“I wasn’t — I was only…” Feng Jiu’er startled, certain for a moment that the Ninth Imperial Uncle had woken.

But when she turned to look, she found he was only talking in his sleep.

She let out a quiet breath of relief, yet the furrow between her brows only deepened.

Did the Ninth Imperial Uncle truly think of her as someone this unruly? Someone always on the verge of bolting at the slightest chance? Why else would he refuse to let her run away even in his dreams?

She glanced down at her own clothing, and her face immediately flushed a deep, mortified red.

Why did the Ninth Imperial Uncle enjoy undoing her clothes so much? She was always ending up in a state of dishevelment around him — it was completely unseemly!

Well… in the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s presence, the very concept of “seemly” simply did not exist.

Once again moving with painstaking care, she lifted the long arm draped around her waist, and at last climbed down from the makeshift pallet. She hurriedly set about putting herself back to rights.

These past few days, the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s injuries really had been quite serious — so he had not been too unreasonably demanding while in bed.

He simply liked holding her while he slept, and on occasion, when half-dreaming and half-awake, his large hands would wander without restraint…

Beyond that, he was reasonably well-behaved, at least in the sense that he had not truly pulled all of her clothing away.

So the small wound on Feng Jiu’er’s arm had, until now, still gone undetected by the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

His condition truly was declining with each passing day. Even with her blood suppressing the Gu Poison and keeping him alive, his vitality remained deeply depleted.

She glanced back at him and caught sight of those long, elegant lashes lying against his eyelids, casting two neat rows of fan-shaped shadows beneath them. Something inside Feng Jiu’er stirred unbidden.

He was beautiful. Beautiful enough that she could not stop herself from turning back and taking a few steps closer — nearly pressing her lips to those sleeping eyelids.

By the time she came to her senses, her lips were already less than half a finger’s width from his eyelids.

Good heavens! She had almost kissed him!

Feng Jiu’er recoiled with a start, stumbling back several steps. She turned to look at the sleeping man again, heart pounding wildly.

Heavens above — that had been far too close. She had nearly stolen a kiss from the Ninth Imperial Uncle!

When had her self-restraint grown so utterly feeble? She had only looked at him a moment longer than usual, and she had nearly lost all control!

Determined not to let her mind run any further astray, Feng Jiu’er hurriedly averted her gaze, refusing to look any longer at the dangerously captivating man on the pallet.

Drawing in a deep breath, she lifted the flap of the tent and stepped outside.

The night breeze swept past, brushing over her face and body, and the heat that had been building within her finally began to dissipate somewhat.

What did it mean for someone to be a walking enticement? From this point forward, one need only look to the Ninth Imperial Uncle himself for the answer.

In the distance, Yu Jingfeng stood beneath a tree. Not far off was Long Twelve, and a little further still, Qiao Mu.

Feng Jiu’er breathed deeply, forcing down the last lingering warmth that clung to her, then stepped toward the dense forest.

No one followed. Everyone appeared to be occupied with their own affairs, and Feng Jiu’er’s departure seemed to attract no attention whatsoever.

But the moment she truly slipped into the depths of the forest, those several figures swiftly closed in from different directions.

Once everyone had gathered, Feng Jiu’er gave a single nod.

Long Twelve took the lead. Qiao Mu and Feng Jiu’er followed. Yu Jingfeng brought up the rear.

It had to be said — the improvement in Feng Jiu’er’s lightness technique was enough to dazzle every one of them.

This girl was a prodigy in all things she turned her hand to. Whatever she chose to learn, she mastered it at a pace countless times faster than any ordinary person.

In the span of only a few short days, her lightness technique had already caught up to someone who had trained for nearly ten years.

If lightness technique were measured in levels, Qiao Mu and Yu Jingfeng sat at level nine, Long Twelve at nine and a half. As for Feng Jiu’er now — she had to be at least level five, perhaps even six.

From someone who had barely any command of lightness technique at all, to rise to the standard of five or six levels in less than a month — was that not extraordinary?

That said, lightness technique mirrored inner cultivation in one respect: the early levels came quickly, but progress slowed with every step thereafter.

On the path of lightness technique, Feng Jiu’er still had a long and unhurried road yet ahead of her.

As they moved through the trees, they finally arrived at the location Long Twelve had agreed upon with the other party, having sent word by carrier pigeon.

Long Twelve took up position in the high branches. Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu concealed themselves in another tree not far away.

Yu Jingfeng slipped silently to the far side of the slope, keeping a somewhat greater distance from the others.

There was still roughly the time it took two sticks of incense to burn before the appointed hour. They had arrived early — the better to lay their ambush and wait.

Time passed, little by little. After about two sticks of incense had burned, a faint stirring finally came from the distance. It seemed as though someone was truly ascending the mountain.

Someone had come, just as expected.

Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu exchanged a glance, then carefully shifted to a better vantage point from which they could more easily make out whoever was approaching from below.

The figure drew steadily closer to the summit, and before long, that silhouette came into view.

But this person — not one of them had expected it. Of all people… it was Cold Moon.

How could it be her? She harbored such deep feelings for the Ninth Prince — and even if she was hostile toward Feng Jiu’er, she would absolutely never do anything to betray him.

How was this possible? How could this be?

After Cold Moon arrived and found no one in the immediate vicinity, she hesitated at the foot of the meeting spot for a moment. Then, as though something suddenly occurred to her, she turned to leave.

Long Twelve and Yu Jingfeng from his more distant position immediately gave chase. Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu did not dare close in too soon — they waited until the two men had moved in before beginning to follow.

But up ahead, by some means that was unclear to Feng Jiu’er, Cold Moon had apparently detected Yu Jingfeng and Long Twelve. By the time Feng Jiu’er and the others arrived, all three of them had already broken into a fight.

“Yu Jingfeng, what is the meaning of this?” Cold Moon struck out with her palm, her eyes blazing red with fury. “You set a trap to frame me?”

Yu Jingfeng’s expression was cold — he was just as bewildered as anyone at finding her here, at this time, in this place.

“What have you been doing behind the Young Master’s back? Why have you appeared here tonight?”

Cold Moon narrowly dodged his palm and snapped back in anger: “Those are the very words I would put to you! Why are you here? And these people!”

She pointed at Long Twelve, Qiao Mu, and finally at Feng Jiu’er, who had been the last to arrive.

She stepped back, momentarily breaking off from her clash with Yu Jingfeng, though the four of them had her completely surrounded.

Cold Moon’s brow furrowed, and her voice crackled with anger: “In the dead of night, the three of you leave the Young Master unattended and gather here — what exactly are you scheming? Are you plotting treachery against the Young Master?”

Yu Jingfeng’s emotions were tangled. He was still struggling to make sense of everything unfolding before him.

“Cold Moon. Given where things stand, you may as well tell us your purpose here.”

The others might not share any particular bond with Cold Moon, but it was different for him. He and Cold Moon had known each other for over ten years.

Though the friendship between them had always been tepid — neither warm nor cold — ten-odd years of shared days were not simply nothing.

“Who among those in the company did you join forces with to expose our position?” That, above all else, was what Yu Jingfeng could not forgive.

After more than ten years at the side of their lord, how could she have brought herself to betray him?

Feng Jiu’er, however, frowned. Something about this whole affair did not feel this straightforward. “Cold Moon — why did you come here tonight?”