Feng Jiu’er did not quite know what she was thinking. She only felt an inexplicable urge — an urge to return to King Muhe’s palace and see for herself.

Even knowing full well that even if she went now, she could not possibly encounter anyone there. Whoever had come would already be gone; whatever had happened had already come to pass.

And yet she simply wanted to go and look.

It was as though an invisible thread were pulling at her heart — pulling and pulling without cease, determined to drag her back to that place.

That place — the one she had turned to look at, and where she had sensed a vaguely familiar presence.

Jiu’er came to a stop, gazing toward the courtyard in the distance. That was King Muhe’s sleeping chambers.

And the place where she stood now was the very high wall she and Xue Gu had crossed that same evening, with Consort Lian in tow.

Looking in the direction of King Muhe’s sleeping chambers from here, the palace cloaked in night showed nothing out of the ordinary — not a sound of commotion to be heard.

Even if there had been an assassin, by this hour the assassin would long since have departed.

As for King Muhe — gravely wounded, his life hanging in the balance, his fate still uncertain — the entire palace must have been in a frenzy by now, everyone either trying desperately to save him, or praying.

Praying either that King Muhe would wake quickly, or that he would perish at once.

Feng Jiu’er stood atop the high wall and closed her eyes.

A gentle evening wind drifted past, and in it she thought she could still catch the faintest trace of a presence that stirred something deep within her.

Her man. Her Ninth Imperial Uncle. He had truly come.

She was certain of it — he was here in Muhe, somewhere just a breath away, yet as distant as the horizon.

They had been warned long ago not to provoke the Ninth Imperial Uncle. Who could have known that when he became truly overbearing, he was genuinely, unapologetically overbearing?

He would not think things through so carefully, nor resort to any gentle or roundabout approach. The Ninth Imperial Uncle was the Ninth Imperial Uncle — whenever he came, it was always the most direct method.

He wanted to sow chaos within Muhe, to make King Muhe hover on the brink of death and thereby draw out the conflict between the Second Prince and the First Prince’s faction.

But at this stage, King Muhe could not simply die outright — for if he did, the Second Prince, in his current position, would have no real footing from which to contest the First Prince’s power.

This was precisely why King Muhe was left in a state of “uncertain between life and death,” rather than simply departing this world entirely.

For if the Ninth Imperial Uncle truly intended to act, he would not do things by halves — how could he possibly leave King Muhe with even half a life?

Gazing at that stretch of sky, Jiu’er’s eyes softened with a quiet, tender light.

Where was her Ninth Imperial Uncle at this very moment? She… missed him terribly.

“Ngh!” Without warning, a sharp and violent pain struck her head — so severe she nearly tumbled from the high wall.

A hand came down on her shoulder, and she was swept up and away from the wall in a single leap, carried back into the shadows on the far side.

“Knowing full well that missing him causes your body harm, you still dare come to a place like this to long for him so openly?” Xue Gu’s expression was faintly stern.

In everything else, Xue Gu deferred entirely to Feng Jiu’er — only in matters like this, matters that touched on Feng Jiu’er’s wellbeing, did she ever have a word to say.

Feng Jiu’er said nothing. She simply clutched her own head and worked to push the searing pain back down.

She knew. She knew that every time she let herself think of the Ninth Imperial Uncle, the pain would leave her wishing she were dead — and yet she simply could not stop herself from thinking of him.

Just as she had known full well that the Ninth Imperial Uncle must have long since left King Muhe’s palace, and yet she had still come back to this spot. She only wanted to stand here, in the place where he had once been, and breathe in whatever trace of him might linger.

Xue Gu understood that her words were not lost on Jiu’er — only that hearing them changed nothing. There was no altering what lived in her heart for that man.

The human heart was ever the hardest thing to govern. How could something as untamed as feeling be held in or released at will?

If it could, there would not have been so many regrets in years past. Nor so many… misunderstandings and bloodshed.

“He could not possibly still be here.” Xue Gu gently tugged at the hem of Feng Jiu’er’s robe and sighed softly. “Come. Everyone is waiting for you.”

Jiu’er had rushed out like this, and everyone’s hearts were anxious on her behalf. Since Xue Gu’s martial arts were the strongest among them, it had fallen to her to give chase.

Every one of them still had matters of their own to attend to. For Feng Jiu’er to have acted this way tonight — it had been impulsive.

Jiu’er gave a small nod, knowing she had lost composure tonight. But whenever something involved the Ninth Imperial Uncle, she simply could not hold herself in check.

This kind of impulse… she would try her best not to repeat it going forward.

“Let’s go.” She cast one last glance in the direction of King Muhe’s sleeping chambers, then pulled her gaze away and stepped forward into the depths of the night.

That night, just as Feng Jiu’er had predicted, the palace descended into utter chaos. By the small hours of the following morning, Feng Jiu’er gave Tasang Nan a few quiet instructions just as he returned, and he went out once more.

He came back only at dawn. Before long, a piece of rumor slipped out from within the palace walls and began to spread.

Word had it that King Muhe’s assassination attempt the previous night seemed to be connected to the First Prince. Something found at the scene appeared to have come from the First Prince’s estate.

Of course, King Muhe could not possibly use a single small object to conclusively condemn the First Prince — particularly not now, with the First Prince still fighting at the frontier. To cast suspicion on him at this juncture would risk breaking the morale of the entire army.

But then, in the early hours of the morning, another incident had occurred within the palace: Consort Lian had gone missing.

In Consort Lian’s sleeping chambers, something unmistakably out of place had been discovered — objects belonging to a man with no business in the inner palace, and footprints. The kind of boots that left those prints were not the sort worn by palace eunuchs. These were military-style boots worn by men from outside — the kind typically favored by those trained in martial arts.

The boot prints were exceptionally clear, for there was blood on the ground. No one knew whose blood it was, but with Consort Lian now missing, everyone suspected it was hers.

What manner of person could harbor such enmity toward a woman more than nine months pregnant, on the very eve of her delivery, as to send men to abduct her?

The most pressing question now was: where was Consort Lian? Was she alive or dead? And the child she carried — what had become of it? Was it still there?

So many things had occurred within the palace all at once. King Muhe, barely awake, refused to see anyone. He summoned the guards he trusted most and had them seal his sleeping chambers layer by layer — so tightly fortified that not even a fly might slip through.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle had framed the First Prince’s men for the assassination; Feng Jiu’er had framed the First Prince’s men for abducting Consort Lian. This partnership between the two of them was seamless — not a single flaw to be found.

For a ruler and emperor, even without conclusive proof, suspicion had already taken root in King Muhe’s heart.

At a time like this, with the Second Prince confined and the First Prince’s faction dominant, if the First Prince truly intended to rebel, there would be almost nothing left to hold him in check.

What if the First Prince genuinely did rebel?

If he took Phoenix City in this campaign, his merit would eclipse the king’s own. And if, precisely at that moment, the King were to “pass away” — the outcome of that scenario was something anyone could imagine without being told.

Every ruler throughout history had feared death above all else. How could King Muhe be any exception? Once the seed of suspicion is planted, it takes root and grows immediately — especially so within the imperial family.

It was dawn when Feng Yinan returned. Spotting Jiu’er in the courtyard, he went to her at once. “Young Master, the mission is accomplished. The pair of bloodstained boots has been delivered back to the First Prince’s estate.”