Clouds obscured the moon, and the air was filled with the stifling tension of an approaching storm. Jinyun Manor had become a sea of flames.

Tongues of fire burst through windows, licking at the manor’s ridge. Dense smoke intertwined with black ash danced wildly, dyeing half the night sky a shocking red.

Gu Xing galloped on horseback, reporting: “I’ve sent men on swift horses to the nearest garrison. If all goes well, reinforcements will arrive within half an hour.”

Zhao Yān, carrying the short dagger left behind by Zhao Yǎn, could feel the scorching heat of the flames even sitting in the carriage. She frowned and said, “The fire is too strong. We can’t wait for them.”

She lifted the carriage curtain, gazing at the pitch-black, dense forest behind the manor, calculating: If Zhao Yuan’yu wanted to ensure the evidence was destroyed, he must have left accomplices observing in the shadows.

After a moment’s contemplation, Zhao Yān hung the short dagger at her waist and instructed Gu Xing, who was directing the crowd: “Split our people into two teams. One half to fight the fire and prevent it from spreading to the countryside. The other team is to search from the back mountain and capture anyone suspicious for questioning.”

Magistrate He had met the Crown Prince several times and knew “he” was recuperating at Yuquan Palace. As soon as Zhao Yān stepped out of the carriage, Magistrate He handed the soot-covered, crying child in his arms to a servant and, with tears streaming down his face, attempted to kneel: “For disturbing Your Highness’s retreat, I…”

Zhao Yān quickly moved to support him, signaling him not to reveal her identity.

She looked around at the more than twenty crying children and young girls who had been moved to safe ground, and asked: “Have all the people been rescued?”

Magistrate He replied: “There are still a few younger ones trapped in the fire. Vice Minister Cen and the others are making every effort to rescue them.”

…

…

Before he finished speaking, a tremendous crash came from the manor’s main building as burning beams collapsed. A man with burning clothes and singed hair and beard rushed out of the sea of fire. His wet clothes emitted steam from the intense heat as he tightly sheltered two children no older than three.

People exclaimed in shock, rushing forward—some to extinguish the fire, others to take the children.

Cen Meng’s face was covered in soot, his lips cracked, and his clothes burned to tatters, revealing arms and hands covered in blisters.

He didn’t even pause to drink water to moisten his throat, but anxiously ran to the group of girls who had escaped death, using his rough, burned hands to wipe the soot from their faces, examining each one.

Suddenly, Cen Meng stood up, his eyes bloodshot, and let out an almost desperate howl from his smoke-damaged throat: “Has anyone seen my sister? Her name is Cen Yu, fourteen years old, wearing a yellowish-brown dress, with a small silver lock around her neck, thin and tall, about up to my jaw… Has anyone seen her?”

By the end, his voice had become broken whispers.

The three and four-year-old children could only cry, and the young girls who had been imprisoned for so long were also traumatized. Finally, a slightly more lucid girl wiped her tears and said weakly: “When we escaped, Sister Yu was still in the prison cell…”

Cen Meng looked back at the buildings collapsing one after another in the flames. Waves of heat struck his ashen, cracked face.

He couldn’t believe that after risking his life to save so many people, he had failed to save his sister.

“How could this be… She was the one who loved martial arts the most, who wanted to be a female knight.”

Cen Meng muttered in shock, then turned and recklessly rushed toward the fire, only to be firmly held back by his fellow officials.

The scene was chaos. The raging fire was consuming not only Jinyun Manor but also the evidence and hope that Zhao Yān had been tracking for so long.

With the fierce flames reflected in her eyes, she suddenly had an insight, thinking of something.

“This manor isn’t large. With so many children imprisoned, their crying would be hard to conceal. How did they manage to keep it so silent?”

Gu Xing had the same thought and immediately turned to investigate. In just a moment, he had an answer.

“Your Highness, they indeed saw female Daoist priests enter the study at the back, then vanish without a trace.”

Gu Xing gripped his sword and said in a low voice, “The little girls were frightened and thought the female priests were man-eating spirits from the mountain, appearing and disappearing mysteriously.”

Compared to the devastation in the front courtyard and central courtyard, the back courtyard was much quieter.

The study had already burned down to a charred skeletal frame of beams, apparently the first place to catch fire.

Zhao Yān guessed that Zhao Yuan’yu was so eager to burn down this building precisely because it was especially important to him.

Sure enough, Gu Xing ordered men to clear away the charred wood. After confirming there was no danger of burns, he felt around and found an inconspicuous indentation behind a curio shelf. He pressed it firmly.

With the sound of mechanical latches moving, the blackened floor tiles rumbled open, revealing the entrance to a deep, seemingly bottomless secret chamber.

In the hidden, spacious alchemy room, the furnace was still burning fiercely. Hot air mixed with choking smoke poured in through ventilation openings on all sides.

Zhao Yuan’yu, his head drenched in sweat, had returned, frantically gathering half-finished medicinal pills from the table, his face showing madness as he said: “I must take my medicine, must take it!”

Bottles fell to the ground, scattering black-red pills everywhere. He crawled on the ground like a dog, picking them up.

Servants pulled at him urgently: “What time is it to be worrying about medicine? If we don’t leave now, it will be too late!”

Zhao Yuan’yu clutched a half-bottle of pills tightly in his hand. As two sturdy servants carried him away, he still muttered like a madman about “supreme secret medicine.”

A personal seal fell from his waist to the ground, unnoticed by anyone.

Less than half a cup of tea’s time later, Zhao Yān waved away the smoke drifting before her nose and stepped into the alchemy room.

In the corner was a lotus pedestal with thin iron chains used to bind children, scattered chaotically across it. Looking at the dark red blood stains on the chains, Zhao Yān felt a nameless rage burning from her lungs to her face.

Of nearly a hundred missing children and young girls, less than thirty percent had survived to see rescue.

Zhao Yān clenched her fingers, swept her gaze over the medicinal formula papers scattered on the table, and said to Gu Xing: “Collect all the evidence.”

Cen Meng had staggered in, trembling as he picked up the iron chains.

“Brother?”

A weak voice came from the corner.

The ashen-faced Cen Meng instantly came alive, suddenly standing to look around: “Yu! Is that you, Yu?”

“It’s me, Brother!” This time, the girl’s voice carried barely contained sobs.

The sound came from next door. Zhao Yān signaled the guards to push open the stone door, revealing a small pool. Two young girls, one larger and one smaller, were huddled together in knee-deep water, using it to shield themselves from the penetrating heat.

The larger girl wore yellowish-brown clothes. Judging by her fair face and expensive attire, she must be Cen Yu, the sister Cen Meng cherished like the apple of his eye.

The smaller one wore coarse clothes and had an injured leg. Her freckled little face showed terrified eyes—it was Liu, the flower-selling girl from Cloud Bridge a few days ago.

Seeing they were still alive, Zhao Yān let out a slight sigh of relief and dispatched two guards to help rescue them.

Cen Meng immediately jumped into the pool, carried his sister out horizontally, and placed her in a relatively safe ventilated area of the secret chamber. By the weak torchlight, he scanned her up and down. After confirming his sister wasn’t injured, his face grew stern as he scolded: “I told you not to wander around, but you wouldn’t listen! Every day talking about being a hero and helping others, yet you couldn’t even escape from a prison cell! If you had listened to your brother and stayed obediently at home, how could you have nearly lost your life!”

Some people are like this—harsh words but a soft heart. When apart, they worry endlessly, but once face to face, they become stiff-necked, unable to say a kind word.

Cen Yu was young and didn’t understand that some love hides beneath strictness.

She was stunned by her brother’s harsh reprimand. After a daze, her wet red eyes welled with grievance: “If brother finds me troublesome, you didn’t have to come rescue me.”

“You!”

Cen Meng was exasperated, saying harshly, “Do you know how many people were mobilized to save you all? Just for your moment of willful running away, even the Crown Prince was alarmed and came personally! If you weren’t my sister, I should have left you to your fate!”

Hearing that the handsome young man before her was the Crown Prince, Cen Yu felt both shame and distress. She pushed Cen Meng and said: “Who needs you to look after me!”

Zhao Yān was startled.

As the wind stirred the dust of memory, she seemed to see the shadow of another young girl in the ashamed and distressed Cen Yu.

Cen Yu held back tears and stamped her foot: “Brother is so hateful! I never want to see you again…”

Zhao Yān quickly caught Cen Yu’s sleeve, stopping the hurtful words about to burst from her mouth.

“Don’t say angry words you don’t mean.”

Zhao Yān’s gaze seemed to pierce through heavy memories as she gently told the red-faced young girl, “Otherwise, you’ll be the one to regret it.”

Cen Yu was taken aback. For some reason, she saw an emotion resembling sorrow in the eyes of this extraordinarily beautiful young Crown Prince.

Had the Crown Prince also quarreled with family members before?

Had they reconciled?

“Please don’t blame Sister Yu.”

Little Liu, limping on her injured leg, came forward and clearly revealed the truth: “Those people wanted to burn us to death. It was the nimble Sister Yu who opened the iron prison door and let us out. Everyone ran, but my leg was injured…”

At this point, tears welled in Little Liu’s eyes, “Others only cared about saving themselves, but only Sister Yu returned to the fire to save me and bring me here to survive.”

Cen Meng breathed heavily, looking at his sister somewhat bewilderedly.

He could imagine the scene beneath the roaring fire—his pampered sister running against the fleeing crowd, so bright, so brave.

Cen Meng raised his palm high. Cen Yu’s gaze flickered, but she still stood straight with her head held high.

But that hand, covered in burns and blisters, only gently landed beside her cheek, wiping away a smudge of soot.

“Brother was wrong.”

Cen Meng said hoarsely, “Yu did very well. The Cen family is proud of you.”

“Brother…”

The tears Cen Yu had been holding back finally fell drop by drop as she threw herself into her brother’s arms.

Watching the siblings embracing and weeping at the entrance, Zhao Yān’s eyes showed an envy she herself had not detected.

In this world, there was no longer a frail but tolerant chest for her to lean on. Being able to help the Cen siblings reconcile was, perhaps, a comfort to her.

“Is all the evidence collected?”

Seeing Gu Xing nod, Zhao Yān said quietly, “We shouldn’t stay here long…”

As she spoke, she glimpsed a human figure in the corner shadow, and was startled.

It was a young, cold-faced female Daoist priest, appearing silently like a ghost, holding an egg-sized copper ball as she stood in the shadows.

“Your Highness, be careful.”

Gu Xing immediately gripped his sword, leading the guards to protect Zhao Yān behind them.

Cen Yu clearly recognized the priestess and suddenly widened her eyes, shouting: “Stop her! She’s trying to blow up the furnace!”

As she spoke, she recklessly rushed toward the priestess, attempting to physically stop her.

“Don’t move!” Zhao Yān grabbed Cen Yu and pushed her toward the entrance.

Almost simultaneously, the priestess threw the copper ball into the fiercely burning furnace, raised her right hand before her face, lowered her gaze, and chanted: “Divine Light descends, Infinite Immortal Master!”

The furnace exploded with a boom, fragments blasting outward, shaking the mountain.

Zhao Yān instinctively tried to take cover inside but was thrown down by the massive force, then quickly surrounded and protected by Gu Xing and others.

The secret chamber’s pillars collapsed, dust and stone fragments continuously falling from above. It took nearly a cup of tea’s time before things gradually settled.

“Is Your Highness alright? Are you injured?”

Gu Xing picked up the fallen torch and asked in a deep voice.

Zhao Yān shook off the heavy dust from her body and held her head, which was ringing from the blast: “I’m fine. What about you all?”

Gu Xing’s arm had suffered minor injuries, and the other four guards were somewhat disheveled. The main force of their troops was separated from them, trapped on the other side of the secret chamber.

The collapsed giant rocks blocked their exit. Gu Xing led the guards in attempting to shoulder and move the obstacles, but they didn’t budge at all.

“Your Highness, are you in there?” From the other side of the rock came Cen Meng’s voice, thin as a mosquito’s.

“We’re all here!” Gu Xing shouted in response. “What about you?”

“We’re all fine too.”

Cen Meng’s hoarse voice nearly broke: “Don’t be afraid, Your Highness. We’re going to call for help to rescue you right away!”

But with such a large boulder blocking the way, who knew how long it would take to clear it, even with knives and axes.

In the cramped darkness, only one remaining torch provided light. For a moment, it was so quiet they could hear their heartbeats.

“There’s wind.”

Gu Xing stared at the slanting flame of the torch, his confident voice echoing in the small space, awakening a glimmer of hope.

Zhao Yān recalled the female priest who had appeared out of nowhere…

People couldn’t possibly emerge from the ground. Recalling how she had navigated the secret chambers of Huayang Palace using craftsmen’s blueprints, she immediately understood: “There must be another exit. Quick, find it!”

Gu Xing held the torch and felt along the wall, then paused, placing his palm over a slightly protruding rock and rotating it forcefully.

After several harsh creaking sounds, the stone wall behind Zhao Yān opened in response. However, the furnace explosion had damaged the mechanism, and the stone door jammed after opening only about a foot.

Zhao Yān’s small frame allowed her to squeeze through easily, but the guards weren’t so fortunate.

Gu Xing removed his armor and led two other guards in barely squeezing through. The remaining two were too broad-shouldered—despite sucking in their breath and hunching their shoulders, they couldn’t pass through and had to wait reluctantly for rescue to arrive.

The secret passage was long, winding, and seemingly endless. In the dim torchlight, they could vaguely see something ahead reflecting slivers of light.

“Wait.” Zhao Yān raised her hand, her gaze focusing.

She signaled the guard to bring the torch closer. When she could see the outline of the object, her pupils suddenly contracted.

It was an exquisite lotus-patterned jade pendant, identical to the one Zhao Yǎn had once worn.

Late summer of the 17th year of Tianyou—that damp, painful memory surged back, sweeping over her with a piercing scream.

“Who wants your gift!”

The young girl suddenly swept her sleeve, and the exquisite green sandalwood box inlaid with mother-of-pearl struck against the lotus-patterned jade pendant at Zhao Yǎn’s waist, falling to the ground with a clatter.

The gold hairpin rolled away, and a faint, ice-like crack appeared on the young man’s lotus-patterned jade pendant.

In the dim light, Zhao Yān could see that the lotus-patterned jade pendant she had picked up had an identical crack in the upper left corner.

And now beneath this familiar lotus-patterned pendant hung a small personal seal, clearly engraved with Prince Yong’s heir’s courtesy name!

Why would Zhao Yǎn’s jade pendant be in Zhao Yuan’yu’s possession?

As the mist dispersed, the conjecture in her heart gradually took shape. Zhao Yān’s eyes flickered as she tightly gripped the jade pendant.

This trip had proven worthwhile.

Had Zhao Yuan’yu dropped it in his hasty escape? If so, the suspect in her brother’s death was right before her eyes.

With this thought, Zhao Yān pursed her lips and raised her eyes, gazing into the pitch-black depths of the secret passage with calm, cold clarity.

…

Sparks danced in the wind like a sky full of fireflies. Before one could reach out to touch them, they turned to ashes and fell.

At the entrance to the secret chamber, Wenren Lin stood against the firelight on the scorched earth, his crimson robe fluttering, as gorgeous as if absorbing blood.

He bent down to look at the half-dead female Daoist priest and asked in a gentle, mild tone: “Tell me, where is Her Highness?”

Blood seeped from the priestess’s nose and mouth as Prince Su’s guards forced her to kneel. She laughed coldly, with broken pauses: “He traced… to the alchemy chamber… interfered with… the Master’s great work… already blown up…”

Learning that Zhao Yān was in the secret chamber, Wenren Lin nodded slightly and said, “Thank you.”

He spoke these words, still elegantly smiling, but in the next moment, a cold light flashed, and the priestess widened her eyes before falling straight down.

Even in her moment of death, she couldn’t see clearly how this god-like man before her had made his move.

Wenren Lin didn’t bother to wipe the smell of death from his hands. As he rose, the smile in his eyes sank, transforming into a dark coldness.

He looked at the collapsed stone wall and said just two sentences: “Two quarters of an hour. Break it open.”