For seven years, Cang Yan had endured countless treatments from Doctor Wu—poisons, venomous insects, and cursed toxins—all merely prolonging his existence in a state between life and death. Yet now, after these long years, his body had reached its limit.
Turning him into a puppet could preserve his physical form, but a puppet remains devoid of emotion and consciousness, no longer truly alive.
Doctor Wu said, "First, we must preserve his body. In time, we may yet find a way to restore a puppet to a living, conscious being."
Shangguan Huanxi frowned, hesitation weighing on her heart.
Sang Duo, eavesdropping intently, suddenly heard movement behind her. She turned to see the man who had been clinging to his last breath—his eyes now open.
It was said that before death, one experiences a final surge of vitality.
He seemed to want to speak, struggling to move, only to roll off the bed and collapse onto the floor. Sang Duo rushed to help but was a step too late.
The fifteen-year-old boy lay sprawled on the ground, one hand clutching the hem of her skirt, his arm draped over her bare leg.
Sang Duo kicked him in frustration. "You pervert!"
Cang Yan groaned, gripping her tightly. "Puppet... I'll do it..."
Those were the only words he could muster before collapsing, motionless—truly on the verge of becoming a corpse with no hope of ever rising again.
Thus, Doctor Wu taught Sang Duo the art of crafting puppets, though she showed little enthusiasm. "Even if I succeed, he’ll still be a puppet with shattered bones and severed tendons. Standing would be impossible."
Doctor Wu only smiled. "Ordinary puppet techniques are crude. What I teach you is something far beyond."
Sang Duo’s suspicions deepened.
Her master appeared to be from the Central Plains—how could he know more about cursed toxins and puppetry than even the people of Miaojiang?
She asked, "Master, why don’t you turn him into a puppet yourself? Why leave it to me?"
Doctor Wu reclined leisurely in his wicker chair. "To craft a puppet properly takes at least three years. My memory has been failing me lately—I might wander off and forget to return. If I were the one doing it, by the time I remembered, he’d have dried into a husk."
Sang Duo stared into the kiln’s entrance, where steam rose in waves. The herbs tossed inside and the flames had to be precisely controlled.
Sitting beside her master, she asked curiously, "You spent seven years keeping him alive, traveling the world just to find a way to wake him. He must be very important to you, right?"
Doctor Wu chuckled, patting her head with a kindly expression. "Foolish mortals cling to false hopes—some chase wealth, others seek to save the world, and some are consumed by vengeance."
"But when they realize their last hope is gone, all their struggles, their hatred, their pain—it all becomes a joke. The moment their world collapses from within..."
"That will be truly amusing."
At the time, Sang Duo had lived secluded in Miaojiang, untouched by the world. His words sent a chill down her spine, though she couldn’t quite grasp their meaning.
It wasn’t until years later, after Doctor Wu single-handedly ignited the chaos in Yang City, that she finally understood.
The annihilation of the Cang family in a single night—it had been his doing.
And yet, he had donned the guise of a benevolent healer, preserving the life of the Cang family’s "last" heir.
To him, the tragedies born of human cruelty were nothing more than a game. For mere amusement, how many families had been torn apart, how many lives destroyed?
After hearing Sang Duo recount the past, Fang Songhe suppressed his fury. "That man is utterly deranged. He cannot be allowed to live. I’ve interrogated the rioters—the one who led them that night took orders from a masked man. That must have been him."
Sang Duo nodded. "When he targeted the Cang family, it was only for the Jade Crystal Puppet Thread. But he knows the thread was never used on Cang Yan. Why would he force him to hand it over now?"
Fang Songhe pondered, then suddenly looked up. "This is bad—Miss Li!"
The city was under strict lockdown, patrols doubled after the disappearance of the Li family’s young master.
Under the cover of night, a heavily injured old man finally slipped back into Li Mansion, heading straight for Miss Li’s courtyard. After drugging the maids, he entered the inner chamber, where the young mistress lay asleep.
The pampered noble girl, delicate and unblemished, now bore a bandaged wound on her neck, her pale face fragile and pitiful.
The black-robed figure reached out with a wrinkled hand, brushing her cheek—then suddenly stiffened, sensing something amiss. He whirled around.
A masked man sat in a chair, unnoticed until now.
Slender fingers toyed with a cold teacup. Beneath the painted mask, crimson eyes curved in amusement.
"It took me some effort to shake off Shangguan Huanxi. I thought I was late, but you’re even slower."
"So the treasure was with you all along—inside the girl you raised."
"Aren’t you happy, Huai Jin?"
"With the Jade Crystal Puppet Thread, your premature aging can finally be cured."
Dead silence filled the room.
The hunched "old man" straightened, wrinkles fading from his hands. He pulled back his hood, revealing a youthful face—yet his dark eyes held a depth and coldness far beyond his years.
Outside, Song Chunming paced restlessly, unsure whether to disturb the young couple inside, who likely needed privacy to rebuild their sense of security.
But to a young man with keen hearing, his presence was already noticeable even without knocking.
A cold gust swept by—and suddenly, a crimson figure stood before him, ghostly and alluring.
The youth’s long hair cascaded freely, white strands mingling with red robes in the night wind. He wore only a loose outer garment, the marks of passion faintly visible on his jade-like skin.
His fingers toyed with a lock of hair, red agate earrings glinting coldly, mirroring his scarlet eyes.
The boy from Miaojiang—ethereal, eerie, now tinged with something indecent.
He smirked. "What do you want, Song?"
Song Chunming snapped out of his daze. "My senior brother hasn’t returned for a long time. I’m worried. I heard Ninth has a unique way of tracking people, so... I was hoping you could help."
After the chaos of that night, Chu Sheng and Chu’he had insisted on hosting their saviors as guests. But these prodigies all seemed preoccupied.
Murong Meifei and Su Lingxi had chased after Shangguan Huanxi.
Murong Meifei wanted to challenge Fang Songhe to a duel, but Murong Meixin, having heard of Fang Songhe’s notorious reputation as a "heartbreaker of young maidens," deliberately stood in the rain all night until she fell gravely ill. Seizing the opportunity, she clung to Murong Meifei, demanding his constant care.
Meanwhile, Black Goose and White Dove made a swift trip to the treasury before hurrying off to celebrate White Dove’s father’s birthday.
Zhao Rongyue knew Zhao Shuxing was curious about Ninth and Chu’he, but she also understood this was not the time to disturb the newlyweds. She simply claimed she had grown accustomed to staying at the inn and declined the invitation to their residence.
When they were all together, their combined energy felt powerful enough to shake the heavens. Yet once the dust settled, they scattered like leaves in the wind.
Chu Sheng shook his head and sighed, "I’m getting old. The carefree way you young ones roam the martial world is truly enviable."
Song Chunming, having heard about the events of that night, grew uneasy. Turning to Ninth, he said, "My senior brother is still hunting down those evil spirits. I fear for his safety."
Ninth had no fondness for anyone surnamed Song, though he didn’t get along with that stubborn ox either. Still, that stubborn ox had been his witness at the wedding and his sworn brother in name.
The thought of Fang Songhe fighting alongside the others stirred an inexplicable discomfort in the young man’s heart.
A tiny blue-glowing firefly appeared in the night, flitting energetically around Ninth before vanishing.
"I’ll bring him back," Ninth said coldly. "Now, get out of my territory."
This was Chu’he’s courtyard, but what was Chu’he’s was his—so this was his domain.
Song Chunming lowered his head and turned to leave. As he did, something slipped from his robes. When he glanced back, he saw the object already clutched in the young man’s hand and hastily said, "That’s my jade pendant."
Ninth didn’t return it immediately. Instead, his fingers traced the cloud patterns on the fish-shaped pendant, and suddenly, a memory flashed before his eyes.
"I ran away from home this time to find my betrothed. We were engaged since childhood and always cared deeply for each other, but after an accident, we lost contact."
"This jade symbolizes our unbreakable bond. If the jade is whole, so are we. If it shatters, so do we."
"That’s why, no matter how close to death I’ve come, I’ve protected this pendant with my life."
The girl’s voice echoed relentlessly in his mind, scraping away at his soul layer by layer.
Then, the whispers buried deep within his soul resurfaced.
"No one will ever love you."
"No one will ever truly care for you."
"Chi Yan… Ninth… What reason do you even have to exist?"
A sudden gust of wind whipped through the night, making Ninth’s robes flutter violently, accentuating his frail frame. His silver hair danced wildly as he lowered his gaze. The crimson dot between his brows burned like fresh blood—or perhaps a lifelong curse—vibrant and haunting.
Song Chunming sensed something was wrong. "Ninth—"
A sharp crack cut through the air as the jade pendant crumbled to dust in Ninth’s palm, vanishing into the cold wind.
When Song Chunming met those blood-red eyes, glowing as if drenched in slaughter, a bone-deep chill seized him.
