Even Mu Mu, with his exceptional skill and inner strength, had still spent a considerable amount of time hovering and investigating along the cliffsides before finding — quite by chance — that hidden passage leading down to the base of the cliff.

So for anyone whose skill and inner strength fell short of his, how difficult would it be to find that passage?

Elder Shi was not particularly worried. Unless someone already knew where the passage was, descending would be far from easy. But looking at the situation now, the Ninth Prince’s people had no idea the passage even existed.

“As for the present…” Elder Shi glanced back at Mu Mu sitting not far away, then at Feng Jiu’er, who had already fallen into a deep sleep on the bed, and said in an unhurried tone: “Palace Mistress, since the Ninth Prince has already guessed our intentions, there is no further need for us to linger deliberately. Let us lure him out of the city.”

It was a night when the moon was dark and the wind ran high.

She stood at the edge of a cliff, watching two familiar figures face each other against the wind. Each of them gripped a weapon in hand; mist wreathed the clifftop, and she could not make out at first glance what they were holding.

The wind rushed headlong at her from the cliff’s edge — cold. She pulled herself inward, wanting to step a little closer, and only then realized that her pressure points had still been sealed, and she could not move.

All at once, another fierce gust of wind came howling down, and Feng Jiu’er narrowed her eyes.

The two still figures in her line of sight flashed into sudden, violent conflict.

The wind shrieked, the gale howled, and she could see less and less clearly what was unfolding before her. Only in the blur of it all did she seem to see two soaring dragons entangled with each other, the air around them as though it had been frozen solid into frost.

The atmosphere — terrifying, the kind that made you tremble.

Then, all at once, the scent of blood drifted through the air on all sides. The two dragons descended to the ground and at last became once more the familiar figures she knew — but from each of their chests, the other’s weapon protruded.

Blood instantly flooded every corner of her vision. Their tall, proud forms began at last to lose their battle against the howling wind, blown backward — and fell, both of them, straight down into the abyss of the cliff.

“No!” Feng Jiu’er jolted awake in sheer terror. She opened her eyes to surroundings that were still unfamiliar — only it was clearly no longer the same room as before.

They had left again. The last time she had been conscious enough to take in her surroundings, they had still been inside the imperial city. Now — had they left the imperial city?

This rough, sparse room looked like a village dwelling. The furnishings were worn and dirty, and it didn’t appear to be a place meant for extended stay.

Mu Mu was sitting not far away. The two of them were the only ones in the room. Seeing her wake up, Mu Mu set down what he’d been holding and moved to approach her.

Feng Jiu’er’s gaze fixed on what he had just set down — and in an instant, both her eyes went red with fear.

This was the thing she had seen in her dream. It was Mu Mu’s sword.

She didn’t know what weapon Mu Mu was skilled with, but the moment she laid eyes on this seemingly ordinary longsword, her heart lurched into a frantic, pounding rhythm.

This had to be the weapon he was most skilled with — it had to be. When she’d woken, Mu Mu had been carefully wiping the blade. Why? Who was he about to face? Why such careful preparation?

Was it possible they had already devised a plan to deal with the Ninth Imperial Uncle? Were they going to use her as a pawn?

“Stay back!” Feng Jiu’er clenched her palms tight. Her legs still could not move freely, but she could move her arms — at least she could manage to sit herself up on the bed.

She looked at him, and her eyes held not wariness but something that had curdled into hatred.

Mu Mu felt that suffocating sensation once more, but he only went rigid for a moment before letting it pass.

“It’s late evening now. You should eat. Let me take you to wash up first.”

She had been in a deep sleep for nearly a full day — by now, she must be feeling unwell.

Feng Jiu’er said nothing. Mu Mu picked her up, carrying her as one would carry a helpless invalid, and brought her to a spot somewhere at the back of the courtyard.

A privy.

As utterly dismaying as that was, at least he had thought to be considerate.

“I’ll release your pressure points now, but don’t try to run. I’m right here — you won’t get away.”

Feng Jiu’er did need to use it. She didn’t make a sound. The moment he unsealed her pressure points, she walked immediately into the privy.

What her mood was at this point — she couldn’t quite say. Whatever it was, it was complicated.

The surroundings were nothing but a poor, dilapidated little village. The population couldn’t be very large — the place felt thoroughly desolate.

An imperial city wouldn’t have a village like this inside it. Which meant they had genuinely left the city.

Night Rasha was a formidable woman. So many of them had left the city together, and still not one of the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s people had caught them — which made it clear just how freely they must be able to come and go from the imperial city as a rule.

And now — having left the imperial city, yet making no rush to put distance between themselves and this place — what were they stopping here to plan?

Before long, Feng Jiu’er straightened her clothes but did not immediately go out. Instead she studied the environment around her.

A place that hadn’t been inhabited in a long time — everything was withered and dry, without the slightest trace of human warmth anywhere.

If she were to make a run for it right now, she might not succeed, but she might not be entirely unable to attract someone’s attention either.

There was a chance — however small — that some of the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s people might have tracked them to this very place. If she didn’t seize the moment now, once her pressure points were sealed again, there would be no more chances.

Just as Feng Jiu’er gathered herself to unleash her lightness technique and make a desperate bid for escape, Mu Mu’s unhurried voice drifted in from outside: “If you run, I won’t do anything to you — but Elder Shi will almost certainly activate the Heartless Gu.”

Feng Jiu’er’s heart seized, and the foot she had been lifting dropped back down.

That cursed Heartless Gu.

She had not actually imagined she could escape. After all, Mu Mu was right there — she would certainly be caught and dragged back. She had only hoped to seize this one-in-ten-thousand chance to see whether she might possibly catch someone else’s attention.

But she had overlooked something: if she made any move of resistance and was hauled back, there was the possibility that Elder Shi would use the Gu worm to take control of her mind. At that point, whatever she did, she wouldn’t even know she had done it.

At last, she let out a slow breath. With the greatest reluctance, she stepped out of the privy and walked straight to the old well nearby, where she cleaned herself up on her own.

“What is this place?” Picking fights with him served no purpose for her — as furious as she truly was, Feng Jiu’er had not lost all sense of reason.

Mu Mu hadn’t expected her to initiate conversation. A glimmer of surprise passed through his eyes. “A small village outside the city. Not far from the imperial city.”

“I’m hungry.”

“I’ll take you to have dinner.” Mu Mu’s mood seemed to lighten slightly.

In truth, Feng Jiu’er felt a flicker of something close to guilt. She had only been willing to say a few more words to him — and yet this man, whose eyes had held nothing but dim emptiness a moment ago, now had a noticeably brighter look in them.

Could her mood truly affect his to such a degree?

If that was true, then why — why did he insist on doing something that hurt them both?

If things could have stayed as they were before — all of them brothers who had faced life and death together — how much better that would have been.

But that “before” — it truly could never be returned to.