. Recently even the wind blowing through Sunken Iron carried the scent of blood. Within the royal city, there was fighting daily with daily deaths. The cold of metal and blazing heat of blood and fire intertwined, blocking all distant views.

In the golden hall, fresh blood quietly dripped down white marble steps. Third Prince Tie Fenglei in golden armor pulled his long spear from a corpse’s back, hearing this news: “Hehe, what does Daimao have to do with me? What does the Queen have to do with me? If I’m to worry about Daimao, let me seize the throne first!” He dragged his bloody spear and strode away: “You’d better quickly find out where my seventh brother has gone. I’m waiting quite anxiously for that waste!”

His bloody footprints trailed away as a group of soldiers hurried over. Someone loudly instructed: “Quick, carry away and bury Second Prince’s corpse…”

…

Jade tribe’s money-loving female ruler played with her beloved jade, using a jade mirror to look at her face, murmuring: “I heard that Queen is very skilled at cosmetics. Does she have a way to cure these spots on my face?”

…

In Meng Country’s golden hall, the king finished reading the memorial about the Queen’s deeds, stood up with a whoosh, his tall hat nearly touching the hall ceiling and banging against it.

“Suspend secret support for those gangs in Daimao. We need to observe before deciding,” Meng Country’s king said while straightening his green tall hat. “We can appropriately show some goodwill toward the Queen, but needn’t let others know.”

“We subjects obey the decree!” The ministers bowed in unison, their various tall green hats banging against the ground with a unified thud, like freshly dried lettuce spread across the floor.

…

In Merchant Country’s golden hall, ministers were also debating, arguing endlessly over diplomatic attitudes toward the Queen. Finally the king made the decision.

He said: “FART… we’re different from others… FART… we’ve always supported Daimao’s martial world considerably… because too many of our criminal merchants have fled there…” Getting angry at this point, he let out two consecutive “FARTFART” sounds before continuing: “For years we’ve relied on Daimao’s martial world… FART… to help us control and retrieve these merchants… FART… too deeply involved… Ah, thinking of those criminal merchants who embezzled state and people’s wealth makes me FARTFARTFART…”

“Your Majesty, please calm down and take care of your precious health… FART!” the ministers cried in unison.

When the king got excited, he’d fart continuously. Three in a row meant his emotions were getting somewhat out of control.

“FARTFARTFART…” The king’s anger hadn’t subsided: “I don’t believe that Queen can truly control and integrate all fifteen factions… FART… just a new outside force… FART… Of course, if she could help me solve those bastards once and for all… FART… I’d naturally consider allying with her… FART… but that’s… FART… impossible!”

“Your Majesty is wise… FART!” The ministers expressed their heartfelt support for the king’s wise views with one tremendously loud unified fart…

…

Easy Country’s ruler was in his bedchamber plucking his beard before a mirror, listening to subordinates’ reports, but spoke in a delicate female voice: “Oh my, quite capable.”

After thinking, he laughed coldly with a voice now booming and male: “Probably just a flash in the pan.”

Looking closer at his actions, he no longer seemed to be plucking his beard but rather gluing it on.

He carefully trimmed the beard neatly and giggled—this time in a eunuch’s duck voice, neither male nor female.

“I don’t care if she’s capable or simple. Our Easy Country is still some distance from their Daimao, so we needn’t worry too much.” He squinted: “But speaking of distant friendship and nearby attack, if she’s smart enough, she should contact us eventually. When that time comes, tell her that tribal diplomatic relations are also trade, just trading different things. If she can help me find my imperial uncle, I’ll consider having a good heart-to-heart with her. Otherwise, if she comes, it’s just self-humiliation!”

The last sentence was delivered with raised eyebrows and murderous intent. Suddenly he giggled again, threw down the mirror, jumped on the bed, turned his head and asked: “Am I beautiful?”

That face had peach-blossom cheeks and willow-leaf brows, with flowing eyes full of charm.

“Beautiful!” the subjects answered in unison.

He laughed heartily and turned his head again: “Am I handsome?”

This face was pale and beardless with flying brows and soul-stealing slender eyes.

“Handsome!”

He sneered and turned his head once more: “Am I imposing?”

This face had thick brows reaching the temples, a bristling beard, and red complexion with lightning-sharp eyes.

“Imposing!”

“Hehe.” He collapsed on the bed, his earlier spirit suddenly gone, saying dejectedly: “No matter how beautiful, handsome, or imposing, meeting my imperial uncle, none of it’s quite enough. Sigh, my beloved imperial uncle, years ago you failed in rebellion and fled to Daimao. They all say you died, but I think someone like you couldn’t die so easily… Sigh, as long as you live, I can’t be happy for a day… If only someone could find you, this worry of mine could be laid to rest…”

…

The entire northern Dahuang Marsh was surging with hidden currents due to the Queen’s gradual rise.

Only at Daimao’s center, Shangyuan City, two people approached this mighty city with the calmest, most steady steps.

One was Meng Potian, who entered Shangyuan’s palace gates as a newly selected palace maid.

That night she hadn’t managed to enter the palace but didn’t give up. She immediately spent all her money bribing every palace person she could, and on the third day, replaced a palace maid entering the palace and got in again.

The vermillion palace gates slowly closed, enclosing her resolute figure.

Before the palace gate square, someone silently watched those towering palace gates, looking up at white doves flying over vermillion eaves.

Then she turned and walked away from the palace gates with firm steps.

Her back was corpulent, moving like a small mountain when she walked.

This was Chai Yu.

As Daimao’s consort, she also had her ways to enter Shangyuan, though she now had no intention of entering the palace.

Two figures walked in opposite directions, seemingly without intersection, but only fate knew that all actions had their convergence points.

Chai Yu walked through a small alley.

She rented a civilian house for three months, went to get the prescription filled, and began taking medicine daily.

…

Meng Potian, having entered the palace, still used money offensives to bribe palace people, getting herself sent directly to the laundry rather than the selection of supervising eunuchs.

After washing clothes for just one day, she learned that the brocade-clad man hadn’t left but had changed residences to “Xi Garden” in the palace’s western side halls.

Xi Garden was even larger than Ningxue Pavilion. She was puzzled—the brocade-clad man had failed to capture people, causing Ming Yan’an to lose face, yet could still stay in the palace with even better treatment than before?

Presumably, some new agreement had been reached.

After another day, when Xi Garden needed cleaning staff, she was assigned there.

…

Chai Yu exercised in her courtyard. She now daily followed Jing Hengbo’s prescriptions, eating fixed foods and practicing different movements for targeted training.

She had weighed stones equal to her body weight beforehand, put them in a small boat, and recorded the waterline.

Her small courtyard connected to a small lake. Every day before dawn, she got up to swim, because Jing Hengbo said swimming was the best exercise for weight loss while also shaping the entire body.

She couldn’t swim but stubbornly taught herself. The first time she went swimming, despite warming up, she still underestimated how bone-chillingly cold the winter lake water would be and nearly got cramps. Fortunately, following Jing Hengbo’s instructions, she had blown up pig bladders to make a string of “swim rings,” barely avoiding sinking.

Winter swimming was quite shocking, so to avoid disturbing others, she always entered the water at dawn. The feeling of a warm body entering an icy lake was unforgettably bone-chilling.

But compared to the torment, pain, and despair she had endured, what was this?

When gritting her teeth to jump into the icy lake, when her arms collided with broken ice, when shivering in the cold, she would look at the vermillion and bright yellow eaves of the distant palace.

Ming Yan’an, I will appear before you with a completely new face.

Then return to you, harshly, everything you gave me that day.

On the third day of taking medicine and exercising, she weighed herself on the small boat and threw away one stone.

The stone hit the water with a “splash”—a decidedly heavy sound.

…

Meng Potian swept floors in Xi Garden.

She swept very carefully, never looking around.

In fact, she didn’t dare look around, because everyone coming and going in this courtyard belonged to the brocade-clad man—not a single palace person from the court.

Originally she thought she’d be assigned with a group of palace people to serve this ancestor. Who knew that after arriving, she discovered she was the only outsider in this entire courtyard. No wonder when she went to get cleaning supplies, saying she was a Xi Garden servant, that supervising eunuch looked shocked, as if he’d seen a ghost.

Thinking back, how could someone like the brocade-clad man tolerate outsiders? Even an outer courtyard sweeper would definitely be an eyesore to him.

Then why did he agree to let her come? Meng Potian had a bad feeling.

She felt like being watched by a beast, hooked by its claws, locked in a cage for amusement.

But having reached this point, she could only steel herself to continue.

The room door was open, everyone walked back and forth openly, speaking without lowering voices, as if she were invisible.

This made her even more afraid to act rashly.

The brocade-clad man was in the room, hugging his three-pound tender yellow soft brocade quilt while eating sunflower seeds.

While eating seeds, he looked outside.

He was guessing whether the ground would have a pit worn into it after she finished sweeping.

“Stupid, so stupid. Why are people all so stupid now?” He shook his head and sighed: “Looking at her like that, she can’t even sweep properly, yet wants to be an assassin? Really makes me anxious watching.”

“You’re smart? May I ask if the wound on your thigh has healed? Has your hair grown out?” someone behind him mocked.

The brocade-clad man removed his wig, touched his bald head contentedly: “I think being bald isn’t bad either.”

“I think you having no head would be even better,” the person behind snorted coldly.

The brocade-clad man just smiled, suddenly saying: “Pei Shu, Jing Hengbo should know you’re not dead. Someone ruined my plans again.”

Pei Shu’s voice immediately became much happier: “Excellent! I said how could Heaven favor villains?” Then he said eagerly: “Let me go, or Jing Hengbo will definitely come bother you again. You wouldn’t want your body hair to fall out too, would you?”

“You write a letter to Jing Hengbo,” the brocade-clad man said as if he hadn’t heard him, “saying you and I hit it off immediately, you’re voluntarily staying here to compose poetry under moonlight and compete in martial arts…”

“Might as well say I fell in love with you and am voluntarily pursuing you!” Pei Shu said viciously.

“That’s up to you too,” the brocade-clad man said. “My charm knows no bounds—men and women all fall at my feet. That’s normal.”

“I won’t write this letter,” Pei Shu said angrily. “Just wait for your feathers to fall out too!”

“Then I’ll kill this girl,” the brocade-clad man chuckled.

Silence immediately fell behind him.

“How about this—first watch her for a day,” the brocade-clad man snapped his fingers. “I think perhaps after tonight, even if I let you go, you won’t leave.”

…

Meng Potian felt she was going insane.

She felt that if she were an assassin, she was the most helpless, most at-a-loss assassin.

The person she wanted to assassinate had his door open.

Guards went in and out, treating her as nonexistent, no one glancing at her.

No one guarded inside or outside the courtyard.

The brocade-clad man sat on the couch directly facing the door, completely exposed.

Guards walked by casually discussing their master’s daily activity plans and various living habits.

“Master will drink honey tea soon.”

“Master will bathe in half an hour.”

“Master will relieve himself in a quarter hour.”

“Master likes sleeping alone.”

“Master uses those white-bottomed gold-rimmed rouge-patterned bowls and cups. His tea cups are rain-after-sky-clears water-washed porcelain.”

“Master’s chopsticks are ebony inlaid with gold.”

“Master likes sleeping on the east end by the window. The pillow must be in the bed’s center, his head must be in the pillow’s center.”

…

Meng Potian really wanted to howl at the sky: What does this mean!

Ahhh what does this mean!

Is this guy even human anymore?

This assassin who came with hatred now felt like a little mouse surrounded by people watching and poking at her for laughs!

Whatever killing intent and courage she had seemed laughable and absurd before his casual, half-real half-fake manner. Though the deed was close at hand—one sword thrust could end it all—she stubbornly couldn’t take this one step.

This kind of thing was impossible for her before. In fury she’d draw her sword and dare kill even Heaven itself, so she originally named Meng Yao changed her own name to Potian (Breaking Heaven).

Now she held a broom but couldn’t sweep three feet around herself.

He was a demon who always made people feel stupid.

“Ahhhhhhh!” When guards reminded her for the third time that their master would go relieve himself alone, Meng Potian finally couldn’t bear it. She threw down the broom and charged up the steps.

On the couch, the brocade-clad man clasped his hands, leisurely waiting for her to rush in. Shaking his head: “Sixty points.”

Slightly lacking in composure.

“Bang!” Meng Potian slammed her palm on his table: “Give me a quick end!”

“You’re the one wanting to kill me,” the brocade-clad man leisurely drank tea. “You give me a quick end. I’m waiting quite anxiously.”

Meng Potian glared at him, thinking if people like you don’t die, everyone in the world will be quite anxious!

“Then,” she regained calm and slowly drew her sword, “please give me a fair chance at sword combat.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You killed Pei Shu. I’m avenging him. No particular reason.”

“Who is he to you?” the brocade-clad man sneered. “Don’t tell me you fell in love with him after being locked in a coffin together?”

“Whether I love him or not is my business,” Meng Potian, once calm, wouldn’t be provoked. “Whether you accept the challenge is yours.”

“You’re no match for me. Seeking death?”

“When Pei Shu gave me the chance, he also knew the well below meant certain death,” she said.

The brocade-clad man fell silent. He squinted, looking through Meng Potian’s shoulder at distant floating clouds, white and clustered like a smiling face.

Suddenly he missed Little Cake a bit…

If he one day fell into desperate straits, would Little Cake also come for revenge like this?

Probably not… she wouldn’t be so silly as to become an assassin…

“I accept your challenge,” he said, “but first go look at something. After seeing it, decide whether you still want to come seek death.”

…

Moments later, in a damp little dark room, Meng Potian saw a “person.”

The air was filled with a strange mixture of blood and medicine smells. Guards showed disgusted expressions upon entering. That person looked like a corpse at first glance, lying straight on a wooden plank bed, body wrapped in white cloth with blood still seeping through. The face wasn’t bandaged, making it the most terrifying thing in the room—mangled, features unclear, covered in bloody holes, even both eyes gouged into deep holes. In the room’s dim, murky light, it looked like an evil spirit just crawled from hell.

Meng Potian stared dumbly at that unbearable “thing,” color draining from her face.

“He’s not dead yet,” the brocade-clad man’s voice came from afar. “What revenge are you seeking?”

Meng Potian quickly stepped forward, wanting to see if this person was really Pei Shu, but she wasn’t familiar enough with him, only knowing his general build. But now this person was unrecognizable—even Pei Shu’s own mother might not identify him.

“He… he…” Meng Potian said tremblingly, “How could he…”

“Scared?” the brocade-clad man smiled. “This person is naturally the Pei Shu you’ve been thinking of repaying.”

Meng Potian wanted to curse but couldn’t. Staring at the person on the bed, tears gradually filled her eyes.

“I’ll give you two choices,” the brocade-clad man said. “First, I won’t pursue your attempted assassination, and I’ll let you leave.”

“What about him?” Meng Potian immediately asked.

“You’re leaving, so what’s he to you? Of course, because of your persistence, I’ll also casually try saving him. You saw how severely injured he is—I can’t guarantee whether he’ll survive,” the brocade-clad man said easily. “But that’s also unrelated to you. Pei Shu didn’t die saving you, and you’ve also risked entering here for him, making me help save him. You’ve repaid his favor and can feel at peace, right?”

Meng Potian didn’t answer, asking again: “The second choice?”

“You stay and take good care of him. He’s in a critical period. If he can survive three days, I’ll promise to treat him properly—if not restoring his appearance, at least his life will be safe. If he can’t survive these three days and dies, you must pay with your life too. But I remind you, even if I save him, once you stay, you must stay forever.”

“What do you mean?”

“Depends on my mood. If I’m in a bad mood, perhaps I’ll have you trade life for life—he lives, you die. If I’m in a good mood, I’ll arrange for you to marry him. How about it? Choose yourself,” the brocade-clad man smiled meaningfully.

Meng Potian’s gaze fell on that “person” on the bed.

Such severe injuries, face completely ruined—even if saved, he’d be a monster neither human nor ghost in the future.

And her youth, her life, would all have to be sacrificed.

Freedom, and death.

Choose who?