The moment Sha Qiuzi laid eyes on Xuanyuan Lige, he recognized at once that this man had been struck at both major and minor acupoints. He released only the mute point, then began carefully examining his complexion, his eyes, his tongue, before finally taking his pulse.

Xuanyuan Lige had certainly heard of Sha Qiuzi’s reputation before—but like most people, he’d always assumed this place and this legendary physician were nothing more than fabrications, figures existing purely within rumor and legend!

He’d never imagined the man was genuinely, truly real—and here he was, at this very moment, personally examining him!

Baili Weisheng had to be a merman, and undoubtedly connected somehow to the Solitary Island—though he still couldn’t fathom why this man had fixated so persistently on him.

He himself knew the secrets of the Solitary Island, knew the secret of raising human gu—yet surely Baili Weisheng understood these matters even more thoroughly than he did!

The one thing that could genuinely interest Baili Weisheng in him was his skill with the qin.

Life—who wouldn’t want to hold onto it, to extend it, to have just a little more time?

Thirty years, for him, was far, far too short. So short that he could only ever devote his entire existence to a single pursuit.

This time, Xuanyuan Lige offered no resistance, watching Sha Qiuzi’s focused examination in silence, hoping desperately for some good news.

Yet soon enough, Sha Qiuzi released his wrist, saying nothing at all, simply shaking his head before rising to leave.

“Elder!” Xuanyuan Lige finally spoke up. “Elder, this illness of mine…”

Sha Qiuzi stroked his chin, having remained torn between eagerness and hesitation, madly erratic this entire time—yet now he’d grown strangely quiet. He turned back with a thoughtful expression, staring at Xuanyuan Lige with unmistakable suspicion. “What medicine have you been taking all this time? Let me see it.”

“It’s in my right sleeve, honored elder.” Xuanyuan Lige said.

The medicine boy hurried to retrieve it, pouring the contents out into his palm—a handful of small black pills.

“Try one.” Sha Qiuzi said.

The medicine boy hesitated, seeming to sense something was off about these pills. Yet seeing Sha Qiuzi’s expression growing steadily more displeased, he immediately swallowed three of them at once.

The moment the medicine hit his stomach, the medicine boy’s face instantly darkened, and within moments, he retched violently, coughing up a mouthful of black blood!

“Master, this is deadly poison…” The medicine boy said, on the verge of tears. His master routinely used him to test medicines, and though he’d swallowed poison, he’d managed to promptly cough up black blood in time.

Seeing this, Xuanyuan Lige was utterly stunned—how could this possibly be?

Could it be that the medicine he’d taken for nearly twenty years had all been poison?

But then why, having taken it all this time, had he never shown the slightest reaction to it?

This very prescription had been given to him by his own master.

“Heh heh, this poison is fascinating, truly fascinating.” Sha Qiuzi suddenly laughed, wiping away a smear of black blood, sniffing at it before turning to leave.

“Elder, might you tell me what exactly is going on here?” Xuanyuan Lige asked urgently.

“Heh heh, poison and medicine have always been one and the same, nothing to worry about. You can keep taking it—you’ll be fine right up until the moment you die.” Sha Qiuzi said loudly, already vanishing into the darkness by the time he finished speaking.

The urgency in Xuanyuan Lige’s eyes suddenly turned to ice, cold enough to kill.

Yet when the medicine boy hurried after him, he found Sha Qiuzi already back at his writing, composing a letter to Prince Yao.

“Master, Prince Yao is searching everywhere for that man!” The medicine boy reminded him timidly.

“I know.” Sha Qiuzi didn’t even spare him a glance, writing furiously, filling an entire page—seemingly reporting on more than just the Princess Consort’s condition alone.

“Master, what exactly is going on with him? The legends say the Dongqin royal house bears a curse—surely that can’t actually be true?” The medicine boy asked again.

“Why does a little brat need to know so much.” Sha Qiuzi seemed to be in remarkably good spirits, sealing the letter shut and instructing the medicine boy to deliver it immediately.

At this hour, within Akebaqu City, the beautiful sound of singing sand had already begun to grow faintly audible. The sound wasn’t yet particularly loud, resembling more the croaking of frogs than anything with a discernible rhythm.

Akebaqu City faced south with its back to the north, with only a single southern gate. Within the city, to the southeast, lay a crescent-shaped oasis lake, the water source for the entire city, and directly opposite this crescent lake to the west rose the towering peak of Mingsha Mountain.

Aside from the palace complex, the rest of the city consisted mostly of open greenery. The vegetation grew thick and dense near the crescent lake, gradually thinning out as one traveled westward from the southeast.

The altar for the Sand Worship Ceremony had been established at the foot of Mingsha Mountain—both a ceremonial site and simultaneously the very best location for listening to the singing sands.

At this moment, the great procession had already left the palace complex far behind, arriving at the increasingly sparse greenery on the western side of the city. As they continued westward, Mingsha Mountain grew larger and larger before them, and the rhythmic quality of the singing sands grew steadily more pronounced!

This natural phenomenon, much like the qin music of Qinse Sea Valley, could only reveal its hidden secrets to those with extraordinarily refined musical talent, like Han Ziqing and Xuanyuan Lige—anyone else would never discern whether any secret existed within it at all, let alone what that secret might be.

Jun Beiyue, naturally, couldn’t discern anything of the sort, nor did he have any particular interest in trying. Rather than waste time investigating Mingsha Mountain’s secrets himself, he’d rather focus his efforts on tracking down Yanzi and interrogating her thoroughly instead.

At this moment, he rode high atop his horse, facing directly into the western wind blowing toward him—a wind remarkably free of grit and sand—gazing up at Mingsha Mountain as it drew ever nearer!

What genuinely intrigued him was this mountain itself, this oasis, this wind, the secret behind the singing sands.

The desert god’s legend—that the singing sands represented some kind of divine voice—was, to him, nothing more than an absurd fabrication, useful only for controlling the thinking of the common people and bolstering the imperial house’s sense of authority and prestige.

He didn’t believe a word of it.

The singing sands, the fact that the sand was never blown away, the fact that the Akebaqu oasis remained perpetually free from any real threat—all of this surely pointed to some secret rooted in the terrain and wind patterns themselves.

Mingsha Mountain concealed ruins of the Solitary Island—but what exactly were those ruins?

The entirety of Mingsha Mountain consisted purely of sand, showing no trace whatsoever of human intervention. Let alone Xijing’s royal house forbidding such construction—even if they had permitted it, leaving any lasting mark upon a mountain made entirely of shifting sand would surely have been utterly impossible!

The only man-made structures in the entire area stood at the mountain’s base—the altar itself and several detached palaces, all built by the Xijing royal house.

Wind couldn’t topple this mountain—but people could certainly hollow it out.

Or perhaps the entire mountain itself constituted the ruins. Or perhaps the ruins lay hidden underground instead?

Jun Beiyue’s cold, sharp gaze swept continuously across his surroundings, entirely unconcerned by the heavy escort of troops Yelu Chenyi had stationed both ahead and behind him.

That “grand gift” from the previous night had served as the most forceful warning of all—the Xijing Emperor surely understood by now exactly what Jun Beiyue had truly come here to accomplish.

And surrounding him with even greater numbers than his own guard detail was Yelu Qianqian’s carriage procession.

Yelu Chenyi glanced back at Jun Beiyue, his eyes brimming with fury. That damned Jun Beiyue—he’d been thoroughly berated by his father the night before, though admittedly, his own scheme had genuinely piqued his father’s interest as well.

“Jun Beiyue is my responsibility—you focus on protecting Qianqian. If so much as a single hair on her head is harmed, this crown prince will hold you personally accountable!” Yelu Chenyi said coldly, issuing this command to Yanzi with unusually grave seriousness.

Yanzi didn’t take offense in the slightest, smiling brilliantly. “Understood. My Mingsha Den’s future master of the house can rest assured, then—as for your little sister…”

Yanzi continued, a flicker of disdain passing through her eyes, “As for your little sister, I’ll watch over her very carefully indeed. I’ll absolutely guarantee she marries off successfully!”

With that, she dismounted and headed toward Yelu Qianqian’s carriage!