“Why should I tell you?” Cold Moon shot Feng Jiu’er an icy glare, her expression laden with contempt. “Just because you’ve won favor with the Young Master doesn’t mean I’ll take orders from you the way Yu Jingfeng does.”

Yu Jingfeng rubbed his nose. So he had apparently been following Miss Jiu’er’s every instruction all along? He genuinely had not noticed.

“We came here tonight to apprehend a traitor. If you don’t make yourself clear, I’ll have you taken back to see the master directly.”

She did not say they would take her back to see the Ninth Prince — she was well aware that no one wished to disturb the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s rest at this hour.

But at the very least, Feng Jiu’er was certain in her own mind that Cold Moon still held some wariness toward her adoptive father.

Cold Moon’s expression darkened, her disdain growing sharper by the moment. “Feng Jiu’er, you’ve been conducting a private meeting in the dead of night with Yu Jingfeng, and I haven’t even gone to report it to my adoptive father — yet you dare try to go and lodge a complaint against me?”

This wretched girl — did she also know her adoptive father’s true identity? Had Yu Jingfeng told her?

At those words, Yu Jingfeng’s face immediately fell with displeasure. “Cold Moon, you will not speak disrespectfully to Miss Jiu’er.”

Miss Jiu’er was the Prince’s person. And here Cold Moon was, claiming he and Miss Jiu’er were having a secret rendezvous in the middle of the night — the accusation was utterly absurd.

“Oh? I speak disrespectfully toward her, and you’re the one who feels it?” Cold Moon laughed with bold abandon, and gave a cold snort. “And you claim there’s nothing between you and her? If there is nothing, then why were the two of you alone together in that tent for so long tonight?”

It had not occurred to either Feng Jiu’er or Yu Jingfeng that Cold Moon had actually been keeping watch on them that evening.

When someone who has an agenda pretends to have none, the lesson was clear — they would need to be far more careful in how they conducted themselves going forward.

Not because they had anything to hide, but because they feared Cold Moon’s sharp tongue, which would never let the matter rest until it ran its course — and might ultimately reach the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s ears, exposing the fact that Feng Jiu’er had been feeding him her blood every night.

“Yu Jingfeng, bring her back.” Feng Jiu’er scanned the silent surroundings once more, and could not shake the feeling that something was not right.

The person they were trying to catch was not Cold Moon. How could she possibly be the one who had been corresponding with the person from that day?

Cold Moon was already within the company’s ranks — she knew her own whereabouts perfectly well. Beyond that, if there was any communication to be had with someone inside the group, why resort to carrier pigeon when they were all traveling together?

Huo Yan had remarked before that while carrier pigeons were fast, they were not secure. Feng Jiu’er had personally witnessed just how unreliable they could be on this very journey.

Had not a perfectly healthy pigeon been intercepted by them just like that?

Still, Cold Moon had clearly come here tonight with a purpose. She simply was not willing to reveal it now — and pressing her would be useless.

“Did you just say bring me back?” Cold Moon’s voice spiked into a furious cry. “Feng Jiu’er, have you lost your mind? I came out for a walk — on what grounds do you have me taken away?”

Feng Jiu’er no longer had the patience to spare even a glance at her. The longer they lingered out here, the more unsettled she felt.

More importantly, their carrier pigeon had already been sent. The contents of its message had been altered by Long Twelve — yet tonight, not a single person had come to meet them.

Either word of the plan had leaked and something had gone wrong, or the alterations Long Twelve had made to the message had been detected.

Or there was a third possibility… and that one was far more complicated.

In any case, she now felt an urgent need to get back.

“Long Twelve, help Master Yu restrain Cold Moon.” She turned and walked away.

“Understood.” Long Twelve moved to do as instructed.

“No need!” Yu Jingfeng cut in with a cold snort.

With a sharp rush of wind, his palm came down hard toward Cold Moon’s shoulder.

Cold Moon stiffened, then trembled with fury to her fingertips. “Yu Jingfeng — you would truly take orders from this woman? Have you gone mad?”

Yu Jingfeng had no interest in wasting words on her. When the first strike failed to subdue her, a second was already on its way.

Cold Moon’s martial skill was by no means poor, but she was still being steadily forced back by Yu Jingfeng, step by step.

In less than the time it took for a single stick of incense to burn after Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu had gone ahead, Yu Jingfeng finally subdued Cold Moon. Together with Long Twelve, they brought her back under guard.

Up ahead, the more Feng Jiu’er turned things over in her mind, the more her unease grew — and without realizing it, her pace quickened.

Qiao Mu watched her tense, worried silhouette and could not help frowning. “General Feng, is something the matter?”

“Yes.” Feng Jiu’er brought the word out as soon as she raised the concern, quickening her pace even further. “Something feels… off about tonight.”

Qiao Mu had not felt anything in particular herself, but now that Feng Jiu’er said it, she too began to feel a creeping unease.

The two of them had barely returned to the encampment when Yu Jingfeng and Long Twelve arrived as well, bringing Cold Moon along between them.

The whole way back, Cold Moon had not stopped raging: “On what grounds are you dragging me back? Yu Jingfeng, let go! If you don’t, I’ll have the Young Master take your head!”

“Yu Jingfeng, I said let go — did you hear me? Yu Jingfeng…!”

In the end, to give his ears some peace, Yu Jingfeng simply sealed her mute acupoint.

The encampment was still quiet — but the atmosphere was undeniably wrong.

Outside the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s tent, there appeared to be several unfamiliar figures that had not been there before.

Feng Jiu’er’s gaze sharpened, and she immediately moved toward the tent.

Yu Jingfeng caught the wrongness as well. He dropped Cold Moon with Long Twelve and strode swiftly after Feng Jiu’er.

The two of them arrived outside Zhan Qingcheng’s tent to find that beyond the two brothers of the Shi’er Qi standing guard, there were two men they did not recognize.

Though for some reason, those two men seemed vaguely familiar. Where had she seen them before?

It hit her all at once. Feng Jiu’er’s breath caught, and she made immediately to push her way inside.

The two men in fitted dark attire stepped forward to block her — but were immediately intercepted by the brothers of the Shi’er Qi.

The tension between the four of them was absolute — ice-cold and rigid, the air crackling with the promise of violence at the slightest provocation.

As for Feng Jiu’er, she had already swept the tent flap aside and stepped in.

Inside the tent, Zhan Qingcheng sat on the pallet, his face without expression — yet his collar bore the unmistakable speckling of blood.

Flanking him, Long Yi and Long Eleven stood like two sentinel gods, guarding him with a vigilance so absolute they would allow no one near.

But the moment they saw Feng Jiu’er return, the wariness in their eyes lifted by more than half. They immediately bowed: “Miss Jiu’er.”

“Ninth Imperial Uncle — you’re coughing up blood?” Feng Jiu’er crossed the tent in quick steps, eyes fixed on the blood on his collar, a sharp pain shooting through her heart.

Damn them all. These people had actually disturbed the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s rest and pushed him to the point of coughing up blood. This was unforgivable.

Zhan Qingcheng closed his hand around her wrist in an iron grip. His complexion was as white as paper, yet the five fingers locked around her arm were astonishingly strong.

“In the dead of night — trying to slip away from me again?”

“No, Ninth Imperial Uncle, I only… I only went to find some medicinal herbs.”

Feng Jiu’er stared at the trace of blood still lingering at the corner of his lips, her heart aching. She raised her own sleeve and wiped it away.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, how are you feeling? Where does it hurt?” She was truly distressed. He had not coughed up blood since she first came — not until tonight.

Tonight, it had happened again. Were these people truly intent on working him to death?

She turned and glared at the person seated in the chair, her eyes burning red with fury. “The Ninth Imperial Uncle needs rest. If there is nothing more to be said, please leave!”