Chu'he grasped the key point from Ninth's words. "He used the flesh and blood of his closest kin to forge a puppet?"
Ninth nodded. "Exactly."
Chu'he turned to Jin Yuyuan. "You... did you use your younger brother to make a puppet?"
Jin Yuyuan let out a mocking laugh. "Yes, my brother. When the evil spirits slaughtered our family, our grandparents chose to shield him with their bodies. When he and I were used as leverage against our parents, they chose to save him with medicine. And now, I’ve chosen him to become my puppet. Truly, he’s always been the favored one, hasn’t he?"
Chu'he suddenly recalled a story she had once heard. "You’re the child of Yi Yezhi the swordsman and Shui Zhinan from twenty years ago!"
Just outside the tower, among the statues of renowned scholars and virtuous figures, stood a pair hailed as the celestial couple—husband and wife.
Twenty years ago, when evil spirits invaded, they took the couple’s two children as hostages. Yet, bound by their righteous ideals, Yi Yezhi and Shui Zhinan chose to protect the people of Canghaizhou. In the tales, both children perished as a result, and not long after, Yi Yezhi and Shui Zhinan were also slain by remnants of the evil spirits.
Thus, their entire lineage was wiped out.
Jin Yuyuan suddenly shouted, "Don’t mention them to me!"
Every time he saw those statues of the couple, basking in the admiration of the mortal world, Jin Yuyuan had to summon all his strength to suppress the hatred surging within him.
"What so-called celestial couple, what golden fated pair, what heroes—it’s all a joke!"
"When the evil spirits attacked, my grandparents rushed to shield Yi Yuyuan first. I don’t blame them. I was the elder brother; he was younger. It was only right they protected him."
"When Yi Yuyuan and I were poisoned, our parents chose to save the people of the city instead of bargaining for the antidote. I don’t blame them either. I knew they were the paragons of righteousness everyone praised. Saving an entire city was the right thing to do."
"But why..."
Jin Yuyuan struggled to his feet with his broken body, his movements twisted, his eyes bloodshot, his expression dark. "Why, even after obtaining that single antidote, did they still not choose me?"
Twenty years ago, after the war ended, Yi Yezhi and Shui Zhinan returned to their estate. By then, everyone in the household had fallen to the blades of the invaders—only their two poisoned children remained.
The evil spirits hadn’t killed the children outright. Instead, they forced the parents to watch as their children suffered in agony, slowly succumbing to the poison—the cruelest torment of all.
But even that wasn’t enough. When both children were on the verge of death, one night, a single antidote mysteriously appeared on the table.
At the time, he lay emaciated on the bed, barely conscious. Faintly, he heard his mother’s sobs, his father’s anguish, and their whispered discussion.
His father said, "Yuyuan is younger. His body can’t hold on much longer. Perhaps we should give him the..."
His mother cried, "But what about Moli?"
"Moli... Moli can last a few more days. We might still find another way to save him!"
Impossible.
Every breath was agony. How could he possibly last a few more days?
How could his parents, both masters in their own right, not see that he was dying too?
He wanted that antidote. He wanted to live!
Yet, in the end, the medicine went into Yi Yuyuan’s mouth.
"The next day, I was buried alive." Jin Yuyuan lifted his bloodshot eyes, his face deathly pale, his body swaying like a corpse reanimated.
"Do you know what it feels like to lie there, unable to move but fully aware? To hear their hypocritical weeping as they placed me in a coffin, to listen as the grave dirt piled over me, inch by inch?"
"I know. It’s hatred."
"The kind of hatred that makes you want to kill everyone!"
The pain seemed to fuel the fire in his eyes, his voice tearing through the air like a blade. "Why? Why was I always the one left behind?"
His madness was palpable, as though he were a vengeful spirit clawing its way out of the grave.
That was why he wanted to destroy Canghaizhou—to obliterate everything those people had once fought to protect.
Chu'he instinctively tightened her grip on Ninth’s hand and took a step back. "Ninth, can the dead still sense the world around them?"
"Of course not." Noticing her unease, Ninth patted her head gently, softening his tone. "From his description, the poison wasn’t lethal—just a drug that induced excruciating pain and a deathlike state."
Chu'he murmured, "So if he had held on a little longer, he would’ve survived. But his parents thought he was dead and buried him."
Ninth nodded. "Precisely."
Chu'he glanced at the ghastly figure of Jin Yuyuan. "What kind of monster would devise such a cruel torment?"
First, forcing the parents to suffer as their children withered away. Then, offering a single antidote, forcing an impossible choice. Finally, making them bury the child they abandoned—alive.
The mastermind behind this was nothing short of a sadist.
Ninth’s lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained cold. "Less like torment, more like a game."
Chu'he suddenly recalled the events in Xiaocheng.
The dilemma of whether to let Zhao Shuxing die or use Zhao Rongyue’s heart to save him had also been forced upon their loved one, Song Tingxue.
In a way, wasn’t that another cruel choice?
The common thread between Canghaizhou’s tragedy twenty years ago and Xiaocheng’s recent ordeal was this: no matter the choice, despair and suffering were inevitable.
Jin Yuyuan wasn’t his original name. He was Yi Moli, the eldest son of Yi Yezhi and Shui Zhinan. His younger brother was Yi Yuyuan.
He had turned Yi Yuyuan into a life-substituting puppet, yet he walked the martial world under his brother’s name. Even the inverted paper-doll chamber spoke volumes—twenty years later, he was still trapped in that obsession.
Did he hate Yi Yuyuan more, or envy him more? Perhaps even he couldn’t say.
"They abandoned me, so what? In the end, they’re all dead anyway! Hah, they’re all dead!"
His voice was hoarse, tears streaking down his cheeks, mingling with the blood at the corners of his lips—an indistinguishable mix of laughter and weeping.
"When they shielded Yi Yuyuan, did they ever stop to think I was their son too? But now?" His voice dropped, a twisted satisfaction flashing in his eyes. "They’re gone. Only I remain—living under his name, carrying his fate..."
Before he could finish, another burst of laughter escaped him, hollow and suffused with sorrow.
He hated their favoritism. He hated Yi Yuyuan’s existence. And yet, he envied the one who had been chosen without hesitation.
So much so that he resorted to the most extreme means—stealing, pretending, crafting illusions of affection.
But in the end, he still held onto nothing.
This was the highest floor of the tower. Watching him inch closer to the railing, with nothing but a bottomless abyss below, Chu'he quickly called out, "Calm down first. We can still talk this through."
Back then, how had he, just a child, crawled out of that coffin?
How had his parents and Yi Yuyuan died?
And where had he learned those eerie, unnatural skills?
Most importantly, how had an orphan like him risen to become the lord of Yunhuang's Eternal City?
Chu'he's instincts told her there had to be a massive conspiracy lurking behind it all.
Yi Moli's steps were unsteady, each movement sending searing pain through his broken leg as if he were treading on knives. Yet he seemed numb to it, his hollow gaze fixed on the endless darkness beyond the railing.
"I should've known," he murmured. "The heavens were never on my side. I lost this battle long ago."
The wind howled from all directions, tearing at his robes like invisible hands dragging him forward. His eyes landed on a statue nearby, and he smiled faintly.
"The people you saved worship you like gods, lighting incense day and night, believing you still watch over them from above."
"If I destroy their faith, wouldn’t that mean I’ve dragged you down with me?"
A gust of night wind roared past. Yi Moli swayed, then flipped over the railing, plunging into the void.
Chu'he’s heart lurched, but before she could cry out, Ninth’s arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her into the air.
Explosions erupted through the tower—paper puppets Yi Moli had planted in advance.
As Ninth carried Chu'he over the railing, a wave of scorching heat blasted past, singeing their clothes. Chu'he felt his grip tighten around her, and when she looked down, the entire tower crumbled into flames.
Yi Moli fell like a severed kite, his tattered robes fluttering wildly in the wind.
Watching the statues of the revered couple shatter beneath the collapsing debris, he didn’t scream or struggle. Instead, as he fell, he laughed into the night.
"Good… This is good."
Amid the firelight, a blazing streak of red shot forward—a figure leaping across falling rubble, sword cleaving through the wreckage against the wind.
Even against the inferno, Shangguan Huanxi’s eyes burned brighter. She locked onto the falling man with unshakable resolve, closing the distance rapidly.
"Got you!" she growled through gritted teeth, wrenching her wrist with brutal force, halting his descent midair.
The stench of charred flesh and blood hit her as Yi Moli’s dazed eyes met hers, freezing for a split second.
"You—" His voice was torn apart by the wind, leaving only silent words on his lips.
Shangguan Huanxi clenched her jaw, gripping her sword hilt with her free hand. Using the momentum of the falling debris, she carved a fiery arc through the blaze, slowing their fall.
After a brutal series of impacts, they crashed onto the ground—bruised, scorched, but alive.
SLAP!
A sharp blow landed across Yi Moli’s face.
Dazed, he stared up at the woman straddling him, his mind blank, eyes lost.
"You haven’t atoned for your sins. Your debts remain unpaid. As a son of Canghaizhou’s ancestors, the wrongs done to you still demand justice. Even if you have to crawl, you will live!"
Her crimson robe was singed with holes, her hair curled from embers, but her eyes blazed like stars forged in fire, pinning him in place.
A livid handprint bloomed on Yi Moli’s cheek. He opened his mouth, but his throat felt packed with scorching sand—no sound came out.
Another massive structure collapsed above them, only to be sliced apart midair by a flash of blade light, scattering into dust.
Wenren Buxiao stood behind Shangguan Huanxi, silent as stone, his sword a shield against all danger.
The tower and statues collapsed in thunderous ruin, drawing a crowd.
Ninth held Chu'he by the waist, perched on a distant tree to watch. She fiddled with the paper puppet in his hand, frowning.
"Ninth… do these puppets really require the bones and blood of kin to make?"
He brushed the soot from her cheek. "Yes."
Curled against him, Chu'he listened to the chaos, hesitating before sighing.
Ninth poked her cheek. "What’s wrong, A'he?"
"I’m afraid I won’t be fair if I have to divide my love."
He tilted his head, puzzled.
She looked up. "So let’s just have one child. Boy or girl, one little treasure is enough."
Ninth hummed a slow "Oh."
But when he leaned down to kiss her, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Unlike those frail Central Plains men, I won’t tire so easily. Twins aren’t out of the question.
His large hand drifted to her abdomen, stroking lightly.
Chu'he blinked. "What are you doing?"
"Checking if our little treasure’s on the way." He muttered, "Given how strong I am, it shouldn’t take long."
Chu'he: "…"
