Deep within Piaoli Mei Garden.

Inside the dungeon.

Yu Konghou, who hadn’t seen anyone for several days, sat on the ground, his body covered in spider webs. He remained motionless, like a wooden carving. Dozens of pea-sized venomous spiders crawled back and forth on the webs, resembling dewdrops suspended on the poisonous net.

The spider webs shimmered with some pale color, appearing not terrifying at all, but rather magnificent.

With a “click,” the small opening of the dungeon opened again. Qing Yan pushed in a wooden tray from outside, containing a bottle of water and a piece of bread. The small opening immediately closed, and she said nothing, not even retrieving the wooden tray, as if she had already forgotten.

Extremely light footsteps faded away.

Around Yu Konghou were many bottles for water and empty bowls, but around these bottles and bowls gathered many shimmering venomous spiders that had been feeding continuously—not Yu Konghou.

It was these spiders.

Yu Konghou had grown much thinner, but his skin took on the same blue-gold pale color as the venomous spiders, making him look inhuman upon sight.

Suddenly, the spider web on his body seemed to sense some vibration, creating gentle ripples. Yu Konghou’s whole body shuddered, and he suddenly opened his eyes. His eyes were completely lifeless. After the ripples in the spider web passed, he slowly closed his eyes again.

The venomous spiders crawled all over his body, weaving more webs.

Gradually, he was wrapped by the venomous spiders into a huge cocoon.

The spider silk on the cocoon gleamed in the candlelight.

After delivering today’s food, Qing Yan walked back in a daze.

Several white-robed female attendants called her name, but she didn’t respond. For the past three days, she hadn’t gone to care for the red-robed female attendants either, just wandering around in confusion. Wen Hui had returned from the capital with Ghost Lord’s group, yet she rarely spoke with her senior sister.

Behind her ears were some extremely fine spider silks glowing, and subtle things crawled in her hair bun.

She was completely unaware.

Qing Yan entered the great hall.

This place was originally where Yu Konghou held court. With Yu Konghou absent, Bai Suche stood here instead. Yu Konghou’s golden silk reclining chair was beside her, cushioned with silk padding embroidered with crane patterns. On the wooden table beside the chair was still placed a pot of golden bottle liquor and an empty cup.

She didn’t sit in Yu Konghou’s usual high seat, often standing beside that high position, as if whether Yu Konghou was present or not made no difference to her. She also lacked the anxious gains and losses or wildly ecstatic madness typical of those in power.

Qing Yan walked in dazedly.

Bai Suche looked at her a few times and frowned. “Tired?”

Qing Yan shook her head. “Not tired.”

Bai Suche asked again, “How is Lord Yu?”

Qing Yan replied, “He’s eating.”

Bai Suche stood with hands behind her back, gazing at her intently. “Then why do you seem so lost?”

Qing Yan shook her head again. “I’m a bit… a bit afraid.”

Bai Suche said indifferently, “Afraid of me?”

Qing Yan shook her head vigorously. “No, Sister Susu treats me the best. Qing Yan knows that no one else in this world… no one else…” Her voice gradually weakened, murmuring, “No one else cares…”

Bai Suche gazed at her intently. Qing Yan swayed unsteadily, her pale complexion showing a strange luminescence, with something moving in her hair bun. In an instant, something suddenly exploded from behind Qing Yan’s head—Bai Suche struck back with her blade, slashing toward Qing Yan—halfway through the strike, she knew she was wrong!

What exploded from Qing Yan’s body wasn’t a hidden weapon, but a large handful of spider silk as light as floating catkins.

Countless small spiders shimmering with blue-gold light danced in mid-air. When Bai Suche swung her blade up, the spider silk immediately stuck to the blade. The blade edge couldn’t harm the spiders, but they could crawl down along the blade edge, rapidly climbing toward Bai Suche.

Bai Suche made a decisive choice, released the blade, and retreated far away.

With this retreat, she was outside the great hall, but Qing Yan remained inside.

Bai Suche watched from afar as Qing Yan stood in the hall, covered with tiny spiders, watched her collapse weakly, watched her struggle on the ground, watched spiders crawl out from her ears and nose, followed by blood flowing from her ears and nose.

The rapidly web-weaving small spiders quickly covered Qing Yan with layer upon layer of small webs. She seemed to be shrouded in hazy light gauze, both beautiful and terrifying.

Bai Suche watched her die.

Every moment, every web, she remembered clearly, just as she still remembered every sword technique of the “Ru Song” sword.

Yu Konghou could never surrender without a fight.

She had always been waiting, and had once wondered.

So that’s how it was.

Venomous spider poison.

He had used Qing Yan’s meal delivery opportunity to spread the venomous spider poison. At this moment, who knew how many venomous spiders lurked throughout the vast Piaoli Mei Garden. Qing Yan was young with poor martial arts skills. After being poisoned, she remained unaware, ultimately dying when spiders entered her brain. Venomous spiders didn’t distinguish between enemy and ally—since Yu Konghou had released them, he himself couldn’t escape unharmed.

Bai Suche gazed at the spider webs trembling in the wind within the great hall, took out a fire starter, lit it, and threw it into the spider silk. Fierce flames suddenly rose—the fine silk was actually combustible. Dozens of venomous spiders fled in alarm from the webs. Bai Suche turned back inside, picked up the golden bottle liquor beside the reclining chair, and splashed it toward those spiders.

With a “splash,” flames soared high. Those tiny venomous spiders were soaked with liquor, and as the flames from Qing Yan’s body spread over, in an instant, those small creatures were burned to ash.

The flames from burning spider silk quickly extinguished, leaving Qing Yan as a corpse with a blackened face.

Bai Suche walked over, knelt on one knee, took out a handkerchief, and gently wiped the dirt from her face.

This child had killed many people.

Unable to distinguish good from evil, acting recklessly, treating human life as grass, cold and malicious—all of this was true.

But if she hadn’t entered the Fengliu Store at twelve or thirteen, hadn’t received praise after killing people randomly, perhaps she wouldn’t have died this way.

She raised her head, gazing at the dark and deep underground palace.

In this demon’s lair, whether there were venomous spiders or not, how much difference did it make?

The people in this demon’s lair were alive, yet not like living.

So they weren’t that afraid of death either.

She actually felt somewhat pleased—because Yu Konghou had released the venomous spiders.

The venomous spiders must have someone manipulating them from behind.

That wasn’t Yu Konghou—Yu Konghou had reached a dead end, feeding the spiders with his own body.

Then who could it be?

She had fought through thorns and brambles, killed others and herself, walked through fire, and was finally going to see the answer to all these mysteries—the true master of Fengliu Store?

When the time came, if possible, she wanted to seek justice for all the white-robed and red-robed female attendants of Fengliu Store who lived between life and death!

Miss Bai had no desire to live and no fear of death.

Walking alone, whatever she did was unrelated to anyone else.

Tianqing Temple in the capital.

With a dull “thump,” Wen Yao threw both A’Shui and Fengfeng heavily to the ground.

A’Shui held Fengfeng tightly, trying her best to prevent him from being hurt.

“Miss A’Shui.” From an extremely distant place came a misty, aged voice that wasn’t terrifying at all, seeming upright and benevolent. “Bringing you here this time wasn’t this old monk’s intention. My young disciple acted on his own, which happened to give this old monk a chance to meet you.”

Fengfeng rolled over and stood up himself, curiously looking toward the eastern corridor. That voice came from deep within the corridor, seeming to be in the large room at the end.

A’Shui grasped Fengfeng’s hand and slowly raised her head.

Wen Yao, who appeared to be a fifteen or sixteen-year-old youth, stood in front. Behind him was a thin, pale-faced middle-aged man. The man wore a yellow-brown robe, not a monk’s robe, but had a shaved head. Wen Yao didn’t dare act impudently before the yellow-robed man, saying in a low voice, “Master Qingshan.”

The yellow-robed man nodded and said to the depths of the corridor, “Abbot, kidnapping people in broad daylight carries extreme risk.”

“The temple’s outer disciples were eager for success and lost their sense of proportion, but as Wen Yao said, Tang Lici is concerned with the battle at Qihun Mountain. After dispersing Wan Qiao Zhai, he’s no longer alert to affairs in the capital.” Speaking from the distant large room was the current abbot of Tianqing Temple, Master Chunhui.

A’Shui had grown up in the capital and had seen Abbot Chunhui of Tianqing Temple when entering the temple to burn incense. Abbot Chunhui was very benevolent, and Tianqing Temple housed many birds because the monks had spent years chanting and feeding birds with the abbot, forming good karma. She had never imagined that this over-sixty-year-old, upright and benevolent abbot would also calculate the political situation.

Wen Yao had brought her to Tianqing Temple. She had never seen these people—who exactly were they?

“Yu Konghou isn’t capable of great tasks, actually being controlled by a mere woman.” Wen Yao said quietly. “Being captured by Bai Suche truly brought shame to Fengliu Store.”

The yellow-robed man called “Qingshan” shook his head. “This woman is ambitious and would be a capable general, but her vision isn’t high. However, she also has merit—if she hadn’t forced Yu Konghou to desperation, he couldn’t have released the venomous spiders.” This person spoke in low, measured tones, very cold and indifferent. “The mother spider is dead. All venomous spiders will be controlled by the mother spider’s venom. We just wait for Bai Suche to be poisoned—then Piaoli Mei Garden will return to our control.”

“Since Bai Suche has betrayed and become enemies with Yu Konghou, she has connected interests with the Central Plains Sword Association. If after Bai Suche is poisoned, we can lure Tang Lici or Wanyu Yuedan, and if we can poison both of them together—how could our great undertaking not succeed?” Suddenly, from the distant large room came a strange, hoarse voice, neither male nor female. “I want to go to Piaoli Mei Garden and meet this girl surnamed Bai.”

A’Shui knelt on the ground, saying nothing.

Hearing these few sentences meant she would be someone who would never leak secrets.

She might not survive today.

Gritting her teeth, A’Shui was very clear-headed—this was also her opportunity.

These people she had never seen before were the true “masters” hidden behind Fengliu Store.

They definitely didn’t want some Central Plains martial world—they wanted to kill Young Master Tang and Palace Master Wanyu, wanted to kill Miss Bai, all for “affairs in the capital.”

Who exactly were they?

Fengliu Store’s Nine Heart Pills, tea flower prison’s venomous spider poison, Hu Deng Order’s Wang Lingqiu—poison flowing everywhere, desires consuming souls, evil thoughts arising, and people… became demons and monsters.

What did they want?

The yellow-robed man called “Qingshan” finally looked at her indifferently. “Miss A’Shui, we’ve brought you here to ask you about something. Back then, Xingyang Bookstore had two old books—one called ‘Ci Nan Ke Na Mo Past Life Chronicle’ and one called ‘Bei Puti Jia Lan Duo Past Life Chronicle.’ Have you read these two books?”

A’Shui’s gaze flickered slightly. “These two old books… I sold them to Lord Hao, and later Lord Liu took them away.”

“Have you read their contents?” the yellow-robed man asked.

A’Shui paused. “I’ve read parts of them, but the content was obscure and difficult to understand, so I didn’t finish them.”

“These two books…” the yellow-robed man asked, “where were they acquired from?”

A’Shui slowly raised her head, looking at the yellow-robed man.

This was a middle-aged man with upright features, showing neither evil aura nor warmth and kindness.

Wen Yao stood behind this person with a very cautious attitude.

She looked at this person’s hand exposed from his sleeve. The back of the hand had a faint bluish color—traces left after the red or black spots from Nine Heart Pills poison had faded.

This was someone who had taken Nine Heart Pills or similar drugs to enhance internal power and had just removed the toxicity. Perhaps not only this yellow-robed man, but also Wen Yao just now and the two people hiding in the large room at the end of the corridor were all beneficiaries of these strange arts.

“These two books… the bookstore owner found them in the miscellaneous goods at Yulin Inn.” A’Shui said softly. “Most were items left behind or discarded by inn guests, generally worthless.” After a slight pause, she added, “But I remember that year, many martial world travelers died at Yulin Inn.”

The yellow-robed man frowned slightly. “That year? Which year?”

A’Shui said slowly, “The year Zhou Di Tower opened.”

The yellow-robed man indicated she should continue, but A’Shui fell silent. After a long while, she said, “…Master Qingshan, forgive A’Shui’s offense… I’ve told the origin of these two books twice. The first time I told Lord Hao Wenhou, the second time I told Lord Liu. A’Shui didn’t hide anything—these two books came from Yulin Inn, the year Zhou Di Tower opened.”

Wen Yao didn’t understand why she said “the year Zhou Di Tower opened” twice, frowning. “Did your Xingyang Bookstore reprint these two volumes? Have you told anyone else what was written in the books?”

“Wen Yao!” The yellow-robed man shouted, stopping Wen Yao.

Suddenly, an aged voice rang from the distant large room. “Wasn’t the year Zhou Di Tower opened exactly when Benefactor Tang appeared in the world?”

“Correct.” A’Shui calmly continued, “Lord Liu also said that Young Master Tang’s martial arts were transmitted from Master Fang of Zhou Di Tower, while Master Fang’s martial arts were taught by Young Master Tang. The year Zhou Di Tower opened, those martial world people who died at Yulin Inn left behind only those few books…”

“Few books?” Wen Yao became alert. “Besides these two, were there other martial arts manuals?”

The yellow-robed man frowned deeply. This plainly-dressed woman spoke neither humbly nor arrogantly, making it hard to distinguish truth from falsehood. Back then, Lord Hao Wenhou had accidentally obtained the two volumes of ‘Past Life Chronicle’ at Xingyang Bookstore, and Liu Yan had only gotten one volume from Tang Lici. According to Liu Yan, he was certain Tang Lici only had that one volume. But Liu Yan wasn’t careful and meticulous—if what this maid said was true, that Tang Lici actually once had the complete ‘Past Life Chronicle,’ then the two volumes circulated from Xingyang Bookstore would be highly problematic.

Who would allow such peerless rare books to circulate outside? Unless he did it deliberately.

Could the ‘Past Life Chronicle’ obtained by Tianqing Temple contain deception?

This could explain a question he and Chunhui had never understood—how could Tang Lici guide Kuanglan Wuxing to break through the final layer of “Demons Spitting Pearl Energy”? How did he know the secret of transforming true energy into form? According to Liu Yan, the volume Tang Lici had once studied didn’t contain “Demons Spitting Pearl Energy” technique.

But before he could think through the implications, A’Shui said slowly, “But what I saw back then wasn’t just these three books—there were two other incomplete volumes with red covers.” She lowered her eyelashes. “Those two books were incomplete, so I threw them away along with the martial world travelers’ miscellaneous items.”

The door of the large room at the end of the corridor slowly opened with a creak, and an old monk walked out.

“What kind of books were those two?”

A’Shui held Fengfeng tightly and said quietly, “Two incomplete books with red covers. On the covers was written a poem: ‘Southern garden birds startled fly, one broken longevity cup. Alone withered, why not doubt, faintly seeing mountain ghosts.’ Those two incomplete books were called ‘Ning Bu Yi’ (Why Not Doubt).”

The yellow-robed man and the old monk looked at each other. Although “Master Wujing” Ye Xianchou was a martial arts expert of the previous generation, he himself didn’t practice the ‘Past Life Chronicle’—otherwise, how could Qu Zhiliang have killed him? But they didn’t know where his ‘Past Life Chronicle’ came from, and what was this unheard-of ‘Ning Bu Yi’?

Whether true or false, these incomplete books must be found and examined first.

So this woman abandoned by Tang Lici couldn’t be easily killed.

Seeing the two men exchange glances, A’Shui knew she probably wouldn’t die today. She lowered her head and touched Fengfeng’s soft hair. Fengfeng was very well-behaved, sitting aside and curiously listening to her speak. She slowly closed her eyes and gently exhaled.

There was no ‘Ning Bu Yi’—that was a random poem she made up. Young Master Tang truly had never seen the other two volumes of ‘Past Life Chronicle’—those were miscellaneous items from Xingyang Bookstore’s warehouse, and the manuals were genuine. But she had at least won herself a life before these mysterious and unpredictable important figures, and perhaps planted a thorn in their hearts.

She had tried her best. Even if she ultimately couldn’t save herself, she had no regrets.

Was this dead end before her within Young Master Tang’s calculations? A’Shui didn’t know.

She felt it wasn’t.

Young Master Tang was indeed supremely intelligent and ruthlessly calculating.

But he only wanted to win.

He didn’t want everyone to die.

No one could die—he himself could die, but others couldn’t.

Because “death” in Young Master Tang’s eyes meant losing.

He couldn’t lose.