Xue Yu sensed the stiffness of the young man beside her. Looking back, she saw half a sheet of paper covered with vigorous, neat handwriting, along with a small ink blot that had spread on it.

“I don’t understand the Human Emperor’s meaning.” Xue Yu thought he had encountered a problem and moved slightly closer to him. Her beautiful almond eyes drooped slightly, her gaze falling on the paper, while simultaneously handling Qiu Tong: “If the Human Emperor has any dissatisfaction with this matter, he can contact my father directly.”

Her voice was clear and cold, cutting off all topics with just a few words.

Qiu Tong’s side indeed fell silent for a moment, then came a rather helpless low laugh: “Miss Xue Yu need not be so guarded against me. I have already suppressed this matter. Chen Jianxi’s virtue doesn’t match his position—he indeed cannot handle great responsibilities. We’ll go with Miss Xue Yu’s handling.”

His words were within Xue Yu’s expectations, so she didn’t even lift an eyelid, only responded indifferently with a “mm” and asked: “Does the Human Emperor have anything else?”

Qiu Tong wanted to say more, but his words had barely reached his lips when another bout of heart-wrenching coughing began. The hall immediately became lively—some came to pat his back, others handed him handkerchiefs. After a long while, he barely suppressed that overwhelming feeling. When he looked up wanting to say something, he found the burning spiritual talisman in mid-air had already dimmed.

—At his first cough, the other side had impatiently cut off the connection unilaterally.

As Human Emperor, these past few years he had ruled over vast territories, enjoyed boundless kingdoms. Everyone respected him, looking up at him with lowered brows and submissive eyes. Even those high-ranking elders from the Sacred Lands dared not show the slightest neglect.

This was indeed the first time in years that Qiu Tong had experienced such treatment.

He had feminine features and looked frail, but his methods were ruthless. The palace steward serving nearby watched his eyes suddenly darken, carefully trying to gauge his thoughts. After a long moment, observing his expression, he said: “This Miss Xue Yu is too presumptuous before Your Majesty. Given Your Majesty’s status, you should be on equal footing with the current Lord of Yedu. She hasn’t even ascended to that position yet, but already shows such disregard for Your Majesty—her behavior is far too rebellious.”

Qiu Tong’s fingers, thin as withered bamboo, caressed the rippling patterns on the spiritual talisman. Hearing the steward’s words, he seemed to think of something and suddenly let out a laugh.

“Wrong.” His mood was like March weather—clearing up instantly: “No matter what status I hold now, to Xue Yu, I’m just a petty person who disregarded people’s lives and rose to power through shameless means.”

“Toward petty people, isn’t this exactly the attitude to have?”

The palace steward was startled and didn’t dare say anything more.

“Send word to Qiu Zhao—tell him to behave himself in Xuzhou and not provoke Yedu or Northern Wasteland.” Qiu Tong casually picked up a memorial, his voice low and light, like a dull blade grinding across skin, giving people a bone-chilling feeling: “Tell him that if he can’t control his hands and mouth, he needn’t return to the imperial capital—he can commit suicide directly before the Sacred Land inheritors.”

On the other side, Xue Yu looked over Su You’s written summary and annotations, turning to ask him: “What don’t you understand?”

Su You pressed down on his knuckles, gripping the brush handle. In just the time it took to lower his eyes, he had already thought of a perfect excuse for his momentary loss of composure: “Regarding those villagers colluding with outsiders to steal the Worldly Lamp—how does the young lady plan to handle this?”

“Mortal affairs aren’t the Sacred Lands’ concern—just report to the authorities.” After Xue Yu’s concise answer, she thought for a moment and patiently taught him: “All things in the mortal world have their cycle of rules. Life and death, wealth and poverty all belong to fate. We have cultivation, methods, and abilities to solve many things for them, but once mortal karma becomes too entangled, the results often backfire.”

“Furthermore, the relationship between Sacred Lands and the imperial court is complex. Though there are times when cooperation is needed, most of the time, minding our own business is the path to longevity.”

She spoke each word slowly, each sound crisp as pearls and jade. Compared to that Human Emperor of incomparably noble status just now, her patience with him could even be described as good.

Su You’s emotions became momentarily chaotic. She was too close—her long hair almost hung by his ear. Occasionally, when she turned sideways, their hair would overlap, carrying an indescribable, tangled meaning.

Yet she was completely unaware of anything improper, had no reservations, didn’t feel that such contact with him was any unbearable offense or desecration to her.

She deliberately cultivated him, personally instructed him.

The trust that so many sought but couldn’t obtain—she just gave it to a demon ghost like this.

“Come look at this.” Xue Yu spread the Xuzhou map flat on the desk, pointing to a certain spot: “According to Chao Nian, that Taoist who contacted the villagers said the buyer of the Worldly Lamp was a great family in southern Xuzhou. I’ve looked through Xuzhou’s historical records—basically, all families with some foundation and heritage are established in the south. That area is the well-known wealthy district locally.”

“This means that after we reach Xuzhou, we’ll have to secretly investigate house by house to find which family bought the Worldly Lamp, then after finding them, figure out how to infiltrate and investigate secretly.”

Without evidence, even the Sacred Lands couldn’t randomly search any household. They could only restrain their tempers and investigate slowly.

Thinking of this, Xue Yu couldn’t help pressing her brow, saying: “At least one month, at most three months—we’ll be stuck in Xuzhou.”

Su You looked over intently, thought for a moment, then spoke: “Since they bought the Worldly Lamp, that household must constantly pay attention to Wudao City’s situation. News of the city lord being deposed might have already reached their ears—they’ll be very cautious next.”

“However—”

The young man’s clear, moist voice weakened when the spiritual talisman at Xue Yu’s waist ignited again. He consciously lowered his eyes, his raven-feather lashes hiding deep pupils, but when looking at him, his entire being, even his hair, emanated a perfectly disguised obedient aura.

Xue Yu looked at the three characters “Lu Chengze” on the spiritual talisman, thought of how many times she had led people across Wudao City’s airspace during this period, and raised her eyebrows almost imperceptibly before pressing her finger on it.

“Xue Yu.” Lu Chengze’s voice contained obvious suppressed anger: “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“On purpose.” Almost the moment his words fell, Xue Yu frankly admitted: “The Saint Son has the ability and courage to rescue people from the Judgment Platform—a little fine is nothing.”

But this wasn’t about money or fines at all.

Lu Chengze thought of his experiences during this period, and even his good temperament couldn’t help but grit his teeth.

Chi Shui was responsible for establishing laws and had always been strict about evil, arguably the most unforgiving faction among the Sacred Lands. As Saint Son, Lu Chengze had brought back a death row prisoner without prior communication with the clan elders—that was one thing, but the person he brought back happened to be connected to the imperial court.

Lu Chengze particularly remembered how the Grand Elder of his faction had paced around the room in frustration, shaking his head and sighing through long speeches: “Chengze, as Saint Son, you should be even more careful with words and actions, leading by example.”

“Rescuing someone from the Judgment Platform—what were you thinking? What was the point?” The Grand Elder pointed to the dark circles under his own eyes: “From when you brought that person back until now, I don’t know how many waves of questioning from clan elders I’ve had to handle. Originally, this matter would have passed once it was over. You usually act with discretion, and I believe you knew what should and shouldn’t be done, but of all people to save, you saved someone who assassinated an imperial prince.”

The Grand Elder had a “you must be crazy” expression, and getting worked up, he slammed the spiritual talisman in his hand heavily on the table, shoving it in front of Lu Chengze: “Now the court has sent people to contact me, saying they want to ask about our thoughts and what deeper meaning lies behind this. But what they’re doing is questioning us, and I can only stammer in response—it’s embarrassing.”

From childhood to adulthood, Lu Chengze had smooth sailing and had rarely been scolded so harshly.

But what could he do? He couldn’t not save Song Heng. He could only steel himself to endure the lecture and swallow his grievances.

If this matter was still within his expectations, then that long string of fabricated fine notices from a few days ago was truly like an unexpected slap that left him completely stunned.

He had never seen such a long violation record in his life.

This time, the Grand Elder’s words were heavier than ever. He spread that long list on the table and asked: “Tell me, are you tired of being Saint Son?”

Lu Chengze wasn’t stupid. Almost at first glance, he realized Xue Yu was causing trouble behind the scenes. He stood up and said, “I have a token that I left with Xue Yu when taking missions before and never retrieved.”

“During this time, I’ve been in the clan and haven’t gone out at all. I couldn’t possibly have done these things.”

But once someone starts finding fault with another person, they can pick at everything.

Lu Chengze, who had insisted on sending Song Heng to Chi Shui’s best retreat facility, had become the one the Grand Elder disliked.

The Grand Elder’s eyebrows shot up dramatically, his voice rising several degrees: “How did you end up in such conflict with Xue Yu?”

Speaking of this, Lu Chengze felt truly wronged—indescribably wronged.

He hadn’t done anything, inexplicably left behind a thousand years ago, encountering these headache-inducing problems—for him, it was no different from disaster falling from the sky.

“Lu Chengze.” After calming down, the Grand Elder began calling him by his full name: “You are the clan’s Saint Son with noble status. Those elders don’t dare make trouble in front of you, but I watched you grow up. As they say, honest advice is hard to hear—these unpleasant words can only be said by me.”

“I’ll only say the following once—listen carefully.”

“You and Xue Yu are different.” The Grand Elder pulled over a chair and sat down, beginning earnest analysis: “She has the entire vast Yedu with no second heir besides herself. She’s currently a princess, but soon she’ll be Crown Princess. In another thousand years, when the Lord of Yedu abdicates, she’ll be the undisputed empress. During this period, no one can shake her position.”

“But you’re different.” The immortal-looking elder advised earnestly: “Never mind future changes—let’s just talk about the present. Is Yin Ling inferior? Is she weak? Does she have fewer supporters than you? In what way is she not as good as you?”

The Grand Elder threw out several questions in succession. With each sentence he spoke, Lu Chengze’s expression grew uglier.

“You repeatedly make mistakes while Yin Ling’s faction pursues victory—how will you respond?”

“I don’t require you to have brotherly, ride-or-die relationships with other inheritors, but you must at least maintain basic surface harmony, right? Do you think when you make enemies with Xue Yu, she’s the one who suffers?”

Among the Six Sacred Lands, we have the most frequent contact and closest exchanges with Yedu. Throughout the year, we transfer so many batches of people there—you know this better than anyone.”

“If you make enemies with her, there will come a time when you need to beg her.”

“…”

This period was undoubtedly the darkest, most frustrating time in Lu Chengze’s life.

He gritted his teeth and paid the enormous fine, thinking the matter would end there. But in the following days, fine records continued to stream to him endlessly.

He could no longer sit still.

“I won’t say much more. I’ve paid the fines from this period, and your business in Wudao City is finished. Find someone to send my token back—I won’t mention this matter again.” Lu Chengze swallowed his anger, remembering their thousand-year relationship and speaking kindly.

Xue Yu ignored him, leaving him hanging for quite a while before her finger paused on the Xuzhou map, and she replied coldly: “If you want the token, send someone to get it yourself. I don’t have anyone here to run errands for you.”

“Lu Chengze.” After speaking, she slowly raised her eyes and continued: “Learn your lesson, have some memory—don’t meddle in affairs that aren’t your business.”

With those words, she didn’t give the other side another chance to speak, pressing her finger on the spiritual talisman and directly cutting off contact.

Xue Yu followed her companion’s gaze, looking right into a pair of extremely deep, innocent black eyes.

She thought for a moment, considering his current age and his previously unrestrained behavior—this was exactly when he needed someone to teach him right from wrong. So she set down her brush and with a serious, pretty face said earnestly: “This was a special method of mine—it’s not good, don’t learn from me.”

She was referring to using Lu Chengze’s token to break into Wudao City during the previous period.

Her attitude couldn’t be more serious. When saying she was wrong, her expression didn’t change at all, yet her entire aura became vivid in that instant.

“Alright.” Su You’s eyelashes trembled up and down, responding extremely softly.