Chapter 5: Beneath The Skin

As night fell, Yue Zhiheng was drawing blueprints when Fang Huai arrived, carrying a pot of wine that sloshed gently with each step.

"I just returned to the royal city from the Spirit Realm barrier and heard you're getting married, and that His Majesty himself bestowed the marriage upon you. Everyone's saying you've long been in love with Pei Yujing's fiancée, and that you personally asked His Majesty for her. Is it true?"

Yue Zhiheng continued drawing, his brow furrowed in concentration, without even looking up from the intricate lines spreading across the parchment. "Who spread these rumors?"

Had he gone mad, in love with Pei Yujing's fiancée? The very thought was absurd.

Fang Huai immediately understood the truth beneath the denial. "Is it to lure Pei Yujing out?"

Yue Zhiheng remained silent, his brush moving with practiced precision. Everyone knew the truth, even the escaped immortal sects could easily figure it out. They were betting on Pei Yujing's feelings for Zhan Yunwei—testing whether those feelings ran deeper than self-preservation.

Were they willing to risk their lives to snatch the bride for Zhan Yunwei?

Fang Huai raised an eyebrow, his tone playful. "Master, do you want him to come, or not?"

Yue Zhiheng finished his last stroke with deliberate care and said coldly, "Are you bored?"

"Just kidding."

Seeing his indifferent expression—that familiar mask of ice—Fang Huai felt bored and leaned closer to look. He discovered that Yue Zhiheng had drawn a modified version of the "Mirror of the World," the legendary artifact that could observe anywhere across vast distances.

The sides were covered with annotations written by Yue Zhiheng in his meticulous hand, such as how to broaden the desired viewing area, how to avoid being detected by the trackers, and even precise calculations and marking of the materials needed—a symphony of numbers and arcane formulas.

Sometimes Fang Huai couldn't help but admire weapon refiners. From drawing to the final product, it was all tedious, lonely, and boring work that required endless patience. What kind of personality could endure such a repetitive life day after day, year after year?

And yet, this cold-hearted and arrogant person, Yue Zhiheng, was a weapon refiner.

Fang Huai stared at the blueprints for a while, his mind wandering, then, as if struck by a thought, suddenly asked, "Could you make me a mirror too?"

Yue Zhiheng put away the blueprints with careful movements and asked, "Has Du'e City been rather unsettled lately?"

"No," Fang Huai's eyes lit up with boyish enthusiasm. "This mirror is so useful. I can use it to look at Xiao Die when I have nothing to do."

Ye Yan Die was his betrothed, and also a spirit master. Fang Huai adored her with the devotion of someone who had found something precious in a cruel world.

"Please, Lord Fang, I'm tired and can't entertain you."

Fang Huai quickly pleaded, his tone shifting to seriousness. "No, no, no, let's get down to business."

He said with gravity, "Recently, more and more commoners who have 'become possessed' have been secretly heading to Du'e City."

Speaking of this, Fang Huai also felt troubled, the weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders. In the past, the immortal sects were numerous and would save commoners possessed by evil energy, preventing them from despair. They barely maintained a fragile balance.

But now, His Majesty's swift and decisive actions have destroyed the immortal sects, causing those possessed by evil energy to despair and fear—a cascade of unintended consequences.

Once evil energy enters the body, if it is not removed in time, it will eventually turn the victim into evil spirits. The powerful and wealthy have spirit masters to save their lives, but what about them? They had nothing but hope turning to ash.

Rather than lingering for a few years only to be killed by the Chetian Palace, they'd rather head to the City of Crossing Calamity on the other side of the barrier—choosing their own deaths over waiting for execution.

The City of Crossing Calamity was certainly no good place; it was a city of evil spirits, rife with danger that lurked around every corner. Ironically, it was also the place with the most abundant spiritual energy and rare treasures in the world—a paradise built on graves.

These commoners thought that even if they died in the City of Crossing Calamity, if they could find rare treasures for their companions to take back, their parents and relatives could live a better life. A final act of love before darkness claimed them.

This scenario was exactly what Yue Zhiheng had expected. He didn't react much after hearing this, saying with chilling pragmatism, "Either way, it's death; it's not a bad way out."

Even if they didn't go to the City of Crossing Calamity to die, they would die at his hands in a few years anyway. The end was the same; only the method differed.

Fang Huai couldn't help but glance at him, something like discomfort stirring in his chest. As a fellow member of the so-called imperial henchmen, he sometimes felt that this chief was even more cold-blooded than himself—and that was saying something.

The Yue family, once one of the immortal sects, had actually produced such a wicked and ruthless freak.

No wonder the common people hated him, and even the Yue family disliked him—he was an aberration, a traitor to everything they held sacred.

Fang Huai said, "Our Fang family will probably be extremely busy from now on, so you can relax for a while."

The Fang family has a history of array cultivation spanning generations, and now the barrier of the Spirit Realm is entirely maintained by Fang Huai's grandfather, Lord Fang. As his grandfather ages, this responsibility has gradually fallen on Fang Huai's shoulders—a burden he bore willingly.

With the corrupted people gone to Du'e City, the number of people the Chetian Prefecture usually has to kill and arrest has naturally decreased.

"Speaking of which, now that you're free, you can cultivate your relationship with your new wife," Fang Huai said, his tone turning teasing. "I heard she was once the most gentle and beautiful woman in Ling Mountain. Haven't you ever thought about becoming her Daoist partner?"

Yue Zhiheng didn't deny it; if killing the Third Prince without batting an eye could be considered gentle, then so be it. Standards were relative, after all.

Yue Zhiheng began washing his hands, staring at the ink stains staining his fingers, and calmly uttered, "Never thought about it."

If no one in the court dared to take on this hot potato, it wouldn't have fallen on his shoulders. He was the last resort, not the first choice.

Fang Huai sighed, genuine sympathy coloring his voice. "Miss Zhan is truly pitiful, left in the dynasty as a hostage. Pei Yujing is destined not to come to rescue her."

Yue Zhiheng said, "How do you know Pei Yujing won't come?"

"In terms of weapon crafting, I am not as good as you, but when it comes to the gossip of the immortal sects, if I rank second, no one in the dynasty dares to rank first."

Fang Huai smiled with the confidence of one who traffics in secrets. His mother was the head of the Zhi Qiu Pavilion, and knew everything about the spiritual realm and the mortal world—information was her currency.

"People only say that Pei Yujing's cultivation progresses by leaps and bounds, that he was born with a sword bone, but they don't know that he has cultivated the Heartless Sword since childhood."

The Heartless Sword Path means that one cannot be moved by any woman—love becomes poison to cultivation.

"But this marriage between him and Miss Zhan is something he asked for himself. He did not hesitate to disobey his master and his own mother, and he has indeed fallen in love with that Miss Zhan. But whether it is for the future of the immortal sect's foundation or Pei Yujing's life, those elders and his mother will never let him set foot in the royal city. You just wait and see."

Yue Zhiheng looked out the window, his gaze distant. Midsummer in the dynasty is usually a rainy season with continuous rain, and it had started raining again at some point—the sky weeping endlessly.

The attic where the girl was confined was faintly lit in the rain, like a tiny star in the dark night struggling against encroaching darkness.

Thinking about why she couldn't sleep, Yue Zhiheng withdrew his gaze, a low sneer forming in his heart.

Chetian Prefecture was such a detestable and unpleasant place—a gilded cage that crushed spirits.

She had better pray that Fang Huai's words were false, and that Pei Yujing would still come. He could complete his mission, and she could leave sooner. Everyone would get what they wanted.

---

Yun Wei leaned against the window, withdrawing her hand from the raindrops that had collected in her palm.

Unable to go out, she slept too much during the day and was wide awake at night, so she simply got up to enjoy the rain. Unexpectedly, after all this time, she was facing the same situation again—history repeating itself in cruel loops.

Even though so much time had passed, she still remembered how much she had longed for Pei Yujing to come and take her away. How desperately she had believed in rescue.

Pei Yujing was the first person she had ever felt a spark of love for—that dangerous, beautiful thing.

If she had known from the beginning that he cultivated the ruthless sword path when she first went to the academy, she wouldn't have used her spirit-controlling technique to "save" this poor senior brother when he was covered in frost upon entering the path.

Nor would she have let Pei Yujing see her the moment he opened his eyes after the frost melted.

The boy looked surprised, a faint smile in his eyes like dawn breaking. "Junior sister, are you saving me?"

She blinked blankly and nodded, not understanding what she had set in motion.

He gazed at her, chuckling softly, "In that case, I'm so grateful for your rescue, Junior Sister."

They were childhood sweethearts, innocent and pure—love before it learned to hurt.

The young man would always smile at her under the moonlight, his voice gentle. "Junior Sister, if you want to cultivate the art of spirit control, you don't need to hide away alone. You can try it on me; I'm not afraid of pain."

Later, Pei Yujing insisted on marrying her, nearly causing the elders of Penglai to die of anger. The Lady of Penglai even personally used torture—love met with violence.

The Lady spoke without restraint, her voice shrill with fury: "You scoundrel! You've been bewitched by that little vixen, willing to ruin your future! I'd rather you die myself!"

The handsome swordsman lowered his eyelids, his back covered in wounds that wept blood, and kowtowed deeply, saying nothing. Silence as his only weapon.

He traded half his life for a marriage contract with her.

Yun Wei never doubted his sincerity—that much, at least, had been real.

It was just that the world was so corrupt, with evil rampant, and everyone was powerless to control their own destiny. Pei Yujing was destined to bear many burdens from birth. He carried the hopes of Penglai and even the entire immortal sect on shoulders too young. Compared to these great righteousnesses, his innocent junior sister from that afternoon was destined to remain behind him—always second, never first.

In her past life, she didn't understand and insisted on being with him. The Lady of Penglai and the elders made things difficult for her in every way, hating her to the bone for blocking Pei Yujing's path.

Later, after losing her innate talent, the Lady of Pei even threatened to kill herself, forcing Pei Yujing to either sever his feelings for her or marry Mingxiu—love twisted into a weapon.

The Lady held a sword to her own neck, and Pei Yujing couldn't bear to watch his mother commit suicide. Finally, he drew the glass sword behind him and chose to end his own life instead.

"Mother, if you insist on forcing me, this is... my answer."

Fortunately, Pei Yujing was eventually rescued from death's door. He opened his eyes and said palely, "I'm sorry, Yangyang, I always seem to make you cry."

Perhaps this incident gave her courage. At that time, Yunwei didn't believe in predestined fate—she still thought love could conquer all.

It wasn't until Pei Yujing entered the secret realm and came out with the pregnant Mingxiu by his side. His voice was hoarse as he apologized to her again, the words tasting like ash.

He was the best and kindest disciple Penglai had ever taught, and therefore he couldn't bring himself to kill his own child and Mingxiu. Virtue became his cage.

Zhan Yunwei finally understood what it meant for fate to be cruel—how destiny laughs at human plans.

She sat there all night, and when dawn broke, her eyes cleared again. She rose and resolutely left Yulou Xiaozhu.

Before leaving, she didn't forget to draw her sword and cut down Mingxiu's most cherished herb garden in a final act of rage, and she also left behind the spirit jade that Pei Yujing had given her—returning everything he'd ever given.

She couldn't blame Pei Yujing; he had done so much, even almost giving his life for her, yet he still couldn't escape the schemes of his own mother and Mingxiu.

Pei Yujing loved her, but he had never truly protected her. Madam Pei's resentment and humiliation, Mingxiu's treachery and underhanded tactics… in places Pei Yujing couldn't see, she was already covered in wounds that would never fully heal.

Yunwei counted her spirit stones, longing for the day she would find the best talisman master in the world—

She had heard that the sword immortal Pei Yujing, as the immortal sect wished, had sealed his memories and returned to the path of the sword.

His only request was that the Immortal Sect imprison his mother and Mingxiu for life—punishment delivered, but at what cost?

He ultimately didn't end up with Mingxiu, but he had also lost the junior sister who had melted his ice with her spirit-controlling magic.

Yunwei ignored the voices calling her back, growing further and further away, without looking back. She was focused on where to go next. If she couldn't be a spirit master, she would be a spiritual cultivator, a talisman master! She would do everything she could to survive and thrive.

Before becoming Pei Yujing's fiancée, her earliest identity upon entering the world was that of the daughter of the Lord of Changya Mountain.

The one who dreamed of using her frail spirit master body to vanquish evil, maintain peace, and restore a prosperous era—Zhan Yunwei, who had existed before love complicated everything.

Unfortunately, she died before achieving her goal, dreams unfulfilled.

Yunwei came to her senses, letting the raindrops in her palm slip through her fingers like memories.

She thought, indeed, one cannot be greedy in this world. Having coveted the affection Pei Yujing gave her in her youth, she later had to repay it with her own blood, tears, and talent—the universe demanding balance.

This time, Yunwei knew Pei Yujing wouldn't come, and she had no expectations. Her reflection stared back at her in the bronze mirror beside her.

Not the beautiful young woman in disguise that the waiter saw in the restaurant a few years later.

It was another face, fair and flawless, pure and unparalleled, without the later bloodstains and scars that experience would carve.

It was still early in this new life.

She closed the window; it was better to first understand the confusion she felt before her death and see what kind of person Yue Zhiheng really was—what secrets hid beneath that cold exterior.

She always felt that this person was hiding many secrets, layers upon layers of them.

---

The day before the wedding, the Yue family reluctantly and slowly sent two maids—the bare minimum required by propriety.

Shen Ye's face was grim, displeasure written in every line. "Is that all? Where are the betrothal gifts?"

Although Miss Zhan was from a celestial sect, she still bore the title of being betrothed by His Majesty; no spirit master's wedding would be so meager, so deliberately insulting.

The servant who delivered the message, facing the menacing figure of Chetian Mansion, broke out in a cold sweat that beaded on his forehead. "Second...Second Madam said that, according to etiquette, the eldest son's mother should prepare it herself."

Shen Ye frowned, irritation flashing across his features. "Alright, you can go back now."

Thinking of the reclusive mother of the Chief Minister, Shen Ye sighed heavily. Though reluctant, he relayed the message verbatim to Yue Zhiheng.

Yue Zhiheng was far calmer than he had imagined, his expression unchanging.

The First Madam watched coldly, completely unconcerned, and Yue Zhiheng was equally oblivious—or perhaps simply indifferent.

Shen Ye awkwardly asked, "Then...should we still prepare the betrothal gifts?"

Although he felt that the other party might not appreciate it and wouldn't accept them even if prepared—would likely throw them back in their faces.

Yue Zhiheng said with decisive clarity, "Prepare them. After all, it's a marriage bestowed by His Majesty. We still have to put on a show. Send over all the new items from the Cuiling Pavilion this year."

Shen Ye was astonished, his eyes widening. The Cuiling Pavilion was the best magical artifact shop in the royal city. Every treasure there was priceless, and even with spirit stones, one might not be able to buy them—they were that exclusive.

Many of the new magical artifacts this year were even personally designed and forged by Yue Zhiheng himself.

There had never been such a precedent before; the betrothal gifts were all top-grade magical artifacts—an unprecedented display of wealth.

Shen Ye mentally calculated that with so many magical treasures, they would probably need to be pulled by phoenixes for the procession. But doing so also had a hidden danger: if Zhan Yunwei refused to accept them and turned them away, the entire dynasty would know of the humiliation—would witness Chetian Prefecture's rejection.

Shen Ye wasn't too worried about this happening.

Chetian Mansion never hesitated to use any means necessary; there were few things they couldn't accomplish through force or manipulation. However, he believed that with the ruthless methods of the head of the mansion, there were countless ways to make a spirit master obey.

Previously, a single word from the head of the mansion had prevented Miss Zhan from escaping Chetian Mansion.

However, he hadn't received any instructions from his superiors for a long time—an unusual silence.

Yue Zhiheng said, "If she doesn't accept them, then so be it. Send them back to the Spirit Refining Pavilion."

Although what lay beneath this cunning exterior was always nothing but intrigue and filth—the games powerful men played—he disdained to threaten her with the Zhan Shu Mirror in this matter. Some lines even he wouldn't cross.

Whether he wanted it or not, no one in the dynasty dared to challenge him. This was never a marriage to look forward to—merely a transaction, a trap, a political maneuver.

The wedding ceremony wasn't important; she didn't care, so naturally he wouldn't care either.

Two people circling each other like ghosts, neither wanting what fate had thrust upon them.