Under the washing of rainwater, Liu Ruyi’s face appeared especially pale. She was held in their arms, blinking somewhat amusedly: “It’s nothing, don’t worry about me.”

Hua Fuman stubbornly covered her ears: “You, you’re most afraid, afraid of this.”

He Tinglan tightly hugged her head: “In such heavy rain, what are you doing standing on the terrace? What couldn’t be said inside the house?”

Little Lotus Leaf also leaned against her, trembling: “Come back with us.”

Zhao Yanning also rarely glared at Song Zhenshan.

Song Zhenshan watched in a daze.

Amidst the rolling thunder, the incredibly powerful demon was firmly protected by four mortals—this scene looked ridiculous no matter how you viewed it. But he couldn’t laugh, only putting his hands behind his back and asking Zhao Yanning in a deep voice: “When did you become so warmhearted?”

What warmheartedness was this? If not for Liu Ruyi, he and Fuman would have long been buried in different places. Though he didn’t say much about it, Zhao Yanning was immensely grateful to her in his heart.

“I don’t know where your anger comes from, but our proprietress doesn’t like thunderstorms. You should go back first and come again another day.”

Song Zhenshan scoffed: “The ones who should go back are you.”

No matter how many years of friendship he had with these few people, mortals were still the most troublesome at present. Song Zhenshan raised his hand, wanting to knock them unconscious.

Liu Ruyi’s sideways glance came over, and the suffocating sense of oppression stopped his movement.

Song Zhenshan frowned at her.

She turned her eyes, her gaze becoming gentle, and said to Hua Fuman and He Tinglan: “This bit of thunder is nothing. The rain is too heavy—you should go back to the cellar first. There are still ingredients just shipped back from Xiuzhou. If they’re all flooded by rainwater, what will we use to open for business?”

“But…” He Tinglan looked at the lightning on the horizon.

“Look, my palms are warm, even warmer than yours.” She grasped their wrists and pulled them all to their feet. “Go on.”

Zhao Yanning said nothing more. After confirming she was unharmed, he took both girls back to the cellar as she wished.

Song Zhenshan felt somewhat strange inside.

The demons in his understanding were cold-blooded and ruthless. Liu Ruyi did indeed seem like this at first glance, yet she could have so many people clustering around her, even knowing what she feared. So was she perhaps not as despicable as he had thought?

Just as he was thinking this, Ruyi suddenly spoke: “Lord Song, since Lady Zhang truly did commit suicide, why did Shen Qiyuan risk great censure to convict Yuncheng?”

Not expecting her to suddenly ask this, Song Zhenshan turned his head away: “What else could it be? He must maintain the stability of the dynasty where this generation’s emperor resides. The current Great Qian cannot afford war, so Lady Zhang could only have died from a crime of passion.”

“Besides this reason?” She stared at him with deep, fathomless eyes.

His heart sinking slightly, Song Zhenshan closed his mouth.

“I tried fastening the dagger in the cloud-pattern hanging ring, then hitting it with my back—Lord Shen wasn’t wrong. With such an arrangement, the possibility of success is very low. The dagger would always slant to the side, unable to pierce the heart from behind.” Ruyi lifted her chin. “So, how did Lady Zhang manage it?”

She paused, her fingers tucking loose hair behind her ear: “I heard that Lady Zhang’s corpse fell into a river on the way back to Huizhou and couldn’t be found. I had originally wanted to examine it carefully, but lost the opportunity.”

“What’s there to see?” Song Zhenshan said. “All the suspicious points are written in the autopsy records.”

“Yanning’s autopsy methods are brilliant—I naturally trust him. It’s just that he can only examine the corpses of ordinary people.” Ruyi paused, then said meaningfully, “But what if that Lady Zhang had some other origin?”

“The Ministry of Justice handles cases based on evidence.” Song Zhenshan looked back at her steadily. “Do you have proof for these words?”

Ruyi had seen Lady Zhang’s corpse. She remembered that Lady Zhang had a small red mole on her wrist, identical to the one on her hand, but she hadn’t thought deeply about it at the time.

But just now, after using a large amount of demonic power, the red mole on her wrist suddenly burned hot. Only then did Ruyi realize that the red mole was a wound left from Liu Ruyi’s sacrifice.

So was the one on Lady Zhang’s wrist a coincidence, or had she also made a sacrifice?

Just as she was thinking, Song Zhenshan suddenly spoke: “Mortals sacrificing their flesh to demons is a secret forbidden technique—not everyone knows it. You needn’t think too much.”

A secret forbidden technique?

Ruyi raised her eyebrows: “Then how did Liu Ruyi, a young lady from a great family, manage to sacrifice and summon me?”

Nearly biting his tongue, Song Zhenshan pressed his lips together.

Realizing something was wrong, Ruyi walked before him and stared at him with narrowed eyes: “You know the truth.”

“No.” He turned his head away.

Ruyi suddenly withdrew the hand that was supporting the dome.

Torrential rain arrived instantly, and Lin’an City, which was already flooding, became even more precarious in the wind and rain.

Song Zhenshan’s face changed: “I know the truth.”

Supporting the dome again, she raised her chin, indicating for him to speak.

“I promised him to keep it secret, but if you insist on knowing, it’s nothing serious.” He lowered his eyes. “It was Shen Qiyuan. He calculated the time of your great tribulation back then and deliberately told Liu Ruyi the secret technique of sacrifice.”

At that time, Liu Ruyi had just learned the news that He Zeyou was going to marry another, was consumed by anxious fire, and in desperation, sought to end her life. It was Shen Qiyuan who saved her and showed her a way to live.

Sacrificing one’s flesh to a demon was simple, but to summon a great demon like Ruyi required extremely tempting bait.

The bait Shen Qiyuan used was his own heart’s blood.

His blood was already sweet and fragrant, much more so the drop from his heart’s tip. Combined with the thousand-year willow branch that Ruyi, as a magpie demon, loved most, he finally succeeded in drawing her to the human realm.

“Aren’t you curious why, with such high cultivation, he only became the Green God?” Song Zhenshan said. “He could ascend to the Nine Heavens, and his divine position wouldn’t be low either. But no matter how his master and other gods and Buddhas advised against it, he stubbornly insisted on coming to the human realm.”

Shen Qiyuan loved the human realm because only in the human realm could immortals and demons coexist. He could use his divine consciousness to hold up a piece of sky, and under this sky, he could freely approach her.

“The first time I saw you two together, I thought he had gotten his heart’s desire. I never expected that you had never once been moved by him.” Song Zhenshan’s eyes held mockery. “How pitiable.”

Her heart stopped as if suffocating, then began beating rapidly.

Ruyi bewilderedly pressed her chest, and some hazy silhouettes seemed to flash through her mind.

In spring-lush forests, on autumn wind-swept lakes, in the fierce fires of Purgatory Valley, in the underground caves of Partridge Mountain—that silhouette always stood perfectly straight, ink-black hair hanging down his back and bound, elegant beyond compare, without equal in the world.

She wanted to see more clearly, but perhaps the rain was truly too heavy, drenching her so she couldn’t even open her eyes.

When her eyes closed, Shen Qiyuan’s face gradually became clear.

“Ruyi.” He was angry yet helpless.

“Ruyi.” He called softly in her ear with restraint and forbearance.

“Liu Ruyi!” His spine trembled uncontrollably.

Thunder rose again from the horizon, but it didn’t roll toward her direction. Instead, it went far away with great momentum toward Huiming Mountain.