With a thunderous boom, Feng Li staggered back two steps. His tall frame swayed slightly before he steadied himself.

In the moonlight, the cold mask upon his face shimmered with a faint, pale glow. At the corner of his lips, a thread of blood slowly trailed down.

Pale skin. Crimson blood. Beneath the moonlight’s reflection, the contrast was piercingly stark.

He raised his hand and wiped away the bloodstain at the corner of his mouth.

In his line of sight, a figure robed in white drifted forward with the wind — silent and soundless — and a palm strike had already arrived before him.

It was clearly a strike meant to take his life, yet Feng Li still only watched with cold eyes, showing not the slightest intention of dodging.

That palm landed squarely upon his chest. At the last instant, half of the force was withdrawn — yet even the remaining power still shook its way deep into his heart meridians.

With a dull thud, fresh blood surged to his lips and fell upon his dark black robes, vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye.

Before him, a white-robed figure stood against the wind. His cold, composed face carried a habitual trace of gentleness.

Yet within that gentleness, there was always a thread of icy coldness that kept others from daring to draw near.

“You deserted the ranks of the soldiers on your own authority and returned to the capital alone. Do you know your crime?”

Feng Qingcang narrowed his eyes, his cold gaze fixed directly upon Feng Li’s face, now stained crimson with blood.

“Imperial Elder Brother ordered me to deal with the Beastmen Tribe — I have already brought back the head of the Beastmen Tribe’s chieftain. Imperial Elder Brother ordered me to resolve Feng Rao’s invasion — I drove back Feng Rao’s soldiers and even severed the head of their commander.”

He exhaled a low, labored breath, working hard to steady the surging turbulence within his blood.

Looking into Feng Qingcang’s eyes, he said hoarsely: “I only wanted to come back and see her for a moment. I said nothing to her — she still knows nothing.”

“If she knew, do you think the two of you could still go on living in peace?”

“Imperial Elder Brother!” Feng Li’s heart clenched tight, and his fingertips were visibly trembling. “She will peacefully remain as her Imperial Highness the Princess. To her, I am only the Fourth Imperial Uncle. Nothing more.”

“And what of you?” Feng Qingcang stepped forward, closing the distance.

His stride appeared unhurried, yet in an instant he had already come to stand before Feng Li.

He raised a long finger, and from its tip he gathered a razor-sharp stream of true energy — like a sword — its blade aura directed straight at the place where Feng Li’s heart lay.

“Can you also bear to keep silent — to never tell her that you are her true birth father?”

“I have not breathed a single word of it!” Feng Li paid no heed whatsoever to the sword aura pressing against the gate of his heart. Fresh blood still seeped from the corner of his lips, yet he took no notice.

“Imperial Elder Brother — she knows nothing. To her, you are still her Imperial Father!”

“Is that so?” Feng Qingcang smiled faintly. It was an icy smile, one that carried within it the breath of death.

The sword aura entered his body. At the gate of Feng Li’s heart, a blossom of blood bloomed open — a vivid, spreading crimson.

Yet Feng Li paid it no mind at all, as though he regarded his own life and death as utterly inconsequential.

He said, calm and even: “For sixteen years, I have swept away every obstacle for Imperial Elder Brother. When Imperial Elder Brother ordered me to kill, I went and killed. When he ordered me to fight, I immediately donned my armor and took to the battlefield.”

“Yet Imperial Elder Brother once promised — that when A’Jiu’s soul returned to this world, he would allow her to come back to my side.”

“And now — are you here to demand that We return your daughter to you?”

Feng Qingcang’s eyes darkened. Suddenly, he pressed forward one step.

At once, Feng Li’s heart gate was pierced through by the sword aura. Though it had not yet reached the heart itself, the heart meridians had already been wounded.

Darkness swept across Feng Li’s vision. His legs nearly buckled, and he almost collapsed to his knees.

Yet he still clung desperately to that single breath, straining with all his will to keep himself standing straight.

“Imperial Elder Brother…” He looked at the white-robed man before him. The blood at the corner of his lips had not ceased for even a moment.

His ragged breathing made his voice ever more hoarse: “I am not here to take A’Jiu back. I only… want to look at her a little longer.”

Feng Qingcang narrowed his eyes, and his cold laugh rang out: “Your daughter had her soul shattered and scattered ten years ago. If I had not found a way to seal away a thread of her soul, would she even be here today?”

What Feng Li did not know was that the sword aura pressing against his heart gate — the one that had nearly claimed his life — was still locking down his breath, making even breathing an agony.

His body felt as though it had been carved open by the sword aura, the pain so severe that his entire frame trembled and convulsed.

And yet he still only looked at the man before him, and said in a hoarse voice: “I only want… to look at her a little longer.”

“Ha! What a devoted father!”

Abruptly, Feng Qingcang swept his hand aside, and the sword aura was withdrawn in an instant.

Feng Li opened his mouth — and another mouthful of fresh blood came forth.

His legs gave way, and at last he sank down on one knee. His palm struck the ground, barely enough to prop up his body.

From the moment he had learned that A’Jiu had returned, he had ridden at full gallop back to the capital. Last night, he had only just arrived — and had then spent the entire night at A’Jiu’s side.

For seven days and seven nights, he had not rested for even a moment. Now, gravely wounded by Feng Qingcang on top of that, the fact that he had held on until this moment was something beyond the reach of ordinary men.

He drew a deep breath. He gritted his teeth. And at last, he stood up again.

Feng Qingcang looked at the younger brother who shared his father but not his mother, his face utterly expressionless.

“I am now the Emperor of the Feng Clan. And Feng Nü has always been, and can only ever be, the daughter of the Emperor — the Princess of the Feng Clan.”

Feng Li said nothing. He raised his hand and wiped the blood from his lips with force.

Feng Qingcang continued: “If anyone were to learn that Feng Nü was not born of the Emperor, what catastrophe do you imagine would befall the Feng Clan? Have you ever considered that?”

“No one will ever find out.” Feng Li pressed his hand over his chest.

Blood continued to seep outward. His complexion was ashen, yet his words remained resolute throughout.

“Back then, I did not fight you for the throne. And now, I will not fight you for our daughter. But she is the only tether I have left to this world.”

Feng Qingcang knew this well enough. If not for the existence of Feng Jiu’er, why would Feng Li have stayed within the Feng Clan all these years, spending his life in service to him?

In truth, over these years, the great and towering achievements Feng Li had built for the Feng Clan were something even he, the Emperor, could not help but feel humbled by.

Feng Li seemed as though he would never tire. As long as there was a single command from him, Feng Li would throw himself into it like a man possessed — and would not return to the capital until the task was done without fail.

He sent back no requests for reward. He made no quiet plans for his own benefit. And over the years, more than a few had privately sought to draw him into their faction — only to be flatly refused, every single time.

He had sealed off every road for himself, as if to declare plainly to Feng Qingcang: he harbored no desire to contend with him for anything.

His heart had only one wish — to see his daughter again.

Ha. If not for that daughter of his — such a useful piece on the board — he would have no use for him at all.

The chill that had been lodged in the depths of Feng Qingcang’s eyes finally eased a fraction. Upon that strikingly beautiful face, a faint smile once again appeared.

“We merely saw that you had defied military discipline — slipping back to the capital in secret to take A’Jiu away — and assumed you harbored a treasonous intent.”

“I would never!” Feng Li said, his voice low and firm.

If he were truly to take A’Jiu away, it would inevitably ignite Feng Qingcang’s fury. Then, with three hundred thousand soldiers of the Feng Clan in pursuit, where could his A’Jiu possibly hide?

Rather than have her wander homeless and go hungry, it was far better to let her remain in the palace — to live as a carefree and unrestrained princess.

Her identity as Feng Nü ensured that Feng Qingcang would cherish and protect her for the rest of her life.

In the future, Feng Qingcang would still need to rely upon her to continue leading the Feng Clan.

So long as A’Jiu lived in peace and comfort — what did it matter whether or not she recognized him as her father?

“Imperial Elder Brother — let me remain at A’Jiu’s side. I will be only her Fourth Imperial Uncle. Always, and only, her Fourth Imperial Uncle. I beg of you!”