Xie Zhifei’s eyes were bloodshot, each question more urgent than the last.

How could he not be urgent?

How many people had risked their lives to barely preserve Yan Sanhe’s little life?

Not to mention Crown Princess Liang Shi’s painstaking efforts, not to mention her own mother Shen Duruo’s life-saving sacrifice—just considering the arrangements Grandfather made for her, she should live well!

How could she die?

His little Huaiyou shouldn’t have died!

Xie Zhifei covered his eyes with his hands, but tears still flowed through his fingers, stupefying Young Master Pei and Li Buyan.

Young Master Pei: Why are you so agitated, boy?

Li Buyan: Third Master’s heart toward Yan Sanhe is truly sincere and unwavering!

Pei Xiao pulled out a handkerchief and stuffed it into Xie Zhifei’s hand, leaning close to whisper in his ear: “This young master will lend you his shoulder later. For now, hold it in. There’s no time.”

Xie Zhifei shuddered, quickly took the handkerchief to wipe his tears. “Master, forgive my rudeness. Please continue.”

The old monk exhaled a smoke ring from his mouth. His eyes slowly became ethereal.

When Yan Xing stood before him soaking wet, he immediately knew the honored guest was the young woman on Yan Xing’s back.

Entering the room, Yan Xing placed the child on the bed, then knelt before him. “I beg Master to save this child.”

“Yan Xing always addressed me as Master, but he had never knelt to me. He and I were friends—there was no high or low, noble or base.

This kneeling told me something was wrong. I asked him the child’s origins. He said he wasn’t very clear—it was entrusted by a good friend.”

The old monk glanced at Xie Zhifei and sighed: “The Zhang Tianxing you mentioned delivered this child into Yan Xing’s hands, said only one sentence, then died.”

A “crack” sound came from the roof.

It was the sound of a tile breaking.

Only then did Xie Zhifei remember—Lu Da sat on the roof standing guard for them.

“How did he die? What were those final words?”

“From the capital to Yunnan Prefecture without stopping, taking only ten days—he was worked to death.”

The old monk raised his sparse eyebrows and asked calmly: “Child, do you dare believe it?”

Xie Zhifei’s gaze darkened.

How could he not believe?

He had been to Yunnan Prefecture. Rushing the entire way still took over a month. Even traveling without stopping day and night would take at least twenty days.

Ten days?

That was nearly impossible.

“The final words he gave Yan Xing were: ‘Sir, following Old General’s orders, I’ve delivered the child to you. She still has a pulse. I beg you… save this child, save this child!'”

The old monk: “After he finished these words, his head dropped. Both he and the horse beneath him never opened their eyes again.”

Xie Zhifei’s eyes reddened. After a long silence, he asked a question for Lu Da: “Where is Zhang Tianxing’s body buried?”

“In the Nujiang River.”

The old monk: “Yan Xing said this child’s background was probably not simple. Any small flaw could bring catastrophic disaster. The Nujiang flows for thousands of li—it’s the cleanest.”

Xie Zhifei looked up at the roof.

Lu Da had been completely right—Zhang Tianxing hadn’t failed to keep the appointment. He had died.

Crown Princess Liang Shi and Grandfather had chosen the right person. This man kept his word, delivering the child safely and securely into Yan Xing’s hands.

It was just that with his death, Yan Sanhe’s true cause of death became completely unknown.

Xie Zhifei recalled that massacre ten years ago. “Master, were there any wounds on that child’s body?”

The old monk: “Not a single wound.”

Xie Zhifei: “Then why did she die?”

The old monk shook his head, indicating he didn’t know either.

Intuition told Xie Zhifei the old monk wasn’t telling the truth. This person could even discern his soul—why couldn’t he determine Huaiyou’s cause of death?

“The first question has an answer—when I first saw this child, she was already a dead person.”

The old monk then shifted the topic.

“But dead people have no pulse. Yet this child had one. Though it beat very weakly, it never stopped. This was very strange.

Even stranger was that besides coldness, this child’s body had none of a dead person’s aura. The corpse neither decayed nor rotted—just like a living person.”

Pei Xiao truly couldn’t restrain himself: “Why?”

“Good question!”

The old monk handed the pipe to Xuyun. Xuyun refilled it with tobacco, lit it, and handed it back.

“This old monk is a great master who appears once every three hundred years. Naturally, I can see things others cannot.”

Pei Xiao: “What did you see?”

The old monk suddenly stood and walked to the coffin, his hands behind his back, looking down at the person lying inside.

“I saw three energies surrounding this young woman.”

Everyone’s expressions changed.

Xie Zhifei asked first: “Master, which three energies?”

The old monk took a puff: “Yin energy, Yang energy, Heavenly energy!”

What did that mean?

What were Yin energy, Yang energy, Heavenly energy?

Xie Zhifei and the others looked at each other, their faces completely bewildered.

Seeing these people’s expressions, the old monk accepted his fate. “Let’s start with Heavenly energy. Lord Pei, what is Heaven?”

Your habit of interrogating—did you learn it from Yan Sanhe?!

Pei Xiao quickly pointed overhead: “What’s above is Heaven.”

The old monk nodded.

“So emperors are also called Sons of Heaven—children appointed by Heaven. This young woman carries Heavenly energy, which also means she’s from the imperial family. Her father should have the fate of supreme sovereignty.”

Pei Xiao suddenly recalled something.

“So at Mount Wutai, you refused to receive her bow because she’s from the imperial family—afraid it would reduce your lifespan?”

“Hmph!”

The old monk sneered disdainfully.

“What’s so special about imperial family members? If we’re really talking hierarchy, even the Emperor would have to kneel and beseech when seeing this great master.”

Pei Xiao was confused: “Then, then what was the reason?”

“We’ll discuss that question later.”

The old monk waved his hand and asked again: “Lord Pei, what is Yin energy?”

Pei Xiao pointed downward: “Is it the aura of the underworld?”

The old monk nodded. “Humans are Yang, ghosts are Yin. Yin energy is ghost energy.”

Pei Xiao’s scalp was about to explode. Cold sweat poured out instantly. “Why, why does she have ghost energy? Where did it come from? Is she possessed by a ghost?”

The old monk’s eyes looked toward heaven, wearing an expression of “Lord Pei is hopelessly stupid.”

Just then, Xie Zhifei suddenly interjected: “Could it be because of the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles?”

“Finally someone intelligent.”

The old monk looked at Xie Zhifei, the disdain in his eyes slowly settling.

“The Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles mean snatching life back from ghosts. This requires the King of Hell’s consent. If the King of Hell doesn’t agree, no matter how skilled the divine physician, they can only stare helplessly.

If that physician insists on having their way, the King of Hell will take their life as well.

Conversely, if the King of Hell agrees, then this person has been marked in the King of Hell’s records and won’t easily die.

So people saved by the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles can mostly live peacefully to their allotted years.”

The old monk let out a long puff of smoke.

“The young woman carries a trace of ghost energy—that means she’s someone saved by the Thirteen Ghost Gate Needles. The ghost energy protects her from death.”