Under the blazing soft light, Xue Yu felt as if she were being torn in half—one half drowsy and heavy, pulling her toward darkness, the other half occupied by various matters, forcing herself to stay awake. Her whole being was in dire straits, treading on a precarious edge.

She closed her eyes and took a breath, waving at the nearby attendant: “Have Chao Hua come in.”

At this time, Yedu was in deep autumn with frost covering the ground everywhere. Perhaps related to the Xue family bloodline and Yedu’s location, every year at this time, after a few rains, the temperature would plummet. When there was no sun, it would be stuffy all day, and before long, those flowers and plants without much spiritual energy would wither and die, becoming wilted masses.

When Chao Hua entered, the door opened and closed, bringing in a blast of bone-chilling cold wind.

“Tell the Lord about the imperial city matter.” Xue Yu’s words were indifferent but colder than usual.

Chao Hua looked straight ahead and paid respects to the Yedu Lord, then quickly repeated word for word what the eunuch had relayed.

Emperors changed every few decades, and the mortal realm had its order. As long as nothing major happened, Sacred Land Lords like the Yedu Lord wouldn’t pay much attention to these matters. His initial concern about Qiu Tong was because of Xue Rong, and later because of Jiu Feng’s injury and Xue Yu’s attitude toward this person.

The Yedu Lord truly hadn’t expected that the one being played by this Emperor on his deathbed wouldn’t be someone else, but himself.

Honestly, he didn’t even know what Qiu Tong looked like—the two had never exchanged a single word.

The brush in his hand felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. The Yedu Lord wasn’t ignorant of worldly affairs. Given that it involved the Yedu Lord’s seal, the severity of the matter was unimaginable. He lowered his voice, stared at the white paper for a while, then dangerously narrowed his eyes as lordly dignity gradually filled his face.

“Could it be—”

He looked at Xue Yu, but before his words were complete, she interrupted with expected understanding: “It can’t be. Qiu Tong might think I ruined his grand plan and wants to retaliate against me with misdirection—he could do anything else, including assassination attempts. But for this kind of thing, if it weren’t true, in his dying moments, he wouldn’t think to bring up the Yedu Lord’s seal.”

In the final moments of a person’s life, if not despair and rage, then fear was real. With limited time, for revenge, to make Xue Yu restless and uneasy, he could choose more direct ways to threaten.

“If it were really like that, the message he had the palace eunuch deliver would be for me to be extremely careful in the future, careful of being accidentally harmed or killed, making me think he had left behind countermeasures to deal with me, not a lord’s seal. I wouldn’t fear that kind of thing.”

On the way back, Xue Yu had carefully considered whether this might be Qiu Tong’s deliberately fabricated situation out of anger to frighten her. After careful analysis, she excluded this possibility.

What impact could a lord’s seal have on her? Realistically speaking, if the Yedu Lord had two children, or if Xue Rong were still in the mortal realm, Xue Yu might have other concerns, but there weren’t any.

She was Yedu’s only successor. The Yedu Lord loved her, and the subjects trusted her. Even if the paper wrote words about passing the throne to someone else, with the Yedu Lord still alive, none of this would be difficult to resolve.

She wasn’t afraid, she had no concerns, but Yedu was afraid, Yedu had them.

“Let me think.” The Yedu Lord’s brush tip lingered on the paper, quickly forming a small ink blot, yet he still hadn’t written anything: “Let me think carefully.”

“There are many places where the Yedu Lord’s seal is needed.” After hesitating, the Yedu Lord put down his brush, looked at Xue Yu seriously: “Twenty-three years ago, when the small world opened by indigenous people behind Hundred Mountains collapsed, many spiritual plants were crushed to powder. When rebuilding and expanding living areas, I nodded approval and stamped the seal.”

“…”

If he spoke of all such matters, he couldn’t finish from dawn to dusk.

Xue Yu pulled over a chair to sit before another stool, speaking concisely: “The Yedu Great Seal is similar to the Emperor’s lock, condensing generations of Yedu’s faith and fortune. Stamping the seal means making a promise. Those written with requests and proper business can be skipped. Lord, please recall if you ever stamped the great seal on blank paper.”

The Yedu Lord answered decisively: “This is impossible.”

He had temporarily taken over the lord’s position, but he wasn’t confused or absurd. Stamping seals on blank paper was equivalent to giving an unconditional promise—not just him, even Qiu Tong’s father or grandfather couldn’t do such a thing.

“It’s related to Xue Rong.” Xue Yu reminded, asking again: “He used to serve as an official in the palace and interfered in many matters. How many times did he plead with the Lord for orders? Which time seemed suspicious?”

“This is also impossible.” After speaking, the Yedu Lord seemed to think of something, his expression gradually becoming grave as he heavily pinched the brush tip with his fingertip, as if falling into some memory.

“When did this happen?” Seeing his expression, Xue Yu’s heart, where a stone had been hanging high, lifted even higher: “What matter?”

Speaking of it, there was one incident.

The thin mist sealed in history was deliberately torn open, previously overlooked details were all magnified. Mentioning suspicious matters related to Xue Rong, the Yedu Lord almost immediately thought of that day twenty-three years ago.

That day was Xue Su’s death anniversary.

Xue Su’s death had always been an unspeakable taboo in Yedu. Not allowing it to spread was the final result negotiated between the Sacred Lands and Demon Capital. Compared to internal suspicion within Yedu, outbreak of conflict between the two realms was obviously more fatal.

Facing his brother and father’s deaths, the famously dissolute Second Young Master Xue Lu couldn’t say a word. Hiding it from ministers loyal to Xue Su’s line was possible, but for Xue Rong, who had just lost his father and wasn’t much older than Xue Yu, Xue Lu was prepared to tell the truth.

But he couldn’t speak.

Xue Rong had an older brother, but that child died as soon as he opened his eyes. Ranked first in Yedu’s generation, he was the eldest son. His death almost drained the vital energy of Prince Su’s consort, whose health was already poor. She passed away shortly after Xue Rong was born.

For Xue Rong, his father was both closest kin and support, his only spiritual pillar. Moreover, he had simultaneously lost his grandfather.

The day before Xue Lu inherited the lord position, he had gone to see Xue Rong, half-crouching before the half-grown child, patiently asking: “Little Rong, if your father and grandfather were both killed by others, what would you do?”

At that time, Xue Rong held the Star Spring Sword personally forged by Xue Su, his small face covered with deep gloom and hostility. He looked at Xue Lu, speaking forcefully word by word: “Kill the enemy with my own hands and avenge father and grandfather.”

“But you are Yedu’s young master.” Xue Lu seriously looked back at him, saying softly: “If circumstances don’t allow you to do this, what then?”

Xue Rong had grown up beside Yedu’s two most powerful figures. Logically, he should have developed the necessary broad perspective and understood the path he must take and the responsibilities he must bear.

But at that moment, he said without hesitation, sternly: “Precisely because I am Yedu’s young master, whoever dares harm my father, I will mobilize all of Yedu’s power to make them pay blood for blood.”

At that time, lying with bones still warm were not only Xue Rong’s father and grandfather, but also Xue Lu’s father and brother.

For Xue Rong, Yedu was his weapon to do as he pleased, while for Xue Lu, it was a responsibility he had to grit his teeth and bear.

He feared Xue Rong would cause trouble. Once or twice, as Xue Rong gradually grew up, his answers became increasingly extreme. Slowly, Xue Lu stopped asking and didn’t plan to bring up the matter again.

Everyone in court tacitly understood that the events of that year were somewhat related to Xue Lu, but there was no choice. Xue Rong couldn’t support the situation; Xue Su was dead, and only Xue Lu could ascend to that position. Fortunately, that generation of Yedu produced two prodigies, preventing them from collapsing like the Que tribe and becoming the lowest existence among the Sacred Lands.

That said, every year on Xue Su’s death anniversary, Xue Lu would definitely go, never missing once.

That day, he stepped into the former Prince Su’s mansion and happened to encounter Xue Rong in plain clothes. Uncle and nephew looked at each other, said nothing, yet unusually reached a tacit understanding. They found a clean place to sit on the ground, not caring that their clothes got muddy. Thinking of past events made their hearts heavy, and when heavy, they naturally wanted to drink.

Xue Lu hadn’t brought wine out, so Xue Rong turned his spirit ring and produced several jars of wine famous outside. At the time of drinking, they felt nothing, but half an hour later, the aftereffects kicked in.

Xue Lu was truly suffocated. He closed his eyes, leaned back, occasionally lifting the wine pot for a gulp. Those days of brotherly affection seemed before his eyes as he told Xue Rong how the two brothers grew up in chaos, their days of fighting and playing. Xue Rong observed his expression, occasionally adding a sentence or two.

All words spoken according to Xue Lu’s preferences.

Soon, when returning to the main city, Xue Lu’s cheeks were already flushed. Xue Rong supported him, walking while helplessly saying, “I said before opening the jars that these were all strong liquors. Does Uncle feel dizzy?”

Xue Lu waved his hand.

Upon returning to the palace, attendants immediately prepared sobering tea. Just then, Xue Rong took out two pieces of leather paper, respectfully adjusting his sleeves: “This is the personnel count for this season and next season’s execution platform. Since preparations begin tomorrow and time is short, please review them, Uncle.”

Xue Lu picked up the first one, carefully reading through it. After barely finishing and finding no problems, he picked up the great seal and stamped it. But when taking the second one, he was truly seeing stars, holding even a blank paper felt like words were swaying.

He stamped the seal under Xue Rong’s nervous and anxious gaze.

“If there was such an incident, it was that one time.” The Yedu Lord now knew something was wrong. He paced around the room with his hands behind his back. After a while: “After your investiture ceremony passes, I’ll personally go to the imperial palace and ask the Emperor’s trusted servants from his lifetime. There should be some direction.”

“It’s useless.” Xue Yu shook her head: “We won’t learn anything.”

“If I’m not mistaken, Bai Su, who knew the most around the Emperor yet had little real use, is already dead, and other officials don’t necessarily know about this matter.” She pressed her lips: “Since he told me about this, that lord’s seal must have already been used.”

“What can a blank lord’s seal do?” Xue Yu said, “If content is filled on blank paper, it becomes a promise recognized by Yedu. At crucial moments, it can be activated to become a spiritual weapon like the Emperor’s lock, and can also block others’ attacks.”

After saying this, Xue Yu looked at the Yedu Lord: “What else?”

The Yedu Lord’s expression was very ugly. If he weren’t at fault first, he could have slammed the table upon first hearing this news. Now bearing Xue Yu’s gaze, he was silent for a while, pursing his lips: “…In some places, it can serve as a key to open doors.”

“The Emperor designated Sacred Lands to protect the four seas. The six Sacred Lands represent justice, peace, and righteousness to a certain extent. Many arrays or activation conditions for greatly ominous spiritual weapons require Sacred Land lord seals.”

“If Sacred Land lords approve of an event, that matter needs no further discussion. This is many people’s trust in Sacred Lands.”

Xue Yu forcibly suppressed physical fatigue and severe pain in her mind to think. She had heard of such things—not in this life, but in her previous life, in the Heavenly Court established by Song Heng.

Regarding the past, Song Heng never spoke, and she never inquired, so she didn’t know he was a descendant of another emperor’s bloodline. But in the Heavenly Court’s library, in the most secretive, strictly guarded corner, were many books recording the human race’s most classified events.

Xue Yu had browsed through several during her leisure time.

“Qiu Tong went to great lengths to obtain the Yedu Lord’s seal—he wouldn’t waste such valuable resources.” Her voice was very soft, as if talking to herself: “Arrays and objects with considerable power all have names in the three realms, such as—”

She steadied herself, speaking softly: “The sacred object residing in the imperial palace, hailed as the court’s and mortal realm’s guarantee.”

The Yedu Lord suddenly looked up, saying in a concentrated voice: “Floating Pagoda.”

“Yes.”

Xue Yu stood up, one side of her dress hem swaying back and forth with the wind by the window, like two butterfly wings flapping in flight. “Ancient books record that the Floating Pagoda was a reward the Fusang Tree bestowed upon the Qiu family for voluntarily permanently sealing their spiritual meridians, becoming Emperors, and guarding the mortal realm. It’s a small strand of the Fusang Tree separated from its branches, also called a ‘small sacred object.’ If opened by the Emperor’s bloodline, it can fulfill one wish for the opener, but if this causes casualties, then at the time of opening, a Sacred Land lord’s great seal is needed.”

“This represents that regardless of what consequences that wish triggers, it’s the fault of the Emperor and Sacred Lands.”

The Yedu Lord rubbed his forehead.

With things having reached this point, resentment and self-blame were useless. Xue Yu repeated the word “casualties” twice.

No matter how clever she was, she wasn’t Qiu Tong himself and couldn’t know what wish he had made. She could only speculate based on his usual behavior about what he might request from the Floating Pagoda.

Qiu Tong’s lifelong desires were just two things: first, human supremacy; second, imperial supremacy.

Human supremacy by killing all Sacred Lands and the Demon Capital—that was impossible.

As for the second, without achieving the first, it was also daydreaming and wishful thinking.

Besides these, Xue Yu could think of one more—his demand that after his death, those taking power would still be Qiu family descendants, namely the child in Prince Zhao’s consort’s womb.

But this possibility was small, unlike something Qiu Tong would do.

“Times are different now. Yedu has everything on track. The cause of Uncle and Grandfather’s deaths should be publicly revealed today.” Xue Yu didn’t want to stay longer. She looked at the worried and regretful Yedu Lord: “I will immediately issue an edict commanding the law enforcement hall to strictly investigate any anomalies in the twenty cities led by Suzhou. Please approve and seal it, Father.”

She paused, then added: “The dead cannot return to life. Father needn’t dwell on the past.”

The imperial palace was in chaos. For two or three consecutive days, more and more important figures gathered in the imperial city. Even if they wanted to investigate Prince Zhao’s consort, they could only wait.

Because of Xue Yu’s investiture ceremony, Cang Qu and Jiu Feng had gone to Yedu with her that day, leaving only Shan Shu, Shen Jingshi, Yin Ling, and over a dozen Sui family members.

After several days of rain, the imperial city was filled with a deathly atmosphere. With matters weighing on their minds, plus Cang Qu’s previous words pressing down, the second floor of First Grade Residence was gloomy.

But the gloom only hung over the Sacred Lands side.

Once Xue Yu left, the Sui family became completely lively.

Sui Jinyu saw Su You daily handling this and that in the study, living like an ascetic monk. Though displeased, he couldn’t say anything. Fortunately, after a day and a half of busyness, he finally emerged from his room.

Seeing his figure, Sui Jinyu’s eyes immediately brightened. He threw down his drinking cards and beckoned to Su You, calling out from far away: “Nineteen, come here. Big brother will teach you to play cards.”

Sui Yu lifted his eyelids and pushed two cups of highly potent wine toward him: “No matter who comes, it won’t work. Don’t renege—drink.”

In front of his little brother, Sui Jinyu said nothing and downed an entire cup in one breath.

While speaking, Su You arrived before them. He grabbed a stool to sit beside them, lowering his eyes to watch five people at the table playing around, his expression no longer deliberately cold but naturally relaxed.

“Know how to play?” Sui Jinyu asked.

“Seen a little.” Su You said, “You play first. I’ll watch and join when I understand.”

The Sui family members immediately put in full effort. After ten consecutive rounds, Sui Jinyu had drunk eight cups.

He wasn’t angry, just smiled and made some harsh words. After finishing, he turned to look at Su You: “Want to join, Nineteen? Big brother will go easy on you.”

Sui Yu glanced at him: “Just you? I could bring a dog up here that would play better than you.”

The other four immediately let out ambiguous snickers.

“I’ll try.” In such an atmosphere, Su You nodded and replaced one of them at the table.

While dealing cards, Sui Jinyu said, “That’s right. Staying cooped up in the study all day, looking at this and that—you’ll get stupid. Sacred Land people are good in every way, just don’t know how to enjoy life.”

“I tell you, when you go back, look at the Demon Capital, see how Jiu Feng handles things, and you’ll know. She can make even boring things interesting.” Saying this, after dealing the last drinking card, Sui Jinyu seemed to think of something: “You should teach that Yedu person too.”

Su You smiled.

Facts proved that Sui Jinyu and Su You were indeed biological brothers—their luck when drawing cards was equally terrible.

After half a day, Su You had consecutively downed over ten cups of peach blossom wine. When finished, he lazily leaned against the chair back, one hand resting on the table edge, his features relaxed as if soaking in water.

Showing a rare wanton youthful spirit.

Sui Jinyu was already flushed from drinking but still conscious. He patted Su You’s shoulder several times, declaring loudly: “That’s right! This is how young talents of our age should be.”

“Heh.” Sui Yu, who could drink a thousand cups without getting drunk, was now playing with his wine cup, making an ambiguous sound.

“I didn’t call you old. Don’t pick on me.”

Sui Jinyu spared time to respond, then pointed to the street outside, shrouded in misty rain, saying to Su You: “Young people—we have family background, looks, and ability. We should enjoy life while we can.”

Sui Yu couldn’t stand it and turned his head away. This fool was afraid his hard-won brother would be stifled, constantly clamoring to loosen his bonds.

“Do whatever you want to do. Big brother supports you.”

Su You rotated his wrist, the scars showing fierce dominance on his almost translucently white hand. Half-drunk, when he moved his eyebrows slightly, it was a vivid state.

“Good.”

Perhaps truly moved by this atmosphere, he poured himself wine, his gaze sweeping across the handsome face so close before him, pulling at his lips: “Tomorrow is her investiture ceremony.”

“I kind of want to go see.”

“…”

After staring for a while, Sui Jinyu couldn’t stand the words “kind of” in his speech. He slammed the table under his palm, spilling half the wine from the cups: “What kind of or not!”

“Go! If you want to go, we’ll go!”

He propped himself up and turned around, first regretfully rubbing his forehead, then calling to someone in the corridor: “Chen Longzhi, lend us your family’s teleportation array.”