Ziqing had only one night to make the round trip. Tonight everyone was thoroughly drunk, and the servants were gradually carrying the drunkards back to their tents. Only after everyone sobered up tomorrow would anyone think to check on her — and unless it was someone specifically assigned to watch her, they would never notice she was gone.

After feigning drunkenness and being helped away by Gu Xi and Shiliang, Ziqing swiftly changed her clothes and set off at once.

From this hilltop, heading southeast and down the mountain, she would cut back along a small path at the mountain’s waist, crossing a deep ravine. On one side of that ravine stood a sheer cliff where not a blade of grass grew — and that was where the Poison Den was located!

The place lived up to its name. From the base of the cliff to its very top were rows of interconnected caves, all inhabited by poison masters — the gathering place for those of the Medicine Clan who dealt in poisons and their antidotes. Hence it was called the Poison Den.

The Old Man of the Poison Den was the master of this place. Within the Medicine Clan — indeed, within all of Nanzhao — his standing was no lower than that of the Medicine Clan’s own chieftain. Yet he was eccentric by nature. Whenever the Nanzhao royal court held a grand banquet, he was always invited, and time and again he found some excuse to decline. Though the King of Nanzhao had been furious over this, he never dared cause trouble for the Poison Den. Eventually, whenever the royal court held any grand affair, they simply stopped inviting the old man altogether.

Before coming here, Ziqing had done what she could to learn about the Poison Den. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

The Old Man of the Poison Den was a master of poison craft, unrivaled within the borders of Nanzhao — and likely without equal even beyond it. It was said that he showed no deference not only to the current King of Nanzhao, but even to the previous king before him. Of all the forces within the Medicine Clan, the Poison Den probably respected the royal court the least.

And yet, strangely enough, the royal court tolerated it, simply pretending that no such faction existed within the Medicine Clan.

Tonight the moon was bright, so Ziqing had no need for a torch, which made moving about much easier. She had braved far harsher wilderness than this — what was a small stretch of mountain forest to her? A dagger and a spare length of rope were all she needed.

Beneath the bright moon, a dark shadow flickered in and out of sight through the mountain forest. She was dressed in black with her face covered, only a pair of clear, focused eyes visible.

At times her figure darted through like a weaving shuttle; at other times she moved with cautious care, feeling her way slowly. Before long she reached the mountain’s waist — the map was already committed firmly to memory.

This woman’s skill at reading a map and remembering a route was so formidable that the moment she reached the mountain’s waist, she turned right without a moment’s hesitation, without thinking, without searching. In the blink of an eye, her figure vanished into the darkness.

A long while later, a rustling sound came from behind. Dimly visible was a woman clinging to a large tree, gasping for breath. A closer look revealed her to be none other than Xuanyuan Zhaoxi!

She had been keeping an eye on Han Ziqing for quite some time now. At the banquet she hadn’t touched a single drop of wine, only pretending to drink and feigning drunkenness, and had followed her the whole way — yet she simply could not catch up!

She stopped, staring at the darkness ahead, puzzled. Han Ziqing seemed to have undergone some kind of specialized training. A mountain path this winding and treacherous, with such dense forest along the way — even with formidable lightness skill, it shouldn’t have been possible to move at such speed!

Was she in a hurry?

The thought made a sinister smile curl at the corner of Xuanyuan Zhaoxi’s lips. She had no intention of chasing any further — follow too closely and she’d be discovered; follow too far and she’d learn nothing at all.

If Han Ziqing was in such a hurry, then Zhaoxi would help her along.

She would go back right now and expose her, so she wouldn’t need to rush anymore! After all, an envoy was not permitted to leave without the Nanzhao king’s approval. And besides — the deep ravine ahead was surely where the Medicine Clan’s famous Poison Den was located.

What business could Han Ziqing possibly have at the Poison Den?

Curious, Xuanyuan Zhaoxi turned to leave — but no sooner had she stepped down from the tree than she saw Xuanyuan Lige standing beneath it, arms crossed, leaning against the trunk, watching her coldly. He had apparently followed without her noticing. Clad in purple with silver hair, his tall figure flickered in and out of the shadows beneath the tree. A pair of cold, deep eyes, dark as the sea, held a look of utter malice.

In this moment there was no trace of his usual breathtaking beauty, the air of a banished immortal. That pale face had turned sinister, like some famished spirit roaming the dead of night that had just spotted a human — and pounced to seize its prey.

Even as his own sister, Xuanyuan Zhaoxi felt a chill run down her spine.

She steadied herself, pretending she had seen nothing, and turned to leave.

But suddenly — with a sharp whoosh — a fierce blade of wind struck down a large tree, which crashed to the ground right in front of her, nearly crushing her!

Xuanyuan Zhaoxi stumbled back in alarm, her heart skipping a beat, but she paid it no mind and stepped over the fallen tree to keep going.

Then Xuanyuan Lige spoke, his voice low and distant. “Try taking one more step.”

Zhaoxi froze, then spun around and shouted, “Xuanyuan Lige, what exactly are you trying to do! Do you not know that Jun Beiyue still hasn’t woken up? If this woman dies here in Nanzhao, we can push the Seventh Prince onto the throne, and Great Zhou will have no chance left!”

“How many times do I have to tell you — this matter no longer concerns you.” Xuanyuan Lige said flatly.

“How does it not concern me! Don’t forget — I am the heir to Eastern Qin, not you!” Zhaoxi said coldly.

“At the very least, the Empress of Eastern Qin is not you. Not yet.” Xuanyuan Lige’s voice remained just as indifferent, but the hand hanging at his side, its fingers curled slowly.

It meant he had no patience left for further words — the woman ahead was too fast, and if he didn’t chase now, he’d lose her.

“You said you’d take responsibility for this, fine — how exactly have you taken responsibility? What have you actually done, besides releasing the tiger back to the mountain and squandering all this time for nothing? What responsibility have you taken?”

Xuanyuan Zhaoxi pressed on angrily — but the moment the words left her mouth, she felt a light flick against her forehead, like a gentle snap of the fingers, and everything before her eyes instantly went dark.

“Xuanyuan Lige, you—”

Before she could finish, Xuanyuan Lige had already brushed past her, and at the same moment she collapsed to the ground with a thud, unconscious…

When Ziqing arrived at the deep ravine and saw the towering, endless cliff face where not a blade of grass grew, dotted with caves large and small — some lit by moonlight and glowing with dim yellow lamplight, others plunged into deep, dark magnificence — she finally stopped, breathing hard.

She had made it!

She’d arrived even faster than she’d expected.

With a light leap, she landed on the lowest terrace of the cliff — a great slab of rock jutting out from the cliff face. The gate of the Poison Den stood right there: a towering, imposing stone door set into the rock wall, guarded by only two sentries.

Seeing Ziqing approach in her black garb, they showed no alarm, only asking, “Who are you here to see?”

“The Old Man of the Poison Den. Here is my token — would this brother please pass it in for me.” Ziqing spoke politely despite her urgency; age was the common term Nanzhao used for men.

The guard took the letter, gave it barely a glance, sniffed beneath his nose, and sent it inside.

Ziqing let out a breath of relief. The Poison Den’s guards were refreshingly efficient — what she feared most was having her time wasted on trivial formalities.

She glanced at the sky — the moon was already sinking toward the mountains. She had, at most, two more hours to spare.

Whether it was the weight of the letter or simply the Poison Den’s efficiency, before long a guard came to fetch Ziqing and led her straight in to see the Old Man of the Poison Den.

“Much obliged, brother!” Ziqing quickly thanked him and followed inside.

And back in the ravine, Xuanyuan Lige leaned against the trunk of a large tree, hands pillowed behind his head, waiting until Ziqing’s figure had completely vanished from sight before he slowly closed his eyes.