Chapter 3: Midnight Siege in the Third Prince’s Mansion

                          

Yun Wei realized she had miscalculated.

For some reason, there had been no movement in the Chetianfu. The spiritual guards of the prince's mansion, vaguely sensing the jailer's delay, feared future trouble. At last, they bypassed the jailer and forcibly took Yun Wei away.

Mrs. Hua planted herself in front of her niece, refusing to back down. Lingwei, losing patience, kicked her. “Get away, crazy woman!”

The spirit master’s fragile body could not withstand the blow. Locked by spiritual power, Mrs. Hua was struck hard, vomited a mouthful of blood, and fainted.

“Mother!” Zhan Xueyin crawled forward and clutched her, her voice mournful.

The noise alarmed the locked monks in the other cell. Bruised and helpless, they watched the scene, eyes wide with fury and fear. “Mrs. Hua, Miss! Royal dog thief, you dare to ……” But trapped in prison, there was nothing they could do.

Yun Wei’s throat carried the faint, fishy-sweet scent of blood. Anger boiled in her chest. She wanted to glance back at Mrs. Hua, but rough hands dragged her away.

Outside, unlike the cold prison walls, the night wind carried the heat of midsummer. Beads of sweat formed on Yun Wei’s forehead. Her elixir was damaged, her body seriously injured. On her wrist, the sleepy spirit bracelet offered no protection—it might as well have been a mortal’s.

A spiritual guard waiting outside warned, “Act lightly. If anything happens before she is delivered to the house, the Third Prince must not get angry!”

Everyone knew the Third Prince had coveted this young lady from Changya Mountain for years. Previously, her noble status and a fiancé born with sword bones meant she only dared to harbor feelings in secret. Now, with the Immortal Gate gone, the most precious pearl of Changya Mountain had dimmed, reduced to a prisoner under the prince’s steps, awaiting slaughter.

Yun Wei was shoved into a sedan chair, blood pressed between her lips, forcing herself to remain calm.

The night was dark, like a gaping behemoth ready to devour anything in its path. Thinking back, she understood what had gone wrong.

In her previous life, Mrs. Hua had fought with her life to open the dungeon barrier, granting Yun Wei a brief escape. She had fled under the night sky for half an hour before the returning Chetianfu guards recaptured and locked her away.

Tonight was different. Mrs. Hua was still alive—but she had failed to leave the prison early. Presumably, the Chetianfu had not yet returned, delayed by the fish that had escaped in pursuit of the Immortal Sect.

Yun Wei calmed herself, considering how to break the game. Six years ago, as the daughter of the lord of Changya Mountain and a natural spirit master, her life had been smooth. But after six years of Shengping, her second half had turned upside down. She trusted no one and relied only on herself.

Now, she had nothing to wear, and the last talisman paper had been exhausted when she guarded the mountain. Glancing at the corner of her skirt, she traced her path with the blood on her fingertips, silently calculating. If conflict arose, how likely was she to kill the Third Prince before being struck down?

Thanks to the conceit of the spiritual guards, her hands and feet were unbound. Ridiculous, she thought—every practitioner in the spiritual realm relied on admiration for the Imperial Spirit Master and wished to worship them. Yet even when evil energy entered the body, and the powerful sought a spirit master’s aid, her body, as fragile as a mortal’s, drew contempt from their hearts.

Yun Wei was not desperate. Adversity was constant in this life, and regret was inevitable—but now she could play the game at the hardest point. Still, she was frustrated: killing the Third Prince alone would not solve everything.

The spiritual guards, usually slack, spoke without hesitation: “She is the fiancée of Young Master Pei. Her identity is not simple. I worry that if Your Highness acts rashly, and the Heavenly Mansion finds out, there may be disaster. Don’t you know that person’s methods…?”

Another guard smiled. “What are you afraid of? The Yue family has already defected from the Immortal Mountain to the dynasty. No matter how formidable that person is, he is just a vicious dog raised by His Majesty. Could he dare rob our Highness?”

“But I always feel uneasy.”

“Don’t worry. If I enter the house for a while, I don’t believe anyone from the Heavenly Mansion would dare break in.”

At three o’clock, the group reached the Third Prince’s mansion. Yun Wei was taken from the carriage.

The housekeeper, slightly drowsy, stood at the door. He had served the Third Prince for years, witnessed countless beauties, and committed many evil deeds. Yet when he saw Yun Wei—bloodied, disheveled, her face pale yet breathtaking—he froze.

No wonder the Third Prince risked punishment from His Majesty to have her brought here tonight.

Yun Wei’s eyes roamed the mansion. Every ten zhang of the estate bristled with defenses. Only the sparkling lake under the moonlight, unprotected by formation, stretched to the far wall, beyond which apricot blossoms had long since bloomed. She studied it carefully.

Someone pushed her forward, and she was ushered into a room illuminated by night pearls—extravagant and exquisite.

“If you go back to Your Highness, Zhan Yunwei will bring it.”

Yun Wei looked intently at the man before her, dressed in an indigo dragon-patterned shirt. The Third Prince’s handsome face was partially shadowed by lewd and dark amusement, lingering on her slender waist.

He set down his teacup, raised his lips in a smile. “Miss Zhan, it’s been a long time. That palace banquet was just a glimpse, yet over the years, you have made me remember so bitterly.”

There was a subtle hatred behind the smile. At that banquet, he had barely spoken to her, and had been humiliated by Young Master Pei, Pei Yujing’s terrifying sword aura leaving him ashamed.

Now, she had no support. Stripped of her noble identity, without her father, brother, or fiancé, she appeared pale and weak beneath the pearl’s reflection.

The Third Prince almost laughed—not only for his desire, but also the pleasure of seizing Pei Yujing’s fiancée.

“What about the Immortal Mountain Jade Tree? What about the natural sword bone? Pei Yujing still doesn’t know where he awaits death!”

He studied her—this real fairy noble girl, born more beautiful than all women he had ever seen, a spirit master even nobler than the dynasty’s princesses. He could no longer restrain himself and stepped forward.

Yun Wei’s stomach churned. “After tonight, I don’t have to worry about the Third Prince.”

Before he could react, a talisman paper punched into his chest. Darkness consumed his vision, and he lost all sensation of his body.

Before fainting, he saw her raise her hand and wipe blood from her lips. Her light chestnut eyes betrayed pain, but she forced them down.

For the first time, he realized: even without Pei Yujing, without her father or brother, she could not be bullied. He had underestimated the spirit master.

The housekeeper thought he could finally rest—but the vermilion door was kicked open.

Furious, he shouted, “Who dares—”

But the words died on his lips. A delicate lotus pattern adorned the intruder’s clothing, yet it was stained with fresh, ominous blood. Purple and terrifying, yet faint and mournful, it was unmistakable: only one person would mark a lotus in such a way—not for mercy, but to restrain overwhelming killing intent.

Sure enough, he looked up at a familiar, daunting figure. Years of terror had preceded this name, yet no one would have associated this figure with the head of the Chetianfu.

The housekeeper hesitated, fear creeping in. Years of evil acts had bolstered his confidence, but this—this he could not defy.

“Yue Zhiheng, what do you intend, breaking into the Third Prince’s mansion in the dead of night without regard for the royal family? Leave quickly, and the Third Prince may forgive you.”

He believed he was daring, but Yue Zhiheng’s mockery silenced him. Moments later, the mansion erupted in screams as the housekeeper’s head fell to the ground. His domineering expression frozen, he was dead.

Yue Zhiheng reclaimed his weapon—a strange ice-blue, snake-shaped whip of twenty-three connected segments, each engraved with runes.

He killed with understatement but spoke: “The rebels of Xianshan fled, and Yue had to enter the house to protect His Highness the Third Prince. My offense is unavoidable.”

The words were polite, even smiling. Government soldiers stepped back like the tide, watching silently as the Heavenly Mansion’s forces took control.

The crow skimmed branches; the moon disappeared behind clouds. A trembling red light rose in the Prince’s Mansion—the aura of the talisman index. Who would trigger the charm?

Yue Zhiheng’s eyes narrowed. He strode toward it.

At the Third Prince’s side, Zhan Yunwei located the dagger she sought.

This world was far from simple. Commoners in remote counties went unclothed, fearing evil spirits, while the royal family lived in splendor, with spirit-stone-embedded daggers.

Outside the window, the lake offered a possible escape. Kill the Third Prince, jump into the lake before capture—perhaps she might survive.

Yet this was a road of no return. Without tonight’s escape, Emperor Ling’s current state would be impossible. She, as a spirit master, had survived.

Biting her lip, she made a decision, thrusting the dagger toward the Third Prince’s dantian. But it failed to pierce the skin.

A cold, slender hand stopped her. “Miss Zhan, murder the prince and you do not wish to live?”

Yun Wei raised her eyes—never imagining that after fourteen years of life and death in Shengping, she would meet Yue Zhiheng again.

She recalled only his calm, rampant expression from torture. A man who had done terrible things, yet whose elixir burned hot as if to melt snow. Now, his face in her memory sharpened.

Yue Zhiheng, younger and more dangerous, clasped the trapped spirit bracelet on her wrist, forcing her to release the dagger. Her hand went numb, yet she retained the dagger. He had saved the Third Prince.

She glanced at him, thinking of all the sins he would later commit, including killing His Majesty’s heirs. Compared to choosing death, he was far more rampant than herself.

Later, he would want to kill the Third Prince—but now, he saved him. Loyalty? Perhaps nonexistent.

Their gazes met. For him, this was the first time truly seeing her—not the Third Prince, not a spirit master—but a restless prisoner who troubled him in the dead of night.

Yue Zhiheng glanced away lightly. “Someone.”

Shen Ye entered with Chetian Mansion subordinates. Yue Zhiheng commanded: “Tie her up and return her to the imperial prison.”

In an instant, Yun Wei was bound. The rope, a magical weapon to suppress spiritual practice, rendered talismans and formations useless. Pain prickled her body.

The malice in Yue Zhiheng’s gaze was unmistakable. She glanced at him one last time. Under the thousands of lights, his expression never softened. He never looked at her as she was escorted away.

It seemed that eight years later, the person who dug out the elixir and gave it to her in wind and snow had never been merely an illusion.

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