After three straight days of travel, the Ninth Prince’s procession had passed through two more cities.

That afternoon, the procession rested briefly in a mountain forest, preparing to set out again in half an hour’s time.

Stealing a moment from her busy schedule, Feng Jiu’er sat by a stream, having removed her boots to dip her small bare feet into the cool, biting water.

Watching the fish play in the water ahead, she felt a touch of melancholy.

“Are you thinking about the new Longqi Army?”

Qiao Mu stood beside her, gazing off toward the distant mountains.

In truth, ever since leaving the new Longqi Army’s ranks, Feng Jiu’er had said barely a word about matters on that front.

But Qiao Mu, who had come along with her, had known from the start that Feng Jiu’er hadn’t been able to let go of what was happening over there.

She had left, leaving Mu Mu and Huo Yan to face the entire procession alone — and worse, Mu Mu still couldn’t reveal his true identity.

On the surface, it was essentially Huo Yan handling everything, and although Xiao Yingtao knew the truth as well, Jiu’er couldn’t fully trust her judgment in handling matters.

What was more, with everyone now watching for the Ninth Prince’s identity, all manner of factions across the martial world were flocking toward him — some, like Jiu’er herself, drawn by his reputation; others from various foreign powers seeking to eliminate him; and still others hoping to win him over to their side.

In short, the situation over there was anything but promising.

And yet Feng Jiu’er, at such a difficult time, had abandoned the new Longqi Army’s procession to come here and protect the Ninth Prince instead.

To Feng Jiu’er, this felt like a betrayal!

Having spent these past few days together, Qiao Mu found herself growing more and more impressed with this girl — outwardly delicate, yet possessed of surprisingly sharp strategic thinking.

Still, to truly put herself in Jiu’er’s shoes right now was, admittedly, no easy thing.

“There’s been no word from Xing Zizhou’s side, so the new Longqi Army should be fine for now. I’m not worried.”

“You say you’re not worried, yet your heart is clearly full of concern.” Qiao Mu sat down beside her, watching her feet soak in the stream.

Jiu’er had a finely crafted chain around her ankle, and the most striking part of it was the small key dangling from it.

“Why do you tie this around your ankle?” Qiao Mu pointed at the little gold chain on her foot. “You always wear boots anyway — no one can even see it, so what’s the point, no matter how pretty it is?”

Qiao Mu genuinely couldn’t understand a young girl’s fondness for such things; she’d never cared for that sort of preoccupation herself.

Feng Jiu’er lifted her foot, a faint, wry smile on her lips. “How would I know…”

How was she supposed to know why that man had tied this chain around her ankle?

It was the chain the Ninth Imperial Uncle had fastened there himself — on the very first night she’d crossed over into this world, she’d very nearly been taken advantage of by a Ninth Imperial Uncle who, under the effects of an aphrodisiac and with no awareness of what he was doing, had lost all reason.

Though, to be fair, the Ninth Imperial Uncle truly had been completely out of his mind at the time — between the aphrodisiac and the Gu Poison flaring up, he had been in an utterly frenzied state.

Afterward, she had passed out, and when she woke, she found this chain newly fastened around her ankle — and of course, it could only have been the Ninth Imperial Uncle who’d put it there.

A tiny little key… suddenly, Jiu’er seemed to recall something, and was just reaching to tug at her own sleeve.

But Qiao Mu’s voice scattered her thoughts entirely. “Feng Jiu’er, just what kind of person are you, really? How can someone so young hide her feelings so well?”

“Me?” Feng Jiu’er pointed at herself, lowering her feet and letting the matter drop. “I’m just who I am — what’s so strange about that?”

“No, you’re… quite remarkable.” Qiao Mu frowned, staring intently at her face.

Though Qiao Mu’s own combat skill was unremarkable, her lightness skill unremarkable, even her physical strength unremarkable, she always had the sense that someone like Jiu’er, were she ever to become an enemy, would be truly terrifying.

She had a touch of the Ninth Prince’s own ruthlessness in her — only, perhaps, she herself didn’t even realize it.

As for how Qiao Mu knew just how ruthless the Ninth Prince could be — well, anyone who had ever witnessed him on the battlefield would understand exactly how merciless he could become.

But then, on a battlefield, who could afford not to be ruthless?

And so, this ruthlessness in Jiu’er did nothing to diminish Qiao Mu’s admiration for the Ninth Prince — if anything, it only made her adore him all the more.

Feng Jiu’er chose to sidestep the question entirely, tilting her head instead to glance at Qiao Mu, a faint smile curling her lips.

“You like the Ninth Imperial Uncle so much — now that you see me with him all the time, don’t you want to strangle me?”

“If I strangled you, who’d keep the Ninth Prince alive?” Qiao Mu turned her head, shooting her a sidelong glance.

A small warmth stirred in Feng Jiu’er’s heart — sometimes, affection worked in such strange ways.

The things you reach for, you can never quite grasp; and the things you’ve stopped reaching for suddenly arrive on their own.

The Feng family had never treated her kindly, and not one of her sisters had ever loved her — but did that really matter?

At least she still had friends.

Suddenly, Jiu’er’s eyes darkened slightly, and Qiao Mu had already leapt to her feet, springing up from the ground.

“Your red thread knot.” Snatching the pigeon flying overhead out of the air, Qiao Mu’s eyes lit up, and she immediately brought it over to Jiu’er.

This was one of Qiao Mu’s own homing pigeons — Jiu’er hadn’t been in this era long enough yet to have raised a flock of her own.

Having lived deep in the wilderness for so many years, the pigeons Qiao Mu raised were wild and fierce, full of restless energy, but utterly obedient to her commands.

The red thread knot was the signal she and Mu Mu used to contact each other — Mu Mu had actually sent her a message himself…

Without pausing to think further, she quickly removed the small bamboo tube from the pigeon’s leg and pulled out a slip of paper from inside: Black Tiger Mountain is dangerous, take Sharp Wolf instead.

A mere handful of words, yet carrying news of enormous weight!

Black Tiger Mountain was the route they had planned to pass through tonight — they had already had people scout ahead, and by all accounts, Black Tiger Mountain should still be safe for now.

So why would Mu Mu’s message claim that Black Tiger Mountain was dangerous?

From here, to reach Mo City, if they didn’t pass through Black Tiger Mountain, they would have to go by way of Sharp Wolf Mountain instead.

It was said that Sharp Wolf Mountain was crawling with wild wolves, extremely dangerous, while Black Tiger Mountain, despite its fearsome name, didn’t actually have any tigers at all.

Ordinarily, anyone passing through would naturally choose Black Tiger Mountain — the wolves on Sharp Wolf Mountain were the real and present danger, the kind that could cost you your life in moments.

And yet Mu Mu… wanted her to take Sharp Wolf Mountain instead?

“Sharp Wolf Mountain…” She looked at Qiao Mu — these places were completely unfamiliar to her, though she had studied the terrain beforehand.

“Given our procession’s current strength, Qiao Mu, could we actually make it through Sharp Wolf Mountain?”

“The wolf packs there are fierce and overwhelming — it’s dangerous.” Qiao Mu studied the note in her hand. For the other side to suggest they take Sharp Wolf Mountain instead… wasn’t that practically the same as sending her to her death?

“Could it be that Black Tiger Mountain has an ambush waiting?”

If the information was correct, then there had to be an ambush waiting on Black Tiger Mountain.

If there truly was an ambush set on Black Tiger Mountain, then the terrain there would, in fact, be perfectly suited for one.

“Jiu’er, what do you think?”

“I…” Feng Jiu’er hesitated for a moment, then suddenly lifted both feet from the stream, hastily tidying herself before pulling her boots back on.

“I’m going to go see the Ninth Imperial Uncle.”

With those words left behind, Feng Jiu’er turned and walked away.

Watching her retreating figure, Qiao Mu pressed a hand lightly against her own chest. Fortunately, hearing now that Jiu’er was going to find the Ninth Prince, her heart no longer felt any trace of unease.