In truth, Zhan Qingcheng had not been trying to take advantage of the situation. He simply felt it was only natural.

Still, having his little scheme seen through by this girl, he no longer bothered to hide it. “In your current state, you would be safe only if you came to my princely manor.”

“Forget it, Ninth Imperial Uncle. Your manor is practically a battlefield. How is that safe?”

“Then I will take you back to Fenghuang City.”

“Is that not the same thing?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t need you to do anything.” Feng Jiu’er let out a soft breath.

She knew, in truth, that if she truly asked something of him, he would go to any length to make it happen.

He could also forcibly order Emperor Ji and Leng Yue Ye Luosha and all those others to return to Fenghuang City first, but that would surely cause considerable difficulty, and those people were simply not the sort who would go back just because you told them to. Even if Ninth Imperial Uncle sent men to personally escort them back, they would be like cockroaches that refused to die, and would find their own way back.

In the end, it was not a permanent solution.

The only way was to make herself stronger — strong enough that they could no longer harm her.

She had already achieved that, once. But now…

“She can stay here at the Hall of Celestial Mysteries. There are more than enough people to protect her. Why would she go to some dull place like a princely manor?”

Mu Mu leaned against the side of the table, his gaze fixed on Feng Jiu’er sitting on the bed, and gave a cold snort.

She would not let him look into the matter, and he could choose not to ask for reasons. But whether or not to investigate — that was for him to decide.

Feng Jiu’er also turned to speak. “Ninth Imperial Uncle…”

But in the next instant, she was lifted clean off the ground.

Zhan Qingcheng had not intended to make things difficult for her, but that was because he had not yet thought of the fact that right there in the room, watching with hungry eyes, was his own full-blooded younger brother.

“What are you doing?” Mu Mu took a long stride forward, planting himself in front of him in an instant. “Put her down!”

“Since when does it fall to you to tell this prince what to do?” If not for this fellow insisting on challenging him to a duel back then, how could this girl possibly have run away from home?

Even now, Zhan Qingcheng’s feelings toward Mu Mu remained a bellyful of displeasure.

Mu Mu’s palm instantly filled with true energy. “I said — put her down!”

Zhan Qingcheng gave a cold snort and stepped toward the door.

The two men had not laid a hand on each other, yet in that single instant, the air that had smelled of gunpowder transformed into a collision of inner strength.

Feng Jiu’er coughed twice, her voice still hoarse. “Put me down. The both of you — disappear from my sight!”

After the time it takes to burn one stick of incense, Feng Jiu’er finally had her peace.

Zhan Qingcheng left behind two highly skilled fighters and departed. Mu Mu also left, because Jiu’er had said she did not wish to see either of them for the time being.

Jiu’er was a patient right now, and patients had the greatest say. Naturally, she had also made clear that if anyone tried to force her hand, she would sooner die than yield.

This girl, when she dug in her heels, was genuinely terrifying — even Ninth Imperial Uncle would feel a twinge of unease. What he feared most of all was that she might pull another disappearing act and run away from home. If that happened, where on earth would they even begin to look for her?

The hours undisturbed by anyone are always pleasant ones. Jiu’er rested in her room for the entirety of that morning, and when lunchtime came, she still did not show herself — sharing the meal with only Yanu in her room, entirely at ease.

In the afternoon, an unexpected visitor arrived.

“Uncle, you actually came to see me on your own initiative? How surprising.” Half a day had been more than enough time for her to settle her spirits.

Feng Jiu’er was, and always would be, that Feng Jiu’er — a cockroach that refused to die. Her martial arts were gone, and gone they were. Grieving over it would accomplish nothing.

Until she had fathomed the masked woman’s intentions, all that grief could only be pressed down, for now, to the bottom of her heart.

Lan Yue narrowed his eyes slightly and walked toward her. Then, all of a sudden, he reached out and took her hand.

“Uncle, that hurts.” Feng Jiu’er tried to pull her hand back.

She had no idea how word had gotten out, but it had apparently even reached her uncle’s ears.

Lan Yue paid no mind to her breezy expression. He kept hold of her wrist, then abruptly exerted a little force.

Feng Jiu’er’s brows drew together tightly. “Uncle, don’t bother testing. My inner energy is gone.”

“Who did this?” Though Lan Yue’s face remained expressionless as ever, the face hidden behind his mask was unmistakably cold as frost.

Feng Jiu’er only stared at him, then suddenly smiled. “So Uncle does care about me. I only just realized it now. I thought you had always found me tiresome!”

“Wipe that grin off your face!” Lan Yue’s expression darkened. “Who did it?”

As for caring or not caring — that had never once crossed Lan Yue’s mind.

Early that morning, word had been brought back that Feng Jiu had fainted outside the rear courtyard gate of the Hall of Celestial Mysteries. Long Yan had actually come over first thing in the morning, but the atmosphere at the Hall of Celestial Mysteries that day was oppressively heavy, and there had been no one to receive him.

After that, Long Yan had made several attempts to come and seek an audience with Feng Jiu, but had been turned away each time. It was through the servants’ talk that Long Yan had learned something about her martial arts being crippled.

Feng Jiu’er felt somewhat helpless. Without even needing to think about it, she knew it must have been Xiao Yingtao getting too carried away, and saying things that were overheard by the servants.

The Foundation of All Under Heaven had grown to the scale it was today, and the ability of the one who held its reins was naturally not to be doubted. That her uncle had come to know of this was not, when she thought about it, so very surprising.

What surprised her was that her uncle seemed to genuinely care about her.

That, in the wake of having her martial arts stripped away, was the most gratifying thing to have happened to her.

“Who did it no longer matters. I have more enemies than I can count. Being struck by someone from the shadows is nothing remarkable.”

“With your current martial arts strength…” Lan Yue’s words abruptly halted. Not current — former. What she had once possessed.

With a skill as formidable as hers, to have caught her off guard and, without leaving a mark on her, stripped away her martial arts entirely — how terrifying must the one who struck be?

Even Lan Yue himself might not be capable of that. With an enemy like this, taking her life would be as easy as breathing.

“Uncle, the fact that you were willing to come and see me already makes me truly happy. Can we not talk about things that put people in a bad mood?”

Feng Jiu’er was still all smiles, and reached out to take hold of his arm.

Those nearby looked on with dropped jaws. Was this the legendary master of the Foundation of All Under Heaven — the man said to be so cold he seemed almost inhuman?

Why was it that seeing him in person today, he seemed so… remarkably approachable?

And another thing — since when had their young master become so familiar with this person?

The form of address “uncle” had been accepted by everyone after the Foundation’s people had come calling with gifts to formally acknowledge the kinship some time back. But Feng Jiu’er being this close with him — that was something that genuinely caught everyone off guard.

Xue Gu, meanwhile, kept her gaze on Lan Yue’s retreating back, her expression thoughtful.

Lan Yue still moved to push Feng Jiu’er away — a reflex, nothing more — but he only gave her the lightest of nudges. To his surprise, the girl scrunched her brows tightly together and let out a small cry: “Uncle, that hurts!”

That single word — hurts — startled Lan Yue into hastily withdrawing the large hand that had landed on her arm. He looked at her again, and the girl was once more all smiles and mischief, leaving him unable to tell whether the cry of pain just now had been real or feigned.

But somehow, he found he could not quite bring himself to push her away. What if it had actually hurt?

He was not accustomed to caring for others. Even toward his own aging father, he only ever stood watch — he had never once offered words of warmth.

Yet now, looking at this small, fragile girl before him, he found he could not help but ask: “Where does it hurt?”