In Fan Yue's bedchamber, the seven-pointed star array on the floor flickered faintly and the demon fire in the glass lamp wavered. Its master lounged on the throne behind the desk, fingertips tapping his forehead, his eyes cold as ice. Bai Shuo had sunk into the pile of cushions before the desk. She had barely tried to push herself up when strips of cloth sprouted from the cushions and bound her hands. She froze. Fan Yue's gaze fell on her like knives, and he showed no sign of speaking. A sword formed in Bai Shuo's palm. She cut through the cloth without hesitation, stood up cleanly, and looked straight at him. "Palace Lord, what exactly do you mean by this?" For the first time, she faced Fan Yue without careful flattery and without fear. She asked it plainly. She was genuinely curious. Fan Yue's eyes passed over her bundle and moved on. He spoke unhurriedly. "This palace remembers that by Ziyue Lake, someone said she would join Haoyue Palace. This...
In front of the ruins, Bai Shuo, who had just been teased, froze and seemed to drift away for a moment. For all these years she had played the obedient child and the clown, hiding every thorn and every bit of her temper. She had done it to stay alive in this strange, chaotic world of immortals and demons, where it seemed anyone could crush her. Nobody wants to die, but it was not fear of death that drove her. She needed a long life because only then did she have even the smallest hope of keeping the promise she had made to that person. A hundred years, a thousand years, wait for me. Wait until I become an immortal, and I will find you and repay you. From that night on, her whole life seemed to exist for this alone. Her obsession weighed more than her own life. Yet Hua Hong said she had not hidden her temper well. Why? Bai Shuo did not even need to ask herself. She was simply angry. But angry at what? That the Palace Lord of Haoyue Palace had brought back a stranger without asking ...