Jun Beiyue carried Ziqing up onto his horse, and the thirty thousand White Tiger soldiers instinctively parted to clear a path!

If, at the cliffside cave, Ziqing had already witnessed this man’s glorious battle record, then now she was sharing in the honor of his triumph!

“Hyah!” A sharp cry rang out, hooves thundering forward, ten thousand horsemen at his back — they rode out through the empire’s great city gate, bold and unhidden, a magnificent column sweeping through!

Ziqing and Jun Beiyue led the way on a single horse. Though it wasn’t a blood-sweating steed, it tore forward at a pace to rival one. The wind howled sharp against them, forcing Ziqing’s eyes half shut. She had ridden at far greater speeds before — perhaps it was simply that, for once, every guard she carried, every taut nerve in her body, had finally relaxed.

She turned her head lazily, burying her face against Jun Beiyue’s broad chest to shield herself from the wind. He noticed her leaning into him at once, and a flicker of pleasure — one even he himself didn’t quite register — passed through his eyes. One hand held the reins; the other came up at once, cupping her small face with domineering possessiveness and pulling her closer into his chest.

Ziqing frowned and thought to struggle, but his grip only tightened further. She set her expression and gave up, too weary to bother, letting him hold her as he pleased.

In no time, the two of them arrived back at the Three Realms camp.

“Can you let go of me now?” Ziqing said coldly. They were back at camp, and this man was still carrying her.

“I can.” Jun Beiyue said it plainly — then promptly tossed her onto the bed, drew out the dagger, and pointed its blade at her.

Again?

Ziqing frowned and got straight to the point. “I don’t believe we have any accounts to settle.”

Yet the dagger drew closer still, nearly touching her throat. She still didn’t move, only said, impatient and cold, “My life is not something I owe you.”

To her surprise, Jun Beiyue flipped the blade around, offering the hilt toward her instead. “This dagger is called ‘Liuguang.’ It’s yours.”

Only then did Ziqing understand his meaning. She took the dagger without hesitation. “Liuguang — a lovely name. Didn’t you already give it to me once before?”

It was while blocking Xuanyuan Lige’s wind-blade that she’d first truly noticed something unusual about this dagger.

It was short, sharp, and small — the ideal weapon for close combat. The hilt was a deep black, carved with strange and eerie totems; the blade itself was silvery-white all over, and whenever light struck it, it shimmered with radiant, flowing color.

The name “Liuguang” — Flowing Light — suited it well. But what made it truly extraordinary wasn’t its play of light, but its ability to rebound force!

It had actually deflected Xuanyuan Lige’s wind-blade back at him — and not with a simple deflection, but with the force doubled in return!

That was what astonished Ziqing most. The dagger weighed almost nothing — where could such explosive power possibly come from?

To date, Jun Beiyue had given her only two things: this dagger, Liuguang, and the blood-sweating warhorse. Both were treasures — a light blade and a swift horse, as the old saying went.

“I’m giving it to you properly. Remember — unless you die, you’re not to lose it,” Jun Beiyue warned her, quite seriously.

Was there ever a man so overbearing — was this a gift, or a demand that she accept it?

“It seems Liuguang is something very precious. Ziqing doesn’t dare accept it. Prince Yao had best keep it for himself,” Ziqing said flatly, holding it back out to him.

“It was made to be given to a woman in the first place. Say it’s yours, and it’s yours,” Jun Beiyue pushed it back.

She hadn’t accepted even the guqin Wuzheng easily — let alone this dagger of unclear origin. Ziqing pushed it back again, unyielding. “Prince Yao, Ziqing doesn’t casually accept things from others. You know that.”

Jun Beiyue’s brow furrowed abruptly, and he actually took the dagger back, saying flatly, “Come with me.”

Ziqing eyed him with suspicion but followed at once. They rode together toward the eastern peak. The mountain was extremely tall — from its summit, one could see the vast eastern sea stretching out.

By the time Ziqing caught up, Jun Beiyue had already dismounted and stood before a stone tablet about waist-high, gazing out at the East Sea.

Ziqing approached and asked, puzzled, “Prince Yao, why bring me here?”

Jun Beiyue stepped back, his gaze fixed on the tablet. Only then did Ziqing notice it — and the moment she read the characters carved there, she was struck with shock!

It was a gravestone! There was no grave, only the stone marker itself, bearing four large characters: “Wife of the Gu Clan.” Whose grave this was, there was no way to know.

Gu Clan… there were very few people surnamed Gu on the continent of Longyuan.

Ziqing felt a stir of unease and turned to leave. But Jun Beiyue spoke, calm and even. “Liuguang is the only thing my mother left me. She instructed that it be given as a meeting gift to the future Princess Yao. This prince is merely passing it on.”

At those words, Ziqing stopped in her tracks, her fine brows drawing together tightly. “Prince Yao — a secret known to too many is no longer a secret. Why tell me so much?”

This gravestone, this dagger Liuguang, these four characters “Wife of the Gu Clan” — without question, they concealed some monstrous conspiracy. Jun Beiyue was not the son of Emperor Tianhui. He did not carry the blood of the Da Zhou imperial line!

The more she knew, the more entangled she’d become with this man — and she despised that.

In truth, there had been no need at all to tell this woman so much. Even he himself didn’t understand why — a man who was always composed, always in control — had, just now, acted on impulse and brought her here.

His mother had been a woman abandoned by the Gu Clan. She had schemed with everything she had to secure him the status of an imperial prince, to win him a father’s affection — but did she know, wherever her spirit now rested, that in the house of an emperor there was no such thing as family, no such thing as kinship? Even with his own unwavering loyalty, Emperor Tianhui had never once been a good father to him.

Jun Beiyue didn’t answer Ziqing’s question. He only stated a fact, flatly. “Yes. Now you know.”

At those words, a surge of anger rose in Ziqing’s chest. She very nearly let slip the words “how obvious.”

She steadied her breath and said evenly, “Prince Yao, why you married Ziqing — Ziqing understands that perfectly well. This gift from the late Consort was meant for a daughter-in-law. Ziqing truly cannot bear such a weight. Please, keep it, Your Highness.”

With that, she leapt onto her horse and turned to leave.

“Then tell me — why do you think this prince married you?” Jun Beiyue asked, appearing in an instant before her horse, tilting his head up to look at her, cold and handsome.

“First, Your Highness defied the Emperor and didn’t want him meddling in your marriage. Second, Your Highness refused the Prime Minister’s backing — forming factions isn’t to your taste. Third, you once said you despise Han Xi’er, and needed someone like Ziqing — obedient, docile, a mere decoration.” Ziqing spoke without hesitation, then added with faint self-mockery, “My apologies. It seems Ziqing still hasn’t managed to satisfy you.”

She had, originally, intended to hold that title, to play the decoration. Now it seemed there was no going back to that.

“Is that all?” Jun Beiyue asked, arching a brow. Everything she’d said was true — a pity none of it touched the real reason.

Whether there was more, Ziqing didn’t know, nor did she care to dwell on it. But she understood very well why this man was keeping her around now — she was going to become his most capable aide, his most useful piece on the board. Wasn’t that it?

Such a relationship of mutual use — she could accept that well enough. She was, after all, a mercenary, hired by a mediocre master, paid to solve other people’s troubles.

It was only that she refused to let the title “Princess Yao,” and a precious gift from her mother-in-law, dress up what was, at its core, a clean and simple transaction.

Ziqing didn’t answer. She only said flatly, “Prince Yao, let’s discuss this properly back at camp. As long as you can pay the price, Ziqing can be hired by you — but don’t try to play the emotion card with me. Ziqing isn’t some naïve little girl.”

With that, she wheeled her horse around and rode off with a snap of the whip.

“The emotion card?” Jun Beiyue’s brow snapped tight, and he mounted and gave chase at once!

The emotion card — what exactly was the emotion card?