That sound came with extreme speed, like fireworks suddenly exploding at the edge of the sky. Originally just pinpoint-sized, in the blink of an eye it burst into a straight heavenly path, roaring toward them.

Yu Wuse threw down his cup and jumped up, shrieking, “Alert! Alert!”

Yélu Qi rushed to the doorway, looking up at the sky. The sunlight was intense, and within the myriad golden rays, a human figure seemed to be shooting straight toward them, the silhouette somewhat familiar.

He was slightly stunned.

Everyone was alarmed, but only Pei Shu paid no attention. He stared intently at the figure at the top of the flowering tree, which had remained motionless the entire time, looking eerie.

That was the moon gate leading to the rear palace, where Jing Hengbo resided. Pei Shu had always been most concerned about Jing Hengbo. After thinking, he walked out through the side door.

The others were all focused on the impressive heavenly visitor approaching from ahead, and no one noticed that Pei Shu had already left.

Pei Shu walked to the flowering tree, leaped up and pulled with his hand. A corpse fell down with a thud. Pei Shu stared at the body, frowning at the red clothing.

The corpse was an old woman, half her face wrinkled and covered in powder, wearing a red dress with golden flowers that looked familiar. By her temples were inserted two gaudy large red flowers—clearly the attire of a folk matchmaker.

When Jing Hengbo and Yu Wuse spoke of “getting married,” it was completely offhand. But Yu Wuse harbored secret resentment toward Gong Yin and others, and deliberately wanted to fan the flames. He specifically found matchmakers, ceremonial officials, and wedding escorts to actually hold a “wedding” for Jing Hengbo in the palace. However, Long Yin had no interest in the “wedding” at all. Finding these people numerous and troublesome, he simply killed them.

Pei Shu felt increasingly that something was wrong—how could there be matchmakers in the palace? How could a matchmaker die here?

He suddenly lifted his robes and rushed straight to the rear palace.

The palace door was open. Before getting close, Pei Shu could smell a strange odor—the fragrance of sandalwood mixed with other peculiar scents.

His heart jumped slightly. Throughout his martial world career, unusual sounds and smells always represented improper changes.

He lightened his steps, heightened his guard, and quietly entered the palace. Standing at the entrance, he surveyed the area and was immediately stunned.

Before him was chaos—overturned stools with iron bars, a disordered vanity with bottles and jars scattered on the floor. Clearly there had been a struggle of moderate intensity. The air still held a faint bloody scent.

His heart suddenly began trembling. His gaze fell on the bed where a woman lay quietly, her graceful curves immediately identifiable as Jing Hengbo. Her clothing was disheveled, her sleeping posture seeming very tired, and on the plain bedding beneath her, bloodstains seemed visible.

The moment those bloodstains entered Pei Shu’s eyes, it was like a firecracker exploding in his mind. He stood on the threshold, his entire body trembling, even the sword in his hand seeming unsteady, hitting the doorframe with a faint clinking sound.

Then he suddenly rushed forward, ran to the window, and swept his arms around her, holding Jing Hengbo tightly in his embrace.

Jing Hengbo was sleeping soundly, dreaming that Gong Yin had arrived, his eyes full of shock, and she threw herself at him crying. Suddenly awakened, before she could lift her head, she already felt a warm embrace holding her tight. Those arms were so forceful, binding her like iron bars so she couldn’t move. Her heart trembled—Gong Yin had indeed come. Such a forceful embrace—had he already misunderstood something?

She naturally buried her head in that embrace, sobbing, “Wuu wuu wuu, you only come now, wuu wuu wuu, everything’s too late! Wuu wuu wuu, why do you only come now!”

The classic action she had planned—pounding his chest while crying—couldn’t be performed because she was held too tightly. She couldn’t even lift her face, only fake cry, wiping her nose on his clothes. Suddenly she felt the color of his clothing seemed somewhat wrong, but the palace interior was dim and backlit, making it difficult to distinguish clearly.

He didn’t speak, seeming to tremble slightly, but his arms held her even tighter, as if wanting to press her into his flesh and blood. His palms somewhat clumsily patted her back—this gesture full of comfort made her heart feel slightly relieved, yet she still wanted to add one final test. She pretended to push him away, “Forget it… things are already like this… I was stupid, fell for someone’s trick… now, I’m no longer a maiden… I think… I’m not worthy of anyone anymore…”

While reciting these melodramatic lines and suppressing the urge to laugh, her shoulders couldn’t help trembling, which actually made her look even more like she was crying heartbrokenly.

Pei Shu’s shoulders were also trembling slightly. Hearing her say this was like a burning knife touching his skin—in the searing, flesh-splitting pain, a dripping hot pleasure arose. On one hand, he blamed himself for being too careless and allowing her to suffer such harm; on the other hand, he was wildly joyful that Jing Hengbo, who had always been cold to him, said such words today. Could it be that her previous distance was merely feminine reserve, and only after encountering this most tragic fate for a woman did her emotions collapse, unable to resist opening her heart to him?

For a moment, he didn’t know whether to be sad or happy. Happiness seemed to wrong Jing Hengbo, yet his heart truly seemed to bubble with joy, gurgling and blooming white flowers, brilliant as if about to explode.

“No!” He couldn’t help but exclaim excitedly, “It doesn’t matter! Whatever you are, you’re equally precious to me!”

Jing Hengbo was stunned—this voice…

Realizing something was wrong, she struggled in shock, but Pei Shu held her even tighter, lifting his head and saying carelessly, “A woman’s chastity is certainly important, but this fault isn’t yours. What a man should do is find that beast and dismember him. Hengbo, rest assured, from now on I’ll treat you as one…”

Suddenly there was a “bang” from outside. Pei Shu stopped, and Jing Hengbo’s body stiffened.

In an instant, both felt cold.

Pei Shu raised his eyebrow and slowly turned his head, seeing that at some point, a tall figure stood at the palace entrance. Behind him was a ground of ice and snow, a large pile of tumbled people, a Yu Wuse stumbling with a bruised and swollen face, and Yélu Qi looking into the palace with a face full of surprise and furrowed brows.

The figure on the threshold stood quietly. That ground of ice and snow spread behind him, then extended from in front of him, crackling across the threshold, across the stone floor, across the overturned stool, pressing straight toward his feet.

Inside and outside the palace was completely quiet, the atmosphere approaching deadly silence.

The expressions of those outside were hard to describe—roughly a combination of shock and gossip: chaos everywhere, blood on the bedding, Jing Hengbo’s disheveled clothing, crying in Pei Shu’s arms—what kind of combination was this?

Jing Hengbo was dumbfounded.

She forgot whatever act she was performing, no longer preparing for any Oscar awards. Her mind buzzed rapidly with subtitles: “Wrong person, wrong person, wrong person…”

Pei Shu raised his eyebrows and smiled.

Smiling, he turned around and said to Gong Yin on the threshold, “Did you hear everything just now? Perfect, there’s nothing here for you anymore…”

The next instant was like cold wind sweeping, ice and snow suddenly falling. A white shadow flashed and in a blink was behind Pei Shu.

Pei Shu hastily released Jing Hengbo first. Jing Hengbo jumped up, reaching out to block between the two men, shouting, “It’s not…”

How could her movements compare to those two? With a “swoosh,” Gong Yin had already extended his fingers like hooks, grabbing Pei Shu’s shoulder, lifting his arm and swinging. Pei Shu was flung out.

Pei Shu wasn’t weak either. The moment he was flung, he grabbed Gong Yin’s arm in return. With a “whoosh,” the two men crashed into the wall while grappling, then with a “boom” broke through the wall, sliding along the ice and snow outside into the courtyard.

Yu Wuse shrieked, “Get out of the way!” Except for Yélu Qi, everyone else scattered eight zhang away with a whoosh.

There was also Jing Hengbo stumbling out over the ice and snow, grabbing the doorframe and screaming miserably, “Don’t fight! Don’t make trouble! Nothing happened! Nothing happened at all!”

A mass of snow waves rolled and tumbled—Gong Yin and Pei Shu’s forms couldn’t be seen clearly, but both men’s voices came out simultaneously: “No need to force yourself!”

After a pause, Pei Shu shouted in grief and anger, “Hengbo, you don’t need to endure grievance and comfort me with lies. I don’t mind!”

And Gong Yin said coldly, “You shut up.”

Jing Hengbo frantically clawed at the doorframe, watching that chaotic mess, pursed her lips, and suddenly felt Pei Shu’s attitude was quite good. What exactly did Gong Yin mean?

But regardless of what he meant, today’s test had completely failed. Not wanting these two to fight until both were injured, she had to honestly confess.

“You’re underestimating me!” she shouted. “How could I possibly let anyone take the slightest advantage…”

A figure flashed—Pei Shu rushed over disheveled, grabbing her hand with red eyes, saying, “Even if you were taken advantage of, I still want you!”

Then he flew up. Jing Hengbo stared dumbfounded as he flew into the sky. Her gaze moved down to see the expressionless Gong Yin wiping his hands.

She rubbed her forehead with a headache, suddenly turned around, kicked open the palace door, walked to the bedside, bent down, and dragged Long Yin out from under the bed, shouting petulantly, “Look at this! I beat him up like this—how could he do anything to me?”

A weird silence fell all around. Everyone looked at her appearance, then at Long Yin who was countless times more miserable than her, their expressions gradually becoming strange again—could it be that she was first taken advantage of, then in rage fought back and beat Long Yin into a pig’s head?

After this commotion, Long Yin actually woke up, groaning and opening his eyes. Seeing Jing Hengbo first, he was about to rage, but suddenly saw behind her Gong Yin’s ice-cold, indifferent face.

He was stunned and couldn’t help looking more carefully—the transcendent, aloof temperament on Gong Yin was very conspicuous. The clear, cold aura of cultivating Prajna Snow was also very familiar. Almost without needing to ask, he could confirm this was a member of the Long family.

“You’re from the Long family!” he blurted out. After thinking, he said with certainty, “The child I once saved!”

Gong Yin stared at him, slowly furrowing his brow.

Jing Hengbo also quieted down. She didn’t want to prevent Long Yin’s family recognition. She very much wanted to know—when Gong Yin, who had searched for family for years, truly faced a relative, how would he choose?

“You probably don’t remember me.” Long Yin said somewhat eagerly, “Back then I saved you, picked you up from the ruins, resisted the court army’s pursuit all the way, and sent you to a safe village in the Chentie tribe. From age one to ten, I visited you three times, and your Prajna Snow foundation was also laid by me!”

His face was swollen from being beaten, making his speech slurred, but it was barely comprehensible. Pei Shu had been rushing over again but stopped upon hearing this.

Gong Yin stared at him fixedly, his eyes deep as eternal night, emotions indiscernible.

“I am your benefactor and also your relative!” Long Yin pointed at Jing Hengbo. “Kill this woman who forced me to dual-cultivate, and I’ll tell you where all your other relatives are!”

…