Tianqing Temple in the capital.

Tang Lici and Fu Zhumei walked side by side. Tang Lici held “Golden Thread Song” in his hand while Fu Zhumei gripped a firewood knife from the monks’ quarters. The two emerged from the underground corridors and wandered around Tianqing Temple for several turns.

Tianqing Temple’s tea garden was very similar to Floating Brow Garden, with many bedrooms inside that should normally house quite a few people. But today there weren’t many people. Along the way, Tang Lici and Fu Zhumei subdued three “Ghost Peonies,” tearing off their masks to discover they indeed looked completely different. One even had the brand mark of exile and military service on his face, clearly having been some notorious bandit in the past.

But they didn’t acknowledge having been someone else, only remembering restoration and revenge, remembering some national hatred and family feuds from who knows where. These nameless individuals had considerable martial arts skills. If Tang Lici and Fu Zhumei hadn’t worked together, they couldn’t have easily subdued them. But they had all returned to Tianqing Temple to heal their wounds—wounds sustained while fighting the Central Plains Sword Society at Floating Brow Garden on Qihun Mountain.

The Ghost Peonies in Fengliu Store appeared and disappeared mysteriously.

They seemed to never die.

The root cause was actually here.

After a fierce battle in Tianqing Temple, Tang Lici didn’t need to use the “Fragrant Orchid Smile” in his hand. This was undoubtedly an important location, but there were far too few guards here—so few it hardly seemed like a place where a group of madmen had occupied for years.

There should be many more people here. Where had that “Qingshan” who had shown signs of madness gone, along with the other “Ghost Peonies”? In just these moments, the “previous emperor” designated by Chunhui had suddenly vanished? And there should be another puppet here—where was Prince Ji, Chai Xijin?

Tang Lici leaned on Fu Zhumei’s shoulder. He could barely stand, and when he pressed down on Fu Zhumei, his legs went weak and both nearly tumbled down together. If they had maintained their momentum earlier, killing another Xie Yaohuang would have been easy. Now their strength was exhausted, Fu Zhumei was dizzy and disoriented, while Tang Lici’s hand pressed on his shoulder felt like cold ice.

A’Li had long reached his limit.

His injuries weren’t fake.

Whatever reason Xie Yaohuang had suddenly disappeared, it was a stroke of heavenly fortune. Fu Zhumei forced himself to catch his breath, thinking groggily: A’Li was determined to fight to the death… He believed A’Li could kill that half-madman, but compared to fighting a half-madman to the death, he hoped A’Li would save some breath for himself.

Tang Lici… supremely skilled in martial arts, of royal blood, overwhelmingly wealthy.

He was so good-looking, so eloquent, so seductive, yet so terrifying.

Everyone praised him, everyone feared him.

Everyone didn’t want… He had everything, so why did he have to fight so desperately? Fighting so desperately that he was covered in wounds with his blood flowing out, barely breathing, yet still calculating how to fight a villain to the death.

What was he doing this for?

Just to make everyone grateful and shout that Young Master Tang was omnipotent?

That seemed too desperate.

Fu Zhumei supported the ice-cold Tang Lici in confusion. Too desperate. A’Li seemed to be responding to something, giving away everything of himself before he had gained anything at all.

A carriage departed from the capital. The driver was a Ghost Peony, and sitting in the carriage was another Ghost Peony.

The driver wore black robes with red flowers, very conspicuous, with the identifying marks visible from afar. But the “Xie Yaohuang” sitting in the carriage didn’t wear black robes with red flowers, nor did he wear a mask. He sat cross-legged in the carriage, fingering a silver needle and inserting it into his own head.

He was performing acupuncture on himself.

A’Shui sat in a corner of the carriage with Fengfeng lying in her arms, curiously watching this strange person who was sticking needles into his own head.

Though Xie Yaohuang was a “Ghost Peony,” he rarely left Tianqing Temple. He knew Emperor Gong’s life story like the back of his hand and believed himself to be Emperor Gong’s spirit, but often suffered from headaches. Even after reading through all three volumes of the “Book of Rebirth,” he found no mention of how to treat the splitting headaches of a “spirit transfer body.” Earlier, when provoked by Tang Lici, his blood surged and his madness flared. When Chunhui told him to take medicine, he also felt something was wrong and hastily departed.

But after leaving the prison, his headache hadn’t stopped. It felt as if something foreign was about to burst from his brain. The usual medications were useless. After smashing some objects in his room, he had a sudden inspiration—he turned and went to the secret chamber to grab A’Shui, ordering her to take him to find “Ning Buyi.”

That mysterious fragment that had been discarded along with the “Book of Rebirth” might contain secret arts for treating spirit transfer bodies. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became, and for a moment, he completely forgot about the barely breathing Tang Lici and Fu Zhumei.

Everyone said Young Master Tang was omnipotent.

He was merely a plaything under his control. When grasped by the throat, what difference was there between a boneless beauty and the omnipotent Young Master Tang?

Anyway, everything in this world should prostrate at his feet, should be subject to his designation and squandering, should be like drowning swans, raising their necks and plaintively begging for life.

A’Shui sat silently to one side.

“Where did you discard the fragment?” Xie Yaohuang pulled out the long needle from his head, blood still on it, dripping onto the carriage.

A’Shui said calmly, “In the valley behind Yujing Mountain outside the city.”

“Yujing Mountain?” Seeing this woman’s composed expression, Xie Yaohuang felt his agitated emotions calm by three parts, “What were you doing at Yujing Mountain?”

“A friend of mine used to live behind Yujing Mountain.” A’Shui closed her eyes, then opened them again, “His turtle liked to eat paper, so I sometimes brought fragments to feed the turtle.”

Xie Yaohuang’s mind was full of national hatred and family feuds. Hearing such an absurd story, he didn’t understand what she was talking about for a moment, frowning as he thought it over twice, “Eat paper?”

“But that fragment wasn’t fed to the turtle.” A’Shui said softly, “When I went there again later, that friend was no longer there.”

“Dead?” Xie Yaohuang’s mood immediately brightened.

“Yes.” A’Shui lowered her eyelashes, “Probably dead.”

Yujing Mountain wasn’t far from the capital. Traveling by carriage at full speed, they reached the foot of the mountain in an hour. The driving Ghost Peony had A’Shui lead the way, and as soon as he spoke, A’Shui recognized his voice.

This was Cao Wufang.

This person was just borrowing Ghost Peony’s clothes. With a mask on, no one could tell who was who anyway.

Cao Wufang had spent much time with her at Fengliu Store. She knew Cao Wufang hated Liu Yan to the bone because when Hua Wuyan died, Liu Yan not only didn’t save him but played a farewell song for him. So what did he want to do by putting on a mask and following?

She walked step by step toward the mountainside of Yujing Mountain.

On Yujing Mountain’s mountainside was an earthen house with a waterfall behind it. The waterfall’s jade-like torrents crashed against many large stones below the cliff, making the area misty and covered in moss.

Locals wouldn’t live here—the humidity was too heavy, easily causing cold and damp ailments, houses would rot easily, and belongings would quickly deteriorate. But Fu Zhumei lived here, and his turtle also liked it here.

He might have thought the water mist was fun, or perhaps because turtles liked water.

She was lying without changing expression. She knew he lived here, just like all girls who had dreamed knew where their beloved boy lived. But she had never come here and never knew whether that huge turtle actually ate paper or not. She had seen the turtle eat vegetables—very ordinary.

Why say the “Ning Buyi” fragment had ended up here?

She didn’t know.

Or perhaps just saying it casually.

Or perhaps because Yujing Mountain had a waterfall on it.

“A’Shui.” Cao Wufang picked a weed from the roadside and chuckled casually, “Do you know what was in the iron cage that passed by your door earlier?”

A’Shui stopped walking, pausing slightly with an ominous feeling in her heart, “What was in it?”

“Young Master Tang.” Cao Wufang whispered, “Interesting, isn’t it?” He tilted his head to observe her, “Are you worried to death?”

A’Shui remembered the drops of blood that had fallen when the iron prison cart passed by earlier, and couldn’t help but shudder, “Young Master Tang…” She steadied herself, “Young Master Tang’s affairs don’t require my speculation.”

“You needn’t worry.” Cao Wufang smiled with full malice, “For a hypocrite who tried to use someone else’s child to deceive you for a lifetime, letting him be torn to pieces by Ghost Venerable would be just right, wouldn’t it?”

A’Shui suddenly turned around, so quickly that her sleeves flew and her hair ornaments scattered, her long hair spilling over half her body, “What did you say?”

“I said what Tang Lici was holding—” Cao Wufang pointed at Fengfeng in her arms, “what he returned to you, is someone else’s child. Your child disappeared somewhere on the very night you entrusted him to Tang Lici.” He laughed heartily, “I heard the Liu residence buried an infant that night—probably your child. If you don’t believe it, you can go dig up a grave in the Liu residence’s back courtyard.”

A’Shui’s face turned deathly pale as she gripped Fengfeng’s arm tightly. Fengfeng stared at her blankly, pouting as if about to cry.

She murmured, “Liu… Liu residence? What Liu residence?”

“Princess Liu of Southern Han has a mansion in the capital, and she happened to have an infant.” Cao Wufang smiled, “About the same age as your child. On the night you entrusted your child to Young Master Tang, he broke into the Liu residence. Guess what he did? I heard from a physician at Hao Wenhou’s house that he gave you abortion medicine on his wife’s orders. That child shouldn’t have been able to live according to reason, yet why it could live so long puzzled him greatly.”

By this point, A’Shui could ask no more questions.

She felt as if she had fallen into an icy cave, yet remained lucid, her face ice-cold without a single tear.

Cao Wufang asked her to continue leading the way while curiously staring at her, “You don’t hate him?”

Fengfeng burst into loud wails, hugging A’Shui tightly and burying his head in her chest.

She held him in a daze, walking forward.

For a long time, she didn’t know where her soul had gone.

Cao Wufang was extremely curious, “You’re not even crying? This child is just a tool Tang Lici used to deceive you into devoted loyalty, to trick you into sacrificing your life for him. This person pretends to be omnipotent, but who knows how many hypocritical and deceptive acts he’s committed—extremely false in his benevolence and righteousness.”

Huh? Young Master Tang used him to deceive me into devoted loyalty, to sacrifice my life for him? A’Shui thought in confusion, really?

She thought… Young Master Tang didn’t need to deceive me into devoted loyalty.

If my child was destined to die, that wasn’t Young Master Tang’s fault.

If he didn’t care about my feelings, why would he scheme so painstakingly to deceive me?

He just… tried his best.

He tried his best, but his methods were always different from others. He was so earnest, yet everyone was horrified by his various efforts—more fearful than grateful.

Young Master Tang never learned how to be a good person.

She closed her eyes, tears bursting from her eyes and mixing with Fengfeng’s tears, soaking the infant’s clothes. “Why did you tell me?” she asked softly.