Ye Jingchuan had rushed back all the way, pressing forward with all haste. He had pursued for a full six li before finally catching up to his quarry, engaging in a fierce battle before ultimately capturing them. His whole mind had been focused on hurrying back to support Song Chuyi, but he never expected that Song Chuyi had already boarded the large ship they had seized. He couldn’t help but be stunned for a moment, though he quickly recovered—Song Chuyi had always been different from ordinary girls. Where others were at their wits’ end, she always had a solution.

His throat burned like fire. When he opened his mouth, he discovered his voice had gone hoarse. He coughed, finding that nothing would come out, and instead was nearly provoked by the bloody stench into dry heaving. He promptly shut his mouth, his bloodshot eyes looking toward Song Chuyi. “Take a look—turns out they’re old acquaintances. They always say monks are merciful and compassionate, but I see that’s not entirely the case. The one before us clearly has no compassionate heart. Who would have thought these baldies could have connections with the remnants of Prince Duan’s faction?”

He hadn’t known the full details of what happened in Yangquan before, having never met that San Nan, but now he realized these two groups were not only the same batch of people, but they were also remarkably persistent—time and again trying to put Song Chuyi and Zhou Weizhao to death.

Ye Jingchuan truly couldn’t understand why the monks of Huangjue Temple wouldn’t be content to simply be monks, instead insisting on meddling in court affairs. The treatment monks received was already quite generous, Huangjue Temple was an imperial temple, receiving both imperial patronage and offerings from the common people, with no small amount of land allotted to them as well, yet they still wanted to join in Prince Duan’s troublemaking.

But there was no need to puzzle it out any further. In any case, these monks had very nearly taken both his and Song Chuyi’s lives. He stepped aside, revealing several monks bound in an extremely sorry state. “Take a look—do you recognize them all?”

Naturally she recognized them all. Song Chuyi looked at Yuanjue and smiled faintly. Perhaps fearing this tough monk might commit suicide, Ye Jingchuan had already ordered someone to stuff a wad of torn cloth into his mouth. At this moment, Yuanjue’s face was expressionless, though the resentment in his eyes was rather chilling.

Song Chuyi wasn’t afraid. She never showed her fear before outsiders. Even just now when the ship had nearly sunk and she couldn’t quite figure out how many enemies still remained on the large ship, she hadn’t shown the slightest trace of fear. Now facing Yuanjue, she was even less afraid—she had long suspected that the matters concerning Cui Yingshu and Cui Huaying were too coincidental, that someone must be deliberately scheming behind the scenes. Now that it was confirmed someone truly was scheming in the background, her heart was much more at ease—knowing who the enemy was was always better than not knowing.

Moreover, when San Nan had previously attempted to assassinate Zhou Weizhao, he had disfigured himself and jumped off a cliff, making such a commotion that no evidence was left behind, leaving them unable to do anything to Huangjue Temple. But now things were different—the head of Huangjue Temple’s Discipline院 was right here, with how many pairs of eyes watching? This time, Huangjue Temple’s days were finally numbered.

Song Chuyi ordered people to escort Yuanjue along with several other somewhat familiar-looking monks into the ship, then gave orders for the soldiers to begin clearing away the corpses on the ship—it was already quite late, they needed to speed up, move even faster, trying their best to return to Tianshui Town within three days so they could be of help.

The news that Ye Jingchuan had been injured was actually told to Song Chuyi by Qing Luo. “I heard that on his back, from the shoulder all the way down to the waist, he was viciously slashed. The wound is very deep.”

Presumably it was because he was too anxious to rush back that he sustained the injury. Chang’an applied medicine to Ye Jingchuan’s wound with reddened eyes, unable to help repeatedly asking Changxing, “Will this really work? We’re not physicians. The wound is so deep, and the weather is so hot—what if the wound festers?”

Changxing was cutting strips of cloth and glared at him upon hearing this. “Can you speak properly? Young master has great fortune and fate—what difficulty can’t he overcome? Besides, he was injured in Fujian before, much more seriously than this, didn’t he get through it just the same? Say a few words less, lest the young master wake up.”

But who knows if Chang’an’s crow’s mouth had been blessed or not—in the middle of the night, Ye Jingchuan developed a high fever. At this point even Changxing was somewhat anxious. After thinking for a long time, he remembered that Qing Luo at Song Chuyi’s side seemed to know some medical arts, and hurriedly rushed over to ask Song Chuyi for help.

Song Chuyi hadn’t yet slept. The bloody stench from the entire ship drifted everywhere with the wind—even if she wanted to sleep, she couldn’t. Moreover, the people she had sent out to find Yu Shi and the others hadn’t returned yet, and Yu Shi herself hadn’t sent anyone with news either. She was somewhat worried.

Hearing that Ye Jingchuan had developed a high fever, even Song Chuyi couldn’t help but feel somewhat flustered. She immediately stood up. “The heat-clearing and detoxifying pills sent over—didn’t you use them? And the Purple Gold Blood-Activating Pills, they can be ground up and applied to the wound.”

Changxing’s eyes were somewhat red. “We used them, but he still developed a fever. It must be because he caught a chill and the wound became infected.”

Song Chuyi couldn’t spare time for more questions and immediately brought Qing Luo to Ye Jingchuan’s cabin. He was lying face down on the bed, sleeping in a daze, his face an abnormal red color.

Qing Luo stepped forward to take his pulse, carefully observing for a while before turning her head. “It’s indeed because the wound became infected and he caught a chill, combined with excessive exhaustion.”

She instructed Chang’an to go out and fetch some wine, telling Chang’an to use the wine to wipe down Ye Jingchuan’s body after he took the medicine later. Only then did she go to prepare medicine for Ye Jingchuan—fortunately the ship had always kept some commonly used medicinal materials on board, otherwise she truly wouldn’t know what to do.

Since Ye Jingchuan had fallen ill, Song Chuyi told Chang’an and Changxing to care for him well. She herself ordered people to bind up all the remaining survivors from the ship, separating them from Yuanjue and locking them separately in the storage area at the bottom of the hold. She also sent several more people out to continue inquiring about news of Yu Shi and the others.

It was still a long way from here to Tianshui Town, and who knew what the situation in Tianshui Town actually was. Song Chuyi didn’t intend to bring Yu Shi back onto the ship, but was determined to have Yu Shi stay nearby for now. After they had finished handling everything, she would come back to fetch her.

When Qing Luo returned after brewing medicine for Ye Jingchuan, she saw Song Chuyi had just finished handling matters and begun writing a letter. She couldn’t help but advise, “Miss, you should sleep. Before long, it will nearly be dawn.”

Song Chuyi nodded, making a silencing gesture toward her, then pointed at the sleeping Qing Tao and said softly, “I know. I’ll sleep after I finish these things. I’m writing a letter to ask how things are on A’Yan’s side.”

Since Huangjue Temple had struck at her so viciously, leaving not the slightest room for mercy, and had even extended their machinations to Cui Yingshu, it meant that Song Yan, who was far away in Jinling, was equally in danger. Although Song Yan had already become aware of this danger, Song Yan was in Jinling together with the two Cui family uncles—she ultimately still couldn’t feel at ease.