Qing Ye held the palanquin aloft and made her way back all the way to the doorway of the sleeping quarters at the Li Courtyard before setting it down.

Her breath was somewhat unsteady — she had been injured by the Ninth Prince’s inner energy during the exchange.

Had she not kept sufficient distance from the Ninth Prince, she feared that by now even her heart veins would have been damaged by the Ninth Prince’s inner energy.

Of the three, Qing Zhi was walking the most slowly. This time it was not because her lightness technique was the finest of the three — it was because she had been injured by the Ninth Prince’s inner energy earlier, and could barely move.

“Qing Ye, open the door.” Long Feiyan remained seated within the palanquin and spoke in a calm tone.

“Yes.” Qing Ye immediately went over and pushed open the door.

Only then did Long Feiyan step out of the palanquin, and in an instant she was back inside the room.

But when Qing Ye and Qing Zhi entered behind her, they were still startled by the sight before them.

“Mistress, you…” Qing Ye rushed over and helped Long Feiyan sit down on the edge of the bed.

The veil across her face was soaked with fresh blood. It seemed that while she had been seated in the palanquin just now, the mistress had already been coughing up blood — she had simply kept it from them.

Qing Zhi held onto the doorframe and carefully pulled the door shut behind her.

Long Feiyan sat cross-legged on the bed, closed her eyes, and circulated her inner energy. After a long while, the pallor of her face gradually recovered just the faintest trace of color. Even so, her breath at this moment was clearly very poor.

“That War God, the Ninth Prince — truly, the name does not do justice to meeting him in person. Mistress, your legs have only just healed. At this time, you are not suited for such a confrontation. You suffered a great disadvantage from moving today.”

If the mistress had been fully recovered and conditioned, how could she have lost to a young man in his twenties?

Long Feiyan opened her eyes and glanced at her placidly. “He came into this with injuries as well. Today when the two of us crossed, neither gained advantage over the other.”

“The Ninth Prince is injured?”

Neither Qing Ye nor Qing Zhi had detected it. They had been under the impression that it was the Ninth Prince who had come away ahead, that only that edge had allowed him to match the mistress to a draw.

Still, the mistress had been hindered in her cultivation over these years because of her leg injury. Now that the leg was healed, her power would surely grow substantially in time. Even if the Ninth Prince was formidable, he would not necessarily be a match for the mistress in the end.

But regardless of all that, the Ninth Prince was, even now, the most formidable adversary Qing Ye had ever encountered in all her years.

To have cultivated such extraordinary skill at only just past twenty — this could not have been the result of instruction from Emperor Ji’s level of ability.

Who was the Ninth Prince’s true master? Why had it never, to this day, been uncovered by anyone?

“Cough…” Long Feiyan gave a light cough, and another thread of blood slipped from the corner of her lips.

“Mistress, shall I go and bring Feng Jiu?” Qing Zhi said immediately.

“No need.”

Long Feiyan closed her eyes once more and circulated her energy to heal herself.

Qing Zhi looked at Qing Ye. Qing Ye shook her head. Qing Zhi, left with no other option, walked to the door, pulled it shut, and took up her post on the outside.

The rush of blood in her chest was still roiling — even speaking a few words brought some difficulty.

When masters clash, one truly cannot afford to be too close. Being caught up in the aftermath comes easily.

She had simply not expected that the Ninth Prince, who was so young and so impossibly handsome, would also possess martial power as unfathomable as this.

Beneath the moonlight, that face rose again in her mind’s eye. Qing Zhi’s heart lurched — and then, with a genuine sound, she coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood.

The Ninth Prince was truly lethal. Even thinking about him was enough to make one cough up blood.

The blade that hangs over desire — so it turned out, those words were quite true after all.

“Young master, the Ninth Prince — he… he…” Xiao Yingtao came rushing back from the main hall and pushed open Feng Jiu’er’s door.

“What is it?” Feng Jiu’er, who had been reading, set her book down, brow slightly knitted.

The Ninth Imperial Uncle — had he not left?

“The Ninth Prince… he’s injured.” Xiao Yingtao was a little frantic. It was not the first time the Ninth Prince had been injured, but this was the first time Xiao Yingtao had witnessed it with her own eyes.

What astonished everyone most was that the Ninth Prince, despite his injury, had not come directly to find Feng Jiu’er. Instead…

She watched Feng Jiu’er shoot to her feet, already looking visibly anxious, and felt herself at a complete loss.

“The Ninth Prince… he took a number token in the main hall and is now waiting for a physician to treat him.”

“…” What on earth was he up to?

The most renowned physician in the entire Hall of Heavenly Secrets was right here. He was injured and had not come directly to her — so instead he had gone to the front hall to take some number token?

He was angry with her, wasn’t he?

“Leave him be.” Feng Jiu’er sat back down in her chair. Though she looked perfectly composed on the surface, her hands were clenched tightly.

She kept her voice light. “If he still has the energy to go and take a number token, it probably isn’t a very serious injury. The physicians out front can certainly deal with it. What are you in such a panic about?”

“How can I not be in a panic? The Ninth Prince has been coughing up blood.” It was precisely because she had seen the Ninth Prince cough up blood that Xiao Yingtao was frantic. “This is the first time I’ve personally seen… Hey! Young master, where are you going? Young master…”

Moving that quickly and still saying she’s not anxious? Honestly — anxious is anxious. What is the point of refusing to admit it?

By the time Feng Jiu’er stepped out, Zhan Qingcheng was already seated in the main hall, in one of the chairs set aside for patients waiting to be seen.

Because of the Ninth Prince’s presence, everyone had kept their distance. The row of chairs around him was largely empty — no one dared to go and sit nearby.

On ordinary days, the Ninth Prince rarely went out. Every time he returned in triumph, he sat tall on horseback in full armor, and the common people generally chose to bow before him from a distance — very few had ever dared to rush close enough to get a good look at him.

So while everyone knew the Ninth Prince was a beauty without equal, not many people had actually seen his features clearly.

And yet here, in this very moment, the Ninth Prince who was revered by ten thousand people was right before them. Even so, all anyone knew was that he was a cold and handsome man whose bearing could freeze one to the bone — no one quite connected him to the identity of the Ninth Prince.

Besides, a person of such distinguished standing as the Ninth Prince — how could he possibly sit here waiting for a number token, just like everyone else?

The very idea seemed impossible, did it not?

He was dressed in deep black, and at first glance, nothing seemed obviously amiss. But looking closer, one could make out the bloodstain on the front of his robe.

And that air of weariness and travel about him — he looked as though he had not bathed or changed clothes in a very long time.

As suspected, he had come back on the road without pausing to rest.

This fool… Feng Jiu’er felt a pang of tenderness sharp as a thorn. She walked up to him, swallowing down her emotions. “Come with me.”

Zhan Qingcheng immediately stood up and followed behind her.

No one could tell what sort of relationship existed between this man — whose beauty was subtle yet breathtaking — and the proprietor of the Hall of Heavenly Secrets. The man who had looked cold as ice and devoid of all human warmth had, with one word from Feng Jiu’er, obediently fallen into step behind her.

This look of utter compliance — it sent every young woman in the main hall straight into heartbreak.

This man was so, so adorable. So endearing. So endearing. So endearing!

If he were willing to come home with any of them, they would give everything they had to keep him, to serve him, to feed him!

Oh, they wanted to take him home so badly! They wanted to treat him like a precious child and keep him for the rest of their lives!

From the main hall, they made their way back to the room in the east wing. After Zhan Qingcheng stepped inside, Feng Jiu’er pulled the door shut and fixed him with a stare. “Take your clothes off.”