“Very good,” An Jiu assessed honestly.

Lou Xiaowu’s eyes immediately curved into a smile.

After the excitement subsided, fatigue set in. Lou Xiaowu rubbed her eyes and nestled into Mei Yanran’s arms, falling asleep.

Li Qingzhi sighed, “With such a fine weapon, how can we not drive the Liao people out of the Sixteen Prefectures of Yan and Yun?”

An Jiu sat on a large rock by the stream, watching Mei Yanran carefully wipe Lou Xiaowu’s soot-covered face with a damp cloth.

Mo Sigui sat down beside her. “Envious?”

An Jiu looked away, ignoring him.

“The third medicinal bath will be in five years. Remember to come find me,” Mo Sigui said, pulling out a medicine bottle and pressing it into her hand. “These are the remaining pills. The heart blood medicine is particularly effective, especially after injury, but you must not use too much at once, or it will do more harm than good.”

“Mm.” An Jiu carefully tucked away the medicine.

Gu Jinghong had passed through their lives like a shooting star, blazing brightly across the night sky before vanishing without a trace. An Jiu didn’t feel particularly grateful to him, but she did feel a strange sense of kinship in their shared experiences.

“After we part, who knows when we’ll meet again? Do you have anything to say to me?” Mo Sigui asked, in a rare moment of sentimentality.

An Jiu pondered, then said earnestly, “After I leave, don’t bully Da Jiu.”

“Get lost! I don’t know you!” Mo Sigui gave her a push.

An Jiu grinned.

“Fool,” Mo Sigui relented, clenching his pipe between his teeth. He mumbled, “How can I lower myself to the level of an idiot?”

“Mo Sigui, I am a bit worried about you,” An Jiu said.

Mo Sigui couldn’t help but feel touched. He paused and looked at her.

An Jiu asked solemnly, “Your insomnia is so severe. Will you even live to see five years from now?”

“What nonsense!” Mo Sigui sprang up, pointing his pipe at her nose. “You’re insulting my medical skills!”

The tense atmosphere made it seem like their friendship might be at an end.

However, after a moment of sincere eye contact, Mo Sigui couldn’t maintain his anger. He stormed off, muttering, “I’m going to write to Chu Dingjiang to take this troublemaker away as soon as possible. Every moment she’s here makes my life difficult…”

An Jiu stood and followed him back to their lodgings.

Lou Mingyue was placing a bundle of firewood under the eaves of the kitchen.

Both paused in their steps. Lou Mingyue nodded at her.

An Jiu clasped her hands and bowed slightly.

They stood in silence for a few breaths before An Jiu quietly turned and left. She and Lou Mingyue were on different paths. Although they walked the same road, An Jiu still yearned for light, hoping for a day when she could live a normal life. Thus, she felt some aversion to people like Lou Mingyue who had plunged headlong into a dead end.

Lou Mingyue was quite self-aware and no longer hoped for friends. Her burning hatred and the person deeply buried in her heart were enough to sustain her through this life.

The next day, before dawn, Lou Mingyue went to chop firewood as usual and left it in the kitchen. She boiled a pot of water.

The firelight reddened her increasingly full face. As the water in the pot boiled and steam rose, she extinguished the fire in the stove. She took her sword and left.

The doors and windows of the main hall were tightly shut, but Lou Mingyue sensed something unusual about Mo Sigui. She paused to look, her gaze softening. It was as if she could see his face through the latticed window.

Mo Sigui saw Lou Mingyue’s silhouette through the door crack. He raised his hand to the latch, hesitating.

They stood on opposite sides of the door for a long time, until there was movement in Mei Yanran’s room. Only then did Lou Mingyue turn and quickly leave.

Mo Sigui let out a slow sigh, his hand falling to his side. He murmured, “Mo Ran, oh Mo Ran, you don’t even have the courage for a graceful farewell!”

Hearing this and seeing the steam from the kitchen, Mei Yanran guessed that Lou Mingyue had left. She sighed as well, “Life is so difficult; a temporary parting is nothing!”

Mo Sigui was taken aback. He turned and went to the herb storage to select the medicines he needed for the day.

He had previously noted many difficult cases during his medical practice, most of which he had now solved. Studying medicine in isolation was not advisable, so for a while, he planned to travel widely, seeking various case studies and rare herbs. For now, he spends most of his time practicing martial arts.

Those born with the Wind Pulse were incredibly fortunate. Their internal energy cultivation was ten to a hundred times easier than others. However, the world often balanced itself out—those with the Wind Pulse were more susceptible to evil qi. “Evil qi” wasn’t about ghosts or spirits, but a medical term meaning they were more easily affected by external influences and prone to illness.

Moreover, as Mo Sigui often used himself as a test subject, ordinary medicines no longer had much effect on him. If he were to contract a serious illness, it might be incurable. So, An Jiu’s concerns were not unfounded.

For Mo Sigui personally, prevention was key in treating illnesses.

Life on the island returned to its leisurely pace, while the outside world was in upheaval over Ling Ziyue’s case.

Many scholars concerned with current affairs jointly petitioned the court to reinvestigate the case, given Ling Ziyue’s importance to the Great Song. However, all these requests were rejected. The court responded that the case was clear and the evidence conclusive, making it unnecessary to waste time on a reinvestigation.

As the New Year approached, despite the significance of Ling Ziyue’s life or death, it didn’t affect households preparing for the festivities. As long as the sky didn’t fall, life had to go on.

Amidst the turmoil, the ninth day of the twelfth lunar month arrived quickly.

That day, snow fell in Bianjing.

The heavy snow cascaded down, threatening to bury heaven and earth.

Executions by beheading were usually scheduled for autumn or winter. Firstly, these seasons carried a solemn atmosphere. Secondly, after the autumn harvest, it was easier to gather people to witness the execution, serving as a deterrent to reduce crime. Thirdly, the cold weather made it easier to handle the bodies without risking epidemics.

Ling Ziyue had “coincided” with this timing. For such a serious crime, the Emperor couldn’t possibly delay his execution until the following year.

Caishi Kou was already crowded. An Jiu and her team had long since hidden in various locations.

Wearing a human skin mask, she sat in a teahouse chamber twenty zhang away, observing through the window.

It was still early. The site was heavily guarded, the execution officials hadn’t arrived, and the prisoner hadn’t been brought forth. Yet An Jiu could already sense the undercurrents. There were over two hundred martial artists from the fourth to ninth levels in the surrounding area, and their numbers seemed to be growing!

Surely the Second Prince wouldn’t make such a grand gesture? An Jiu was suspicious.

At the end of the si hour (9-11 AM), soldiers began to clear the path. The execution officials and the prisoner cart arrived simultaneously.

Unlike ordinary executions, reed mats were hung around the execution platform, and even the prisoner cart was covered with reed curtains.

This was to prevent any rescue attempts. Potential rescuers couldn’t be certain if it was a trap and wouldn’t easily expose themselves, buying time for the execution.

As the prisoner cart stopped in front of the execution platform and two soldiers were about to lift the reed curtain, a sharp arrow suddenly pierced through the snowy veil with a piercing sound, its target none other than Ling Ziyue inside the cart!