Song Yueyao planted her foot squarely on the chest of the most skilled fighter among them, concluding that he must be the leader of this group.
Though the men were dressed in ordinary scholar’s robes, their sleeves had torn during the scuffle, revealing a branding scar on each of their arms.
They were all death warriors trained by Grand Preceptor Yin.
But this time, they hadn’t been sent to assassinate her—otherwise, upon failure, they would have taken their own lives. Since they were still alive, this was merely a surveillance mission.
And if they were tailing her, it could only be for one thing: the object.
“You were sent by the Grand Preceptor Yin to follow me all this way just to get your hands on this, weren’t you?” Song Yueyao pulled the Prismatic Stone from her bosom. It shimmered with an iridescent glow, cycling through seven colors—a rare treasure beyond compare in this world. Legend had it that this stone could absorb the power of all things and channel it to its user.
No wonder her cold-blooded father had once married her off to a decrepit old man just to trade for this stone.
“Princess…” The man knew his identity had been uncovered; there was no point in lying.
“Go back and tell your master and Grand Preceptor Yin,” Song Yueyao crouched down, her voice suddenly turning icy as she tapped her crescent blade against the man’s face. “I will return to the capital in a few days, and I will personally present this Prismatic Stone to him.”
“But I have only one condition: release my mother. Otherwise, don’t even think about me handing it over!”
Ever since the Nie family’s army had been annihilated, her mother had lost all value as leverage and had been placed under house arrest in the Cold Palace. Song Yueyao’s only intention in returning was to take her mother out of the palace.
The man lay prostrate on the ground, his eyes flickering briefly toward the doorway before settling back on the Prismatic Stone in Song Yueyao’s hand.
They didn’t hold much reverence for a princess who had been sent away as a hostage since childhood.
In truth, the Grand Preceptor Yin hadn’t sent them primarily for the Prismatic Stone.
His real goal was to bring back the youth with an immortal body.
Unfortunately, after days of observation and probing, they’d discovered that the young man’s power was unfathomable—far beyond what the few of them could contend with.
But they had found one weakness: the young girl by his side.
However, the last time they’d tried to approach her, before they could even make a move, a faint bell had chimed.
In the next instant, the youth had materialized out of thin air.
He’d landed gracefully at her side, a lazy smile playing on his lips, and asked with casual insolence, “Which little lady has been thinking of me?”
The entire crew had been completely stunned.
After a moment of exchanging bewildered glances from behind the wall, they had no choice but to retreat hastily.
After much deliberation, they’d found no viable plan and had decided to continue watching in secret, waiting for an opportunity.
Now that their tailing mission was exposed, luckily the princess only thought they were after the Prismatic Stone. The leader breathed a silent sigh of relief and hurriedly kowtowed. “As you command, I will relay your message to the lord.”
The large ship had backup small boats. Song Yueyao lowered one, kicked each man off the deck one by one, and tossed two oars after them. “Row back to the capital! If I catch you following me again, I won’t be so lenient!”
Chai Xiaomi, crouched at the edge of the ship’s railing, watched the scene with stars in her eyes: Wow, Sister Yao’s swift and decisive style is so cool!
Thankfully, the junk had only recently left the harbor, so rowing back wouldn’t be too troublesome. If they’d been out at sea, those men would likely have starved to death.
Her moment of fangirling lasted only a second.
The next instant, a face handsome enough to kill suddenly appeared right before her—a close-range beauty strike that knocked her breath away.
He even deliberately mimicked her posture, hands clasped together, chin resting on his arms, tilting his head to look at her.
“Madam praised me for being handsome before, but now you won’t even spare me a single glance—could it be you were lying?”
His heterochromatic eyes were clear and bright, like a deep mountain pool, the kind that could drown a person if they weren’t careful.
“How could I lie to you? In all the four seas and eight wilds, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen—no matter gender, no matter species, no matter who comes along, they’d all have to stand behind you.” After explaining, Chai Xiaomi mumbled an add-on, “I just… sort of got used to it, that’s all.”
The word “used to it” drifted into Wu Li’s ears, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Song Yueyao’s words suddenly popped into his head: two people should keep a bit of distance; if they’re clinging to each other all the time, it’ll eventually feel tiresome.
A faint unease stirred in his heart.
On closer thought, the frequency of Mi Mi’s starry-eyed looks had indeed been decreasing.
It seemed they only appeared at certain moments: when the totems surfaced on his skin, when he peeled off his clothes, when he called her “Sister” in a hoarse voice, and when he woke up in the morning, still hazy and blinking his eyes open...
Only then did her eyes sparkle, like countless butterflies with wings dusted in stars, fluttering and shimmering in her gaze.
Tiresome... was it?
The word circled his heart, and a warning bell suddenly went off.
This didn’t seem good.
After her bath, Chai Xiaomi curled up in the soft, puffy bedding, her long hair half-damp and spread over her shoulders, a few stray strands clinging to her cheeks, making her small face look even fairer and more delicate.
Moonlight spilled across the sea outside the window, shattering into a million silvery ripples. Occasionally, a wave gently struck the hull, rocking the boat, swaying softly like a cradle.
A sea breeze seeped in through the crack in the window, carrying the chill of late autumn.
She thought back to how Wu Li had looked drawing his bow earlier—those slender fingers, that carefree gaze, and the light arrows he’d conjured from nothing.
Her fingers itched with curiosity. She fished the Ice Bow and Shadow Arrows out of her dimensional pouch and started fiddling with them.
The bow was icy cold, sending a chill through her fingers.
She tried pulling the empty string the way he did, but nothing happened—other than the tips of her fingers shriveling from the cold.
Not one to give up so easily, she raised the bow high, squinted one eye, and aimed it at a candle flame, muttering under her breath, “Whoosh—whoosh—”
She then struck a few poses in front of the bronze mirror: sideways stance, pulling the string back, tilting her chin up, trying to project an air of “expert marksmanship.” But she couldn’t hold it together; she burst out laughing at her own ridiculousness, giggling while tucked in her blanket.
Just as she was having fun, she heard the door of the adjacent room slide open gently.
Wu Li came out after his bath, and looked up to see his adorable wife bundled in her blanket, only her fluffy little head poking out, one hand holding a divine weapon and aiming it solemnly at the air, adding sound effects.
When she spotted him approaching, she instantly swung the bow toward him. Her round, almond-shaped eyes narrowed into slits, and her cherry-red lips curved upward into a smug arc: “You’ve been hit by my Cupid’s arrow, so just admit it!”
Wu Li: “?”
Admit what?
“Admit that you would also shell seeds for me!”
As she moved, the neckline of her nightgown slipped open a bit, revealing a slender sliver of her collarbone. She didn’t even notice, too busy trying to look cool with her cheeks puffed up.
Wu Li: “...”
He thought for a moment, then asked, “Is that your hometown dialect? It sounds a bit halting.”
Chai Xiaomi was taken aback.
Sometimes she really had to admire his keen insight.
“Sort of,” she said with a blink. It came from her world, her country, but it wasn’t truly her native dialect.
Youtiao suddenly popped up: “Friendly reminder, Host, you told him you had amnesia last time. Why are you digging yourself into a hole like this!”
Chai Xiaomi's heart tightened, and she stole a glance at him.
But Wu Li’s expression didn’t seem inclined to pursue it any further.
