After Xue Yu left, the Enforcement Hall people followed in retreat. The torches wound to the outer walls of Prince Zhao’s mansion, like a fire dragon coiled and wandering in the night, or like brilliant mountain flowers blooming along the road in April.

Prince Zhao was now being led by the chief eunuch into the grass pavilion at the lake’s center, no longer having half the arrogant bluster he’d shown earlier.

“Imperial Brother.”

Prince Zhao looked at the man sitting facing the lake, nervously reaching up to stroke his straight nose bridge as he called out.

“Fool!” Almost the moment Xue Yu left, Qiu Tong changed his expression. His poor health meant that once emotions rose, he couldn’t control his continuous coughing. The chief eunuch attending behind him quickly stepped forward to offer a handkerchief and pour water.

After he recovered somewhat, he pushed away the eunuch’s hand that was patting his back. The naturally good temper and spring-like warmth he’d displayed earlier flipped completely, becoming twelve parts sinister and fierce. When he slammed the table and rose, his overwhelming presence struck without reservation, instantly making one feel like having thorns on their back, breaking out in cold sweat.

Prince Zhao was startled by his sudden outburst, then lifted his robes and knelt.

“Qiu Zhao, what did I tell you when I contacted you ten days ago? Have you thrown it to the back of your mind so quickly?” Qiu Tong walked step by step to his front, looking down at him from above, saying coldly: “Su Zhou’s favorable feng shui has spoiled you, making you increasingly ignorant of your place, hmm?”

Qiu Zhao didn’t dare respond to a single word. He hung his head, his clothes and crown disheveled, gritting his teeth as he said: “Your subject brother never actively provoked the Sacred Land people. It’s just that… Imperial Brother, we’ve invested considerable effort in the ghost infant. If we abandon it now, who knows when we’ll be able to nurture another one.”

“One ghost infant.” Qiu Tong repeated the phrase in a low murmur, then suddenly closed his eyes and said: “For one ghost infant, you went to provoke Xue Yu.”

Speaking of this, Qiu Zhao still felt a belly full of dissatisfaction.

Since Qiu Tong ascended the throne, wherever he went, he faced only flattering faces and respectful words. Even when conducting business in Su Zhou, he was half a local emperor. Where had he ever suffered such frustration and grievance as tonight?

“Imperial Brother, your subject brother doesn’t understand. She’s just a Sacred Land successor—why does she dare to be so arrogant and domineering, not putting us in her eyes?”

“Why?” Qiu Tong coughed heavily, his pair of empty, profound eyes sweeping toward Qiu Zhao, saying almost word by word: “Because the court’s imperial clan is born without spiritual veins and cannot cultivate.”

“They slay demons and eliminate evil, moving freely between heaven and earth. We are mere mortals who are helpless when encountering trouble. They are born with long lifespans, easily living hundreds or thousands of years. And us? Human life is merely a hundred years.”

“Heh.” Saying this, he pulled at the corner of his mouth in self-mockery: “We’re not even as good as minor demons and spirits.”

“Even so.” Qiu Zhao couldn’t help but retort: “Over tens of thousands of years, the court and Sacred Land have always held equal status. Never mind just a Sacred Land successor—today, even if the Ye Lord came personally, he would only sit as equals with Imperial Brother. Xue Yu is merely a princess—”

Qiu Tong seemed unable to bear his hot-headed, ignorant words. He said, “Qiu Zhao, do you truly think the Sacred Land and court are equals?”

Qiu Zhao immediately shut his mouth, but his eyes, his expression, all seemed to say: isn’t that so?

“I’ve told you countless times—unequal strength means unequal status. This applies to all powers, and to people as well.” Though Qiu Tong was traveling in casual evening wear, whether it was the incense pouch hanging at his waist or the patterns on his sleeve edges, all were delicately embroidered with vivid nine-clawed golden dragons. At this moment, with one movement, the patterns seemed to come alive, baring teeth and claws, emanating overwhelming wealth and nobility.

“When demons and monsters are born in the mortal realm, disturbing the people and killing wantonly, as a ruler, besides dispatching troops, I am helpless. But how many monsters exist in this world? How many troops can I dispatch?”

“The Sacred Land? They flick their fingers, and troublemaking evil spirits can only surrender obediently. Great demons also have powerful methods to deal with them.” Qiu Tong stated the facts indifferently: “So this world will always need them. In the hearts of the common people, they will always be high above, always possessing transcendent status.”

“But we’re different.”

“Without the imperial clan, the Sacred Land could send people to take over, either supporting a puppet emperor or simply replacing them entirely.” Qiu Tong’s lip color was so pale it nearly showed a kind of pallor. “This world can exist without you and me, without the Qiu imperial clan, but it cannot exist without the Sacred Land, without Sacred Land successors.”

“As long as the situation remains like this for a day, we remain at a disadvantage for a day. Just like today, Xue Yu temporarily stepped back, considering the balance between the Sacred Land and the court. But what if she hadn’t stepped back? Never mind just searching Prince Zhao’s mansion—even if she killed you before my eyes, besides using public opinion to force her to admit fault and demand an explanation, what else could I do?”

“I don’t have the strength to truss a chicken, can’t even rush up to exchange a single move with her.” Qiu Tong took a sip of the hot tea brought by the chief eunuch, mockery glinting in his eyes.

Qiu Zhao was driven to clench his fists tightly by his words, gritting his teeth unwillingly: “Precisely because of this, I wanted to secure the ghost infant for Imperial Brother.”

“Short-sighted.” Qiu Tong’s thin, pale fingers tapped the calm lake surface, frowning deeply: “Before coming, to deceive Xue Yu, I had to reseal the dragon’s breath that had just begun to show activity.”

Qiu Zhao looked up in disbelief: “Imperial Brother.”

Qiu Tong closed his eyes: “Even so, it will be difficult to escape unscathed.”

“As for your claim that Xue Yu is merely a princess—Qiu Zhao, you’re too naive.”

When Su You woke, the sun was already high in the sky. Outside, the daylight was bright, and the room was quiet and peaceful, with only the birds in the trees outside the window flapping their wings and chirping nonstop.

The one keeping watch over him in the small room was Chao Nian.

After several days of continuous travel and exhaustion, Chao Nian was also somewhat unable to hold on. He’d moved a stool to keep watch by the bedside, hanging his head and dozing, occasionally struggling to wake up and check on his condition.

The next time he raised his head, he happened to meet eyes with Su You, who had silently sat up. He was confused for a moment, not knowing what time it was, but after reacting, his drowsiness immediately vanished.

“Awake?” Chao Nian looked somewhat surprised at the daylight outside, then seemed to remember something. He pulled out a warm jade-textured porcelain bottle from his sleeve, skillfully removed the jade stopper, and a round, seven-colored pill lay quietly in his palm. He then handed it to Su You, indicating: “Here, my lady ordered it. Take it.”

Su You seemed to have been unconscious for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was low and deep, hoarse beyond belief: “Where is my lady?”

The Wordly Lamp mission just finished. My lady and Fo Nu are busy with the aftermath. They’re all in the cleared study room up front.” Chao Nian, thinking of his temperament, quickly added: “Hey, don’t move. My lady gave orders that before your growth period is completely over, you’re not allowed to leave this room even half a step.”

Su You’s body stiffened. For a moment, he recalled her questioning words in the private prison, and silently took the seven-colored pill from Chao Nian’s palm and swallowed it.

“How is it? Feeling better?” Chao Nian was someone who couldn’t keep quiet. He said repeatedly: “We don’t have growth periods, but Liang Yan went through one. According to her, she only felt slightly uncomfortable for a few days. I don’t know why your reaction was so severe.”

He made an exaggerated gesture: “You don’t know—after you fainted, you sweated like water, couldn’t stop it at all. We gave you pain-relief powder, but it didn’t work. It only got better this morning.”

Su You focused on sensing within his body and discovered that his energy had silently increased by a large margin. The originally scattered and broken meridians had mostly healed, and those two rampaging, incompatible forces had also obediently settled down, no longer causing chaos. Instead, they began to methodically wash through his body again and again, nourishing his severely injured organs.

In one night, the transformation could be called a complete rebirth.

If he could continue cultivating at this speed, it wouldn’t be long before he could reach the cultivation level he had before going to the Judgment Platform.

Those claims that after passing through the growth period, demon clan members with decent talent and comprehension would see their cultivation soar and advance rapidly—looking at it now, they weren’t entirely false.

Su You had a rough understanding in his heart. He nodded to Chao Nian: “Much better.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll all be living under the same roof from now on. No need to be polite.” Chao Nian was talkative, and encountering someone as quiet as Su You, after not even saying a few words, he began to fidget restlessly, wanting to speak but hesitating.

“I’m fine here.” Su You moved his lips slightly: “Chao Nian, go help my lady.”

“Can’t help.” Chao Nian looked at him resentfully: “I’m confined together with you. Can’t leave this room for non-urgent matters.”

“Before going to collect demons south of the city, my lady specifically asked me to watch over you. When we returned to organize materials, she mentioned it again. But I didn’t think you’d have the guts to go up against Prince Zhao’s mansion.” Chao Nian sighed heavily, extremely dejected: “My lady was angry, and I, the one who failed in my duties, got caught in the crossfire.”

Logically, at this time, Su You should have said “I’m sorry” or something else to show remorse. But for some unknown reason, the first thing Su You felt upon hearing these words was a moment of stunned surprise, followed by an extremely subtle, indescribable emotion rising from the bottom of his heart.

Xue Yu had seen him in such a wretched state, yet she would still feel displeased because of his unauthorized actions that harmed himself, even taking it out on Chao Nian.

Didn’t this also prove that he held some weight in her heart, or rather, that he was worth cultivating?

Seeing him remain silent, Chao Nian completely opened his chatterbox, firing off a string of words: “When your spiritual talisman connection broke, my lady’s expression instantly turned ice-cold. She immediately had the Enforcement Hall surround Prince Zhao’s mansion. She didn’t even have time to search room by room—she just took action directly.”

“Your level of importance is about to catch up with my sister’s.” He scooted his stool forward, speaking with undisguised envy: “I estimate that after we return, my lady will bring you into the Palace Guard Command.”

“Palace Guard.” Su You slowly and gently repeated these three words, asking: “What kind of place is this?”

“A place that’s particularly hard to enter, but I really want to get in, yet temporarily can’t.” Chao Nian spoke this nonsense with complete seriousness.

After hearing this answer, Su You maintained a moment of silence, unable to advance or retreat.

“It’s fine to tell you in advance—my lady said you could ask about it.”

Chao Nian blinked: “Aren’t you curious why my lady, as Yedu’s only successor, doesn’t act like other Sacred Land successors with grand displays, yet somehow doesn’t just go out with a few of us—” He swallowed back “misfits” and vaguely substituted a slightly better-sounding phrase: “A few of us whose brains haven’t fully developed and whose cultivation hasn’t quite caught up yet.”

“It’s not that my lady lacks people—all the capable ones are kept in the Palace Guard. They manage all the big and small affairs of Luo Huang’s hundred peaks and are often too busy to get away, so my lady has to make do with us.”

“The Palace Guard is my lady’s direct faction, only listening to my lady’s orders and working for my lady.” Chao Nian sighed: “Other positions are manageable, but the Palace Guard is the hardest to enter. To get in, you need wisdom, strength, patience, and methods altogether, and my lady must personally approve.”

“Like my sister, who currently holds the position of Palace Guard Commander.” When others mentioned their sisters, it was usually with pride. Chao Nian, whether from being beaten too much or something else, looked pained when mentioning her, and his gaze toward Su You transformed into indescribable sympathy: “If nothing unexpected happens, after returning to Yedu, my lady will hand you over to my sister for training for a period.”

“That’s truly—” Chao Nian held back for a long while before squeezing out: “Suffering beyond your imagination. Anyway, I’d rather go chop wood behind the mountain.”

If Su You could still learn quite a bit of information from Chao Nian’s mouth the first two days—such as Yedu’s factions, influential families, the current Ye Lord’s temperament, or the aftermath of the Wordly Lamp, the past-life romance between the demon monk and Luo Cai—words would eventually run out.

So on the third day, they faced the scene of looking at each other speechlessly.

Su You didn’t mind. He was highly talented, diligent and hardworking, harsh on himself to an amazing degree. He often closed his eyes, treating Chao Nian as nonexistent as he entered meditation. His cultivation increased at a terrifyingly rapid pace, almost changing daily.

During this period, Chao Nian couldn’t calm down to cultivate. He moved here and there, unable to stop, but the room was only so big.

So he admired Su You while despising himself, and in less than two days, developed a blister at the corner of his mouth.

Finally, on the fourth day, the sky in southern Su Zhou clouded over, the wind howled loudly, and it rained a bit in the afternoon. Liang Yan came gently knocking at the door: “Congratulations to you both. My lady has ordered that you may go out now.”

“Su You.” Liang Yan turned to call the youth who had grown considerably taller overnight, showing a smile: “My lady wants to see you.”

Shortly after, Su You stood before the study door, raised his knuckles, and knocked twice. Inside, there was a long pause, as if deliberately cold, before Xue Yu’s voice finally came: “Come in.”

Su You stepped inside, went around the screen, parted the bead curtain, and saw Xue Yu standing before the desk.

Quite rarely, today she had removed her plain immortal-styled dress and instead, like many women in Su Zhou, wore a goose-yellow gold-woven gauze short jacket over her upper body, paired with a pleated long skirt. The skirt hem was decorated with gold and colorful weaving, making her entire person seem enveloped in clusters of warm light under the lamp.

Su You paused and said softly: “My lady.”

Xue Yu’s brush movements didn’t stop. Only after the last stroke fell did she raise her eyes to look at the youth standing straight against the window with the backlight.

He hadn’t been short to begin with, and having passed through his growth period, he was visibly much taller. If before there could still be traces of youthful innocence in his brow and eyes, after this experience, it was completely gone.

Previously, his appearance had been extremely striking—when he lowered his eyes, he was as alluring as a courtesan. Now that face had fully matured. His beauty unchanged, only the contours were deeper and the lines more fluid and clear. One could imagine that if he seriously frowned to intimidate someone, he could also display some sharp, unsheathed coldness.

It seemed like only after this ordeal had he truly grown into adulthood.

Xue Yu set down her brush, her slender fingertip tapping the desk piled with papers to one side, sparing words like gold: “Go look.”

Having said this, she bent back to her own business.

Su You walked to the other desk, opened the topmost paper, and saw dense small regular script at a glance—not Xue Yu’s handwriting, but written by a female attendant beside Shan Shu. It neatly transcribed the names of people who had died unnecessarily because of Hui Jue’s actions, including Chen Huainan, sixteen people in total.

Besides this were the souls gathered on that locust tree—twelve girls of different ages.

At the bottom was Shan Shu’s signature, each character written seriously and rigorously.

This meant that the Buddha woman who universally saved all beings had individually ferried their souls and performed rituals to help them transcend.

It also meant that the Wordly Lamp case was hereby concluded.

But Su You could only read two lines before being unable to continue.

He was naturally sensitive to emotions and almost realized something was wrong the moment he entered.

Xue Yu spoke too little.

Even though she never had great emotional fluctuations, when teaching him she was dutiful and responsible, often explaining at length when he didn’t understand something. But today, from entering until now, she’d only said four words total.

—Come in.

—Go look.

That coldness wasn’t natural but deliberately distant, detached, not wanting to bother, not wanting to deal with him.

The string that Su You had just relaxed in recent days tensed again silently. He pressed hard on the protruding wrist bone of his right hand. The thin skin quickly showed a patch of red, like accidentally getting stained with a girl’s rouge.

He held the paper thin as cicada wings, remained silent for a moment, then got up and walked to Xue Yu’s side. As if hesitating again and again, deliberating repeatedly, he slowly pressed his lips together, his voice carrying obvious fragility: “My lady.”

Xue Yu’s movements paused, but she didn’t speak or turn her head, as if deliberately waiting for some long-awaited result.

“Your subject knows his error.”

Only then did Xue Yu finally set down her brush. She glanced sideways, her gaze circling his face once before speaking: “Tell me.”

“Where did you err?”

Seeing she was finally willing to open a conversational gate, Su You lowered his eyes to look at his well-proportioned finger bones: “It was my impulsiveness when encountering problems, my reckless actions, only considering the immediate without thinking of the consequences—”

“Su You.” Xue Yu interrupted him with some dissatisfaction. She met his gaze, almost looking into those black pupils that deeply suppressed emotions: “I saved you, taught you, cultivated you. I treat you as a person, treat your life as a life worth preserving.”

“But if you treat yourself as a tool that can be casually discarded, thrown away, sacrificed, then tell me now.”

“From now on, you can do whatever you want. I won’t care about you.”

Su You’s breathing suddenly froze for a moment.

He was born in the mire, grew up from childhood in a foul environment. People around him cursed him, bullied him, attacked him with the most vicious words, and even his biological parents wished he would die sooner.

Never had a person stood before him and told him so frankly and directly:

Su You, I treat you as a person.

His long fingers pressed against his side suddenly curled urgently, his eyes showing bewildered waves. After a long while, he pressed his moving throat and murmured lowly: “I know I was wrong.”

Though he seemed capable of showing weakness at any time on the surface, deep in his bones flowed stubbornness and pride. Unlike Chao Nian and the others’ casual joking, one sentence of “I know I was wrong” was already his limit.

Xue Yu tapped the desk before her and said again: “As long as the green hills remain, one needn’t worry about having no firewood to burn.”

Su You nodded, looking exceptionally obedient.

“Don’t nod.” She pulled over a chair and sat down by herself: “Copy this sentence down. Stop when you’ve completely memorized it.”

Su You lowered his eyes, having no objection to this. Whatever she said was what it was. His brush-holding posture was serious to the point of devoutness.

Xue Yu pressed her index finger to her brow, thinking of another matter.

Over a month ago, at the Judgment Platform, when she had just returned to this space-time, she still remembered some things that would happen later. But as time gradually passed, events from those thousand years that had nothing to do with her seemed stripped of memory, leaving only blankness when recalled.

Logically, for a four-and-a-half-star mission, even if she hadn’t taken it in her previous life, she should have seen it or heard about it somewhere afterward. At the very least, there should be records in the reports sent to Yedu.

But she had no impression of it at all.

She only remembered things she had done herself, things that had happened around her—like missions she had completed, like her grievances with Song Heng, like her friendship with Shan Shu.

This world neither wanted her to follow her previous life’s path nor wanted her to be able to predict everything.

Its style of action had something of the Heavenly Mystery Book’s headless, tailless, inconsistent character.

She thought perhaps she could find time to test Lu Chengze.

Xue Yu’s gaze fell from the book pages in her hands to Su You. He was slightly bent over, his spine’s line naturally sharp and neat, like a fine bow that had drawn out aggressive, wounding intent. The wound on his wrist had scabbed over, but crossing over his pale skin, it still appeared abrupt, like white jade stained with flaws.

Somehow, the image of the youth in the private prison that day appeared before her eyes again—bloody and battered, soaked in blood. The first words after being rescued were to tell her there was something suspicious about the lake.

And before this, he had risked himself, venturing into the prince’s mansion.

For what?

What could it be for?

The four-and-a-half-star mission was hers, not his.

Xue Yu closed the book in her hands and suddenly looked toward Su You, asking out of nowhere: “Does it hurt?”

Su You’s movements paused. He wasn’t afraid of pain, and that little pain was nothing to him. But her asking like this, as if deliberately coaxing someone, revealed a clumsy unfamiliarity in her words.

He suddenly raised his eyelids slightly, the corners of his eyes forming a shallow crease, saying lowly and vaguely: “It doesn’t hurt.”

“If nothing unexpected happens, there is something suspicious in Prince Zhao’s mansion.” Xue Yu said, “The Human Emperor appeared in Su Zhou, so this lead can only be interrupted for now.”

“However.” She threw the book in her hands onto the desktop with a crisp sound: “I temporarily secured some interest for you.”

“Since the Human Emperor likes using mausoleums as excuses, then even if the one at the lake bottom is fake, he’ll have to build me a real one.”

Qiu Tong stayed in Su Zhou for two days. By the second day, news from all quarters flew to Prince Zhao’s mansion desk like snowflakes.

His words about being unable to escape unscathed proved truly prophetic.

Another teacup was swept to the floor by a sleeve. Prince Zhao knelt properly under the sustained low pressure, his dissatisfaction and unwillingness toward the Sacred Land gradually disappearing as bad news arrived one after another, replaced by a tongue-tied fear of speaking.

“Look at this yourself.” Qiu Tong swept the memorials covering the desk to the floor, hurling them at Qiu Zhao’s front: “In one night, over a thousand people from Su Zhou’s Enforcement Hall imposed martial law, searching barren mountains, undercurrents, and empty abandoned old residences.”

“Not only that, but the various influential families and sects in Cang Zhou, Jun Zhou, and Luo Zhou all received news, strictly investigating the whereabouts of spiritual treasures and talisman papers within their cities. Any signs of formations must be reported to the Sacred Land.”

Prince Zhao’s face was white as paper. He randomly opened a secret memorial, and his vision nearly went dizzy.

Cang Zhou, Jun Zhou, and Luo Zhou bordered Su Zhou, far from the imperial capital, rich in land and resources. They were strongholds he had been laying out and carefully cultivating for over two years, investing untold effort.

“Imperial Brother.” Prince Zhao’s upper and lower lips trembled: “What do we do now?”

In the rainy weather, combined with anger, Qiu Tong coughed incessantly, his head also aching. He forcefully pressed the area around his temples: “Transmit my oral decree: three cities and four states must cease all activities. Without my edict, whoever dares act on their own and bring fire upon themselves will be executed without mercy.”

The instigator of this “bringing fire upon himself”—Prince Zhao—felt his hair stand on end, cold sweat pouring down, not daring to respond.

“Do you see?” Qiu Tong was so angry he smiled: “This is the reaction speed of the ‘mere princess’ you spoke of.”

Prince Zhao opened his mouth, about to say something, when he saw Qiu Tong’s chief eunuch bow and enter again. His eyelid immediately twitched, and the next moment he heard the eunuch’s report: “Your Majesty, there are many more people around the prince’s mansion. Each has excellent lightness skills, disguised as servants coming and going from the south of the city. They don’t seem intent on harming anyone, but rather appear to be investigating what’s really at the lake bottom.”

Prince Zhao nearly choked on a mouthful of blood.

Qiu Tong took a deep breath, as if restraining himself repeatedly before convincing himself to give the order: “The dragon’s breath can no longer remain in Su Zhou. I will order the left and right attendants to secretly transport it to Mountain Sea City for nurturing.”

“As for the imperial mausoleum.”

He looked at the bulging veins on the back of his hands, suddenly closing his eyes, biting out each word with particular weight: “Since it must be built sooner or later.”

“Then let’s build it.”

Speaking of it was incredibly ironic—he had been on the throne for just over three years, at the prime age for grand ambitions, still harboring beautiful wishes for longevity and eternity, yet was forced to agree to build his mausoleum.

Besides this, years of effort had all come to naught, wasted.

This round could be called a complete defeat.

“Qiu Zhao, I’ll tolerate you one last time.” Qiu Tong opened his eyes, staring at that face that resembled his own by five or six parts: “If you cause me even half a bit more trouble, don’t blame me for not remembering our brotherhood.”

Just as his words fell, the chief eunuch brought in a red-lipped, white-toothed young scholar. The scholar had an elegant scholarly air and was completely indifferent to the mess before him. He calmly bowed in greeting: “Your Majesty, Your Highness Prince Zhao.”

“By order of my master, this humble one specially comes to deliver a list of healing medicines to Your Majesty.”

Qiu Tong took the list that couldn’t be seen to the end from the chief eunuch’s hands, looked at the series of outrageously expensive pill names on it, then flung it downward. The list fell like snowflakes directly into Qiu Zhao’s hands.

The latter caught it and looked.

His face immediately swelled into a blue-red mass.