At the hour of the rabbit, just before dawn broke, Yue Zhiheng returned to his quarters to change his blood-stained shirt before departing with Shen Ye for the palace.
A fresh wound marred his palm, the faint scent of ice lotus lingering in the air from his bloodstained sleeve. Yet Yue Zhiheng neither treated the injury nor paid it much attention.
Shen Ye had served him for many years and knew his master well—cruel to others, crueler still to himself.
He glanced at the bloodstains on Yue Zhiheng's cuff, unable to tell if his lord felt pain. From Shen Ye's perspective, the wound looked deep enough to warrant concern.
This was Shen Ye's first encounter with such an unusual spirit master, and it left him genuinely surprised.
Every spirit master he'd known fit a predictable mold: delicate, fragile creatures who required protection from their spiritual companions. After all, the spirits themselves depended on their masters for survival.
No one taught spirit masters the art of killing. Most barely knew which end of the sword to hold.
But last night's girl—if they'd arrived even moments later, she might have actually succeeded in assassinating the Third Prince.
Not that the Third Prince's death would be any great loss to the realm. But having someone killed while under the Celestial Enforcement Bureau's supervision would bring His Majesty's wrath down on all their heads, and there would be no escaping it.
"My lord, are you and Miss Zhan old acquaintances?" Shen Ye ventured carefully. He knew his master never wasted attention on anything—or anyone—without value.
Yet yesterday, Yue Zhiheng had stared at the girl for an unusually long moment.
If it was merely her beauty, well—Shen Ye had to admit Pei Yujing's fiancée was breathtakingly lovely. But the dynasty had never lacked for beautiful women. Countless officials kept harems of male and female favorites despite their corrupt morals. Yue Zhiheng remained immune to such temptations. Master Zhang had sent beauties to his door multiple times, and each time the lord had coldly ordered them removed.
Which left only one possibility: this woman was somehow connected to his master's past.
Yue Zhiheng's mind drifted to many years ago, to the first time he'd seen Zhan Yunwei.
Her cheeks had been flushed pink like peach blossoms in spring. Long lashes, dark as crow's wings, framed eyes of pale chestnut that seemed to see right through him. She'd been small then, crouching down to his level, asking with earnest solemnity: "Why did you steal?"
Yue Zhiheng replied to Shen Ye, "Not old acquaintances, no."
The careful phrasing made Shen Ye pause. "But there is some connection between you?"
Yue Zhiheng's tone turned cold, edged with dark amusement. "Connection? I suppose you could call it that. She was a meddlesome child who self-righteously beat me three times."
Shen Ye nearly choked.
Of all possible explanations, he'd never imagined that. He felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the young lady. With his lord's vengeful—no, meticulous—temperament, if he remembered such petty grievances, he might very well seek retribution now.
When decisions were made about where to assign these captured spirit masters, would the lord perhaps suggest His Majesty gift her to the corpulent Lord Zhang? Or the notoriously cruel Lord Li?
Yue Zhiheng paid no attention to his subordinate's thoughts.
His mind was occupied with far more pressing matters. After the Battle of Ling Mountain, the sect leaders had worked together to protect the gravely wounded Pei Yujing, and he'd vanished from the spiritual realm as though he'd never existed.
Yue Zhiheng had led Bureau agents in a four-day search using the Cave World Mirror, scouring every corner of the spiritual realm. Nothing.
His best guess? They'd fled to the mortal world.
By all conventional wisdom, one shouldn't pursue a desperate enemy into unknown territory. His Majesty's temperament had always been calculated and measured. Yet this time, Emperor Ling had made the opposite decision, ordering the hunt to continue.
Yue Zhiheng understood why the emperor couldn't maintain his usual composure.
It all came back to the prophecy the Imperial Observatory had divined several years ago.
When that hexagram was cast, the celestial bell had rung across the realm. But soon after, everyone who'd witnessed the divination began dying under mysterious circumstances. The matter became a closely guarded secret, spoken of only in whispers.
Yue Zhiheng had learned fragments of the truth from his grandfather.
The prophecy had read: When the capable one emerges, the dynasty shall fall.
In all the spiritual realm, only one person fit such a description: Pei Yujing, Young Master of Penglai.
Born with innate sword bones and accompanied by celestial omens, he was the undisputed child of heaven's favor. Not only Penglai, but the entire Immortal Alliance recognized him as the last great hope of the immortal sects.
And Pei Yujing had exceeded every expectation. Refined as jade, brilliant as orchids, he'd entered the Dao at age six, able to hear the Zen music of heaven and earth. At twelve, he'd defeated his sect's chief disciple in open combat. At twenty, he'd slain a catastrophic flood demon with such grace and efficiency that the old poets said he killed one man every ten steps without leaving a trace for a thousand miles.
Year after year, his cultivation advanced at an unmatched pace. Across the entire realm, no one's growth could compare.
Such a formidable enemy, His Majesty would naturally never allow to exist.
Which meant that until Pei Yujing was found, Yue Zhiheng knew His Majesty would not relent. And when imperial patience finally wore thin, the Bureau would bear the brunt of imperial fury.
It grated on him. In the entire dynasty, only one viable piece of bait remained to draw out Pei Yujing and the other Immortal Sect traitors: Pei Yujing's own fiancée, Zhan Yunwei.
The Third Prince was a useless fool, his mind consumed by base desires.
And Zhan Yunwei herself was a spirit master—too valuable to kill, too fragile to torture.
Yue Zhiheng lowered his eyelids, lost in dark contemplation.
Imperial Prison
The imperial edicts arrived one after another, each sealing another fate.
The elderly spirit masters were dispatched to Danxin Pavilion to cleanse evil energy from the corrupt nobles who'd "fallen to darkness" within the royal city.
The young and beautiful spirit masters faced darker fortunes—most were assigned to forced marriages, their futures uncertain and grim.
The dynasty didn't execute the spiritual cultivators imprisoned in the dungeons. It wasn't mercy—these cultivators were blood relatives and clan members of the spirit masters. As long as they lived, they could be used as leverage, chains to bind the spirit masters to obedience.
Yunwei's gaze traveled through layers of sealing talismans until it settled on a battered figure.
There lay her weakness.
The man's collarbone had been pierced with suppression chains. His body bore countless injuries, his hair tangled and matted, obscuring what had once been a handsome face.
Among all the spiritual cultivators, he alone had awakened seven spiritual meridians—the highest level—so his treatment was by far the cruelest. Talismans covered nearly every inch of his body; anyone unfamiliar with the situation might think he was an ancient corpse being sealed by a master talisman cultivator.
Days ago, he'd been unconscious, silent and still. But since yesterday's rain had fallen over the dynasty's capital, he'd awakened.
Awake, but unwilling to speak.
As cultivators were led away one by one, the man who'd maintained stubborn silence finally couldn't contain himself. His voice emerged hoarse and grating.
"Zhan Yunwei," he said, hardly polite. "Come here."
Yunwei couldn't physically reach him, but she moved as close as her chains allowed. "Brother."
"Who's your brother? Don't call me that."
Even in such dire circumstances, she couldn't help but smile slightly. "Zhan Shujing, then."
Zhan Shujing was her father's adopted son.
His mother had once been sect leader of Qingyang, but both his parents had perished hunting evil spirits, never to return.
After losing both its leaders, Qingyang Sect quickly fell into decline. The Lord of Changya Mountain had brought the orphaned boy back and raised him as his own child, even instructing Yunwei to respect him as an older brother.
Yunwei knew that Zhan Shujing harbored buried resentment toward her father—after all, it had been the Changya Mountain Lord who'd rallied everyone to hunt that particular demon.
Clearly, Zhan Shujing lacked the spirit of "tolerance" and "sacrifice" that the immortal sects drilled into their disciples from childhood. He'd also carried a grudge against Yunwei herself.
Before Yunwei had awakened her spirit master talents, he'd secretly bullied her, as though making her suffer might somehow ease his own pain.
Yunwei had never reported him, never cried.
Whatever he did to her, she'd always find a way to retaliate later, leaving Zhan Shujing grinding his teeth in frustration every time.
Sometimes she wondered if she too lacked that tolerant spirit the sects valued so highly. Perhaps she and Zhan Shujing were both outcasts from the immortal path.
She wasn't as gentle and obedient as she appeared on the surface. She didn't want to become just another ornament in the royal city like so many spirit masters before her.
She'd always dreamed of traveling to the far reaches of the spiritual realm, to Du'e City where no other spirit master dared venture.
In her youth, Yunwei never imagined that narrow-minded, temperamental Zhan Shujing would one day carry her wounded body on his back, gritting his teeth as he said, "Stop talking nonsense. If I can't save you today, it means I'm worthless."
A man who'd harbored such grievances had died in battle protecting the Zhan clan.
She'd rarely called him "brother" when he was alive. Later, after his death, she'd wept in her dreams calling out to him desperately, only to see him staggering forward in blood-soaked robes, never once looking back.
Looking at him alive before her now, Yunwei realized just how much she'd been losing throughout her previous short life.
Zhan Shujing, unaware of her complicated emotions, spoke through gritted teeth. "Kill me."
Yunwei sighed internally. Some illnesses really do need treatment from childhood.
Zhan Shujing continued his tirade: "Who wants to be your burden? You're the daughter of Changya Mountain's lord, marrying one of the dynasty's dogs. Disgusting."
Yunwei had no patience for his dramatics. She cut him off dryly, "I'd love to, but I can't reach you."
Zhan Shujing paused, realizing they'd need to at least be in the same cell first.
He fell silent, though fury still simmered beneath his forced composure.
In the privacy of her own thoughts, Yunwei whispered, Brother, I have to do something for you this time.
Though she'd protected Zhan Shujing in her previous life too, she hadn't been nearly as willing then as she was now.
The fragile peace between them shattered three days later when the dynasty's edict finally arrived.
When Zhan Shujing heard who the dynasty intended to marry Yunwei to, hatred flashed in his eyes.
Yue Zhiheng. That cold-blooded, shameless dynasty dog!
He almost couldn't stop himself from shouting at Zhan Yunwei: Kill him! Just stab that bastard to death!
But then he reconsidered. Knowing Yunwei, she'd probably just respond: I want to, but I can't.
Useless spirit master!
Zhan Shujing swallowed his words. For perhaps the first time in his life, he found himself appreciating Pei Yujing, hoping desperately that the man would return to the royal city soon to slaughter them all.
But Zhan Shujing also understood the truth: someone as calculating and ruthless as Yue Zhiheng volunteering to marry Yunwei could only mean he planned to use her as bait to capture Pei Yujing.
Yunwei understood this too. She wasn't delusional enough to imagine Yue Zhiheng actually liked her.
After all, she'd once overheard his old nurse mention he had a crush on someone.
As it turned out, after three years as his Dao companion in her previous life, they'd maintained a relationship as cold as ice, distant and loveless.
The midsummer rain continued falling. That evening, someone came to take Yunwei away.
She couldn't help glancing back at Zhan Shujing. He opened his mouth as though to say many things—that she should escape if given the chance, abandon them, that spiritual cultivators were tough and wouldn't die easily.
In the end, he only said: "You must survive."
A wave of sorrow washed over Yunwei.
He must truly fear she'd do something foolish. Yesterday she was Pei Yujing's fiancée; in a few days she'd be forced into marriage with someone else. That was why Zhan Shujing felt compelled to say this.
He knew her temperament wasn't as delicate as other spirit masters', but he couldn't gauge how deeply she loved Pei Yujing, or whether that love might drive her to desperation. He didn't know what kind of man the notorious Dynasty Enforcer truly was.
Yunwei thought to herself, This time, I will live.
Live until dawn breaks, until the people no longer live in fear, until the day the spiritual realm flourishes once more.
Celestial Enforcement Bureau
The ancestral Yue family estate lay in Fenhe County, some distance from the royal city.
Yunwei wasn't taken to Yue Manor, but to the Celestial Enforcement Bureau itself.
Year-round, Yue Zhiheng remained occupied with Bureau business and rarely returned to the family estate. As an unmarried man, he'd essentially lived at headquarters. Now caught off-guard by this sudden marriage arrangement, he apparently saw no reason to make preparations elsewhere.
After Yunwei was brought to the Bureau, Yue Zhiheng assigned no one to attend her, placed no restrictions on her room, but sent Shen Ye with a single cold message.
Shen Ye delivered it expressionlessly: "My lord says if the young lady leaves the Bureau grounds and forces him to waste effort recapturing you, he will sever one finger from one of the prisoners in the dungeon."
Yunwei knew this was exactly the sort of thing Yue Zhiheng would do. She smiled through gritted teeth, thinking no wonder she'd found this man insufferable in her previous life. "Tell your master my health has been poor lately. I won't be leaving the premises."
Shen Ye hadn't expected that the prisoner they'd been hunting just nights ago would become their lady within days.
The situation baffled him entirely.
Though perhaps it made sense. In the entire royal city, few people could suppress the daughter of Changya Mountain's lord. If she'd truly been assigned to Lord Zhang or Lord Li, given Zhan Yunwei's temperament, someone would be collecting their corpses by nightfall.
Or perhaps when Pei Yujing finally returned, those lords would die anyway.
Shen Ye couldn't help recalling the scene in the palace several days ago.
Various nobles and ministers had nearly come to blows competing for the most beautiful spirit master from Changya Immortal Mountain.
Yue Zhiheng had simply listened, saying nothing. He was genuinely busy—not only hunting evil spirits but tracking down Immortal Sect rebels. Meanwhile these parasitic officials who held positions without performing duties kept creating problems for the Bureau.
When the arguing reached its peak, Yue Zhiheng had spoken calmly: "In that case, whichever lord volunteers can personally arrest Pei Yujing, leader of the Immortal Sect rebels."
Silence had fallen instantly over the palace. Arrest him? Who would dare face Sword Immortal Pei Yujing's blade?
The Third Prince, however, seemed to have a death wish. Despite nearly being assassinated yesterday, today he still couldn't let go of his obsession with that beauty.
Just a kitten with sharp claws, he'd thought. I'll simply be more careful.
But when he opened his mouth to speak, he met Emperor Ling's gaze—or rather, the penetrating stare emanating from the emperor's divine manifestation. The Third Prince swallowed his words immediately.
Emperor Ling spent most of his time in seclusion. Even when he appeared, it was usually only as this projection of divine breath. The Third Prince might dare cause trouble normally, but before Emperor Ling he didn't dare even breathe too loudly.
Finally, Emperor Ling's voice emerged from within the divine manifestation: "Yueqing, this matter is yours to handle."
Shen Ye couldn't see his lord's expression clearly. Only after a long pause did he witness Yue Zhiheng bow toward Emperor Ling in acceptance.
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