“Do not look at me with those eyes. Feng Jiu’er — do you truly think I still have even a thread of feeling left to give you?”

Mu Mu turned his wrist, and the long sword returned to his side. He turned, and stepped away.

A solitary, cold, resolute silhouette — as desolate as the frost-pale moonlight of this night.

“Master, it is time to set out.”

The Night Demon finally drew her gaze away from him. This was precisely the Mu’er she had hoped to see — heartless, devoid of feeling, no longer enchanted by Feng Jiu’er.

This kind of Mu’er — was this not exactly what she had hoped for in her heart?

Yet why — now that she truly saw him like this, cold and empty and unfeeling — did her own heart feel as though it had been pierced?

To be heartless and unfeeling — perhaps it meant he would no longer be exploited or hurt. But from now on, would there be any sunlight left at all in the span of his life?

For the sake of revenge, this kind of cold solitude — was the price not too great?

“My lord, let us go.” Elder Shi lifted Feng Jiu’er into his arms and urged in a soft voice.

The Night Demon seemed to come back to herself with a start. She gave a brief nod, and immediately fell into step behind Mu Mu.

Jiu’er still wanted to say something, but a sudden pain struck at the back of her neck. With the Night Demon’s long fingers descending, whatever words she might have spoken were sealed away from her.

They were going to move against the Ninth Imperial Uncle. Where was the Ninth Imperial Uncle now? Had he already stepped into their trap?

The wind moved past. That robe gave her precious little warmth. The cold, cutting gusts swept across her body, and she trembled faintly in the wind.

Her garments had been ruined by Mu Mu earlier — though not to the extent of leaving her bare, the clothing capable of keeping out the wind was already gone.

Now her two legs were bare in the wind — altogether wretched, and sorrowful.

Mu Mu walked ahead, naturally without so much as an extra glance at her. But when the Night Demon glanced back, she seemed to catch sight of something at Jiu’er’s ankle.

That small thing passed through her line of vision in a flash, tugging inexplicably at her heart. She wanted to look more closely — but ahead, Mu Mu suddenly quickened his pace.

The Night Demon and Elder Shi had no mind to linger on it, and immediately followed.

At the top of the cliff, the cold wind howled mournfully.

A figure in white robes stood facing the wind. Ink-black hair gleamed beneath the moonlight, so striking that a single glance was enough to make one’s breath catch.

The Night Demon had encountered the Ninth Prince before — but the occasions on which she had truly, carefully looked at him were not many.

Tonight, the moon was cold as water, and the light was not particularly good.

Yet the moment she saw Zhan Qingcheng, her heart gave a sudden, violent contraction, and in an instant she felt a pain that cut straight to the soul.

“My lord?” Elder Shi, noticing that her face had turned a deathly white in an instant, immediately sought to reassure her: “My lord — everything is within our grasp. Be at ease.”

He assumed the Night Demon had been overawed by the Ninth Prince’s presence — though in all the many years he had known her, when had he ever seen the lord driven to such agitation by any one person?

The Night Demon herself did not know what was wrong with her. The moment she looked at Zhan Qingcheng just now, her heart had been seized with pain all at once.

That white robe. That bearing, as transcendent and unhurried as an immortal. That flawless, perfect profile. Why did it all feel so achingly familiar? As though, a very long, long time ago, she had already seen him before?

No — the Ninth Prince had not yet passed his twenty-sixth year. A man so young — how could she possibly have encountered him many years ago?

It was impossible!

The Night Demon closed her eyes briefly, fighting to calm herself.

Perhaps it was only because this war god Ninth Prince of the Bei Mu Kingdom was so extraordinarily renowned. Seeing him in person, she had simply been startled for a moment by his striking, icy presence — her breath had simply caught for a beat.

Feeling a flash of self-reproach at her own lack of composure, the Night Demon nonetheless continued to follow behind Mu Mu, making her way up to the clifftop.

In Mu Mu’s hand was a long sword — plain and unremarkable in appearance, nothing outwardly distinctive. Yet the chill it exuded came in wave after intensifying wave.

Zhan Qingcheng only stood there in undisturbed calm beneath the night sky. His gaze passed over the figure standing before him, and settled on Feng Jiu’er.

Her garments were in disarray. Beneath the draped robe, her body clearly bore the marks of having been touched by someone.

Yet her eyes in this moment — those mountain-pool eyes — remained clear and lucid. At the very least, she was still safe.

The tightly clenched grip of Zhan Qingcheng’s palm slowly loosened. His naturally cold eyes met her gaze — and in that single instant, that gaze softened.

Whatever words there were, there was no need to speak them. He only needed her to be safe. Everything else was of no importance.

Feng Jiu’er did have many things she wished to say. But a thousand words and ten thousand thoughts were, beneath the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s gentle gaze, swallowed up in a single breath.

There was no need to say anything. The Ninth Imperial Uncle understood. And in her own heart, she understood as well.

No more feelings of any kind, no machinations of any kind — nothing remained standing between the Ninth Imperial Uncle and her.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle only needed her to be safe. That one gentle gaze had already made his feelings plain without a single word.

She understood. As long as she was well and safe, the Ninth Imperial Uncle could be at peace. He sought nothing more than that — nothing more than for her to go on living, whole and well.

Her heart ached — truly, deeply ached. All the unease and panic — in this moment it seemed to disappear entirely, as though it had never been.

So it was true that one person’s gaze could bring another person’s heart to rest to such a degree.

In this moment, her restless heart truly settled. Her body seemed no longer quite so cold, her spirit no longer quite so wretched.

Ninth Imperial Uncle — today, whatever might come, she would live and die alongside him.

Even if she truly were to fall wounded by their schemes — no matter where — she would accompany him. Through heaven and under the earth, she would follow without fail.

Mu Mu had not looked back, yet he seemed already able to sense the intertwining of the gazes that passed between Zhan Qingcheng and Feng Jiu’er.

His wrist moved abruptly. A sharp sound cut through the air, and the scabbard fell away — to where, unknown.

The long sword that had appeared so plain and unremarkable moments ago blazed now in the moonlight with a light that sent cold into the heart.

An unnamed sword — a supreme and peerless blade, hidden all this time beneath its ordinary guise!

Originally dark as ink across its length, the blade, channeling his true energy, had become translucent as snow — its cold radiance dazzling and absolute.

In the distance behind Zhan Qingcheng, Long Yi and Yu Jingfeng stood far back, just as the Night Demon and Elder Shi stood apart.

“Your Highness!” Yu Jingfeng called out in a low, firm voice. All at once he swung his arm with great force. A long saber flew from his grip, cutting straight and true toward Zhan Qingcheng, who stood at the edge of the cliff.

Zhan Qingcheng’s gaze had never left Feng Jiu’er’s face. With the lightest sweep of a long sleeve, the saber was already in his hand.

A resonant clash rang out. The saber’s hilt drove into the earth — and in an instant, the ground seemed to quake as though shaken by a mountain, the force of the massive blade’s impact reaching even those standing at a distance.

What profound, immeasurable inner power!

The Night Demon and Elder Shi could not help but exchange a glance. Though they had tremendous confidence in Mu Mu, whom they had cultivated with their own hands — and though they knew Mu Mu’s power had already surpassed what they themselves could fully gauge — seeing the Ninth Prince’s inner energy like this with their own eyes had still exceeded their expectations.

In this battle to come — who would emerge victorious and who would fall was truly impossible to say.

They had originally intended to use Feng Jiu’er’s disheveled, wretched state to goad the Ninth Prince into fury and madness, and strike him down in the instant of his rage-fueled recklessness. Yet they had not anticipated that at the sight of Feng Jiu’er in such a state, the Ninth Prince would remain without resentment or anger — utterly composed.

Was it that he truly had no feeling for Feng Jiu’er — or had that feeling grown so deep as to be beyond the imagination of outsiders?