Yingde Dragon King had only just stepped through the doorway of his study when he sensed it—someone had been here.
On the coral-red table sat an exquisitely crafted box and a letter. He strode over, broke the seal, and unfolded the page.
On gold-flecked xuan paper, three stark characters stared back at him:
A meeting at midnight.
He set the letter down, then opened the pearl-trimmed, gold dragon-carved gift box. Inside lay a candle—crystal-clear, glass-toned, its surface gleaming like frozen light. Yingde Dragon King turned it in his fingers, frowning faintly. He didn't recognize it.
At midnight, the shoreline was swallowed by cloud, the moon smothered, the starlight thin and distant. The cold bit deep—like the chill at the bottom of the sea. A light wind stirred the silver strands at Yingde Dragon King's temples, lending his figure an even lonelier, colder air beneath the night.
He arrived half a cup of tea early, standing alone under the faint glow, eyes lowered as if weighing something heavy in silence.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
A cloaked figure emerged from the darkness and approached at an unhurried pace.
"You're punctual as ever, godfather," a voice said from beneath the brim of a hood.
Yingde Dragon King already knew who it was. He didn't bother with pleasantries.
"What do you want this time?"
"Godfather, how has your health been of late?" The figure didn't hide anymore. As he spoke, Li Minghan lifted a hand and removed the covering from his head. "This is a Red Ranyan Dragon Candle of the Zhulong clan—said to gather the spiritual essence of all things. I had men hunt it down, specifically to present it to you."
Yingde Dragon King's expression didn't change. His reply was ice.
"The Red Ranyan Dragon Candle vanished a hundred years ago when the Zhulong clan fell. How could it possibly end up in your hands so easily?"
"That isn't something you need to worry about," Li Minghan said, utterly unfazed by the coldness. "I'm here to trade this candle for something."
"I have nothing to discuss with you," Yingde Dragon King snapped. He turned to leave.
"Does Shentu Zhajia's life mean so little to you?" Li Minghan's voice rose—just enough to cut like a knife.
Yingde Dragon King halted. Disgust tightened his tone.
"What do you want?"
"Would you lend me the Soul-Gathering Lamp for a time?" Li Minghan's voice settled back into calm.
The Dragon King's gaze sharpened, wary and cruelly controlled.
"What do you need the Soul-Gathering Lamp for?"
"Godfather, you are a clever man." Li Minghan's lips curved in a thin, wicked smile. "Trading the Soul-Gathering Lamp for a Zhulong relic—and the temporary preservation of Shentu Zhajia's life—is a very profitable bargain."
"You're not afraid I'll kill you here and now?" Yingde Dragon King growled.
"Really?" Li Minghan sounded almost amused. "If I die, you'll never see Lord Shentu again. Besides—he's already swallowed a gu I made specifically for him. If I die, he dies with me."
"You…" Yingde Dragon King's eyes went glacial. "Despicable."
"So." Li Minghan tilted his head, gaze steady, having found the Dragon King's softest spot. "Will you lend it—or won't you?"
Yingde Dragon King closed his eyes.
Silence stretched.
At last, he let out a heavy sigh—deep, resigned, as if it scraped his bones on the way out.
Li Minghan didn't need words. He already knew the answer.
He offered the candle's wick forward, and in exchange, took the Soul-Gathering Lamp directly from Yingde Dragon King's palm.
"Many thanks, godfather." Li Minghan clasped his hands in a formal salute, triumph shining behind the courtesy.
In the Flatland, Li Luoning changed into the clothes he'd bought from the fabric shop: dark, plain, fitted for movement. He replaced his loose, immortal's hair with a bound crown, transforming from ethereal and otherworldly into a lean, unremarkable man in simple attire.
This should keep me from standing out, he thought, scanning himself once. And it'll be easier to move unnoticed.
There are still a few hours until late afternoon… His eyes cooled with calculation. I may as well see who this Nan Zhe really is. If the shopkeeper wasn't exaggerating, Nan Zhe's estate is likely the most well-informed place in the Flatland. The territory isn't large—new faces draw attention here.
Decision made, Li Luoning headed for Nan Zhe's residence.
The estate gates were shut tight. No guards. No servants. Nothing but dead silence.
Li Luoning circled the outer wall once, chose the tree closest to the residence, and vaulted up. From the cover of leaves, he could observe the courtyard without being easily spotted from the road.
He leaned back against the trunk and swept a hand.
A boundary formed around him—thin as mist, hiding presence and sound.
Inside the estate, the quiet was unnerving. Not a single figure moved.
So the rumors weren't entirely empty. His gaze traced the architecture. Even the steps to the main hall… built from the bones of countless demons.
Worry for Mi Xingzhe pressed at the edge of his thoughts when footsteps finally approached the main hall.
Instinct kicked in. Li Luoning shifted, burying himself deeper in foliage.
A subordinate entered the hall and bowed toward the central seat.
"My lord—news from Wuming Demon Mountain. They say we've obtained what we wanted."
"Good." From the throne fashioned of demon bones, Nan Zhe answered.
Li Luoning's eyes narrowed.
Wuming Demon Mountain… Understanding clicked into place. So that's why Nan Zhe can rule the Flatland like a local tyrant—he has the demon clan behind him.
The subordinate bowed again.
"My lord, the Demon Sovereign requests your presence—three days from now, at the usual place."
Nan Zhe lifted a hand in dismissal. "Understood. "
The moment the subordinate withdrew, Nan Zhe rose and stepped into the courtyard.
Then, without looking up, he spoke—as if addressing empty air.
"Since you've already come, why not come down and talk?"
Li Luoning's blood chilled slightly.
He'd been discovered.
He descended lightly into the courtyard, robes barely stirring as his feet touched down.
"I am… Piaochen," Li Luoning said evenly, adopting a false name. "A newcomer to the Flatland. I've heard of Lord Nan Zhe's reputation and came to pay my respects."
"Oh?" Nan Zhe's voice slipped out from beneath the mask—cold, edged with mockery. "That's quite a 'visit.' I've never heard of someone paying respects by dropping in from a wall."
Before the last word even settled, Nan Zhe's fingers flicked.
Flying needles flashed.
Li Luoning reacted on instinct, sweeping a backhanded palm to catch three needles midair. Nan Zhe launched himself up, savage aura splitting the air as he descended.
Li Luoning didn't want a fight. He masked his techniques, refusing to reveal his true style, dodging and yielding ground.
Nan Zhe didn't let up.
Every strike aimed for a kill. Every angle sought a vital point. His intent was unmistakable: no mercy, no escape.
Several exchanges in, Li Luoning felt it clearly—Nan Zhe's cultivation might not be beneath his own.
He refused to drag this out.
After receiving a few more blows, Li Luoning sprang up to the eaves and stood along the roofline.
"If my presence offended you," he called down, wind tugging his hair loose and snapping the ribbons of his crown, "then I offer my apologies here and now."
"Apologies?" Nan Zhe's tone turned dark with hunger. "I'd rather drink your blood."
He vaulted up after him.
Li Luoning didn't bother arguing. The Flatland was a place where reason had no value. Any more entanglement would lead nowhere.
With a few swift leaps, he vanished from Nan Zhe's estate.
Nan Zhe remained on the rooftop, watching him go. He didn't pursue—only scoffed.
"Piaochen?" A low snort. "Hmph."
Wuming Demon Mountain, Hua Ruoying's room.
Hua Ruoying sat by the bed, tending to Mi Xingzhe as though her hands could undo the damage she'd already done.
"I don't know when you'll wake," she murmured, voice faint, "or what the Demon Sovereign plans to do with you. Am I… indirectly sending you to your death?"
For reasons she couldn't name, the thought of Mi Xingzhe being taken away made her chest tighten. Her gaze lingered on his face. Without realizing it, she leaned closer—closer—
A soft cough.
Mi Xingzhe's lashes fluttered. He slowly opened his eyes.
"You're awake?" Hua Ruoying jerked back, forcing composure into her posture.
"My head…" Mi Xingzhe's voice rasped, pain splitting his words. His eyes felt dry, vision blurred. "What happened to me? Where am I?"
"I should be asking you that," Hua Ruoying said, passing him a cup of water. "Didn't you say you were going back? How did you end up fainting on the road?"
Mi Xingzhe took the cup, drank, and tried to chase memory through fog.
"I don't remember. I… felt someone behind me. I started running. After that—nothing."
"You didn't fall and crack your head again, did you?" she pressed.
"No." He shook his head slowly. "I only remember a powerful force—like I was thrown. Then I woke up here."
"Forget it." Hua Ruoying cut it off, unwilling to dig deeper. The way she'd "found" him—on a road he shouldn't have been on—was too neat. Too deliberate. Someone had knocked him out and left him there, waiting for her and Qingping to pass.
Someone keeps putting him in my path, she thought grimly. Like they know the Demon Sovereign ordered me to find him.
Mi Xingzhe looked around again, more alert now, suspicion creeping in.
"Where… am I?"
"Wuming Demon Mountain," Hua Ruoying answered, as if naming the weather.
"Wuming Demon Mountain?!" Mi Xingzhe jolted. "A demon territory—!"
"Shh!" Hua Ruoying lunged forward and clapped a hand over his mouth, hissing into his ear. "Are you trying to announce you're from Liao Yin to the whole mountain?"
Mi Xingzhe froze, eyes wide.
"So… you're not an immortal sect disciple."
"No." Hua Ruoying sat back, fiddling with the ribbon at her waist like it was nothing.
Mi Xingzhe's thoughts snapped into place.
"Then last time—it was you who kidnapped me!"
"Last time?" Hua Ruoying's brows shot up. "No. Last time I found you on the road back to the Flatland. I didn't know who you were. You were bleeding from the back of your head. I had no choice but to bring you along."
"So last time wasn't you… but this time is?" Mi Xingzhe tightened his grip on the blanket, voice rising again.
"You—" Hua Ruoying glared. "Is your head made of wood? If I intended to abduct you, would you be lying comfortably in my bed?"
"Then why did you bring me here?" he demanded, glancing down at himself as if checking for shackles.
"Because you passed out in the road like an idiot," Hua Ruoying snapped. "Where else was I supposed to take you? I brought you back to—" She stopped.
To save you.
The words stuck in her throat, dragged down by the memory of Qianmo forced between his lips.
Mi Xingzhe stared at her, waiting.
Hua Ruoying waved it away. "Long story. Just stay here for now."
"That won't work." Mi Xingzhe tried to swing his legs off the bed. "If I don't go back soon, my master will find out I snuck out and I'm dead."
"He already knows," Hua Ruoying said, leaning against the wall.
Mi Xingzhe nearly choked on air. "What?!"
"You've been unconscious here four or five days. Do you really think no one noticed?" Hua Ruoying grabbed him and pushed him back down. "Listen to me. You're from Liao Yin. Wuming Demon Mountain has never been friendly with your kind. I've got demon soldiers all around. If you step outside like this, you'll invite trouble you can't handle."
Mi Xingzhe went pale. "Then… what do I do?"
"Bathe," she said flatly, softening only slightly. "Change into the clothes I prepared. In a few days I'm going down the mountain to buy supplies—I'll take you with me. Then you can return to your Liao Yin Immortal Realm."
Mi Xingzhe swallowed hard. He didn't like it—but he understood he had no leverage.
"Alright…"
"I'm going to fetch something," Hua Ruoying said, already moving to the door. "You stink. If you didn't wake soon, I was starting to worry the dogs on this mountain would track you by scent alone."
She leaned in, sniffed exaggeratedly, and pinched her nose in disgust.
Mi Xingzhe could only mumble, "Oh…"
He watched her leave, the door clicking shut. His gaze drifted to the table: a simple set of black clothes trimmed in silver, and a half-face black iron mask.
He stared at them for a long time without blinking.
Night fell. The Flatland grew lively.
Li Luoning walked the streets slowly, mind sharpening into cold logic.
Who is Nan Zhe? he thought. His cultivation may rival mine—so he can't be mortal. If he's from the demon realm, why do his techniques carry traces of celestial righteousness? And since the Celestial Sovereign took power, no fallen immortal has escaped Liao Yin… so what is he?
He'd already checked several inns. No one had seen Mi Xingzhe.
As he weighed his next search, voices drifted from a nearby stall.
"Ruoying-jie, are you really going to keep that Young Master Yun in Wuming Demon Mountain forever? He's from Liao Yin."
It was Qingping.
"You think I want to?" Hua Ruoying answered, distracted as she picked through goods. "It's the Demon Sovereign's order. Even if he wants to leave, he can't."
"But you can't lie to him forever. He'll find out one day."
"I know." Hua Ruoying's voice dropped. "It's not a long-term solution. For now we can only take it one step at a time."
Li Luoning's eyes cut sharply toward them.
From a distance he assessed Hua Ruoying and Qingping—clothing, posture, gait. Mi Xingzhe's earlier description surfaced in his mind… along with the faint bell sound he'd mentioned.
And the boy—
Something about him was not human.
It was them, Li Luoning decided. They took Nian'er that day.
He watched them leave.
He did not follow.
Instead, he turned toward Wuming Demon Mountain, expression dark.
"Why would Wuming Demon Mountain seize Nian?" he murmured, more unsettled than he allowed himself to show. "For what purpose?"