What Wanyan Puruuo actually did was far crueler than what she had described.

Using his own methods against him, when she came to see Zhang Yuehui for the last time, she brought a man who looked identical to him—even more like “Zhang Yuehui” than his current appearance.

Ha, another human skin mask—this was truly his most skilled trick for deceiving people.

Wanyan Puruuo told him this person would go to draw away his loyal servants waiting to rescue him. From now on, no one in this world would know which corner held the real Zhang Yuehui.

Effortlessly, she crushed Zhang Yuehui’s last escape route.

But Zhang Yuehui’s heart seemed unmoved. Luo Ci was indeed waiting outside the city to receive him, but Bianjing wasn’t his territory—they didn’t have the capability to cause major trouble. Falling into Wanyan Puruuo’s hands, the executioner’s blade had already dropped halfway. He had long given up struggling.

Wanyan Puruuo threw him among the prisoners being exiled to the northern desert, departing the next day.

He just felt like sleeping now.

He had some cleanliness obsessions, which were more deadly than the pain on his body. He was already hallucinating that the filthy mud on the ground was pouring into him, that snakes, insects, rats, and ants from sewers were swarming toward him. But the current environment didn’t allow such fastidious habits, so he simply closed his eyes, pretending to see nothing, feel nothing, as if that could deceive himself and others.

While feigning sleep, he actually dozed off drowsily. His whole body was terribly cold, thoughts chaotically interweaving in his mind. Half-dreaming, half-awake, he seemed to see an endless snowy plain, and he was walking alone across it wearing only thin clothes, barefoot.

Hazily, Zhang Yuehui heard someone softly calling his name.

Someone was walking toward him through the swirling snow.

A female prisoner. But the prisoner had Nanyi’s face.

Zhang Yuehui muttered to himself—how was he having hallucinations now?

She said: “Let’s leave together.”

Now he was having auditory hallucinations too.

Zhang Yuehui smiled foolishly at her, a hollow ache swelling in his heart.

His life never looked back. Every step he took was without regret once made. He was an extremely proud person.

But did he truly feel no regret?

No, he was dying of regret. He desperately wanted to grasp that time he had truly possessed, that sincere person who had once stayed by his side. He had made one mistake worthy of lifelong remorse. He had tried hard to make amends, but in the process of desperate pursuit, he had gradually lost her bit by bit.

All his clamoring was his fear. He stubbornly insisted he was a bad person, afraid that even if he became good, he still wouldn’t win her back.

Forget it. He accepted his complete defeat.

“Don’t come, leave quickly,” he said to her in the wind and snow.

He could no longer reach the Peach Blossom Spring.

Nanyi watched Zhang Yuehui drowsily wake up, say some nonsense, then fall unconscious again. She felt his forehead—he was running a high fever.

She too was shocked by this broken body. She had never seen Zhang Yuehui in such a wretched state. After the Nirvana Plan, they hadn’t met for a long time. Zhang Yuehui had left silently then, not forcing her to fulfill her promise, and she had shamefully avoided it. Deep down, she was grateful for Zhang Yuehui’s letting go, while simultaneously feeling deep guilt. Whenever she thought of him, she would pray anxiously in her heart that he live carefree and at ease—that way her guilt would lessen. She thought he was living happily in Shu, dwelling in seclusion. She never expected he would appear before her again in such a state. She really wanted to ask him, why?

Since Xie Queshan’s death, she had stubbornly embarked on the path to fight for his posthumous reputation. In this process, she had received much unexpected help, but she had never anticipated that Zhang Yuehui, who could clearly stay out of it, would appear here and pay such a great price to help her at the most crucial moment.

Was it merely for her sake? Or did he also believe in what she persisted in?

Everything about Zhang Yuehui finally became clear before her eyes. This person who was both righteous and wicked always left people seeing flowers in fog. Even Nanyi had once thought he was someone without principles. Nanyi began to regret that in the past she had told Zhang Yuehui they weren’t walking the same path—or perhaps his integrated clamor and flamboyance were fake, just his stubborn contradictions and fear of loyalty being disappointed again. Actually, they had long reached the same destination by different routes. Actually, he was an extremely good and kind person.

She had to take Zhang Yuehui away from this hellish place.

In desperate straits lay opportunity.

A few days ago, she was only one step from leaving the city but was trapped by sudden martial law. Only then did she hear that the eldest princess’s residence had caught an assassin impersonating the Eighth Prince.

Thinking of the Eighth Prince she had seen that day, she had a premonition. She went back to find Qiao Yinzhi and forced her to tell the truth.

Zhang Yuehui had originally been Qiao Yinzhi’s employer. Though bought by Gusha and serving the Qi people for a time, she remained an eye and ear for Guilai Hall scattered outside. Zhang Yuehui had secretly followed Nanyi north all along, guessing she would act at Wanyan Puruuo’s birthday banquet, so he found Qiao Yinzhi in advance to ask for her help.

For Qiao Yinzhi among the Qi people, it was merely about survival and making a living—loyalty was long gone. But this matter was dangerous after all. Zhang Yuehui had now lost most of Guilai Hall, and if she was unwilling, he couldn’t command her. But thinking of the Xie family’s past kindness to her, she agreed without hesitation.

Zhang Yuehui had also instructed her not to let Nanyi know of his presence, which was why Qiao Yinzhi hadn’t mentioned it then.

Only now did Nanyi learn how much Zhang Yuehui had done for her. No matter what, she couldn’t abandon him. They learned that Wanyan Puruuo would soon exile Zhang Yuehui to the northern desert.

She suddenly had an idea—have Qiao Yinzhi help her take a female prisoner’s identity and infiltrate the group. This way she could both save Zhang Yuehui and use this prisoner transport to leave Bianjing under tight security.

But Qiao Yinzhi immediately refused.

“Prisoners exiled to the northern desert are all heinous criminals. To prevent riots or escapes en route, every prisoner has iron rings piercing their collarbones and is chained in prison carts before departure.”

Seeing Nanyi’s lack of reaction, Qiao Yinzhi emphasized: “Do you know what this means? Enduring bone-drilling, heart-gnawing torture for no reason! How can you bear it?”

Contrary to Qiao Yinzhi’s expectations, Nanyi answered calmly: “So only by going to this extent will no one notice this group leaving the city.”

Qiao Yinzhi was suddenly speechless.

She was right. No one would think a madwoman would pay such a price to leave the city.

Was it worth it?

She suddenly thought of Xie Hengzai. Was it worth it? He could have lived longer. That was poison—he clearly felt his organs slowly being corroded before falling. He didn’t blame her but chose the cruelest path for himself—was it worth it?

Things in this world shouldn’t be measured by worth, only by willingness or unwillingness.

Qiao Yinzhi’s voice trembled involuntarily: “Even if you leave the city, how will you escape?”

“Once I’m out, I’ll find a way,” Nanyi said with certainty.

It was nothing more than betting a life. Having walked so many roads, she only had the final eighty li that would determine success or failure. What she carried out wasn’t just a simple memorial but the relay of countless lives. They crashed toward that illusory light like moths to flame, not for any reward, but to restore an innocent person’s honor. And she would crawl to the finish line if necessary.

She was no longer afraid of all the sharp edges and harm in this world. The moment he died, her most painful part disappeared with him. What remained felt no pain and feared nothing.

Just a shell—she would let it break, but her soul was indestructible.

She was pressed against the wall by the executioner. Fire-tempered iron spikes pierced through her fragile collarbones, gouging holes in her body. She let out beast-like wails as iron rings emerged from her back, blood soaking half her clothes.

Nanyi panted with cold sweat but began laughing maniacally like a madwoman. She felt extreme pain, yet her body that had been living on a single breath and surge of energy suddenly felt real in this moment.

No one knew that accepting his death had been an extremely hollow process. Even pain became excessively empty. Beneath her seemingly calm and determined exterior of running around for him, raging futile collapse was actually boiling—she could grasp nothing. Those hollow feelings were finally released in this moment. She had to walk through the hell he had walked, taste the suffering he had experienced, leave real marks on herself, as if only this way could she prove he had truly existed.

No one knew how much she missed him.

…

When the exile procession left the city, Wanyan Puruuo stood on the city wall watching the group depart. Zhang Yuehui was too severely injured—fearing he would die en route, she temporarily exempted him from shackles and threw him into a prison cart.

From afar, the lined carts bumped slowly forward, each person inside having lost their face. She couldn’t identify which one was him.

The proud had their wings clipped; the noble fell to dust.

Those who betrayed her could only meet bad ends.

She never wronged herself.

Wanyan Puruuo turned and left decisively, thinking herself still the victor. But even the most careful plans have gaps—right under her nose, the thief she had hunted throughout the city escaped.

When Zhang Yuehui saw Nanyi, he thought he was still dreaming.

But he knew he wouldn’t dream such cramped, wretched dreams—how could he dream of being locked in a square prison cart?

This was real.

This person pierced by iron chains through the shoulders, sharing his prison cart, was Nanyi.

It took him a long moment to realize this was her way of escaping Bianjing.

The punishments inflicted on him didn’t seem to truly hurt him, but seeing the bloody holes through her body, he felt bone-deep pain that almost tore him apart.

He hated—hated that he hadn’t bought her more time, hated his lack of greater ability to safely escort her from the city, hated that he wasn’t an Asura who could overturn heaven and earth, couldn’t sweep away the world’s injustices, yet had to watch her repeatedly venture alone into dragon pools and tiger dens, trading wounds all over for small victories.

Perhaps his eyes showed too much pain. Meeting his expression, she could only look at him silently and comfortingly. Her whole being was covered in dust, dim without luster, except for her eyes bright as stars.

He saw in her eyes the determination to do what she knew was impossible. His fighting spirit was also ignited.

He nodded silently to her.

That night, while everyone was weary, Zhang Yuehui deliberately made noise to draw guards over. When someone approached, he suddenly used his iron chains to strangle them, preventing any sound.

Then Nanyi efficiently ended the person’s life with a dagger—each prisoner was searched before departure, but Qiao Yinzhi had conducted Nanyi’s search, secretly placing defensive weapons and that memorial back on her.

Nanyi took the keys from the guard’s body, silently unlocked the chains and prison cart door, and escaped with Zhang Yuehui before disturbing others.

Two people who were essentially invalids fled south on foot, supporting each other across desolate wilderness.

The road was far longer than they had imagined.