The man’s eyes were closed, his complexion waxy yellow, so thin his cheekbones protruded.

Hearing footsteps, he opened his eyes. Seeing it was Zhou Ye, he closed them again weakly.

Zhou Ye set the medicine aside and sat on the bedside. “Get up and drink your medicine.”

The person remained motionless, as if he hadn’t heard.

“I tasted it—it’s not too bitter.”

Zhou Ye pulled out a small paper packet from his bosom. “This is malt candy someone brought from over there. After drinking the medicine, try it—see if it tastes the same as before.”

“Ah Ye!”

The person weakly called Zhou Ye’s childhood name. “I can no longer taste anything.”

“How can that be? You still complain the medicine is bitter every day.”

“It’s precisely because the medicine is bitter that everything I eat tastes bitter.”

The person opened his eyes and looked at Zhou Ye for a while.

“Don’t drag me along anymore. You’ve dragged this life of mine for a full three years—that’s long enough.”

“After you drink this bowl of medicine, I’ll let go. I won’t force you anymore.” Zhou Ye smiled.

The person seemed unable to believe it, staring blankly at Zhou Ye.

“After drinking the medicine, I have something to tell you.”

Zhou Ye reached under the person’s ribs, gently helping him up. “It’s good news.”

The person sighed. “Ah Ye, you’re always like this.”

“Always like what?”

“Deceiving me.”

Zhou Ye lifted the bowl, scooped out a spoonful with the spoon, blew on it, and brought it to his lips. “It really is good news. Trust Ah Ye one more time.”

Though the person said he wouldn’t drink, when the spoon reached his lips, he obediently drank.

After finishing the bowl of medicine, Zhou Ye brought clear water for him to rinse his mouth, then smoothly adjusted his collar.

Finally, he picked up a piece of malt candy from the small paper packet, bit half himself, and put the other half in the person’s mouth.

“Sweet?”

The person tasted it several times and nodded.

Zhou Ye pulled the blanket up for him and said softly: “In a while, we’ll have guests at our home—guests from the capital that I told you about.”

The person’s eyes suddenly flew open wide.

Zhou Ye looked at him and smiled gently.

“See, I didn’t deceive you. I truly won’t force you to drink medicine anymore.”

…

When the carriage departed from the magistrate’s office, it suddenly started raining.

The rain came urgently and left quickly.

Pei Xiao lowered the carriage curtain, worrying: “Wonder where Xie Fifty is now, whether things went smoothly with Old Monk Changqing.”

No one paid him attention.

Yan Sanhe leaned against the carriage wall, slightly frowning, thinking about something.

Li Buyan continued wiping her soft sword, her movements gentle as if wiping tears from a lover’s eyes.

Outside, Huangqi driving the carriage felt increasingly uneasy.

A dignified prefecture magistrate—what an imposing local official, yet why did this road grow increasingly remote?

Like heading to the wilderness.

Huangqi didn’t know that on another road, Zhu Qing was also puzzling over this very question.

“Master, why is Daming Mountain so remote?”

Xie Zhifei, riding his horse, remained silent, his expression extremely grave.

He wasn’t worried about remoteness—he worried whether Yan Sanhe’s side had encountered any trouble, whether they could smoothly meet up with him.

“Speed up!”

“Yes!”

…

Night fell.

Xie Zhifei dismounted at the alley entrance.

Deep in the alley, two lonely lanterns could be seen in the distance—the lanterns hung at the Zhou manor gate. Looking higher, one saw the imposing Daming Mountain.

The residence was built at the mountain’s foot?

Xie Zhifei’s heart sank.

If he didn’t know Zhou Ye was one of the black-clothed figures, Third Master Xie would praise: What a secluded, unworldly mountain dwelling.

But now he only wanted to say: This person’s schemes run deep—he prepared an escape route long ago.

Once someone dove into the mountains, even if the most skilled criminal-catchers from the Embroidered Uniform Guard came, they’d have no quick solution.

Xie Zhifei pinched the bridge of his nose, forcefully suppressing his anxiety. Just then he heard Zhu Qing say joyfully: “Master, look quickly—the carriage is coming.”

Only then did Xie Zhifei’s heart, which had hung suspended the entire journey, finally settle.

He tossed the reins into Zhu Qing’s hands and strode over, lightly leaping onto the carriage.

Inside, Pei Xiao’s boulder finally dropped. Without time for pleasantries, he asked: “How did it go?”

“All settled.”

Xie Zhifei pulled a signal flare from his bosom. “Zhitong and the others are already lying in ambush half a li away. If anything happens, use this as the signal.”

Pei Xiao: “How many people?”

Xie Zhifei: “I invoked my father and promised ten additional slots to the temple each year. Changqing sent all the warrior monks.”

“Excellent work!”

Pei Xiao clapped excitedly. “Yan Sanhe, do you have any other instructions?”

Yan Sanhe opened her eyes. “Xie Zhifei, did you pray for me to the Bodhisattva?”

Xie Zhifei hadn’t expected her to ask this. He paused before saying: “I did!”

“What did the Bodhisattva say?”

“The Bodhisattva said you’re certain to have a good death.”

“Then I have nothing more to say.”

Yan Sanhe’s lips curved as she smiled lightly.

This smile, like the night wind, came slowly and disappeared quickly.

…

Knocking on the door.

Waiting.

The door opened.

Zhou Ye emerged in a gray long robe, his unremarkable face showing no expression.

“To trouble Magistrate Zhou to open the door personally—how presumptuous, how presumptuous.”

Pei Xiao clasped his fists, smiling more sincerely than if meeting his own parents. “Disturbing you.”

Zhou Ye’s gaze swept over all six people before gesturing invitation.

“Humble dwelling, simple hall. Lord Pei, please come in.”

Pei Xiao walked up the steps with hands behind his back. As one foot crossed the threshold, his gaze quickly surveyed the residence interior.

The courtyard was pitch black, tree shadows swaying—not a single lamp. A faint medicinal smell floated in the air.

This medicinal scent was very familiar—he seemed to have smelled it somewhere before.

Pei Xiao sniffed, his heart suddenly sinking.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this should be his Pei family’s ancestral Returning Soul Pill, because it contained a special herb called Soul-Returning Grass.

How could the Returning Soul Pill be here?

Had this Zhou fellow actually visited their Hundred Remedies Hall?

Pei Xiao glanced at Zhou Ye ahead, then turned to look at Yan Sanhe behind him, desperately suppressing his alarm.

Little did he know Yan Sanhe’s heart was also filled with shock.

The courtyard was pitch black, not a soul around.

This suddenly reminded her of that rainy night months ago, following Steward Xie with an umbrella.

The difference was that the Xie manor had been brightly lit then.

Why no lights?

What was hidden behind those swaying tree shadows?

Tree shadows concealing people—this was the conclusion Li Buyan, Zhu Qing, and Huangqi all reached simultaneously.

Very shallow breathing—masters, and more than one.

The three simultaneously had the same thought: This trip is dangerous!

This entire path felt unbearably silent and suffocating.

After the courtyard came a long corridor.

At the corridor’s end, turning right revealed an ordinary courtyard—only now could they see the lit inner hall.

Two old servants stood at the inner hall entrance, their backs already hunched. Seeing people approach, they moved aside.

Everyone followed Zhou Ye into the courtyard.

The courtyard was bare—not even a blade of grass planted. In the middle of the open ground sat a large water vat, incongruously placed.

This layout…

All six people sucked in cold breaths.