In the underworld, within the Blood Basin Realm of Suffering, Li Ying clutched the rope of the wooden bridge, refusing to let go.

Yu Fuwei tried to pry her hands away as she begged through tears: “Yu Fuwei, let me go back, I beg you, please…”

Yu Fuwei hardened his heart: “I cannot. I promised Cui Xun I would take you to the City of Wrongful Deaths.”

“I won’t go to the City of Wrongful Deaths, I won’t… I need to go back and save Cui Xun, please, let me go back to save him…”

As she desperately pleaded, how could Yu Fuwei’s heart not ache? But Cui Xun was determined to seek his death—how could he let Li Ying accompany him to die?

Yu Fuwei shook his head: “No. Cui Xun has no path to survival. Princess, go to the City of Wrongful Deaths. Ten years, twenty years—after you leave the City of Wrongful Deaths and drink Meng Po’s soup, you’ll reincarnate and forget him. You’ll find a new lover and begin a new life.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want a new lover. I only want the Seventeenth Young Master…”

Her body, weakened by backlash, had not yet recovered. Though she had no strength left, her hands still gripped the rope tightly as she continued to beg Yu Fuwei: “Let me go back, Yu Fuwei, I’m begging you!”

While she pleaded, the soul-catching envoy ahead grew anxious: “Young Master Yu, quickly bring this young lady along. Don’t alert the other ghost officials!”

Yu Fuwei gritted his teeth and said nothing more. Instead, he pried Li Ying’s fingers away one by one. Li Ying lacked the strength to resist him and could only watch helplessly as her fingers were forced open. Yu Fuwei gathered her into his arms and strode toward the City of Wrongful Deaths.

Li Ying no longer had the strength to struggle. As she gazed at the City of Wrongful Deaths—ever closer through the swirling black mist—her heart sank into an abyss of despair: “Yu Fuwei, I will hate you for a lifetime.”

Yu Fuwei’s footsteps faltered, but he quickly hastened his pace: “I would rather have the Princess hate me for a lifetime than watch her soul scatter once again!”

While Li Ying was trapped in the Blood Basin Realm of Suffering, Cui Xun’s sentence had been pronounced. In the Dali Temple prison, a white-haired physician was changing Cui Xun’s bandages for the final time. He sighed, looking at the fresh purple bruises from the beatings on Cui Xun’s waist. When the medicine was applied to his waist, the pain was like needles stabbing into flesh, but Cui Xun merely lay on the stone bed with furrowed brows, making no sound.

The physician had grown accustomed to his silence. After changing the bandages and packing up his medicine box, the physician couldn’t help but leave behind a white porcelain jar of ointment. This young man was about the same age as his grandson. He claimed to be from the Cui clan of Boling, but his body was covered in terrifying scars that even a commoner like himself could hardly bear to look at. The physician said, “Master Cui, I hear you’ve been sentenced to exile in Xi Xi. The journey will be arduous. Keep this ointment for yourself.”

Exile to Xi Xi? Cui Xun’s eyelashes trembled slightly.

For such treasonous acts, the Empress Dowager hadn’t executed him, but merely exiled him.

The physician continued to ramble: “Many officials submitted memorials demanding your execution, but the Empress Dowager suppressed all opposition and changed the sentence to exile. Master Cui, having escaped death, you must cherish your life and stop abusing your body.”

He said a great deal, all urging Cui Xun to live well and treasure the life that had been so narrowly preserved, but Cui Xun remained in a daze, saying nothing.

After the physician left, Lu Huai arrived. He also spoke about treasuring life while indirectly inquiring about Wang Xuan’s whereabouts. Cui Xun remained silent to all questions. Lu Huai left in exasperation. Afterward, Cui Xun waited in prison for his exile. During this time, Cui Songqing, his father, and Ah’man all wanted to see him one last time, but Cui Xun refused them all. However, when one person asked to see him, he agreed.

It was the mute servant.

Sitting on the ground with his back against the rough stone wall, he gazed calmly at the red-eyed mute servant outside the prison cell and said, “Thank you for taking care of me these past few years.”

The mute servant knelt on the ground, shaking his head, tears streaming down his face. Cui Xun said, “I won’t survive this ordeal. Before the Empress Dowager confiscates my property, sell my house. The money you get should be enough for you to retire somewhere in the countryside.”

The mute servant’s throat choked with emotion. He seemed to want to say something, but being mute, he could only anxiously gesture with his hands. Cui Xun watched his gestures and smiled faintly. “Return from exile? No, I won’t be coming back.”

Hearing this, the mute servant gripped the iron bars of the cell, silently weeping. Cui Xun’s expression, however, was remarkably calm. “Why are you crying? I’m quite happy.”

He continued, “I need to trouble you with one last thing.”

The task Cui Xun gave the mute servant was to go to Ximing Temple and see if Wang Xuan had left anything behind.

That day, Wang Xuan had been taken by Ashina Wuduo to the underground dungeon of Changchun Temple, where he was tortured severely for nine full days yet revealed nothing. After Cui Xun rescued him, Wang Xuan, with his last breath, wrote “Emperor killed six provinces” and “Ximing Temple” on Cui Xun’s palm before dying.

It was the “Emperor killed six provinces” that further convinced Cui Xun that the Longxing Emperor was involved in the Tianwei Army case. And since Wang Xuan mentioned Ximing Temple with his dying breath, could the evidence he discovered be hidden there?

He sent the mute servant to investigate, and the servant quickly retrieved something Wang Xuan had left at Ximing Temple.

It was a page torn from the court diaries in the History Bureau.

As Cui Xun read that page, the questions in his heart were finally answered.

A bitter smile flashed in his eyes as he murmured, “So that’s how it is, that’s how it is…”

The twentieth year of Longxing, the first day of the tenth month, late autumn.

On Mount Zhongnan, the forests displayed their brilliant colors. In Cuihua Peak, orange and green hues intermingled. At Guanyin Temple, ginkgo trees stood like umbrellas. On Zhuque Street, foreign merchants bustled about, all signs of a prosperous era.

In the taverns of Chang’an, small groups of patrons gathered, discussing everyday matters—this family’s wedding, that family’s daughter returning home, the bountiful harvest in Guanzhong, the low price of rice. They also spoke of the vicissitudes of life: how the upright and honest Lu Yumin had fallen into disgrace, how the capable and efficient Pei Guanyue had been utterly defeated, and how Cui Wangshu, once wielding immense power at court, had lost imperial favor overnight and been exiled to the barren Xi Xi, likely never to return to Chang’an in this lifetime.

After lamenting for a while, they remarked that good is rewarded with good, and evil with evil. Lu Yumin and his associates were hypocrites who harmed loyal officials and deserved their fate. As for Cui Xun, surrendering to the Turks was an unforgivable crime, and he deserved to be exiled to Xi Xi.

After they had spoken for a while, the melodious sound of a huqin began to play. A beautiful foreign courtesan wearing a veil danced gracefully, drawing cheers from the tavern. This scene captured the essence of worldly pleasures, lively and bustling.

In stark contrast was the bleak desolation outside the Dali Temple prison.

Cui Xun, dressed in thin prison clothes with heavy shackles on his wrists and ankles, emerged from the prison. Though the distance was short, the black iron shackles had already rubbed his wrists and ankles raw, drawing drops of blood.

Yet now, there was no longer a young woman to tear her soft silk handkerchief and carefully wrap it around his hands and feet.

Lu Huai pressed his lips together, his handsome face filled with pity. He sighed deeply and said, “Let’s go.”

The journey to Xi Xi was long and arduous. He could only ensure the guards would take care of Cui Xun along the way; beyond that, he was powerless.

Unfortunately, the doubts in his heart would likely never be resolved.

As Lu Huai gestured for the guards to escort Cui Xun away, Ah’man appeared in front of the Dali Temple prison, holding a silk pouch and biting her lip.

She glanced hesitantly at Lu Huai, her eyes full of supplication. Lu Huai remained silent, then turned his back, indicating he would allow her to say farewell. Ah’man lowered her head and walked up to Cui Xun. Her throat tightened, wanting to say something but unable to find the words. Instead, she handed the silk pouch to Cui Xun: “These are the silver coins I’ve saved recently. Take them all. They might make your journey a little easier.”

Cui Xun didn’t accept it. Ah’man smiled bitterly: “My brother’s case was overturned thanks to you. You are my benefactor. Let me repay you for your kindness.”

Cui Xun still didn’t take it. He just looked at Ah’man. She and her sisters from the entertainment district had opened a shop, and business was good. Her complexion looked much better than before. He asked Ah’man, “How have you been lately? How are He Shisan and the others?”

Ah’man was taken aback, then replied, “Everyone is doing well.”

After saying this, she fell silent. Everyone was doing well except for Cui Xun.

She truly didn’t understand why Cui Xun had abandoned his comfortable, privileged life to steal the Buddha’s relic, resulting in his current state. When she voiced her confusion, Cui Xun didn’t answer but instead asked, “Are you all satisfied with your current lives?”

He kept asking if they were well, if they were satisfied. Ah’man didn’t quite understand, but she thought carefully and said, “I now have my shop and don’t worry about food or clothing. Because of my brother, I’ve earned everyone’s respect. No one in Chang’an bullies me anymore. So yes, I’m very satisfied. Not just me—He Shisan and the other families are all satisfied.”

A trace of bitterness flashed in Cui Xun’s eyes. He nodded: “And are you all grateful for the resolution of the Tianwei Army case?”

Ah’man affirmed confidently: “Yes, we’re all very grateful to the Empress Dowager and His Majesty. Without their clear judgment, people like Lu Yumin wouldn’t have been punished so quickly, and my brother wouldn’t have been exonerated so soon.”

After saying this, she hesitated, her gaze falling on the heavy shackles around Cui Xun’s wrists. She finally couldn’t help but ask: “Brother Wangshu, what about you? Why… have you ended up like this?”

Hearing her question, Lu Huai also turned to look at Cui Xun, but Cui Xun merely appeared disoriented, murmuring: “I… I’ve always been… out of step with the times.”

Ah’man didn’t understand, but she still felt an inexplicable sadness. She bit her lip and said, “Brother Wangshu, that you’ve kept your life is the greatest fortune in misfortune. In the future, you should change. You only have one life.”

Cui Xun lowered his eyelashes, dark as raven feathers, and laughed bitterly: “Ah’man, you don’t need to see me off. You and He Shisan used to hate me. I hope you all continue to hate me in the future.”

Ah’man didn’t understand and asked: “Why?”

Cui Xun’s eyes were misty, making it difficult to discern his emotions. After a moment of silence, he said: “Because my conscience won’t allow it. So even if you all hate me, there’s something I must do.”

He turned to Lu Huai: “Brother Huaixin.”

His sudden form of address startled Lu Huai.

Cui Xun cupped his hands and bowed solemnly to Lu Huai: “Thank you for your care these past days. Cui Xun is deeply grateful.”

Lu Huai was speechless: “I… this…”

Cui Xun straightened up and said: “Brother Huaixin has been asking about Wang Xuan’s whereabouts, and I haven’t answered. But today, I’m willing to tell Brother Huaixin. However, I need Brother Huaixin to help me with something.”

“What is it?”

“I need Brother Huaixin to take me to Daming Palace.”

Outside Xuanwu Gate, before the red lung stone, the massive grievance drum stood silently.

Gusts of cold wind swept by. Though it was clear autumn weather with a bright sun overhead, dark clouds suddenly obscured it. A clap of thunder startled passersby, who looked at the dense clouds and remarked: “It’s going to rain.”

Yet autumn rain did not fall. Instead, snowflakes began to drift from the sky.

At first, the snowflakes were tiny, just small flecks that melted instantly upon touching the ground, almost imperceptible. Gradually, the snow fell more heavily, like goose feathers, drifting down in abundance.

In the heavy snow, a man in shackles dragged his injured leg, limping toward the red lung stone.

Onlookers began to gather: “Who is that?”

“Isn’t that Cui Xun?”

“Wasn’t he exiled to Xi Xi? Why is he here?”

“Does he still want to see the Empress Dowager? To beg for mercy?”

“The Empress Dowager won’t be bewitched by him again.”

Amid the rumors and gossip, Cui Xun continued his halting steps, dragging his leg that had been beaten with clubs. Accompanied by the sound of heavy chains scraping the ground, he moved with difficulty but determination toward the red lung stone. He climbed onto the stone, grasped the drum mallet, and with all his strength, struck the grievance drum again and again.

Ah’man stood behind him, stunned.

Lu Huai was also dumbfounded.

Cui Xun had just told him that Wang Xuan was dead, his body buried in the wilderness outside Changchun Temple. Filled with grief and anger, Lu Huai had been ready to rush to the wilderness, but his steps had halted.

He watched in shock as the figure in prison clothes, wearing shackles, resolutely struck the grievance drum. What exactly was Cui Xun trying to do?

The left and right gate guards rushed over at the sound. When they saw Cui Xun, they were first startled, then shouted: “Cui Xun, why have you struck the grievance drum?”

Cui Xun put down the drum mallet. His face, beautiful as a lotus, was now extraordinarily calm. In the wind and snow, he said each word clearly: “I wish to file a complaint.”

The left and right gate guards exchanged glances: “Whom do you wish to accuse?”

“First, I accuse His Majesty of colluding with the Turks, harming loyal officials, and betraying his people! Second, I accuse the Empress Dowager of shielding her son, harboring criminals, and perverting justice for personal gain!”