Chapter 52

A chilly wind whipped through the once-peaceful small mountain village, rattling the half-open wooden window with a rapid thumping sound that mirrored the erratic, guilty heartbeats of the three people inside.

"It's going to rain," the woman said, looking out the window with an eerie calmness, as if entirely unaware of the impending fate.

Qing Wu found this expression strangely familiar, as though she had seen it somewhere before.

Just as the woman's voice fell, a jagged bolt of lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the entire firmament.

Instantly, a deafening crack of thunder followed, the flash of light and shockwave suddenly tightening the hearts of everyone within its grip.

Another explosive thunderclap shook Qing Wu, making her whole body shudder. The sound struck her heart like a heavy blow, hurling her soul dozens of miles away.

With a dull, muffled thud, an overwhelming flood of revolving memory fragments rushed into her mind, so vast that it threatened to break her.

Enduring the agony for a few breaths, her head tilted, and she finally passed out.

"Meiying," the woman called out to the man standing beside her, "close the window."

Since that little beast had tracked them down here, any plan to use this princess to bargain with Qi Yu was completely ruined.

She immediately shifted to a backup plan, which required a quiet environment.

The task ahead of her allowed for not a single moment of distraction.

"Understood." A look of hidden reluctance and hesitation crossed the man's face, but reflexively, he obeyed.

He walked over to the window and saw a figure in white in the distance, his feet stepping forward with casual indifference, as if treading in pools of flowing blood.

Countless hidden guards rushed forward recklessly, yet the hand wielding his sword never faltered once. Sticky red gore dripped continuously from his slender fingertips.

Yet despite the carnage, he maintained an elegant and ethereal air, as if he were engaged in some refined poetry-reciting pastime.

Seeming to notice Meiying's gaze, the moon-white figure raised his head and flashed him a gentle, benign smile.

When Meiying closed the window, he still had not recovered from that gaze.

"Queen, let me take you away." He shoved the window shut, cutting off the biting chill outside.

"There's no escape." The woman remained completely unfazed. She picked up the scissors from the table, cut off a small lock of her own hair, burned it to ash, and smeared it across Qing Wu's lips.

"What if the Second Young Master refuses to detoxify this princess?" Knowing what the Queen intended to do, the man gripped the hilt of his sword, trying to stop her from taking the final step.

This method was vicious and extreme; the person providing the blood would lose too much of it and essentially have no path left to survive.

"Then he will simply have to watch this girl bleed to death." Displeased by his indecisiveness, the Queen bit directly into her own wrist, dissolving the medicinal powder into her flowing blood.

"But he possesses terrifying skills nowadays. If he finds another way to cure the poison, won't all this effort go to waste?" Hearing the footsteps drawing closer outside, Meiying prepared to step out and buy a little time.

"This poison takes effect within twelve hours at the latest. Her internal energy is strong, which will only cause the poison to spread faster. That little beast doesn't have much time to hesitate." Watching the blood gush from her wrist's artery, the Queen felt a surge of exhilarating vengeance that completely masked any physical pain.

The footsteps outside stopped, and the creeping scent of blood drifted into the room, blending with the smoke of the burnt hair into a strange, pungent odor.

Meiying clenched his sword hilt, watching the Queen's face turn increasingly pale after the bloodletting.

Although he was the Queen's personal shadow guard, he knew his own abilities could not hold them off for long, and he only wanted to spirit the Queen away through the secret tunnel. "The Second Young Master survived with so much poison in his own body; even if he transfers the princess's poison to himself, it shouldn't affect him much."

The woman closed her eyes slightly. Her legs grew weak from the continuous loss of blood, and she couldn't stop herself from slumping toward the floor.

Seeing the thick, medicinal broth spill uselessly from the corners of Qing Wu's mouth, she smiled with satisfaction.

She was not only going to restore Qing Wu's memories, but she was also planting a painstakingly crafted poison within her body.

In the short term, only Pei Muchen could cure this poison. To prevent it from spreading, the victim's internal energy had to be completely crippled before detoxification, and the poison had to be drawn into one's own body through a method of extreme and humiliating torment.

Presumably, when Qing Wu woke up, she would utterly despise the person who cured her.

Dizzy and lightheaded, the woman still found it amusing. Would that little beast choose to inflict self-harm and bear the agonizing misunderstanding of his beloved just to cure the princess?

Yet if he refused, within a day, he would be holding a cold corpse in his arms.

A father's debts must be paid by his son; this could be considered a venting of the stifling rage she had endured through decades of darkness.

The woman curved her lips into a look of release, casting a fearless glance at the figures crowding outside.

They would soon regret not breaking down the door immediately.

She wondered if he would be satisfied with the gift she had prepared for him.

"Queen, let's go." Meiying went to support the woman, but only a muffled sound escaped her throat, and she had lost all strength in her limbs.

She signaled Meiying to lower his head and whispered a few words into his ear.

"No, no, Queen! I'll take you away!" Hearing this, Meiying recoiled a few steps in shock, then rushed forward again to hoist her onto his back.

He refused to stay behind as a bait to live through the torture of falling into the Second Young Master's hands—that would be far worse than death.

"Where do you think you're going?" A mocking, slurred voice drifted from outside—it was Gu Hangjiang.

Hulking behind An Qi the entire way, he had managed to walk up to the house without daring to spare a single glance at Xi Zhi or Xi Xing.

The two brothers had cleared the path for Pei Muchen, and their clothes looked as though they had been fished out of a pool of blood, sticking clamily to their bodies.

Meanwhile, Pei Muchen stood in place with his usual noble detachment, saying nothing. Seeing him halt, the surrounding men tacitly dispersed, sealing off all possible escape routes around the cottage.

Gu Hangjiang had led troops into battle for many years, but it was only during these past few months of fighting alongside Pei Muchen that he discovered he was actually squeamish about blood—specifically, the blood splattered by Pei Muchen's own hands.

Meiying raised his right hand to his ear and made a fist. Shadow guards who had been lying in wait dropped silently from the rafters, shielding the Queen in the center.

"Didn't we agree to a decisive battle before the lines? You underhanded woman, resorting to dirty tricks behind our backs again!" Furious, Gu Hangjiang raised his voice and shouted toward the house.

With scattered pupils, the woman cast a casual glance out the window.

Densely woven threads of rain drifted down. Aside from the rustling patter of the rain, all other sounds faded into silence.

The thick, heavy clouds hung low, as if pressing directly down upon the heads of everyone inside the room.

Disregarding her still-bleeding wrist, she tremblingly raised her forearm and wiped the blood clean from Qing Wu's lips.

Meiying drew his sword, hoping to use the unconscious princess as leverage to secure an escape route for the Queen.

Gathering all her remaining strength, the woman glared fiercely at him, halting his movement.

Both were women; she originally had no wish to use such a vicious gu poison on Qing Wu. Yet in this world, everyone was pitiful—she had endured her cousin's forced violations in the tribal stronghold, locked in a room with only a bed to suffer his advances day after day, until she gave birth to two monstrous offspring that bore a striking resemblance to him, finally gaining the chance to accumulate power. Why had no one ever pitied her?

Along the way, she had used drugs to control her cousin, seized control of half the army by her own strength, and established the independent Southern Dynasty. She had no regrets left.

She had become a monstrous villain in the eyes of many, and she no longer needed anyone's pity.

Even in unconsciousness, Qing Wu felt the oppressive atmosphere and gasped sharply in discomfort.

The woman loosened the rope around Qing Wu's chest, casting her gaze toward the cluster of dark shadows framed by the doorway.

The man in the center stood tall and straight. Despite the dense drizzle, his breathing remained unhurried, as if the impending tempest revolved entirely around him.

The woman let out a self-mocking, upward laugh, though her eyes were tearless.

Look at him—this monster was an inescapable focus wherever he went, possessing the exact same temperament as his damned father.

Though Qi Yu shared his face, his personality and temperament were closer to her own, which allowed her to tolerate her eldest son to some extent.

The Queen shook her head, unwilling to revisit those nightmares daily, hoping only that these frighteningly similar father and son would vanish from her world.

Or rather, that she would vanish from their rule.

Listening to the commotion inside without hearing a single sound from Qing Wu, Pei Muchen lost his last shred of patience. His tone was flat: "Send her out, and I'll leave you with intact corpses."

Xi Zhi held the sword for him. As he spoke, Pei Muchen lowered his head, casually smoothing out an insignificant wrinkle on his robe, though the bloodthirsty chill lingering around him never dissipated.

Raindrops plastered his stray locks against his skin. As lightning flashed across the sky, he slowly raised his eyes, revealing an overwhelming, boiling malice lurking in the depths of his gaze.

"Send her out?" The woman let out a light, cynical scoff. "Since she wants to leave, it means she's unwilling to stay by your side. Why force it?"

Pei Muchen narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze as cold as a thin blade. He ignored her entirely and took a step forward.

In the desolate, rainy night, he seemed enveloped in low pressure, his dark, narrow phoenix eyes growing increasingly wild and oppressive.

"Just like your father and me—even if he chained me to his side to bear his children, what of it? A doomed karmic entanglement with no end." To her own astonishment, the woman found she could speak of this matter with utter calmness, as if discussing local gossip over an afternoon tea.

Well, after the dust settled, no one would ever know what she had endured.

"Father?" Pei Muchen's expression vanished instantly. His low, gloomy voice sounded like a demonic whisper poured directly into the ear canal, the trailing end of his tone carrying a mirthless smile. "Do you even deserve to call yourselves parents?"

He reached out his hand to the side. Xi Zhi handed him the freshly wiped sword, guarding him along with Xi Xing on either side.

"Here we go again, here we go again."

Gu Hangjiang pulled a face of utter torment, closing his eyes and covering his ears.

Uncertain whether Qing Wu was conscious, Pei Muchen paused before entering the door to check his reflection in the shimmering blade, wiping away an accidental smear of blood.

He hoped he wouldn't frighten her.

Xi Zhi pushed the door open.

In a flash of three figures, someone was instantly decapitated.

"Ah—!"

Screams pierced the roof, one after another without end.

Gu Hangjiang's heart leapt into his throat as he clung to An Qi with a bitter expression. "Does he always have to make things so bloody?"

An Qi and the shadow guards behind him—who had hardly lifted a finger—all pressed their lips into thin lines. Though they had killed countless men, hearing these sounds still made them deeply uncomfortable.

"My Lord wasn't like this before."

In the past, the young master had been gentle and peerless. Even when forced to draw his sword and sever heads, he did so with an effortless, graceful elegance.

Recalling the gruesome sights on the small island just moments ago, An Qi felt his stomach churn as well.

And yet, the master seemed to revel in that one-sided massacre, using the blood spilling from those men to soothe a wrath that grew deeper by the day.

Ever since An Qi began following Pei Muchen, he had rarely seen him lose control like this, yet it had happened frequently of late.

Whenever matters concerned the former dynasty's princess, the master simply lost all emotional control.

"Of course I know he wasn't like this before," Gu Hangjiang winced, every inch of his skin straining to hold back his breath so he wouldn't vomit on the spot.

Back when Pei Muchen was imprisoned, Gu Hangjiang had secretly gone to the prison to deliver messages.

In the dungeon reeking of chicken droppings, Pei Muchen had been suspended from the ceiling, yet his expression remained calm and his bearing elegant, as if nothing in the world warranted a second glance.

"But he's only had you by his side since entering the capital; you should know how to fix this." Gu Hangjiang didn't dare breathe. The air was thick with a sticky stench, resembling a horse stable after scorching heat, causing a dull headache.

"My Lord's heart is set on the former dynasty's princess," An Qi said, his gaze drifting toward the cottage.

His meaning was simple: if they wanted the master to return to his former self, the root of the problem lay entirely within that woman inside the house.

Either uproot the trouble permanently or make her vanish; these two methods offered a permanent solution.

An Qi had tried the former once before, but through a twist of fate, things had circled back to the beginning.

"I wouldn't dare."

Gu Hangjiang rolled his eyes.

He was merely uncomfortable in this damp, foul-smelling environment; he hadn't lost his mind to go courting Pei Muchen's wrath.

Rather than letting this woman drive Pei Muchen insane with one foolish stunt after another, it was far better to let her stay obediently by his side from now on.

After imprisoning Qi Yu, Pei Muchen had been ready to die; the fact that this princess could trouble him so deeply was, in a way, a good thing.

Anyway, Gu Hangjiang felt he had done all he could—he had persuaded, scolded, and thrown tantrums. Since none of that changed Pei Muchen's mind, he couldn't be bothered anymore.

As the two spoke, the door swung open from within, dark and gloomy like a tunnel leading to the underworld.

The guards stationed outside held their breath in collective silence.

Pei Muchen stepped gracefully across the threshold, damp locks resting against his upper eyelids, the dark glint in his eyes hidden behind a mist like a gaze into an unfathomable abyss.

He carried the girl with one arm, while the blood from the longsword in his right hand dripped down the hilt to form a reflective puddle on the ground.

Upon closer inspection, one could notice his right hand trembling slightly, while the arm cradling the girl remained utterly steady.

Seeming completely unaware of anything amiss, he calmly walked past the crowd and took the lead. "Let's go."

Qing Wu kept her eyes closed, resting quietly and insensibly against his shoulder.

"She..." Gu Hangjiang started, pausing mid-sentence.

"Spare Du Jin's life and tell him to get over here immediately." Pei Muchen dropped the sword in his right hand to the ground and scooped Qing Wu horizontally into his arms.

"!" Hearing Du Jin's name, Gu Hangjiang suddenly remembered that Pei Muchen's own poison still required the Queen to resolve.

"Are you alright?" He glanced sideways at Pei Muchen. Seeing him entirely steady, he hurried back toward the cottage.

Xi Zhi and Xi Xing were cleaning up the mess inside. Gu Hangjiang shielded his eyes as much as possible with his palm and shouted inside, "Is she dead?"

His heart could no longer handle repeated visual shocks.

He had seen piles of corpses on the battlefield, but he still couldn't stomach Pei Muchen's decisive disembowelment methods.

"Not dead, just sustained minor injuries." Xi Zhi and Xi Xing dragged a body out. The trailing blood smeared across the ground like characters brushed in ink.

Hearing this, Gu Hangjiang figured Pei Muchen still had some restraint. "Good, hurry up and stop the bleeding. She's still useful."

Naively, he lowered the back of his hand from his face.

Most of the shadow guards inside had been killed, the Queen's hands had been severed, and Xi Zhi was dragging out a torso-like, limbless human stump.

Seeing the bloody log-like figure right in front of him, Gu Hangjiang staggered backward, clutching his dizzy head as he asked the two brothers, "Do you guys often do this kind of work?"

Before entering the capital, both of them had served by his side—one a bit sprightly, the other honest. He had never imagined they operated with such methods.

Xi Xing pressed down on Meiying and scratched his head in an honest, simple manner.

"Alright, alright, hurry up and catch up with him. Don't ever call me for this again." Gu Hangjiang vaulted onto his horse, intending to head back first to find Du Jin.

***

The heavy rain washed away the dust as silver sheets of water poured down, casting a damp mist across the air.

Gu Hangjiang led Du Jin to the main tent to check on Qing Wu. Finding no quick solution, they headed straight for the camp prison.

Dim, narrow, and reeking of mold and rot, the dungeon was oppressive.

Pei Muchen had changed into clean clothes, sitting stoically amidst the gloom, his eyes fixed downward on a single spot.

Seeing them approach, he showed no surprise, giving a slight nod with a voice as cold as a winter gale.

"Sit."

An Qi brought over two stools. Just as Gu Hangjiang was about to sit down, a piercing shriek of absolute agony echoed from the adjacent cell, nearly causing him to tumble off his seat.

"You just sit here and listen to the screams?"

Pei Muchen glanced at him and picked up the freshly brewed tea on the table.

Gu Hangjiang scrambled back onto his seat, and only then did Pei Muchen speak, "New tea from Bianjing, try it."

The screaming from next door intensified, accompanied by various instruments of torture and overlapping shrieks that echoed endlessly in the cramped space, making one's heart race with terror.

After a sizzle of burning flesh, the jailkeeper came forward to report, "My Lord, it's the same story—she still refuses to give up the method of resolution."

Pei Muchen unfastened the clasp of his cloak, preparing to rise and handle it personally.

"Wait." Gu Hangjiang grabbed him. "I'll go. Every time you make such a mess, I honestly can't take it."

Pei Muchen finally raised his eyes. His voice trembled slightly as he let out a very faint, light sigh: "It's too late."

Whether it was Gu Hangjiang's imagination or not, he felt that when Pei Muchen spoke those words, he was masking a different kind of emotion entirely.

He was terrified.

When facing countless scenes of carnage, he hadn't even blinked an eye, yet now, unaware of what had happened, he was afraid.

"What on earth is wrong?" Gu Hangjiang asked.

Pei Muchen curved his lips: "She's poisoned."

With that, he broke into a fit of violent coughing. His already bloodless face grew even paler, his thin frame swaying precariously.

"You couldn't torture the detoxification method out of them?" Du Jin curved his fingers, interjecting.

Pei Muchen's gaze flickered into silence.

An Qi continued, "The method that woman spat out requires using the most brutal approach to transfer the poison into someone else. Furthermore, because the princess's internal energy is strong, to prevent the poison from acting too fast, her martial arts must first be crippled."

Hearing it now, this sounded entirely like a double-edged trap left behind by the Queen of the Southern Dynasty.

Yet since even Du Jin could find no solution, saving her meant jumping into a fiery pit if necessary.

"Can't the poison be transferred to someone else?" Gu Hangjiang knew it was unethical, but Du Jin had nearly married Qing Wu; surely he would be willing to detoxify her.

An Qi gave a bitter smile. "The Southern Dynasty's Queen used her own blood as a catalyst; only someone of the same bloodline can resolve it."

That meant only Pei Muchen or Qi Yu could do it.

Gu Hangjiang assumed Pei Muchen was hesitating because he feared they wouldn't agree, given his past attempts to tear the two apart.

Now, however, he urged Pei Muchen: "Since there's no other way, just cure her yourself. You're already a walking jar of poison anyway; what's one more?"

Pei Muchen wasn't pitying his own body. Instead, he felt as though a heavy stone was pressing down on his chest, suffocating him.

"If I do this, she will hate me."

The anger Pei Muchen had felt toward Qing Wu for fleeing with Du Jin seemed to dissolve under the weight of this poison.

Still, even if she blamed him and hated him afterward, it didn't matter much.

In any case, once he saved her life, she would stay by his side forever, and she wouldn't be allowed to go anywhere.

Between her hatred and her life, Pei Muchen barely weighed the options before choosing the latter.

To keep her alive, let her hate him all she liked.

He stood up, his chiseled, knife-edge features sharply defined.

"Where are you going?" Gu Hangjiang asked.

Pei Muchen smoothed away his cold aura, his brows and eyes radiating a tenderness that only surfaced whenever he thought of Qing Wu.

"To take her to bathe."