Chapter 42

Shen Qingqiu’s voice was low and tense. “…What happened to Gongyi Xiao?”

Logically, Gongyi Xiao’s exile to the desolate borderlands—a dead-end assignment with no future—should have occurred after Luo Binghe and the Little Palace Mistress had… become intimate.

But by now, the plot had twisted so far that even its original author, Shang Qinghua, wouldn’t recognize it. Anything could happen ahead of schedule.

Before Luo Binghe could answer, the faceless figures surrounding Shen Qingqiu began to stir.

Previously, they had merely stood around in a daze, staring vacantly like idiots, or mindlessly going about their tasks. Now, they began to slowly converge, with him at their center.

Shen Qingqiu was jostled in the middle, unable to simply blast them away. He glanced at Luo Binghe, who was also frowning deeply, one hand pressed to his forehead as if enduring some invasive assault on his mind, too preoccupied to pay attention to anything else.

Shen Qingqiu understood instantly.

A rampage.

Most likely, the Xin Mo Sword was seizing the chance to rebel, attempting to disrupt Luo Binghe’s consciousness. With his focus divided, Luo Binghe couldn’t spare the energy to maintain the dream boundary. The dreamscape was beginning to run wild.

If he didn’t leave now, when would he?

Since Luo Binghe couldn’t divert attention to hinder him, all Shen Qingqiu needed was to experience one more illusion and overcome the hidden fear within to shatter this crumbling boundary!

Shen Qingqiu decided to leave immediately. Luo Binghe, seemingly suffering from a splitting headache and unable to move, snarled, “Take one step and see what happens!”

Shen Qingqiu took a dozen steps in quick succession.

After finishing, he turned back and said leisurely, “Well?”

Luo Binghe looked ready to spit blood.

Each word was forced through clenched teeth. “…You just wait!”

Shen Qingqiu kept his gaze forward, his demeanor aloof and cold. “Farewell!”

You tell me to wait, so I should wait?

I’m not an idiot!

Spotting another shop nearby, Shen Qingqiu kicked the door open and leaped inside.

Whatever emerged this time, Shen Qingqiu was absolutely confident he could face it calmly.

At the very least, he was far more confident facing it than he was facing Luo Binghe!

As the door shut behind him, all the noise and clamor from outside seemed severed by a sharp blade, plunging the space into dead silence.

Shen Qingqiu held his breath, waiting quietly.

After a long while, as if someone had lit a candle, the view trembled and brightened. Shen Qingqiu looked down and found himself staring directly into a face that was both unfamiliar and eerily familiar.

A slender youth knelt before him.

His complexion was deathly pale, his jaw delicate. Dressed in coarse cloth, he knelt in a dejected posture, head bowed, his hands tightly bound with rough hemp rope.

The youth’s gaze was nearly vacant, motionless as he stared back at Shen Qingqiu, his pupils reflecting a dark human silhouette.

Shen Qingqiu stared back, unblinking.

This was definitely not his memory.

Yet this face was undeniably identical to his own. Only, it lacked the tempered aura brought by time and cultivation, replaced instead by the rawness of youth.

This was Shen Qingqiu, yet it was not Shen Qingqiu.

To be precise—this was Shen Jiu!

Shen Qingqiu abruptly sat up from the wooden plank.

After waking, he looked around and realized he was lying inside a derelict house.

Daylight had broken. White light spilled through the gaps in the dilapidated window frames and torn paper.

Right—last night, after wandering aimlessly through the festival, he had soon found an empty old house. His intention had been merely to rest, but he had carelessly fallen asleep and been caught in Luo Binghe’s dream.

If not for the Xin Mo Sword’s interference, who knows how long Luo Binghe would have toyed with him.

Recalling the illusion he himself had shattered just before the dream collapsed, Shen Qingqiu fell into contemplation.

Although the original owner and he were two different people, he was now using that man’s body. Some influence was inevitable.

What he saw last night was likely a memory from when “Shen Qingqiu” was still “Shen Jiu,” in the hands of human traffickers.

This was practically cheating. Because the current Shen Qingqiu himself held no lingering shadows from that memory, of course he could break free effortlessly.

Only one thing bothered him.

At that time, Shen Jiu’s pupils had reflected a human figure. However, that figure was not Shen Qingqiu.

In other words, the illusion Shen Qingqiu witnessed was incomplete.

In that memory, there should have been two people. Besides Shen Jiu, there was another “person” present. The shadow reflected in Shen Jiu’s eyes was his.

Unfortunately, just as Shen Qingqiu tried to get a clearer look at that figure’s face, the boundary shattered, and he woke up.

Shen Qingqiu jumped down from the bare wooden bed, instinctively checking his body. His clothes were, thankfully, all still there.

However, although his garments were intact, he absolutely did not want to keep wearing them!

Wearing them gave him the constant feeling they could be torn off at any moment!

Shen Qingqiu decided to “borrow” some clothes from someone else. But just as he finished “borrowing,” flipped over the wall, and landed on the ground, he turned around to find several people staring at him, wide-eyed.

…Talk about a narrow escape—it was those miscellaneous sect disciples he’d run into at the festival yesterday!

Before he could utter a word, the leading man immediately brandished his weapon, roaring, “Shen Qingqiu, so you are in this city! Today, we disciples of the Mighty Aura Sect will enact heaven’s justice!”

Standard villain dialogue, wasn’t it?!

And what was this “Mighty Aura Sect”? He’d never heard of it!

Besides, what “heaven’s justice”? Weren’t you just after the Illusory Flower Palace’s bounty yesterday? What’s the point of saying one thing and doing another?!

Shen Qingqiu couldn’t be bothered to tangle with them. With a series of crisp snaps, he flung out several freshly drawn talismans, sticking one right on each disciple’s forehead before they even had a chance to block.

In a foul mood, Shen Qingqiu slowly made a “tearing” motion with his hand.

The next moment, the disciples found their bodies moving against their will.

“Why are you tearing my clothes?!”

“You’re tearing mine too!”

“Senior Brother, I’m sorry! I can’t control my hands!”

Shen Qingqiu patted down his newly acquired plain white robes and walked away without looking back.

He just had to take it out on the clothes!

After walking only a short distance in the city, Shen Qingqiu realized that the number of cultivators flooding into Hua Yue City due to the warrant was indeed substantial.

Even though many tried to disguise themselves by not wearing their sect’s uniforms and posing as ordinary people, just sitting by a roadside stall, their bearing alone set them apart. Asking Gongyi Xiao to notify Liu Qingge had been the right move. Even if Luo Binghe couldn’t come personally, if these mixed-bag cultivators from various sects swarmed him and caused trouble, it would be a huge nuisance.

Shen Qingqiu decided this wouldn’t do. He found a corner, smeared his face with yellow pigment, and hastily stuck on a few clumps of fake beard.

As for Xiuya… it would have to endure being wrapped inside his robes. It was undignified, but better than someone pointing and shouting, “Ah! Look! It’s Xiuya Sword!”

Once all preparations were complete, he slowly made his way back to the street.

Shen Qingqiu looked up at the sky. The clouds were thin and soft, seemingly gradually dispersing.

If nothing went wrong, noon today should be the optimal time.

He looked down again. Ahead, in the crowd, a tall, slender figure in snow-white robes flashed past—swift and light, his profile handsome and elegant.

Liu Qingge!

The bodyguard had arrived! Shen Qingqiu’s eyes lit up. He was about to chase after him when, suddenly, a sharp, clear shout erupted from a nearby tavern.

“How dare you speak such filthy words?!”

This was immediately followed by the crashing, shattering sounds of a brawl.

The voice was delicate and crisp, terribly familiar. Shen Qingqiu paused, his steps halting involuntarily as his gaze was drawn toward the commotion.

Another young woman snorted. “What? You dare do it but won’t allow people to talk about it? No wonder. With a scoundrel like that emerging from Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, of course you’d be too ashamed to speak of it.”

The first girl immediately retorted, “Shizun would absolutely never do such a thing! Don’t you dare slander him!”

The only young woman who would still speak up for him like this was Ning Yingying.

Although Shen Qingqiu wanted to find Liu Qingge, seeing the tense atmosphere here, he hesitated for a second. Afraid the Qing Jing Peak disciples might suffer a disadvantage, he decided to stay for now, slipping into a hidden spot to observe.

Inside the tavern’s first floor, two factions were clearly drawn.

On one side, led by Ming Fan and Ning Yingying, stood the Qing Jing Peak disciples, their expressions grim. On the other side stood the Little Palace Mistress, hands on her hips, glaring coldly, with Illusory Flower Palace disciples behind her already holding their weapons, their gazes even more hostile.

Two young women, one delicate and pretty, the other stunningly beautiful, stood facing each other. Even though the air crackled with the smell of gunpowder, the scene was still a feast for the eyes.

Luo Binghe’s harem was fighting again!—Wait, even the Qing Jing Peak disciples were here! And they’d run into the Illusory Flower Palace group. Now this was a true narrow escape!

Shen Qingqiu was certain that if he walked away now, Qing Jing Peak would suffer a crushing defeat. After all, this Little Palace Mistress was so arrogant and domineering that there was no one in the world she wouldn’t dare to attack—except Luo Binghe. Injuring or crippling people was practically her favorite pastime!

The Little Palace Mistress sneered. “Not that kind of person? Then why did he flee from justice? And even… even…” She gritted her teeth hatefully.

Ning Yingying shot back, “If Shizun did that, he must have had his own reasons. He hasn’t even been convicted yet, so how is it ‘fleeing from justice’? Besides, it’s originally your Illusory Flower Palace’s fault for being so gullible, insisting on imprisoning Shizun in the water dungeon. That’s what led to this mess!”

The reason for the catfight wasn’t the male lead, but him?! Though touched, what virtue or ability did Shen Qingqiu possess to deserve this?!

Yet simultaneously, the ominous feeling in his heart grew even heavier.

Something had clearly happened at Illusory Moon Palace again. And from the looks of it, every new grievance and old score was being laid squarely at his feet.

His knees felt ready to buckle under the weight of it all.

The Little Palace Mistress flew into a rage—though Shen Qingqiu privately thought she was perpetually in a state of fury. "So you're saying my Illusory Moon Palace brought this upon ourselves?! How dare you!"

Ming Fan sneered. "Your people may be blind and deaf, but your talent for twisting the truth is second to none."

Shen Qingqiu was stunned. The disciples of Qing Jing Peak had always been so meek and obedient in his presence, not daring to utter a word of dissent. Tell them to feed the chickens and they wouldn't dare walk the dog. Who knew they had such sharp tongues when out in the world?

The Little Palace Mistress paled with anger. Suddenly, she twisted at the waist. A shadow, like a venomous serpent, slithered from her sleeve.

Damn, she got a new whip!

Seeing that a fight had finally broken out, the patrons on the first floor of the tavern evacuated with practiced speed. As they passed Shen Qingqiu, their expressions were eerily calm, utterly unsurprised. It seemed the citizens of Flower Moon City were well accustomed to such scenes. One waiter even paused to expertly slap a bill onto a pillar before making his exit.

After all, the Little Palace Mistress was the beloved daughter of the old palace master, trained by his own hand. Her whip danced with lethal grace. Ning Yingying’s sword work was frantic, left blocking and right parrying, barely holding her ground. Ming Fan tried to intervene but couldn't find an opening in the whirling storm of leather and steel, left to fret uselessly on the sidelines.

Seeing this, Shen Qingqiu casually plucked a single green leaf from a decorative vase at his feet and flicked it forward.

Infused with a surge of spiritual power, the soft leaf met the tempered steel whip with a sharp, metallic clang. The Little Palace Mistress never saw it coming. A numbing shock shot through her palm, and the whip flew from her grasp. Ning Yingying stumbled back in surprise.

Disarmed but not defeated, the Little Palace Mistress reacted with frightening speed. The momentum of her missed strike shifted seamlessly into a backhanded slap.

Crack!

The sound echoed in the sudden quiet. Ning Yingying reeled to the side, a hand pressed to her cheek.

You little—!

Watching the five stark finger marks bloom across Ning Yingying’s face, the skin already swelling, Shen Qingqiu’s heart ached.

I’ve never even struck my own disciple! How dare you?!

Ming Fan drew his sword with a roar. "This is too much! Let's take them down!"

The Qing Jing Peak disciples had held back long enough. Their Junior Sister had been struck. How could they endure this? With a unified shout, blades hissed from scabbards, filling the space with cold, gleaming light.

Shen Qingqiu’s head began to throb. He was still wrestling with whether to get further involved when his gaze snagged on one figure among the Illusory Moon Palace disciples.

Something was very, very wrong with that person.

Shen Qingqiu watched for only two seconds before a cold dread settled in his gut.

This is bad.

It looked like leaving was no longer an option.