After Jian Yi finished his meal, he changed his own clothes and lay down. Feng Jiu’er gave him acupuncture and stayed by his side for a while. By the time he fell asleep, it was already past midnight.

The letter Xiao Yingtao had carried away was one Feng Jiu’er had written to Feng Yi’nan. She hoped he could search the area for any books related to formations and dark arts. With Jian Yi in his current state, she wasn’t at ease leaving his side.

Feng Yi’nan brought Feng Jiu’er every book Zhao Yusheng had collected before leaving camp. Feng Jiu’er sat hugging Zhao Yusheng’s books, reading through the entire night.

Early the next morning, Xing Zizhou brought back a group of wounded brothers and hurried off to find Feng Jiu’er. At that moment, Jian Yi was sharing a meal with her.

“Xing Zizhou.” Feng Jiu’er waved him over when she saw him come in.

“Have you eaten? If not, sit and have something.”

Xing Zizhou went over and sat down, picking up a steamed bun.

“How’s the front line?” Feng Jiu’er asked softly.

Xing Zizhou drew his gaze away from Jian Yi and looked at Feng Jiu’er.

“Of our three units, Qiao Mu’s unit is in a fairly dangerous spot.”

“Qiao Mu came up against Lei Shenbao.”

“The brothers all took the antidote before the offensive, but something still went wrong.”

“Jiu’er, the brothers we sent out to gather herbs ran into trouble, and there’s been no word since. I was about to take men out to check on it myself.”

“We’re out of antidote, and the camp’s medical supplies are running low.”

“What’s worse, Lei Shenbao’s men keep using poison against us, so our brothers have to take the antidote every single day. At this rate, what we have left won’t last three more days.”

“Yang Sheng’s side says he wants to take a group out to gather herbs—he knows the terrain around here well. But he and Qiao Mu are fighting the central zone together, so he can’t leave either.”

“Right now, the only option is for you, Jiu’er, to take Cai Liantang’s and Qin Anzhuo’s men to reinforce them, while Yang Sheng leads his guards out to find herbs.”

“Only…”

Xing Zizhou looked at Jian Yi—he’d already heard about his condition on the way here.

“Jiu’er, I’ll go with you to lead the troops there,” Jian Yi said, setting down the bowl in his hand.

Feng Jiu’er didn’t hesitate, nodding. “All right.”

“Xing Zizhou, get things arranged. Jian Yi and I will set out in two quarter-hours.”

The moment she finished speaking, Feng Jiu’er handed Xing Zizhou a bowl of plain rice porridge. Xing Zizhou took the bowl, glanced once more at Jian Yi, and nodded. “Good. I’ll go prepare at once.”

Two quarter-hours later, Feng Jiu’er, Jian Yi, and Yu Jingfeng led several thousand brothers from Cai Liantang’s and Qin Anzhuo’s units toward the central front. It was the first time the five thousand men from Lianxi Town had set foot on the front line.

They were rough men by nature, many of them former vagrants and bandits. Now that the battle had finally given them their chance to fight, they wielded their blades and swords with everything they had.

Before nightfall, the fighting in the central zone paused for a time, as Lei Shenbao withdrew his troops.

Qiao Mu had been wounded, and Feng Jiu’er bandaged her in the tent while Jian Yi, for once, went with the other brothers to help tend to the wounded. This was the first time since returning from Chen Hong’s side that Jian Yi had been willing to be apart from Feng Jiu’er. Even in the middle of battle, he’d stuck to her side like a shadow.

Qiao Mu’s wound was on her left shoulder, struck by Lei Shenbao himself. After Feng Jiu’er finished applying medicine and bandaging her, she went to fetch the medicine and returned to the bedside.

Qiao Mu sat up. The moment she stretched out her left arm, Feng Jiu’er pressed it back down.

“I told you not to move. Why are you so disobe—so unwilling to listen?”

Feng Jiu’er shot Qiao Mu a look, and only then did Qiao Mu lower her left hand.

She took the bowl from Feng Jiu’er with her right hand and drank down the medicine inside in one breath.

“I told you it’s nothing serious—why did you have to wrap it up like this? How am I supposed to fight now?”

“You’ll rest in camp for the next two days. After that, leave it to me,” Feng Jiu’er said, taking back the empty bowl.

Qiao Mu frowned but said nothing further on the matter. After all, it really was just a minor wound, nothing to worry about.

“Jiu’er.” She looked at Feng Jiu’er, who had stood up. “What’s going on with Jian Yi? I heard he’s lost his memory?”

“Today I noticed he’s even more clingy with you—it’s so strange!”

“He was struck by a spell of Chen Hong’s. I don’t know the details myself yet,” Feng Jiu’er said, walking over to set the bowl on the table.

“Last night, in those books, I came across a kind of formation that can control a person’s mind—it’s tied to dark arts as well.”

Feng Jiu’er returned to Qiao Mu’s side and sat down.

“Thinking back to when I arrived and saw those eight women surrounding Jian Yi, the way their hands were moving—I suspect Jian Yi was caught in exactly that kind of formation.”

“How do you mean?” Qiao Mu gave the dark circles under Feng Jiu’er’s eyes a faintly disapproving glance.

“Since Jian Yi went missing, have you rested at all? Those circles under your eyes…”

She shook her head, sighing softly. In truth, Feng Jiu’er was exhausted too. She simply lay down on the low bed and closed her eyes.

“This kind of formation can control a person’s mind. If Jian Yi really has fallen under it, then Chen Hong is his master now.”

“But here’s the strange part—the books say someone caught in this formation forgets everything from before entirely. Yet Jian Yi still remembers me. He only remembers me.”

Qiao Mu had fought two days straight and was tired as well. She lay down beside Feng Jiu’er, settling in close.

“Sister Hua only studied under her master for a few years and already has impressive skill. Chen Hong has followed a formation master for twenty years—her ability with formations is nothing to underestimate.”

“Or perhaps it’s because Jian Yi’s internal strength is quite strong, and he resisted part of it.”

“That’s the only explanation,” Feng Jiu’er said, her breathing gradually growing calmer.

“Right now, what worries me most is Jian Yi crossing paths with Chen Hong.”

“If they never meet again, Jian Yi will just be a bit odd in his behavior, with everything else more or less the same as usual. But if he does meet Chen Hong again…”

“The consequences would be too dire to imagine.”

“Odd in his behavior?” Qiao Mu’s brow furrowed.

“Mm.” Feng Jiu’er nodded. “The moment he woke up, he said I was his wife.”

“I told him I wasn’t, and not only did he cry, he tried to hurt himself.”

Feng Jiu’er sighed without a sound.

“Thank goodness the Ninth Imperial Uncle wasn’t there—otherwise I have no idea what might have happened.”

“Qiao Mu, I’m a little tired. Let me close my eyes for half an hour—this matter really needs Sister Hua’s help. She might be the only one who can.”

“Qiao Mu…”

“Sleep,” Qiao Mu said, sitting up and laying her right hand over Feng Jiu’er’s forehead.

She stirred her internal energy slightly, sending a faint stream of true qi from her palm into the center of Feng Jiu’er’s brow.

Feng Jiu’er felt a warmth spread through her, and before long she had drifted into sleep.

This time, Feng Jiu’er slept for an entire day and night. When she woke, it was still nighttime, and only Jian Yi remained beside her.

Feng Jiu’er knew she’d been asleep a long while, but she couldn’t understand why she hadn’t been able to wake sooner.

Had her old condition flared up again?

“Jiu’er.” Seeing Feng Jiu’er finally awake, Jian Yi’s brow, which had been knit tight for the better part of the day, finally relaxed.

“Jian Yi.” Feng Jiu’er glanced outside. “What time is it now? How long was I asleep?”

It was still dark out—could it be she hadn’t slept all that long after all?