In a flash, Zhang Yuehui suddenly pulled Wanyan Puruuo toward him, wrapping her in his arms. The next second, her hand gripping the golden hairpin was deftly twisted and pressed against his own neck.

The situation reversed rapidly—Zhang Yuehui had taken Wanyan Puruuo hostage in an instant.

The banquet immediately erupted in chaos, guards swarming forward with a mass of black arrows aimed at Zhang Yuehui.

But he merely chuckled lightly without changing expression or heartbeat, maintaining his leisurely and unperturbed demeanor, unhurriedly tearing off the mask from his face, even having the mood to joke: “This thing is really stifling—we meet again, Your Highness Princess.”

“Zhang Yuehui—” Wanyan Puruuo showed genuine hatred, “You certainly have the guts to come.”

“I thought the Princess should grind her teeth and lose sleep at the thought of me, so no matter how far, I should come meet Your Highness. But Your Highness’s eyes are too sharp… making this game no fun.”

“Release me, and I might consider sparing your life.”

“Tsk—given the current situation, shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

“Fine, then tell me, what do you want?”

Zhang Yuehui’s eyes narrowed slightly as he fell silent for a moment.

What did he want? He couldn’t buy much time, but hopefully it would be enough.

Meanwhile, Nanyi and Qiao Yinzhi, who had unfortunately encountered patrolling guards, were still trapped in the back courtyard.

At the critical moment, Nanyi had a flash of inspiration and roughly shoved Qiao Yinzhi, acting as if escorting a prisoner.

“This subordinate caught a suspicious maid and was about to bring her for Your Highness to question.”

The lead guard looked suspiciously at the two women. There were many female guards in the eldest princess’s residence, and he hadn’t memorized all their faces. He was about to inquire about the specific situation when loud commotion came from the front.

“Something’s happened! Something at the banquet! Quick, come support!”

Hearing this, the squad of soldiers had no time to worry about these two, only telling Nanyi to watch the prisoner before hurrying toward the front hall.

After they left, Qiao Yinzhi led Nanyi toward an inconspicuous small door. Nanyi was still nervous about what was happening up front and whether it would affect her plan, but Qiao Yinzhi seemed completely unsurprised. She opened the door, looked outside first to confirm no one was there, then beckoned Nanyi.

“You’ll be safe going out this way.”

Nanyi stepped through the door but still found it strange, turning back to ask: “How did you know I would come? Are there others helping me?”

Qiao Yinzhi’s gaze flickered. She didn’t answer, forcefully pushing Nanyi out and immediately closing the small door.

The tense standoff at the banquet showed no signs of easing.

Zhang Yuehui answered carelessly: “Your Highness has been hunting me so relentlessly, making me unhappy. I’m not one to endure, so naturally I must return tooth for tooth.”

But his actions showed no tenderness—with a slight increase in pressure, the golden hairpin pierced Wanyan Puruuo’s skin, drawing blood.

“If I die here today, all Han people within ten li will be buried with me—you didn’t come alone, did you? Do you dare make a move?” Wanyan Puruuo showed no fear, questioning sternly.

Zhang Yuehui smiled like a demon: “What’s that to me?”

Just as he suddenly exerted force, he saw an arrow flying toward him from a distant rooftop. He knew he wouldn’t succeed, and he hadn’t planned to succeed, but in this moment of mutual destruction, he felt tremendously satisfied.

He had come alone. His purpose was only to assassinate Wanyan Puruuo. He had no companions.

That arrow reached him in mere moments, precisely piercing his shoulder blade.

Simultaneously, Wanyan Puruuo viciously elbowed his ribs. Zhang Yuehui was forced to release his grip, the golden hairpin only scratching a bloody mark on her neck before falling to the ground.

Fully armed guards immediately surrounded him from all sides with blades.

“Your Highness, how should this person be dealt with?”

Wanyan Puruuo covered the bleeding wound on her neck, looking down at Zhang Yuehui who was pinned and unable to move. She thought he should be panicking now, but even facing such dire straits, he still smiled with worldly indifference.

Wanyan Puruuo was momentarily stumped. She had always thought hunting him would be a long chase. Today came too suddenly—she hadn’t seriously considered how to deal with him if caught.

Kill him? That would be too simple, not enough to vent her hatred.

While she remained silent, someone hurried to report: “Your Highness, thieves entered the advisory chambers. There are signs Master Xie’s room was broken into.”

Xie Zhu followed behind the attendant, his face ashen.

Wanyan Puruuo sensed trouble: “Master, what was taken?”

Xie Zhu could only step forward and whisper: “The petition letter written by Shen Zhizhong regarding Xie Queshan’s identity.”

“Didn’t I tell you to destroy it long ago?!”

Xie Zhu couldn’t answer. He had harbored some private feelings after all. Human hearts are made of flesh—though he and Xie Queshan had different principles and couldn’t work together, they were uncle and nephew, once teacher and friend. Objectively speaking, he admired Xie Queshan but also feared him. Making the decision to harm him had been extremely difficult. He thought this letter was the only proof of the bond that once existed between them, so he couldn’t bring himself to destroy it. After all, the man was dead. He never expected trouble to find him even after fleeing to Bianjing. Now it was too late for regret.

Wanyan Puruuo grew anxious—this was no small matter. Xie Queshan’s identity must never become public! Because of the defeat at Li Du Mansion, her and Han Xianwang’s positions in the royal court had become precarious. If the Yue Dynasty revealed that Xie Queshan was an undercover agent, their crime of poor judgment leading to military losses would be confirmed. She would have to accept punishment, and other nobles who had long coveted the power in her hands would pounce like hungry tigers to divide it up.

That letter must not return to the Yue Dynasty.

Wanyan Puruuo ordered those around her: “Immediately seal the city gates and set up checkpoints. Without official documents, no one may enter or leave.”

Only now did she realize that Zhang Yuehui’s disturbance was to attract everyone’s attention, thereby covering the real purpose and buying time for whoever stole the letter. No wonder he wasn’t panicking at all—they had already taken what they wanted.

A nameless fury rose within her. He had betrayed her again and again. She wanted to suck his marrow and crush his bones to ashes to relieve her anger.

“Boss Zhang, your game is over. Now it’s my turn to call the shots. Neither you nor your accomplices will escape.”

Wanyan Puruuo raised her eyes coldly, showing no mercy, ordering: “Send him to the Eighth Prince’s residence as an apology.”

The Eighth Prince was currently bound and gagged somewhere by Zhang Yuehui. The pampered Eighth Prince had never been treated this way. With his naturally cruel and vindictive nature, Zhang Yuehui would surely be thoroughly tormented in his hands.

After arranging everything, Wanyan Puruuo was finally escorted inside to bandage her wounds.

The banquet was in shambles with guests departing. No one bothered with Xie Zhu anymore. He stood somewhat bewildered, feeling an inexplicable loneliness of being far from home and dependent on others. Then casually glancing around, he saw the painting hanging on an easel.

Probably a birthday gift from some high official to the eldest princess—a genuine work by Master Wang, which must have taken some thought.

He walked toward the painting as if possessed. For no reason at all, the painting seemed strangely familiar.

Suddenly, he noticed a butterfly hidden among the mountains and waters. His whole body shook.

—No, impossible! This was Qiu Jie’er’s painting!

How could Qiu Jie’er’s painting appear in Bianjing? Could the thief be her?

Confused thoughts tangled in his mind as he tremblingly touched the butterfly. He had already sensed something wrong—Qiu Jie’er had deliberately hidden her brushwork throughout the painting, carefully imitating Master Wang’s style. Why would she suddenly expose her identity on this butterfly? Did she know he would see it?

But he still underestimated Qiu Jie’er’s determination. The moment he touched the butterfly, Xie Zhu felt a sharp pain. The painting actually concealed tiny wooden thorns that pierced his finger, drawing a drop of blood.

This insignificant yet precise trap made Xie Zhu retreat as if he’d seen a ghost. Though Qiu Jie’er didn’t appear, he had already felt his daughter’s hatred through this sharp pain.

One step, two steps, three steps, four steps, five steps.

After just five steps, Xie Zhu collapsed with a crash, foaming at the mouth and convulsing.

This butterfly was painted with juice from the highly poisonous arrow-poison tree. Once the toxin touched a wound, it would travel through the bloodstream to the heart, killing within five steps.

As consciousness rapidly faded, Xie Zhu’s mind didn’t even have time to review his life—only one overwhelming thought: the flower he had personally raised had finally unhesitatingly transformed into a blade piercing his heart.

He harmed his compatriots, and blood relatives harmed him.

He had desperately pursued the realm of Daman but ultimately ended his life in incompleteness.

…

As soon as Nanyi left the princess’s residence, she immediately returned to their hiding place, preparing to take Qiu Jie’er and evacuate.

But Qiu Jie’er had fallen ill overnight, too sick to walk. Her face was pale as paper, lying in bed barely breathing.

“My body was already weak, probably can’t adapt to the climate… Sister-in-law, you go first. The city will soon be under martial law. You must get the letter out first…”

Nanyi’s heart was struggling. Any later and she might not be able to leave Bianjing, but having brought Qiu Jie’er here, how could she abandon her in an enemy city?

“I never showed my face at the banquet, no one will recognize me… It’s safe here. When I recover, sister-in-law can come back for me… This way nothing is delayed.”

Nanyi thought Qiu Jie’er had collapsed from the long journey and staying up several nights painting. Qiu Jie’er’s suggestion wasn’t unreasonable. Before departure, Song Muchuan had told them the return journey would be dangerous. He would wait for her under the pretense of prisoner exchange at Yanlu City, eighty li from Bianjing. She only needed to rush the letter out, then immediately return for Qiu Jie’er.

She instructed the local Bingzhu Bureau colleagues to take good care of Qiu Jie’er, mounted a horse herself, and raced toward the city gate.

After seeing off Nanyi, Qiu Jie’er finally closed her eyes peacefully, though tears quietly flowed down.

Father was dead, and she too waited quietly to die in a foreign land.

Was this enough? Enough to atone toward those who had died?

Nanyi spurred her horse forward. She didn’t yet know of Xie Zhu’s death, nor that Qiu Jie’er’s sudden illness was because she too had been poisoned. Though she hadn’t touched the toxin, personally mixing the pigments and incorporating the poison into the painting in a way only Xie Zhu could detect, living daily with poisonous materials, she couldn’t avoid being harmed.

When Nanyi reached the city, the gates were already sealed.

Heavy rain began falling over Bianjing, but the unpleasant stuffiness wasn’t dispelled at all. Raindrops fell from the eaves—drip, drip—like ubiquitous counting, as if some massive presence hidden behind time was quietly approaching.

…

Zhang Yuehui seemed to hear the rain too, or perhaps it was just water drops falling from his hair that gave him some hazy illusion.

The peacock-like finery he’d worn was beaten to tatters, his bruised and swollen features unrecognizable from their former handsomeness. He was just a pitiful mass of flesh hanging upside down from the beam.

The Eighth Prince had vented enough and left triumphantly.

The torture chamber was terrifyingly quiet, but Zhang Yuehui could finally breathe a little easier as the prolonged torment temporarily ceased.

When he came, Zhang Yuehui thought he could maintain detachment and keep that carefree expression.

He even felt absurd for a moment—how could someone as proud as him become a prisoner? But pain was the most primitive sensation no human could escape. When whips fell on his body, clubs struck his spine, and hot brands pressed against his skin as if to burn through bone, suffering didn’t respect wealth or power—all were equal.

Like all humble lives, he howled and convulsed. He inevitably recalled in this physical agony countless moments when he had looked down and crushed others’ lives.

Perhaps this was his retribution.

Finally, someone entered. Zhang Yuehui struggled to open his eyes. The long hanging had caused blood to pool in his head, and his severely swollen right eye could barely see.

“Let him down.”

He heard Wanyan Puruuo’s voice.

Someone released him and let him lean against the wall—this position was much more comfortable, giving him a sense of grateful relief.

Soon the attendants left, leaving only two people in the vast torture chamber.

Wanyan Puruuo looked at the blood-covered Zhang Yuehui. Torturing him hadn’t made her particularly happy, but importantly, everything was back under her control. She firmly held this extremely cunning man.

“Zhang Yuehui, you’re really something—stealing from under my nose and killing Master Xie without anyone knowing.”

So Xie Zhu was dead.

Zhang Yuehui was just learning this.

“But the city is sealed. Not even a fly can escape. Your accomplice will soon join you.”

Zhang Yuehui let it go in one ear and out the other. He thought you’re really underestimating her—she definitely has a way to leave.

He believed it.

Wanyan Puruuo’s arrogance here just proved they hadn’t found anyone outside, didn’t it?

He relaxed completely. It seemed Nanyi’s mission was very successful. She would definitely get her wish, making his suffering here worthwhile.

Wanyan Puruuo squatted down with a victor’s relaxation and schadenfreude, trying to see a trace of remorse on his face: “Zhang Yuehui, do you regret it?”

He still had the heart to force an ugly smile, asking back: “If I regret it… would Your Highness forgive me?”

“I’m very principled. Those who betray me must die.”

“Then make it quick.” Zhang Yuehui wearily closed his eyes.

Wanyan Puruuo raised her hand to gently stroke his cheek: “But you’re somewhat different… You know? I’ve always wanted to possess you, both body and soul, but you’re too hard to tame. It makes me somewhat unwilling to give up.”

Wanyan Puruuo spoke frankly. To her, romantic feelings were just ways to please herself—nothing to be coy about.

Zhang Yuehui truly laughed now. The smile’s movement pulled at his facial wounds, making his expression somewhat twisted. Meeting Wanyan Puruuo’s eyes, he said lightly: “Rather disgusting.”

Wanyan Puruuo’s brow twitched. His defiance aroused her competitive spirit.

“Haven’t you always done disgusting things? I’ll consider your momentary patriotic fervor as going astray. As long as you’re willing to repent—just say you hate your homeland, hate your compatriots, that you’re a despicable villain who will only serve me from now on, and I’ll release you immediately.”

She couldn’t possibly really release him—this was just bait from someone in power. She realized she wanted his true submission. Nothing else could resolve her hatred of his betrayal.

Zhang Yuehui’s smile grew more mocking. Blood surged in his throat. He coughed up blood, recovered slightly, then slowly began speaking.

“When I was in Shu… I spent most of my time in monasteries… I asked the abbot… what is liberation…” His voice was barely audible. Wanyan Puruuo had to lean close to hear clearly.

She thought he was confessing something heartfelt and listened with special attention.

She vaguely sensed something tragic. Perhaps deep down, she hoped for a different answer. Behind all the calculated emotions, she had felt something genuine for him.

“He said… when I could sit quietly through three thousand six hundred wooden fish sounds… then consider this question… So I knelt on the cushion in the great hall… one sound, two sounds, three sounds… fifteen sounds… forty sounds…”

His bloody breath brushed her ear. Wanyan Puruuo listened for a long time, unable to believe he was really just counting, completely ignoring her rare compassion.

She retreated several steps in fury.

“Guards!”

Attendants quickly filed in. Someone brought medicine to force down Zhang Yuehui’s throat.

Zhang Yuehui knew exactly what this was. He kept his mouth shut, but was still forced to swallow most of the bowl.

This wasn’t poison but tonic, giving him some vitality to endure new torments.

From somewhere he found the strength to break free of his restraints, grab the medicine bowl and smash it on the ground, picking up a shard to slash at his wrist.

But Wanyan Puruuo stepped on his hand.

“Can’t take it already?” She looked at him expressionlessly.

“I won’t kill you. I’ll exile you to the northern desert for hard labor. Every desert slave has iron chains piercing their collarbones, chained to walls like dogs. The slave masters release you to the desolate wilderness during the day. You’ll toil day and night, digging hard earth hoe by hoe into farmland. If you do poorly, you’ll face harsh punishment. There, your cries won’t reach heaven or earth. No one knows you, no one has seen your brocaded past. You’ve abandoned your homeland, and your homeland abandons you. Zhang Yuehui, you will live in the most degraded way.”