Inside Mirror Cloud Residence, the room was quiet.
Li Luoning sat reading in silence. Yun Qingyi ground ink at the side, unhurried and steady. Mi Xingzhe propped his head with one hand, a brush in the other, staring into space as if his soul had wandered off.
Li Luoning finally looked up. "Have you finished copying the cultivation manual?"
"Don't bother me, I'm thinking," Mi Xingzhe answered absentmindedly—assuming it was Yun Qingyi nagging him again.
The moment the words left his mouth, he realized his mistake.
Mi Xingzhe jolted upright. "M—Master… I-I haven't."
Li Luoning sighed, set his book down, and walked over. He picked up the sheet on Mi Xingzhe's desk, glanced at the sparse lines, then looked at him again.
"Nian" Li Luoning said evenly, "is there something you need to tell your teacher?"
"N-no," Mi Xingzhe replied, eyes darting away. His voice stumbled over every syllable.
Li Luoning knew that habit too well—Mi Xingzhe only stammered when he lied.
His brow arched, expression turning deliberately stern.
"You've been copying since morning and you've managed five lines. Qingyi—bring the ruler."
Yun Qingyi understood immediately. Master was frightening the little junior on purpose. So he played along, answering loud enough to shake the beams.
"Right away, Master. I'll get it."
Mi Xingzhe's scalp went tight. When he saw Yun Qingyi already walking over with the ruler in hand, his whole body flinched.
"No, no—Qingyi, don't ..." Mi Xingzhe threw both hands up. "Master, I'll talk! I'll talk, okay?!"
Li Luoning's eyes crinkled with hidden amusement. He exchanged a glance with Yun Qingyi.
Yun Qingyi strolled up, arms folded, tucking the ruler against his chest with a smug little tilt of his chin.
Mi Xingzhe took a breath, then spoke carefully, the worry he'd been chewing on all morning finally spilling out.
"Master… yesterday I asked Qingping. He said the two people meeting secretly in Peach Blossom Grove… they were talking about 'golden cores.'"
"Golden core?" Li Luoning's gaze sharpened.
At once he recalled the night at Nan Zhe's estate—voices, hints, that same word slipping through the shadows.
On its own, talk of golden cores meant little. Many cultivators coveted them; many simply discussed them.
But Mi Xingzhe's golden core was not ordinary.
And that made those two words dangerous.
Could someone in the Liao Yin Immortal Realm be in contact with people from the Flatland?
Mi Xingzhe swallowed. "I kept thinking… what if someone already knows about the golden core inside me? I don't have proof, so maybe I'm overthinking, but… it feels wrong."
"That's why you've been daydreaming since dawn?" Yun Qingyi asked, half exasperated.
Mi Xingzhe nodded faintly.
"Before we know more, stop frightening yourself," Li Luoning said, voice calm but firm.
"Nian'er, don't spook yourself," Yun Qingyi added. "Golden cores are rare here, sure—but people who talk about golden cores are not. It could've been nothing."
Mi Xingzhe hesitated, then his worry turned in another direction.
"Master… just because Miss Ruoying overheard two words, they tried to kill her. If that person learns she's still alive… won't they come back and target her again?"
Li Luoning's expression grew heavier.
"When I examined her wounds, I noticed something," he said slowly. "The attacker struck to kill—each move aimed at a fatal point. By rights, if no one intervened, Qingping's cultivation could never have carried her out from under that man's hand."
Yun Qingyi's eyes narrowed. "Master means… he left a survivor on purpose?"
Mi Xingzhe's mind clicked into place. "Then… that person—he recognized her?"
Li Luoning nodded. "Most likely. His initial strikes were merciless, yet he allowed Qingping to escape with her. There must be a reason."
"So… Miss Ruoying is safe for now?" Mi Xingzhe asked, still uneasy.
Li Luoning didn't answer at once.
Nan Zhe. The Flatland. Talk of golden cores. A half-demon girl brought from Wuming Demon Mountain. A small demon who somehow survived an assassin's hand.
Threads that shouldn't touch were starting to knot together.
Finally, Li Luoning looked to Yun Qingyi.
"Qingyi. Tomorrow I will go out. You and Nian'er stay in Mirror Cloud Residence. While I'm gone, neither of you goes anywhere. If anyone comes to visit—avoid them as much as possible."
Mi Xingzhe's face immediately fell. "Then what about Miss Ruoying?"
"She's stable," Li Luoning replied. "Before I leave, I'll send her the next few days' medicine."
Mi Xingzhe muttered a resentful, "Oh."
Li Luoning flicked him a glance—one that said I know exactly what you're thinking.
Then he raised two fingers and moved them in a small, precise arc.
A faint golden light shimmered—
The binding on Mi Xingzhe's wrist, Gui Ning, surfaced as if drawn from thin air.
Li Luoning placed the other end into Yun Qingyi's hand.
Yun Qingyi didn't say a word. He only smiled—far too pleased—and lifted the golden tether to give it a lazy shake.
Mi Xingzhe stared. "Master, why are you activating Gui Ning for no reason?"
Yun Qingyi leaned closer, voice sweet as honey. "Master placed an extra spell on it. If you try to run off, I only need to tug—"
He gave the tether a delicate pull for emphasis.
Mi Xingzhe yanked his wrist back, face darkening. "Why?! I'm not your pet dog!"
"As a precaution," Li Luoning said simply.
Mi Xingzhe fumed, tugging uselessly at the tether.
Yun Qingyi clapped him on the shoulder like he was consoling a child. "Be good. Stay put. When Miss Ruoying wakes, you can visit. Come, come—"
Half coaxing, half dragging, he pulled Mi Xingzhe out of the study.
Li Luoning did not wait for morning.
The moment night settled, he left Mirror Cloud Residence alone—heading straight for the Flatland.
Almost as soon as he disappeared, a shadow shifted behind the eaves.
"So… there is something you're going to do," a low voice murmured.
Dressed in dark night-clothes, Li Luoning moved through the noisy evening market and returned—once again—to Nan Zhe's estate.
If Nan Zhe's talk of golden cores connects to Miss Ruoying… I need to know.
He landed soundlessly on the roof, scanning the courtyard.
No movement.
No patrols.
He slipped down and entered the study like smoke.
If Nan Zhe truly has ties to both the Liao Yin Immortal Realm and Wuming Demon Mountain, they cannot exchange spell-messages freely. Letters would be the safest channel. Even if destroyed, traces remain—Flatland's turbid aura, the Immortal Realm's clear yang.
Li Luoning searched carefully.
The study was small. On the desk sat several sealed letters, stacked neatly—too neat.
He picked one up and held it to the candlelight, trying to read through the paper.
A voice sounded outside.
"Lord Nan Zhe."
An underling's greeting.
Nan Zhe, approaching the door, paused. A smile barely tugged at his mouth.
"Leave," he said.
He dismissed the guards, then pushed open the door and entered.
Li Luoning moved instantly—one silent leap—and perched on the beam above the desk.
Nan Zhe sat down and began opening letters as if nothing were amiss.
From Li Luoning's angle, the contents were perfectly visible.
Nan Zhe's fingers traced over a blank-seeming envelope. As his hands passed, hidden ink shimmered to life: a sender's name, a seal, an imprint.
He opened several mundane ones.
Then one particular envelope caught Li Luoning's breath.
A familiar insignia.
That mark…? That is my Li family's seal.
Before Nan Zhe could unfold the letter, he flicked the pen on the desk upward—
Straight at the beam.
Li Luoning arched back and flipped down from above, landing in front of the desk in a single smooth motion.
Nan Zhe sat behind it, leisurely, one hand on his mask as if adjusting it, voice rich with mockery.
"Piaochen. Always climbing walls and sneaking around. Your habit of barging in uninvited hasn't changed at all."
He lifted the letter, waving it lightly as if it were bait.
Li Luoning's expression didn't move. He lunged—aimed for the letter first.
They clashed.
Their strength was evenly matched, but in the exchange Li Luoning sensed something off.
Nan Zhe's techniques were… wrong.
He was hiding the true shape of his moves, warping the lines of his style until it became hard to read, hard to trace.
These strange techniques… I can't even properly gauge his cultivation through them.
Outside the study, voices began to rise—guards stirring.
Li Luoning made a decision.
He blew out the candle with one breath.
Darkness swallowed the room.
In the same instant, Li Luoning snatched the letter from Nan Zhe's hand and vaulted out the window.
"Do not pursue," Nan Zhe said lazily when the ghost-guards rushed in.
He waved them out.
Once alone, his eyes gleamed behind the mask—satisfied, almost pleased.
Back at Mirror Cloud Residence, Mi Xingzhe sat in the corridor, miserable, rolling a small cluster of blue snow blossoms between his fingers.
"Nian" Yun Qingyi said, coming up behind him, "why don't you go play with Bingguo? Master won't be gone long."
Mi Xingzhe sighed. "Bingguo ran off by himself this morning."
"Stop pouting," Yun Qingyi said. "Master has his reasons. Just obey."
"He doesn't trust me." Mi Xingzhe scowled, drawing an imaginary collar around his own neck with his hands. "Next time he might as well tie me to the gate."
Yun Qingyi snorted. "Then you'd really be a dog."
He softened and tugged Mi Xingzhe toward the room. "Come. I made blue snow chilled cakes. Try some."
They hadn't even stepped inside when a distant figure approached—an immortal soldier.
Mirror Cloud Residence was a place for immortals and attendants, not soldiers. Both of them froze.
They exchanged a look and walked forward.
Yun Qingyi cupped his hands politely. "Immortal soldier. Is there something you need?"
"The Immortal Sovereign has issued an order," the soldier said flatly. "Yun Wannian is to come with us."
Mi Xingzhe and Yun Qingyi stared at each other.
"Master is out and has not returned," Yun Qingyi said carefully. "May I ask what the Immortal Sovereign seeks my junior brother for?"
"That is not for us to explain," the soldier replied. "Yun Wannian—come. We are escorting you to the Supreme Purity Hall."
Without waiting, the soldier seized Mi Xingzhe and dragged him toward the exit.
"Senior Brother—Senior Brother!" Mi Xingzhe twisted back, calling desperately as he was hauled away.
In the great hall, SiTu Fanzhi sat high upon the throne, looking down with cold authority.
In the center of the hall knelt a bound figure—thin, black-clad, hair in disarray, body covered in bruises and cuts.
Mi Xingzhe was marched in between two soldiers, still complaining even as he stumbled.
"Hey—what do you want from me? Can't you speak like normal people? Let go—stop dragging me—"
The soldiers released him.
Mi Xingzhe straightened his clothes in irritation, turned—
And saw who was kneeling there.
"Qingping…?"
He rushed over, crouching, his hands hovering helplessly over the injuries. "Why are you here? What happened to you—"
"Yun Wannian."
SiTu Fanzhi's voice fell from above like a blade.
"You know this demon?"
"Know him?" Mi Xingzhe blinked, then stood and answered bluntly, "Of course. We're friends. What of it?"
Qingping's lips trembled. A bloodstain clung to the corner of his mouth. "Young master…"
SiTu Fanzhi's gaze sharpened. "Then it was you who colluded with this demon and stole the artifacts from Lord Xuanming's hall?"
"Colluded?" Mi Xingzhe's brows shot up. "We're just friends! What collusion? What artifacts? I don't know anything about that!"
A thread of spell-light—so fine it was nearly invisible—slipped into the hall and pierced Mi Xingzhe from behind.
He felt only the faintest push, like someone brushing past his shoulder.
Mi Xingzhe glanced back.
No one.
So he didn't think about it.
SiTu Fanzhi's tone turned harder. "Friends? You are a disciple of the Liao Yin Immortal Realm, yet you associate with demons. This demon appeared in Peach Blossom Grove, cannot clearly explain why he was there, and insists he has nothing to do with the missing artifacts."
Mi Xingzhe's chest suddenly burned with anger.
It rose too fast, too sharp—like a flame poured into his heart.
He didn't notice the unnaturalness of it.
"Demons—so what?" Mi Xingzhe snapped, voice ringing through the hall. "Does that mean every demon is evil? Then can you swear everyone in the Liao Yin Immortal Realm is good? You lost your own artifacts and now you grab a random demon to take the blame—what kind of ability is that?"
From the side, Yue Ruling's eyes went wide. She threw frantic warning looks at him, silently mouthing Stop. Stop. Stop.
Mi Xingzhe didn't see.
"Impudence!" SiTu Fanzhi slammed the armrest. "A mere disciple dares speak so arrogantly in my hall. Guards—take him and the demon to the water dungeon. Interrogate them. Extract the location of the artifacts."
The soldiers stepped forward.
"Wait."
The single word cut through the hall like a drawn sword.