Zhao Yusheng turned and walked away, carrying with him an air of absolute resolve.

Watching the empty doorway, Yanu and Feng Jiu’er exchanged a look of bewilderment.

Until death… those four words were both profoundly stirring and utterly terrifying.

How was this hotheaded young man ever going to understand that the wedding ceremony had truly been beyond anyone’s choosing?

At the time, Xuegu had been afflicted with a severe poison — had the antidote not been administered in time, Xuegu would have died.

What choice had Feng Jiu’er had? Other than obediently going through the ceremony with him, what else could she have done? There had been no alternative whatsoever.

But how had this fellow come to believe so firmly that their wedding was a true and genuine one?

“Well,” Yanu thought for a moment, then suddenly smiled, “I actually feel that this Young Master is quite sincere and straightforward — truly a fine young man.”

“What do you mean by that?” Feng Jiu’er frowned and glared at him. “Surely you are not suggesting I should end up with him?”

“Then again, none of the other men in your life can be tamed by you, can they?”

Yanu gave a low chuckle, and before Feng Jiu’er could erupt in fury, he hurriedly collected what she had dirtied, picked up the bowl, and walked out the door.

Leaving Feng Jiu’er alone in the room to stew in silent indignation — helpless to do anything about it.

That hotheaded young man had actually followed her out the door simply because he was convinced she was his wife.

Leaving Zhao Family Stronghold, traveling to the Feng Clan — across mountains and vast distances — not even knowing whether they would ever return.

Was it really just because of a wedding ceremony? Were the men of this era truly this fixated on such rituals?

And then there was that remark of Yanu’s — “none of the other men can be tamed” — what exactly did he mean by that?

She flopped face-down onto the bed and let out a helpless sigh.

None of them could be tamed… that did, it seemed, happen to be the truth.

Who would dare try to tame the Ninth Imperial Uncle?

Oh dear…

That night, the ship, having been baptized by the storm, continued its journey forward.

By the following morning, Feng Jiu’er’s spirit had recovered considerably. After getting out of bed, she was brimming with energy.

After washing up, she stepped out the door.

She had only just reached the entrance of the ship’s cabin when she looked up and saw, ahead of her in the morning light, a tall figure standing against the wind.

Forever so dashingly captivating — even with a face covered in scars, nothing could conceal his commanding, handsome bearing.

This man — she truly could not tame him.

Feng Jiu’er leaned against the doorframe and sighed in silence.

“Come here.” The man standing at the prow of the ship suddenly said, his tone quiet and unhurried.

Feng Jiu’er’s spine snapped upright. She did not quite understand how it happened, but whenever the Ninth Imperial Uncle called out to her, she would instinctively grow tense.

Walking to stand behind the Ninth Imperial Uncle, she had no choice but to tilt her head upward to meet his gaze for any kind of conversation.

She suddenly thought again of what Yanu had said the night before — this man was truly impossible to tame.

Although Feng Jiu’er had no desire to tame anyone, at the very least, she ought not to be at such a complete loss around him.

And yet his aura alone was something that no woman under heaven would ever be able to fully command.

“Do you feel it?” Jiuqing pointed ahead.

The way forward was shrouded in white mist, with very low visibility.

Yet Feng Jiu’er could sense it — ahead, they were drawing ever closer to the Feng Clan.

“What do you feel?” she asked.

The more she looked ahead, the more she felt as though something was gradually stirring and churning within her heart.

“I cannot say.” For Jiuqing to say he could not say meant it was truly so — there was something in his heart that he had not yet been able to fully comprehend.

Feng Jiu’er focused all her attention on the white mist ahead.

Suddenly, something within the mist seemed to gradually grow clearer.

It seemed as though… there was a totem…

Feng Jiu’er instinctively stepped forward, wanting to see more clearly. But the totem remained hidden within the mist — appearing and disappearing, impossible to make out no matter how hard she looked.

It seemed… like a dragon, yet also like… a phoenix?

She continued to lean forward, but was abruptly pulled back by Jiuqing.

One more step and she would have collided with the railing.

“What did you see?” Jiuqing looked down, gazing at her face. Today her complexion was visibly better than before.

“It seemed like a dragon, and also… a phoenix — they were chasing each other…”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her fingers to her brow and looked ahead again. Now there was only a stretch of white mist — nothing at all remained.

“It is a formation.” Jiuqing also gazed at the mist ahead.

The distance was still too great, and at this range the formation’s power was not yet significant enough to pose an immediate threat — so for the moment, there was no need to confront it.

But as their ship continued forward and the distance closed, the formation’s power would grow ever stronger.

When that happened, they would very likely find themselves in the same predicament as when they had fallen into the Stone Forest — with no certainty of being able to find a way out.

Yet this was the only path to the Feng Clan. Whether they could make it through or not, they had no choice but to enter.

“Open your palm.” Jiuqing suddenly said.

“For what purpose?” Although Feng Jiu’er was entirely bewildered, she spread her hand open before him anyway.

“Have you ever heard of the Mandate Gu?”

“The Mandate Gu?”

Feng Jiu’er looked at her own hand. Before she could react, a sudden sharp pain flared in her palm.

“Ninth Imp—” She furrowed her brow. Why had he drawn a bloody slash across her palm? That hurt!

Jiuqing said nothing. His face remained as serene and composed as ever.

He took hold of her hand, and Feng Jiu’er seemed to see that his palm was also bleeding.

The Mandate Gu? But she still could not fathom what this thing actually was.

Still — the Ninth Imperial Uncle was currently posing as Jiuqing, yet he was holding her hand like this. The gesture felt rather too intimate.

Was he not afraid of being seen?

“What are you two doing?” Suddenly, an irate voice rang out from behind them.

Zhao Yusheng came striding over, clasped Jiuqing’s wrist and wrenched it away. “Release her!”

No wonder Feng Jiu’er was unwilling to settle down and be his wife — so it turned out she had a secret admirer all along!

Though he also knew that Jiuqing’s face was likely a disguise — perhaps this was not his true countenance.

And though he had noticed Jiuqing’s cold and imperious aura when he had first been observing their group from afar, and had been well aware from the very start that this was no ordinary person —

None of that meant Jiuqing was allowed to be so intimate with his wife!

Feng Jiu’er was already his wife!

Jiuqing glanced downward at the hand gripping his wrist. With only the slightest motion, he sent his inner force surging through, and Zhao Yusheng was flung several steps backward.

“Ninth Imp— Jiuqing, do not hurt him.” Feng Jiu’er called out urgently.

Zhao Yusheng’s skills were not poor, but what he practiced was clearly a hard-style martial art. When it came to inner force, he was far outmatched by the Ninth Imperial Uncle.

Even so, the Ninth Imperial Uncle had no real intention of hurting him. Had he wished to do so, Zhao Yusheng would not have gotten off with a mere few stumbling steps backward.

Jiuqing finally released Feng Jiu’er’s hand, glanced back at Zhao Yusheng, and turned to leave.

Cold and unyielding in every way — he had not even said a single word to Feng Jiu’er.

His manner was thoroughly frosty, not at all like someone who had feelings for Feng Jiu’er. And yet they had truly just been standing there hand in hand, leaning close together, looking for all the world like a deeply devoted pair.

Feng Jiu’er watched the Ninth Imperial Uncle’s retreating figure. Coming out on this journey, the Ninth Imperial Uncle had grown even more cold and withdrawn than before.

She could not fathom what was going through his mind. It seemed as though she could understand him less and less with each passing day.

She looked down at her own palm.

Feng Jiu’er still could not comprehend it — what exactly was the purpose of wounding her palm?