Like struggling out from a quagmire, the green-robed youth struggled to regain consciousness.

His head throbbed with pain—someone must have knocked him unconscious. This familiar pain was quite like that time over ten years ago when he was ambushed by Prince Jiang Lü at the Half-Step Hall.

But what made him unable to help groaning aloud was the violent cramping pain in his abdomen, as if several small knives were simultaneously stabbing and stirring. It was also this severe pain that awakened him from unconsciousness.

The green-robed youth hesitantly opened his eyes—as expected, darkness met his gaze. For him, without any night vision ability, this was equivalent to being blind. Even on a scorching summer night, beneath him was completely cold, indicating he was lying on the ground. Without any wind blowing, nor any starlight or moonlight, he could guess he was confined in a room.

Before losing consciousness, he vaguely heard Zhao Gao order someone to confine him in the Qian Character Cell, also saying he hoped he could survive the night.

Touching his abdomen that ached from being forcibly made to swallow dozens of pills, the green-robed youth smiled bitterly several times.

He didn’t believe Zhao Gao would dare act against him privately without the First Emperor’s command, even if he was the most powerful Supervisor of Seals.

Then it was the First Emperor killing the chicken to warn the monkey.

Punishing him to warn Eldest Prince Fu Su not to become complacent, not to forget who ultimately sat on the imperial throne.

His face pale as if plunged into an ice cellar, the youth’s green robes were already soaked with cold sweat. Under fear’s shadow, the abdominal pain at this moment actually wasn’t so unbearable.

Forcing his body to sit up, groping to lean against a wall as cold as the ground, the green-robed youth began recalling all of Zhao Gao’s words, expressions, and tones after seeing him.

However, Zhao Gao had sat in shadow—his expression wasn’t very clear. Moreover, this Supervisor of Seals always spoke without tonal fluctuation, fundamentally impossible to discern his true thoughts. Only from that final sentence could he distinguish the other indeed hoped he wouldn’t die.

Didn’t want him to die here and add trouble for him?

The green-robed youth suddenly clenched his fists, bit down on his teeth, enduring a bout of severe pain. After quite a while he recovered, his entire person like just being fished from water.

He had never eaten any pills but also knew this situation wasn’t a good sign.

Master had once told him that pills refined by alchemists without proper transmission contained large amounts of highly toxic substances like cinnabar, mercury, and so on. Having been forced to swallow so many pills at once, not choking to death on the spot, the toxins would probably accumulate in his body, damaging his lifespan to some degree. Just didn’t know whether he’d directly fail to endure and die, or drag his body along for a few years.

The green-robed youth expressionlessly struggled to recall—among those pills he swallowed seemed to be an inconspicuous blue pill that even had familiar pill patterns and a subtle strange fragrance. If he remembered correctly, several years ago he had seen Master refine similar pills.

Meaning, the pills he swallowed indeed included ones his master refined?

Also true—how could someone as shrewd as the Supervisor of Seals leave evidence, saying he was made to test his master’s pills? He would certainly ensure it was factually true.

Blind trust in his master made the green-robed youth’s worried mood calm somewhat. After the pain slightly eased, he tried contacting Chaofeng and the sparrowhawk but unexpectedly discovered no response.

Perhaps he was no longer in Xianyang Palace now—Chaofeng not seeing him was possible, but the sparrowhawk couldn’t possibly not notice. Chaofeng plus the sparrowhawk equaled grasping all matters under heaven.

The green-robed youth discovered he’d still thought things too simply. He’d also been too careless—these years hadn’t seen major incidents, so he’d forgotten that person who could play tricks under two roof beasts’ noses!

Thinking back, with his current cultivation level, even if distracted by a minor attendant, he absolutely wouldn’t be so easily knocked unconscious.

Could it be… Zhao Gao was that person from years ago who couldn’t be found? Secretly saved him, killed Queen Dowager Zhao… what exactly did he want?

The green-robed youth’s thoughts were still rapidly deducing, but his body already couldn’t endure, collapsing unconscious again while leaning against the wall.

Already not knowing how many times waking from darkness then falling back into soundless darkness—almost making one unable to distinguish reality from dreams.

The green-robed youth moved his fingers, feeling the cold object in his palm, settling his heart.

Perhaps due to overconfidence, Zhao Gao hadn’t searched him, so the ornaments he habitually wore were all present. Even the yin-yang sui he’d originally intended to place in the courtyard to collect moon dew hadn’t been confiscated.

How could antiques transmitted by Master be ordinary items? The green-robed youth picked up the yin-yang sui and felt it. While he slept, it had already collected a tiny bit of moon dew. He carefully raised the yin-yang sui to his lips, cherishing this bit of moon dew to moisten his throat. Afterward, he rubbed the yin-yang sui, touched the coiled dragon knob on the back—with a “click,” a small flame leaped forth.

His eyes fixed on this insignificant firelight as if staring at his only salvation.

If he hadn’t carried this yin-yang sui, he probably wouldn’t have survived long ago.

The time he spent in this silent, soundless small dark room had long exceeded one night. The yin-yang sui in his hands would strictly follow the pattern of collecting moon dew at night and igniting heavenly fire during day. Each cycle represented one day passing. So judging by this, he had probably been confined in this small dark room for over three years.

That’s right—already over three years. Things were just this unbelievable.

During the first year, someone came to check on him every ten days. During that period, because he’d eaten too many pills, his entire person was muddled and confused, surprisingly not noticing he could still survive many days without eating.

Later, the intervals between guards checking on him grew longer and longer—once a month, recently even once every few months. The checking method was merely opening a small window through the door panel to see if he still lived.

Even if dull, the green-robed youth had to admit he certainly wasn’t normal now.

Normal people definitely couldn’t endure ten days without eating, yet he surprisingly sustained himself with this tiny bit of moon dew, enduring over three years.

This definitely related to those pills.

Not only did he not feel hunger or thirst, even his nails, hair, and beard showed no signs of growth. Moreover, he felt his body temperature also tended toward the same coldness as the walls. Even his heartbeat was so weak it was almost imperceptible.

But the green-robed youth couldn’t calmly contemplate this matter. Instead, due to long-term confinement in a dark environment, his entire spirit teetered on the edge of collapse.

Why had he been confined here over three years with no one coming to rescue him?

Couldn’t Chaofeng and the sparrowhawk contact Master? Didn’t they find his disappearance suspicious? Would Ying give up searching for him? Even Wang Li, who’d gone to the borders to oppose the Xiongnu—during these three years he should have returned to Xianyang once or twice. Not seeing him seemed normal?

And… the Eldest Prince… why hadn’t he come to take him…

Had he… reached some interest exchange with the First Emperor?

The green-robed youth didn’t want to doubt his chosen lord, but time would erode all persistence. When he lay alone in darkness—one day, ten days, one month, one year, three years… hope slowly transformed into despair.

Sometimes he doubted himself—was he still in hallucinations? In fact, hadn’t been confined this long? Were these all calculation errors by the yin-yang sui? But such doubts would each time be drowned by endless darkness.

The yin-yang sui in his hands burned with ghostly heavenly fire, so small it couldn’t even produce warmth. The sui body remained bone-chillingly cold, yet he still clutched it tightly like grasping a life-saving straw.

He forced himself not to think about those will-eroding matters. Whatever events from birth to now came to mind, he’d review them, then recite pill refinement formulas in his mind—just like the past three years, spending this day plainly, unremarkably, and torturously.

So when the jade armillary sphere at his chest warmed, the green-robed youth for a long time felt he was either having illusions or still dreaming.

He even extended his finger to touch the heavenly fire in the yin-yang sui, feeling burning pain. After quite a while, he realized this was reality.

The door sounded. He only had time to extinguish that flame before someone entered to help up his weak, powerless self, bringing him out of this dark room.

Outside still had lamps lit. Through gaps in the latticed window, one could see the night sky with bright moon and sparse stars.

The green-robed youth looked at the night scene in confusion. This completely differed from the time indicated by the yin-yang sui—it should be daytime now.

“Bi Zhi!” A warm embrace awakened him from his daze, surrounded by familiar pine fragrance—precisely the lavender scent Eldest Prince Fu Su most favored.

“Bi Zhi? You’ve suffered! I will thoroughly investigate this matter!” Examining his tutor in his arms who seemed to have changed souls, staring dully, Fu Su gritted his teeth and said in a low, angry voice. He was no longer his former self who swallowed grievances. Years ago at the Half-Step Hall, he had silently sworn to properly protect his subordinates from harm.

Even his own Father Emperor was not permitted!

After Fu Su waved his hand, the guards beside him responded thunderously. Half the people stood motionless in place, while the other half dispersed, beginning to search this estate.

The green-robed youth’s unfocused pupils gradually gained spirit, but his facial expression began showing shock and uncertainty.

Over three years’ time—Eldest Prince Fu Su was still like their last meeting, young and handsome, as if time hadn’t left any traces on his face.

Or perhaps, indeed so much time hadn’t passed…

Touching the cold yin-yang sui in his hands, the green-robed youth closed his eyes, then reopened them.

So the time he spent in this Qian Character Cell—was it real, or did he imagine it?

Looking at the pitch-black room, he narrowed his eyes.

He thought he probably knew Zhao Gao’s true identity.