The inquiry arrays left by the Fusang Tree, located in the ancestral grounds of each Sacred Land, were the most mysterious existence of all.

Back then, when the demon disaster was cleared and this world was also on the brink of collapse, the Fusang Tree divided the world into three parts, established the Sacred Lands and demon capital, arranged all major affairs properly, and then fell into slumber.

Its life was too long-lived. Fearing that some irreversible situation might occur again, it left behind some means.

The inquiry array was one of them. It could be directly sensed and received by the Fusang Tree’s origin, rather than like the countless empty prayers that sounded throughout the great world daily, then flowed past like water.

This was Xue Yu’s second time entering the ancestral grounds. Her full head of black hair was tightly bound, fixed with a jade crown, tied into a sharp high ponytail. The shadows of tombstones were stretched into indistinct lines, scattered across the wooden token in her hand, casting bright, fragmented light.

It was a flat piece of wood with pointed ends and a smooth middle, looking sparse and ordinary, like tree branches casually cut and carved from roadside trees. It had neither remarkable spiritual power fluctuations nor half the mysterious aura left by sacred objects.

But it was the only key to opening the inquiry array.

From the outside, the inquiry array was no different from a small teleportation array. Xue Yu didn’t hesitate and stepped in. The inquiry array was simple to use. Before coming, Xue Yu had already carved the words the Sacred Land’s successors had agreed upon onto the wooden token.

Now, she only needed to place the wooden token in her hand into the array’s center, and it would float in mid-air by itself, showing the “yes” and “no” marked with red paint at both ends. For major situations concerning all living beings, checking every three to five days or ten days to half a month, there would mostly already be an answer.

The wooden token was sent into mid-air by the wind from Xue Yu’s sleeves and settled motionlessly in place.

Xue Yu concentrated on watching this scene, but didn’t turn to leave. Instead, she lowered her eyes and took out the long-silent Heavenly Book scroll from her spirit ring, pinching one end and slowly unrolling it.

Soon, all four figures on the front appeared before her eyes. She slowly placed her fingers on them, feeling the texture of each one. A few strands of hair that couldn’t be secured in her ponytail hung by her cheeks, accentuating her expression with meticulous seriousness.

Since ancient times, when the Heavenly Book appeared beside every young cultivator, it looked like this. After looking at it for so long, everyone got used to it. No one bothered to investigate who exactly these people in the painting were, what remarkable abilities they had that they could be inscribed on sacred objects and remain undispersed for so long.

But at this moment, Xue Yu had a vague intuition in her heart.

Her finger stopped beside the female immortal holding a pipa in flight, her voice clear: “I’ve looked through the Sacred Lands’ earliest records. When first designated by the Fusang Tree, among the six Sacred Land rulers, the leader was Xihe’s ruler, a music cultivator whose weapon was the Fire Spirit Pipa. People also called her the Fire Spirit Fairy. Because of her outstanding excellence and dominance, the Fusang Tree rooted itself in Xihe’s ancestral grounds from then on, and Xihe thus maintained its position as the foremost Sacred Land.”

“I checked carefully. At that time, after the Great War ended, everything was in ruins and needed rebuilding. Every family and place was busy restoring their former vitality. Troublemakers were in the minority and didn’t stir up any major waves. Sacred Land rulers had no great opportunities to show their abilities. I was puzzled then—if there were no outstanding achievements, why would the temporary strength of the incumbent ruler establish Xihe’s position as the leader of Sacred Lands for tens of thousands of years?”

Xue Yu spoke unhurriedly, as if facing not a lifeless array formation, but a true sacred object: “So it wasn’t because of strength at all, but because she contributed the most in that great war. This Fire Spirit Fairy appears on the Heavenly Book scroll, representing both the Sacred Lands and also ‘ancient immortals’ like us who have the blood of the mortal realm’s four seasons, sun, moon, and stars’ natural powers flowing in our bodies.”

She looked at the kind-faced old man: “Following this logic, this one would be the Qiu family’s ancestor. He also contributed in the great war and was willing to give up his cultivation at the end, using his own power to protect countless mortals. The reason he hasn’t had his outline worn away and face completely changed like the two below is because the human race, unlike the demon race which divides into many subspecies, has always had only one appearance from beginning to end.”

“Even though many of the chief culprits who caused that disaster died, the human race lives on forever, and this Qiu family ancestor’s achievements will always remain.”

“The remaining two.” Her gaze turned to fall on the only visible pair of long wings in the left image, her lips parting: “Above is the Azure Dragon, now completely extinct, so nothing can be seen clearly. Below…” She paused, then completed her words: “Is Tianao. They still have one remaining lineage, but it can no longer be considered true Tianao, so only the most recognizable Prison Sky Cage is used to represent them. They represent the demon race.”

One last image remained, but it was completely blurred, as if two fireworks had exploded on a human face, making nothing visible.

Xue Yu was silent for a while, her voice softening: “This last one is the demon race. If they could have survived and developed well, perhaps they could have become an existence like the human race, ancient immortals, and the demon race.”

Those beings naturally nurtured by the world, who also knew good and evil, could understand reason. They were a bit unruly, but completely different from those with no rationality who only had the desire to destroy heaven and earth.

But such a vast race, still in its weak stage, was completely erased by other beings in this world through cruel, exclusionary means. Therefore, heaven and earth were furious, mountains and rivers flowed backward, and everyone received the most severe backlash and warning.

“That period of history is unknown to all, yet is forever carved on the Heavenly Book scroll, because the sacred objects also use this to warn themselves.” Xue Yu looked up at the interweaving spiritual light above her head, voicing her inner thoughts one by one: “Time reversal techniques—I’ve consulted many books and thought about it many times, finally concluding that except for the sacred objects Fusang Tree and Heavenly Book, which possess vast spiritual power and life force, human power simply cannot achieve this.”

“Among all living beings in the world, I am also just one small individual. I don’t think I’m worth the sacred objects’ special deployment of such great magic to pull me back a thousand years. So I’ve always been thinking—why, because of what? It couldn’t be because my experiences were too outrageous and caused the Fusang Tree to act to uphold justice, nor would it be because I was too lucky and happened to encounter such an opportunity.”

Xue Yu’s fingers interlaced below her abdomen, her cheeks glowing under the light: “Until I entered Feiyun Summit, saw that segment of imagery that didn’t exist in my previous life, then experienced Qiu Tong’s life exchange and dividing the dragon’s breath—which has absolute summoning power over the demon race—into several parts. Only then did I become somewhat certain.”

“This is what the Fusang Tree needs me to do, isn’t it?”

No one answered her. She seemed like someone singing a long solo opera to the wind. The Fusang Tree and Heavenly Book showed no reaction at all.

Speaking so much about her speculation about the Fusang Tree wasn’t Xue Yu’s purpose. She did not need to waste effort saying such useless things.

Xue Yu slowly grasped the bamboo token floating in mid-air, as if grabbing a spear capable of piercing through everything. Her pupils grew cold as she pressed her lips slightly: “When the Fusang Tree originally established the three parties with mutual restraints, each was not to interfere in the others’ internal affairs. But now the situation is unstable, too many people don’t know the truth, and our interventions are hesitant and constrained.”

“Gentle persuasion cannot make those who act recklessly return from their wrong path.”

“If my guess is correct, next, to thoroughly investigate the dragon’s breath matter, Sacred Land successors will overstep bounds. The court is temporarily without a master. I cannot wait until Prince Zhao’s consort gives birth to investigate the mortal realm cities.” Her words were logically clear: “I know the Fusang Tree and Heavenly Book cannot interfere too much in worldly affairs, but I need a direction and permission for a thorough investigation.”

“Of course, if my thinking is wrong, consider today’s words unsaid.”

Xue Yu had never spoken so much in one breath.

She stood straight at the edge of the array formation’s chaotic lines, looking from the side like she was coldly observing the choice this array was about to make.

Actually, this method might not work. Xue Yu was grasping at straws. Since it was an inquiry array, since it had sent her back, the Fusang Tree must be deliberately avoiding something, with worries in its heart, naturally unable to sleep completely and truly let go.

The array fell into some kind of deathly silence, like a soundless confrontation.

After a long while, Xue Yu released the bamboo token and was about to step out of the array in the twilight when she saw the bamboo token slowly turn over. The upward-facing side, outlined with red paint, had the originally clear “yes” character become blurred, replaced by a moderately sized, deeply colored “allow” character.

It both permitted Shen Jingshi to serve as regent to assist the young emperor and permitted the “overstepping” behaviors that Xue Yu mentioned would happen.

Xue Yu’s lip line relaxed slightly, those tense emotions slowly settling.

Immediately after, she methodically took out a memory stone, recorded this scene, and then strode out of the array.

Five days later, Xue Yu and Shan Shu appeared in the imperial city. The two walked side by side, brazenly entering the palace’s main gate as Sacred Land successors.

The court ministers who had been making a mess these days straightened their clothes. Several elderly ministers who could speak most authoritatively smiled without warmth and invited them to the study where Qiu Tong usually summoned ministers for discussions.

Almost simultaneously, as if fearing they would be disadvantaged, three to five sect leaders from mortal realm cultivation sects came together. All were white-haired with an immortal bearing and kind appearances. Upon seeing Xue Yu and Shan Shu, they perfunctorily cupped their hands, then stood smilingly with those elderly ministers, as if supporting the deceased Qiu Tong.

As soon as they sat down, Xue Yu took out the memory stone. With a sweep of her sleeve, those ministers saw like flowers in fog as the scene before them changed.

That deep red “allow” character might not have much deterrent effect on them, but for those old fellows who had hurried over, it undoubtedly became a decree that established the situation.

“What does this mean? We military generals have thick heads and can’t understand.” A man eight feet tall, burly and sturdy, stepped forward, his voice rough and heavy, speaking quite rudely: “Two Sacred Land successors coming to our imperial city palace without summons or invitations is already discourteous.”

Shan Shu looked up, wanting to say something, but was stopped by Xue Yu’s gesture.

Her gaze swept over the seven or eight people standing in the room, dropping the memory stone on the table with a clatter as she said coldly: “I didn’t plan to argue with you, nor do I like explaining brainless nonsense. I came this time to notify you all that the child in Prince Zhao’s consort’s belly will assume the new imperial position. Meanwhile, Shen Jingshi, as another branch of the Human Emperor lineage designated by the Fusang Tree in the past, will be made regent to assist the young emperor. I hope you all cooperate well.”

As her words fell, they immediately caused an uproar. That military general loyal to Qiu Tong’s death set his face grimly. Before he could speak, he was firmly pinned in place by Xue Yu’s ice-cold, arrow-like gaze: “I advise you all to be sensible and think about what Qiu Tong said before his death. This has already met his expectations, hasn’t it?”

She spoke as if she had been mixed in among them that day when Qiu Tong gave his final instructions, hearing all the arrangements.

Among the five important ministers entrusted with the orphaned emperor, four broke out in sweat on their foreheads.

“The Human Emperor candidate and court internal affairs are not for Sacred Lands to interfere in.” The leading military general gripped his sword hilt tightly, questioning sinisterly: “Are the Sacred Lands planning to take advantage of others’ misfortune and dominate alone?”

The sect leaders standing to one side, who hadn’t said a word, couldn’t help but shake their heads, knowing this matter was settled. Something the Fusang Tree nodded approval for—no matter how they pushed, this blame couldn’t be shifted onto the Sacred Lands.

“Who exactly wants to dominate alone?” Xue Yu indifferently grasped the memory stone and stood up. Shan Shu followed her out. At the threshold, she stopped, her voice carrying a chilling intent: “Feel free to continue your reckless behavior. Yedu’s execution platform welcomes all comers and doesn’t mind beheading a few more human ministers.”

The sound of cups and vessels heavily hitting the ground and shattering soon came from inside the room.

Shan Shu sighed, looking at Xue Yu: “Before coming, I thought we’d have a hard battle to fight.”

“Reasoning with ignorant people is unavoidable, but reasoning with those who pretend to be confused while understanding perfectly will only encourage their arrogance.” Xue Yu’s palm stretched and closed again, saying quietly: “You’re too gentle. Gentle people are easily bullied.”

“It’s related to Buddhist mental cultivation.” Having resolved a thorny matter, Shan Shu looked at the dim sky and said slowly: “There are still five months until Prince Zhao’s consort gives birth. Five months later, I’ll seal Shen Jingshi’s spiritual meridians and send him to the imperial city. Everything after that should develop in a good direction.”

She asked Xue Yu, “What are your plans next?”

“I’m going to Cloud Mist City.” Xue Yu pressed her throbbing brow: “Jiu Feng said demon pills can be divided into at most five parts, but Azure Dragons ranked first among demon races. No one has experienced their power—who knows how many parts they can be divided into? We’ve only found four now. I don’t know if there are any that slipped through the net. Without completely prying open Cloud Mist City’s lord’s mouth, I won’t feel at ease.”

Shan Shu nodded: “Let’s go together.”

As they were talking, thunder suddenly streaked across the sky. Rain that had been accumulating for a long time poured down, heavy raindrops pressing the flying dust on the streets into ground crevices, then swallowing it with great momentum.

When Shen Jingshi grabbed an umbrella and rushed into the last flickering light of the teleportation array, that gap had just closed behind him. He leaned his back against the light pillar, breathing somewhat rapidly, looking at Shan Shu with considerable resentment: “A little later, and I would have been ruthlessly abandoned at Yipin Residence by Her Highness Fo Nu.”

“Sorry, I forgot to notify you.” Shan Shu good-naturedly looked at his thoroughly soaked hair: “How did you still get caught in the rain?”

“Small matter.” Shen Jingshi casually cast a dust-removal spell on himself, grinding his toe: “Since I’m going to be regent, I’m getting used to days without spiritual power in advance.”

Shan Shu’s movement stopped. Shen Jingshi could tell what she was thinking at a glance and quickly gestured, saying repeatedly: “Don’t you dare say anything about finding other methods if this doesn’t work. My going to be regent doesn’t require permanently sealing spiritual power. When that little emperor grows up, it’ll just be ten or twenty years. I’ll just indulge in ten or twenty years of being served by others. How big a deal is that?”

His fearless smile seemed infectious. Shan Shu swallowed the words “that’s a complete mess” and smiled slightly: “Alright, I won’t say anything.”

They chatted back and forth, but Xue Yu didn’t speak throughout. Shen Jingshi worked very hard to liven the atmosphere, but most of the time, she only responded with brief words like “mm,” “okay.”

After half an hour, Shen Jingshi began to admire Su You.

He had also done missions with Xue Yu, so he should count as a friend, but once the mission ended, when talking again, it was so awkward it seemed they needed self-introductions.

How was Su You so capable of picking this ice mountain snow lotus?

This difficulty was greater than his going to be regent and cleaning up the mess.

Xue Yu was indeed in a bad mood recently, making her unwilling to say any unnecessary words.

Shen Jingshi was too noisy, comparable to Chao Nian. The voices in her ears never stopped. She patiently frowned.

After a long while, her fingers hanging at her sides moved slightly. Somehow, she suddenly thought of Su You.

Xue Yu wasn’t someone who could be distracted. She had to finish one thing before having time to think about others. But in the oppressive, stuffy space of the teleportation array, scenes abruptly surfaced before her eyes—his meticulous organizing of documents for her, and the way he deliberately used that face, those captivating peach blossom eyes to seduce her.

She didn’t have a strong concept of time. A day and a month both passed in the blink of an eye. But at this moment, she lowered her eyes and silently rolled a number on her tongue.

Twelve.

Su You had returned to the demon capital twelve days ago.

Perhaps because that figure had accompanied her for the past ten or twenty years, like someone accustomed to cold, nights suddenly having a lamp, after the lamp was extinguished, she felt, for the first time in a long while, a bit lonely.

The teleportation array stopped in Cloud Mist City. Xue Yu imperceptibly gathered her thoughts and walked directly into the city lord’s mansion.

This place had been cleared six days ago. Now, the entire city lord’s mansion was filled with Sacred Land people. Chao Hua was stationed here, simultaneously conducting harsh interrogations of Cloud Mist City’s lord and his advisors.

Hearing the report, Chao Hua came forward and nodded to both Xue Yu and Shan Shu: “Your Highness.”

“Still hasn’t confessed?” Xue Yu asked.

Chao Hua shook her head: “Very tight-lipped, would rather die than submit. Qiu Tong’s brainwashing was effective.”

An expected answer. Xue Yu stepped onto the small path leading to the rear prison: “Bring him out. Use water torture. I’ll interrogate him.”

Having lived together for many years, Chao Hua knew her methods. At this moment, she hesitated slightly and reminded quietly, “The Three Realms Grand Assembly starts in three days. Using binding curses might affect Your Highness’s condition. Should we delay a bit more?”

“I know my limits.” Xue Yu replied emotionlessly: “Cang Ju is worried sick and has urged repeatedly. This matter can’t be delayed.”

In the center of the water prison, chains pierced through the man’s back, cruelly hooking every vertebra. He drooped his eyelids listlessly with weak breath, looking half-dead and dejected, showing none of a city lord’s imposing appearance.

Xue Yu had only met him once. Now she half-crouched before him, slowly grasping his chin and lifting it. He felt pain, his pupils gray-white, staring at this beautiful Sacred Land successor who could abolish a city lord position and strip spiritual bones one by one without blinking.

His lips were cracked with countless fissures, bleeding whenever he moved. His voice was hoarse and unclear: “…I am a second-rank official personally appointed by the court. Soul… soul searching is useless on me.” By the end, his voice was like a deflated, broken sack.

“You only remember being a court official, but forgot that half your city lord position comes from the Sacred Lands?” Xue Yu looked at him, slowly blinking her eyelashes. When she looked up again, her pupils showed an icy frost color. She looked at this confidant completely bought by Qiu Tong and spoke in commanding tones with clear articulation: “Now, look at me and tell me—besides you, who else holds dragon’s breath?”

Cloud Mist City’s lord immediately seemed drained of blood, opening his mouth blankly like a puppet, his body unable to bear it as he swayed left, then was forcibly pulled back by the chains piercing his back.

After a long while, he slowly uttered several unclear syllables: “Su… Prefecture, Chen Chuan…”

That was a city expanding outward from Su Prefecture as its base. They had investigated there first, quickly finding three cities. Cloud Mist City was the fourth so far.

Xue Yu waited patiently.

Until he trembled, uncontrollably saying the name of the fifth city: “North, Northern River.”

“Very good.” The frost color in Xue Yu’s eyes reached an extreme. She said: “What about the others? Tell me everything.”

“No more.” He gritted his teeth and shivered, his hands and cheeks unable to withstand such force, splitting into bloody, small wounds. “No others… His Majesty summoned us… only saw these few.”

Xue Yu heavily released him. Before leaving the prison, she leaned her elbow against the door frame, slowly exhaling to calm her breathing, then strode toward Northern River.

At Northern River City’s lord’s mansion, music and song filled the air, cups clinked together.

Today was the full-month celebration for the Northern River City lord’s daughter. City lords from neighboring cities and bureaucratic families with good relationships all came to request celebratory wine. The front courtyard was bustling. Northern River City’s lord held his babbling daughter, smiling radiantly. Casually glancing around, he called over a subordinate: “Why don’t I see Young Master Song Heng? Did someone go invite him?”

“City Lord, rest assured. You value this young master so much—how would we subordinates dare neglect him? We sent someone to invite him early, but Young Master Song Heng said he was unwell today and couldn’t stand the noise, so he won’t come. He asks for the city lord’s understanding.”

“I see.” Northern River City’s lord stroked his beard, handing his pink, chubby daughter to the wet nurse: “Take the young miss to the madam’s room. She’s tired from playing and should rest.”

The wet nurse curtsied and withdrew with the child.

When Xue Yu arrived, this feast was at its liveliest. She stepped into the inner courtyard, strolling among the dancing girls, pushing aside the bare jade arms blocking her view, until she stood a few steps before the city lord’s table, separated by a short flight of stairs, meeting the eyes of Northern River City’s lord who had suddenly lost his smile.

The surroundings gradually grew quiet.

“Northern River City Lord.” She casually pushed the wine cup on an empty table beside her, spilling about half the wine, her voice ethereal: “I came today to ask about one matter.”

“The dragon’s breath in Human Emperor Qiu Tong’s hands—you hold one portion, don’t you?”

Northern River City’s lord took a deep breath, stood up, spread his sleeves, and slightly bent his back toward Xue Yu: “Mu Shaoqi pays respects to Her Highness Xue Yu.”

Recently, Xue Yu had made quite a splash among these city lords who were both appointed by the court and governed by the Sacred Lands. No—it should be said that all Sacred Land successors had thoroughly shattered people’s preconceived notions of them as nice people.

It turned out that when Sacred Land’s successors acted, they showed no mercy at all. They arrested people as they said they would, without any room for negotiation.

“Answer me—yes or no.”

Just like now, even pleasantries were omitted. But if he said “yes,” his fate would be no different from those four in Su Prefecture.