The letter had been left by Feng Jiang—Feng Jiu’er recognized his handwriting.

Qiao Mu, I’m sorry! I’ve broken our promise.

Fourth Imperial Uncle is currently in my eldest imperial brother’s hands. I must go see how things stand.

Don’t worry about me. You must follow Jiu’er’s orders.

Just three short lines, yet they carried an unusually heavy weight of meaning.

Feng Jiang had been calling Qiao Mu “wife” for quite some time now, yet today he had switched back to using her name.

His final words were an order to follow Jiu’er’s commands—he made no mention of when he would return, nor any promise that he would come back at all.

Yu Jingfeng took the letter, read through its contents once, and glanced around at everyone.

Qiao Mu gripped her silver spear tightly and looked at Feng Jiu’er. “What do we do now? I’ll follow your lead!”

Yu Jingfeng had deliberately raised his voice on that last line earlier—she wasn’t deaf, after all, and would certainly have heard it.

The letter had been left for Qiao Mu, and she had been the first to find it, so she surely already knew what it said.

But for someone whose mood had been so blissful, to fall from heaven straight into hell like this—that she hadn’t truly lost her mind was already remarkable.

During the battle that had just ended, Feng Jin had proposed more than once that if Feng Jiang were willing to return, he could still be Third Prince.

Feng Jiang himself didn’t care about the position of Third Prince, but for the sake of the common people and his brothers, he had once considered going to negotiate peace.

Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu hadn’t agreed to let him take that risk, and neither had the other brothers.

Yet somehow, Feng Jin had still gotten his way and lured Feng Jiang out of the city.

Feng Li was the person Feng Jiang respected most—whether in the past, the present, or the future, Feng Jiang could never simply ignore anything concerning Feng Li.

Feng Jiu’er glanced at Qiao Mu, then turned her gaze to Di Wu Ya.

Di Wu Ya reached out and gently ruffled her hair, looking around at everyone.

“My return this time was also in pursuit of the Night Prince’s trail.”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, do you mean my father is very likely truly in Feng Jin’s hands?” Feng Jiu’er’s brow tightened.

Her father had been so close to her all along, and she hadn’t even known.

What did that dream last night mean? Why had she had such a dream?

Could it be that her third imperial brother, because of her father, would really…

No! Absolutely not!

Feng Jiu’er clenched her fists tightly, not letting her worry show in front of everyone.

Di Wu Ya turned to glance at her, then drew his long arm in, pulling her into his embrace.

“Girl, I’m sorry! I wasn’t able to keep my promise.”

“I need to go in.” A commotion sounded from outside.

“Your Highness, Miss Jiu’er, it’s Long Wu.”

Long Wu had apparently been stopped outside by someone.

“Let him in.” Feng Jiu’er called out toward the outside, her voice low.

Of the Twelve Flying Dragon Riders, only Long Shiyi appeared regularly at Feng Jiu’er’s side—not everyone from the Dragon Shadow forces could clearly recognize the other eleven.

“Yes.” The brother standing guard outside answered loudly.

The door was pulled open, and Long Wu hurried in.

His dark hair was somewhat disheveled, travel-worn, and his complexion was rather pale—it was clear at a glance that these past days had been hard on him.

As soon as Long Wu entered, he dropped to one knee and cupped his hands in salute.

“Your Highness.”

“Sit and speak!” Di Wu Ya waved a hand.

“Go prepare something to eat for Long Wu, something hot.” Feng Jiu’er said to the brother who had followed him in.

“Yes.” The brother cupped his hands, turned, and left, closing the door behind him.

Long Wu cupped his hands once more, stood, and went to sit in a chair off to the side.

Xiao Yingtao poured a cup of hot tea and brought it to him.

“Drink it. Drink it.”

Long Wu glanced up at Xiao Yingtao and took the cup. “Thank you.”

He raised the cup and drank it down in one gulp, heedless of how hot it was.

After the hot tea settled in his stomach, his complexion finally looked a little better.

“Your Highness, you moved too fast—I really couldn’t keep up. I’m sorry!” Long Wu’s voice came out somewhat hoarse.

“Long Wu, what have you all found out during this time?” Feng Jiu’er asked anxiously.

It wasn’t just her—Qiao Mu was even more anxious, and everyone else was on edge as well.

“Miss Jiu’er.” Long Wu turned his gaze to her.

“Miss Jiu’er, the Night Prince on Peach Blossom Island was a fake.”

“Afterward, the brothers discovered signs of the Night Prince in Yíchéng, Yìchéng, and Liuchuan City, and even in Heishan City and Xiang City all at the same time.”

“Jiu’er, it’s me.” Zhao Yusheng’s voice came from outside.

Without waiting for Feng Jiu’er to respond, Zhao Yusheng knocked on the door and pushed his way in.

“Jiu’er, there’s a letter from Madam Yue.” He held the letter and strode toward her.

Feng Jiu’er took the letter, tore it open, and read it, her brow knitting even more tightly.

“Sister Hua says traces of my father have turned up everywhere.”

Feng Jiu’er held the letter and looked at everyone.

“She suspects that Feng Qiongcang already knows our purpose in coming, or that the one who captured my father is Feng Qiongcang himself.”

Feng Jiu’er took a deep breath, composing herself.

“The letter was written by Sister Hua five days ago—she received the news within six days of it happening.”

“With the time it took to go and come back, that’s already more than ten days. Ninth Imperial Uncle, you all…”

“Miss Jiu’er, in these past twelve days, His Highness led everyone across all five of those cities I mentioned.” Long Wu’s voice continued.

“His Highness knew full well this was surely a scheme, but he didn’t want to miss any chance of finding the Night Prince.”

“Unfortunately, we did find people, but none of them were the real Night Prince.”

“And moreover, what we found weren’t living people at all—they were corpses.”

Long Wu turned his head and coughed heavily, then continued, “The Black Pool territory has nine cities and one island in total.”

“Not counting Lord Yue’s Yue City, or Lei Shenbao’s Li City, we’ve now been to Peach Blossom Island and searched five cities.”

“Now only Plains City and Yongshan City remain.”

“Miss Jiu’er, His Highness truly missed you terribly.”

“After we entered Plains City, Long Yi led people to keep searching, but His Highness rushed back without a moment’s rest.”

“This subordinate was useless!” Long Wu stood and cupped his hands.

“I simply couldn’t keep pace with His Highness. Fortunately he is safe and sound. Please, Miss Jiu’er, punish me as you see fit!”

A brother brought food in through the door. Feng Jiu’er waved a hand. “Long Wu, go eat something first.”

Long Wu stood and cupped his hands once more.

“Yes.” He turned and followed the brother carrying the food into the side hall.

Twelve days, five cities searched from top to bottom—who else could have managed such a thing?

Feng Jiu’er glanced at Di Wu Ya once more, then let her gaze fall on Qiao Mu.

It wasn’t that she didn’t ache for her own man, but at least her man was safe and well.

Right now, the most important thing was finding her third imperial brother and returning him to this woman who was on the verge of losing her mind.

“Whether or not my father is in Feng Jin’s hands, we must attack immediately.”

Things had changed—the previous plan would have to be shelved for now.

“Qiao Mu, your man is also someone very important in my life. Third Imperial Brother asked you to follow my arrangements—are you still willing to?”

“Just give the orders.” Qiao Mu picked up her silver spear and struck it hard against the ground.

“What he said means nothing!”