The ceiling inlaid with multicolored gemstones was high and magnificent. Slender golden branches outlined massive vertical lattice windows. Wooden-soled shoes made crisp and cold sounds against the black crystal floor, like Xuan Yi’s heartbeat at this moment.
In this tower palace within Qiongsang City, vast as a gigantic cage, she had seen Qing Yan and her father. If she had harbored even a thread of hope before coming, thinking perhaps Shao Yi had been deceiving her, that thread of hope vanished without a trace upon seeing them.
They had been placed in an extremely ornate bedchamber. Everything was arranged thoughtfully and meticulously, yet not one of them was awake—there wasn’t even a chance to tell them to find a way to escape.
She had carefully examined their bodies. Neither was injured, but her father’s hand was tightly pressed against his chest, as if enduring pain, while Qing Yan was in the deep sleep that came after complete depletion of divine power.
Xuan Yi suddenly stopped before a massive vertical lattice window, staring fixedly at the clear sky outside. Shao Yi’s footsteps also stopped three paces away, his voice very gentle: “Does it hurt? I did warn you it would be better not to look.”
She didn’t look at him, only said in a low voice: “What happened to Qing Yan?”
Shao Yi leaned against the vertical lattice window, quietly gazing at the brilliant Wood-Fire Phoenix Tree forest below, and said lightly: “Although I was confident the Little Dragon Lord wouldn’t leave on his own, if he came here, he would probably throw a fit. I had no choice but to make him exhaust his divine power first and sleep for a few days.”
Xuan Yi said coldly: “And what about my father? Did the Qingyang Clan’s Emperor plant a Phoenix Heart Feather in him? When was it planted?”
Last time when Shao Yi had given her the third Heart Feather, the process had been both prolonged and agonizing. She didn’t believe her father would allow himself to be manipulated by the Qingyang Clan. If an Emperor fought, how could the Lower Realm remain completely silent? How could Qiongsang City remain intact?
Shao Yi blew away a speck of dust from the window: “It was my father who planted the Heart Feather. Otherwise, how could we let this foolish Emperor smash Qiongsang City to pieces? As for when it was planted—guess.”
She whirled around to stare at him. He smiled faintly: “Wouldn’t it be too boring if I just answered your questions? Since you’re here, you have free rein in Qiongsang City. Go wherever you wish. It’s more interesting if you guess for yourself.”
Xuan Yi’s brow furrowed tightly: “You said if I came, you’d tell me everything.”
Shao Yi said leisurely: “I did say that, but now I’ve changed my mind. I’ll have to wait until I’m in the mood to tell you.”
She almost wished she could tear him to shreds and grind him underfoot.
Xuan Yi turned and walked away. Sensing he was still following behind her, she said icily: “Don’t follow me.”
The hem of her black skirt swept past a tall celadon vase at the corner of the wall. The crisp sound of her wooden-soled shoes rapidly receded into the distance.
She needed to carefully examine what exactly was going on in this Qiongsang City. She had originally thought there would be at least a nest full of Qingyang Clan members holed up inside, but unexpectedly, it was truly as Shao Yi had said—extremely spacious and empty, with even fewer divine officials than other deities’ residences. Passing through the wide corridor, scorching wind like burning flames struck her face. The palace towers here were all built from Ten-Thousand-Year Fire Rock.
Ten-Thousand-Year Fire Rock—stone produced only in Qiongsang. The needle that had pierced her heart back then was a Ten-Thousand-Year Fire Rock needle. The Tongshan Clan produced Wood-Fire Phoenix Trees in abundance, and the Qingyang Clan couldn’t do without this divine tree. It seemed that the tragedy of years past had also been orchestrated by the Qingyang Clan.
Her chest contracted in waves. Xuan Yi slowly exhaled the breath she’d been holding in her lungs. When she had first entered the Mingxing Hall, Emperor Baize had made oblique inquiries—the Tongshan Clan really couldn’t be considered a particularly formidable clan, so where had they gotten the audacity to torture the Emperor’s wife to the point of annihilation? And where had they gotten the audacity to severely wound a descendant of the Zhuyin Clan?
But if the Qingyang Clan had been the force behind it all, everything made perfect sense.
It was precisely to severely wound her that Shao Yi could plant two Phoenix Heart Feathers, controlling her until now. Why was it Shao Yi? Why not that Qingyang Clan Emperor skulking in the shadows?
The black silk clothing clung to her body in the wind. Xuan Yi gazed boundlessly at this empty Qiongsang City. Perhaps Shao Yi hadn’t been wrong—she was an extremely selfish person, so all her intelligence and clarity were devoted to flourishing around this selfishness. Once it involved other matters, she didn’t pay much attention.
If only she had understood earlier…
Light footsteps stopped behind her again. Xuan Yi turned her head and glanced. The deity in primrose-colored robes followed like a persistent affliction.
“Back then, when my father destroyed the Tongshan Clan in his rage, he himself was severely wounded and fainted after his divine power was depleted.” She suddenly spoke, her voice light and clear. “The Heart Feather was planted then, wasn’t it? That’s why the Qingyang Clan’s Emperor is so frail.”
After all, a fully matured Zhongshan Emperor was different from her. The degree of injury was also different. It was perfectly normal that the Qingyang Clan’s Emperor couldn’t withstand the effects brought by the Heart Feather. Her father had been confined in the Eternal Life Hall for nearly ten thousand years, then suddenly one day his injuries began improving steadily—precisely the reaction after severing the Heart Feather connection.
Shao Yi looked at her graceful figure beneath the thin silk clothing with a smile: “Little loach is indeed ice-bright and clever. However, my father’s frailty is innate, not because of the planted Heart Feather.”
Xuan Yi said lightly: “The extremely difficult matter you mentioned—were you originally planning to have my father do it?”
Shao Yi crossed his arms and leaned back against the corridor railing: “Correct. Unfortunately, he was too severely wounded, and his talent too poor. He surely couldn’t accomplish it. The Little Dragon Lord’s talent is also slightly inferior to yours. A member of the Zhuyin Clan who gained human form within just two hundred years is much better.”
A trace of chilling coldness crept into Xuan Yi’s soft voice: “Just for this damned matter, you conspired with the Tongshan Clan and my mother…”
The smile on Shao Yi’s face gradually faded. Rarely appearing serious, he said in a low voice: “It wasn’t my order. That needle was something the Third Princess asked us for. What she did with it, the Qingyang Clan only learned later.”
“You think I’ll believe you?”
Shao Yi said slowly: “Whether you believe it or not doesn’t matter. The whole thing was stirred up by my father himself, giving the Third Princess hope time and again that she could become the Emperor’s wife. What she would do, I couldn’t predict. Later, when you were severely wounded, I merely took advantage of the situation.”
At that time, he had been looking for a suitable opportunity to force Zhongshan Emperor out of Zhongshan, to facilitate planting the Heart Feather. After all, battles between Emperors created tremendous disturbances and required finding a secure location that wouldn’t be discovered. No one could have predicted the Third Princess would be so crazed as to abduct both Cuihe Goddess and the Zhuyin Clan’s princess, destroying others and herself.
“You?” Xuan Yi looked at him with icy eyes. “The Qingyang Clan pushed out a young deity to take the blame. Where is your Emperor? I want to see him!”
Instead, Shao Yi laughed. He stroked her wind-tousled hair, his voice gentle: “Your skill at extracting information is getting better and better. That’s right—planting the Heart Feathers, making you work for us, it was all my planning. My father merely assisted from the side. As for who I am, guess slowly.”
As soon as he finished speaking, Xuan Yi’s fingertip suddenly flicked. A massive ice dragon roared forth, immediately coiling around him from head to toe. Just as it was about to crush and constrict him, ghostly blue firelight flashed around him, and her ice dragon was instantly melted away. The fire-red jewel on his forehead now emitted extremely dazzling radiance, countless times more vivid than usual.
Xuan Yi didn’t summon another ice dragon. She raised her eyes and looked at him for a long time. Shao Yi gazed back at her with warm eyes that seemed both approving and contemplative.
After a long while, she shifted her gaze away, rested her hand on the railing, and spoke: “The Zhongshan Emperor who worked with you to stir up the Sea of Parting Regret—what enmity do you have with him?”
Shao Yi couldn’t help but move closer to stand shoulder to shoulder with her, looking down at her pale and tranquil face: “Why not ask about something else?”
For instance, why had the previous generation’s Qingyang Clan Emperor become the current young Phoenix Lord? For instance, how long could his incredibly impressive Emperor-level cultivation actually last? Or for instance, why had he suddenly become willing to expose his identity? He had hidden it very well before.
Because she wasn’t interested. Xuan Yi propped her chin in her hand and squinted at the brilliant Wood-Fire Phoenix Tree forest in the distance. After a long time, she finally said: “What was his name?”
Shao Yi said in a low voice: “Shao Yi. Qingyang Emperor Shao Yi.”
So it was still this name. She drew in a breath: “Qingyang Emperor Shao Yi, what exactly is this difficult matter you want me to do?”