Tonight, Lu Beicheng seemed to have made up his mind—he had to hear that girl’s call clearly.

He even braced himself against the handles of his wheelchair and slowly stood up.

Finally, his legs felt a little lighter, and with great difficulty, he managed to take half a step forward.

The girl still stood amid the boundless white mist, her features indistinct, even her figure hazy and blurred.

Who was she, really? What was she calling out?

The girl kept calling.

Lu Beicheng’s brow furrowed tightly, sweat covering his face and forehead.

He forced himself to walk, even though each step felt like a knife carving into his legs. Still, he gritted his teeth and kept moving forward.

The girl was still calling.

This time, Lu Beicheng endured the searing pain, determined to get close enough to see the girl clearly.

His legs, heavy as if filled with lead, finally moved step by step toward that expanse of pale white.

But just as he was about to make out the girl’s appearance, she suddenly turned and ran.

“Come back!” Lu Beicheng called out in a deep voice.

The girl turned her head and glanced at him.

A wave of searing pain struck, and everything went black before Lu Beicheng’s eyes.

He was about to wake up!

“Who are you, really?” Why could he never see her face clearly?

Why lead him to this place, yet not let him see who she truly was?

Suddenly, the departing girl’s footsteps paused. This time, the mist dispersed.

She finally turned back and looked at him.

Her thin lips parted slightly, her blurred face and voice gradually becoming clear: “…You’ve finally come back, Ninth Imperial Uncle.”

“Jiu’er!”

Lu Beicheng’s eyes snapped open, and he sat up abruptly.

Jiu’er… that girl was actually Zhen Jiu’er.

She had called him Ninth Imperial Uncle.

But why was he being called Ninth Imperial Uncle? Who exactly was the Ninth Imperial Uncle?

Lu Beicheng’s mind was a blur of confusion.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he finally calmed down.

He raised his hand to wipe his temple, and what came off the back of his hand was all cold sweat.

Jiu’er, Ninth Imperial Uncle, Beimu City, the Northern Emperor’s Tomb, and the intertwined locks he’d stumbled upon at the entrance as if guided by some unseen force…

Everything, all of it, seemed as though fate had already been set in the unseen realm, yet he still had no idea where that fate led.

Could it be that Zhen Jiu’er was the key?

Lu Beicheng used both arms to support himself and sat back down in the wheelchair.

Under his direction, the wheelchair left the tent.

It was three in the morning, and everyone else was resting.

Something stirred restlessly in his heart, and he gazed toward the direction of Zhen Jiu’er’s tent in the distance.

After joining up with the archaeological team, since there were girls in the group, Jiu’er had ended up living close to Ren Qiqi and He Muling.

Although each had her own tent, the distance between them wasn’t far.

He instinctively wanted to go over, but the wheelchair had barely rolled two turns before Lu Beicheng stopped himself.

He didn’t know what she was doing, but at this hour, she should be resting.

He looked up at the sky for a moment, then finally said in a low voice, “Southeast.”

The wheelchair’s two legs immediately extended, carrying him toward the southeast.

The Northern Prince’s Manor.

He had come to this place last night, but no one knew about it.

However, his timing and Jiu’er’s had missed each other, so the two of them hadn’t crossed paths.

At this moment, the Ninth Prince’s Manor lay in complete desolation.

He didn’t know why, but both times he’d come here, seeing this abandoned complex of buildings made his heart feel faintly uneasy.

The Ninth Prince’s Manor… Ninth Imperial Uncle?

Lu Beicheng’s gaze suddenly darkened, his heart faintly aching.

Could it be that the owner of this manor was the very Ninth Imperial Uncle that Zhen Jiu’er spoke of?

Then who exactly was Zhen Jiu’er?