To this day, too many fragmented pieces of information have surfaced.
In Xiaocheng and Canghaizhou, there was a man clad in a black cloak, wearing a Nuo god mask, who pushed "Shadow Follows the Wind" and Yi Moli onto a path of no return—one fueled by extremism.
In Wutong Village, the rumored white-haired ghost who slaughtered the entire village gave Chongyang hope, only to ultimately plunge him into despair.
And now, in a painting from a hundred years ago, there appears another white-haired man from Miaojiang.
Then there’s what the hunter Ma said—the person who exterminated the entire Cang Family back then feared Ninth not just because Ninth was from Miaojiang, but more so because Ninth’s appearance reminded him of that terrifying figure.
If someone from a century ago still lived, and in those hundred years had treated the world as his playground, sowing chaos and bloodshed wherever he went—just how dangerous would his existence be?
Chu'he refused to believe that these events were mere coincidences. The signs were too numerous, forcing her to wonder: what connection could that man have with Ninth?
And would Ninth, like those before him who were forced to make impossible choices, be driven to the point of no return?
Suddenly, a cube of sugar was pressed into Chu'he’s mouth, its cloying sweetness abruptly cutting through her dark thoughts, dispelling the heavy gloom in an instant.
Ninth leaned in close, lifting the corners of her lips with his fingertips, his eyes curved into a smile, looking utterly innocent. "There, Chu'he looks much prettier when she smiles."
He was completely irreverent, ruining the solemn atmosphere.
Chu'he swatted his hand away, biting into the sugar, then turned her gaze downstairs. "For the next while, don’t disappear on me without a word."
Ninth rested his chin on his hands, watching her profile with a grin. "Alright."
Paintings by Siyan Scholar were rare, and the auction downstairs had reached a fever pitch.
Chu Sheng announced, "One thousand two hundred taels—do I hear any higher bids?"
Li Furong sat in an upstairs private room, her eyes gleaming with determination to win the painting.
Li Huaijin adored calligraphy and paintings, but his health was frail. Holding a brush for too long would exhaust him, making his hands tremble. If she brought this painting back, he would surely love it.
"One thousand five hundred taels."
The sudden bid drew everyone’s attention.
Li Furong recognized the voice and pressed her lips together. "Two thousand!"
"Two thousand one."
"Three thousand!"
"Three thousand one."
"Four thousand!"
"Four thousand one."
Li Furong gritted her teeth, ready to raise the bid again, but her maid hastily pulled her back. "Miss, we don’t have that much money!"
Li Furong’s extravagant spending habits meant she had barely saved four thousand taels. Any higher, and she’d have to ask her family for funds.
Chu Sheng was mildly surprised—since when did his daughter take an interest in paintings?
"Oh no, oh no!" Painter Gao clutched his head in horror backstage. "The Chu family’s young lady is bidding so high for my painting—she must have feelings for me!"
"What have you been muttering about for the past half-hour?"
A young man’s voice, clear and melodious like spring water striking stone, abruptly interrupted Painter Gao’s delusions.
Painter Gao spun around to see a tall youth in red robes standing behind him, his features bright and his crimson eyes brimming with innocent curiosity.
Ninth stroked the short flute in his hand, his voice soft and amiable. "I think I heard you say… someone has taken a liking to you?"
Painter Gao shuddered, sweat pouring down his back.
"Painter Gao!" Chu'he popped out from behind Ninth, grinning. "We have some questions for you—hope you can enlighten us."
Having failed to secure her desired item, Li Furong couldn’t bear to stay in the auction house any longer. Fuming, she stormed out.
The clamor around her only worsened her mood.
"Junior Sister, why have you stopped?"
"That Western Regions man… he looks familiar."
"Junior Sister, don’t look! That man’s attire is indecent—it’ll dirty your eyes!"
"Wife, can I skip your father’s birthday celebration this time?"
"What do you think?"
"Ow! Don’t pinch my ear! I’m just afraid my father-in-law will come at me with a knife again!"
No matter where she went, it seemed the world was full of noisy distractions, grating on the already troubled girl’s nerves.
"Miss, don’t be upset. Even if we didn’t get the painting, we can still buy some treats that the young master likes and bring them back."
Li Furong’s heart stirred. She looked up and stepped into a nearby tavern—only to run into familiar faces again.
Sang Duo’s exotic attire made her stand out, while the silent, black-clad man beside her sat like an unshakable mountain, his aura thick with killing intent.
Sang Duo glanced over, bowl in hand.
Li Furong’s gaze landed on the puppet-like Cang Yan. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, she swiftly withdrew it, lowering her head and hurrying away.
Sang Duo scoffed, kicking Cang Yan in frustration. "Look at that heartless girl! Even if you died pining for her, she wouldn’t acknowledge you as her brother!"
Li Furong’s mind was in turmoil, her hands and feet restless, unsure of what to do.
"Did you see that? That Miao girl and that man are inseparable—their relationship must be… unconventional."
"How so?"
"You know, that kind of unconventional!" The passerby waggled his eyebrows. "Miaojiang people are terrifying—who’d willingly stay with one? That man must’ve been forced into being her kept lover because of his looks…"
A stone flew through the air, striking the gossipmonger squarely on the head. He yelped, whirling around. "Who dares hit me!?"
Before him stood a young noblewoman adorned in gold and jewels, her presence exuding wealth and authority.
"Keep running your mouth, and I’ll have your tongue ripped out!"
The man, incensed, lunged to teach the brazen young lady a lesson—only for his knee to suddenly buckle as if bitten by something. He collapsed to the ground, and by the time he scrambled up, his friends were already dragging him away.
"That’s the Li family’s young mistress! You can’t afford to offend her!"
The man watched the noblewoman’s retreating figure, rubbing his aching knee with a mix of fear and resentment. "So what if she’s the Li family’s daughter? I just don’t hit women—it’s not like I’m scared of her!"
Glancing back at the Miao girl still standing at the tavern’s entrance, he shuddered, his knee throbbing harder, and limped off with his friends.
Sang Duo leaned against the doorframe, shooting another irritated look at the expressionless Cang Yan. She tugged at her hair in frustration.
"I’ll never understand you Central Plains people! So secretive, so convoluted—why can’t you just say what you mean? Hiding everything, bottling it all up… I can’t read your minds!"
"Indeed, I don’t understand either."
Sang Duo jumped at the sudden voice beside her. "Fang Songhe! I know your lightness skill is impressive, but must you pop up like a ghost to scare people?"
