[Yaonan Hidden Manor · Main Hall]
Night lay heavy. The sound of hooves faded into silence.
You Qing arrived at Yaonan Hidden Manor with Si Mo Heng and the three generals, escorting the unconscious Wan Luo and Feng Mian. Torchlight blazed at the manor gates as disciples hurried out to receive them. Upon hearing that the Saintess, Gu Xingyu, had personally come, they immediately led the group into the main hall.
Inside, lamplight flickered. Ye Qixiu sat upright in the seat of honor—hair and beard snow-white, expression steady, eyes sharp as flame.
You Qing stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Grandfather of the Pocket Watch, forgive the disturbance. We came because the situation is urgent."
She turned and gestured to those beside her, introducing them one by one. "This is Si Mo Heng, the Third Prince of our era. These three are our accompanying guards—Jia Luo, Tu Tan, and Lian Yu."
Ye Qixiu returned Si Mo Heng's salute. "Greetings, Third Prince."
Then his gaze lingered on the three generals for a long time. His brows knit, and his voice sank. "These three… are all Rift-Yao."
The air in the hall tightened at once. Jia Luo and the other two showed different expressions, but none offered an excuse.
You Qing stepped forward again, speaking evenly. "Grandfather, they may be Rift-Yao, but they are not like those slaughtering, village-burning Rift armies. It's a long story—I will explain in detail later. Right now there is something more pressing that requires your help."
When Tu Tan carried Feng Mian and Jia Luo carried Wan Luo into the hall, Ye Qixiu's eyes sharpened. He rose slowly, voice low.
"This woman… the traces entwined around her are the marks of a forbidden art. And this man…" He examined him more closely, shock flashing across his face. "A Metal-Yao Transference Forbidden Technique!"
Si Mo Heng clasped his fist. "Yes. At the bottom of Trial Valley, the altar still bore remnants of a soul-transfer formation. When we found them, one was unconscious, the other had become witless."
"A soul-transfer formation…" A chill swept across Ye Qixiu's eyes. "That technique originated from the Black-Yao line. It was already declared taboo decades ago. Anyone capable of performing it is no ordinary figure."
You Qing's heart clenched. She couldn't help asking, "Grandfather… can they still be saved?"
Ye Qixiu looked at her gravely. "If their souls have not completely dispersed, there is still a sliver of life. But to save them, we must first determine—who laid down this soul-transfer formation."
He immediately turned to an attendant. "Take them both to the rear guest rooms. Summon Yao-healers at once. There must be no mistakes."
The attendant acknowledged and hurried away, taking the unconscious Wan Luo and Feng Mian with them.
Only then did the tension ease slightly. Ye Qixiu sat back down, his gaze falling on You Qing and Si Mo Heng. After a pause, his tone softened with an elder's warmth.
"Xingyu, you've traveled hard. You likely haven't eaten. Let us speak over a meal. Explain to me—what exactly happened?"
With a wave of his hand, he ordered food to be prepared.
Under the lamplight, charcoal burned bright in a bronze brazier. Fragrance slowly rose—yet it could not dispel the heaviness in everyone's hearts.
[Yaonan Hidden Manor · Dining Hall]
Not long after, the meal was laid out. Steam rose from hot soup; dishes were arranged in order. Though prepared in haste, everything looked and smelled exquisite.
Ye Qixiu sat in the seat of honor, lifted his chopsticks to pick up stir-fried wild greens, and spoke without haste—yet his calm carried weight.
"Xingyu. You said you'd explain later. Now is the time. How did you end up traveling with the Third Prince—and bringing three Rift-Yao with you?"
The room went still.
Jia Luo lowered his gaze, lips pressed tight. Tu Tan cleared his throat but didn't dare speak. Lian Yu remained cold as iron.
You Qing set down her chopsticks, fingers tightening slightly. She raised her eyes to Ye Qixiu. Her voice was steady, but heavy with meaning.
"Grandfather… I entered the Yao Realm because of that pocket watch you sold at your stall. I always believed I was merely from another world, unrelated to this realm.
"Until the battle at the Sacred Temple—when I returned with them to the Rift-Yao Underworld, I learned the truth: I am a descendant of the You Clan… and I acknowledged my bloodline. Nether Emperor You Nian is my father. My true name is You Qing."
Ye Qixiu's brows stirred, but he did not interrupt. He simply watched, signaling her to continue.
You Qing drew in a breath, slowing her pace. "After I returned to the Underworld, Feng Mian's privately organized Rift-Yao forces continued to slaughter cities and plunder everywhere. His methods were strange—he moved hearts and fear alike. So I discussed matters with the Crown Prince. We planned to capture him together.
"The three generals volunteered to guard me, and that is why we traveled together."
Her gaze swept across Jia Luo, Tu Tan, and Lian Yu. Her tone was firm. "They may be Rift-Yao, but they protected me with all they had. They are also my father's closest companions. So I chose to trust them."
She paused, her expression growing heavier. "We investigated all the way until news came that Trial Valley had changed. When we arrived, black miasma surged, and the formation's fluctuations were strong. We entered… and found the altar still steeped in the remnants of a soul-transfer forbidden art. Wan Luo and Feng Mian were trapped within it."
Silence reigned in the hall—broken only by the popping of firelight.
Si Mo Heng pushed a teacup toward You Qing, his voice steady. "From here, I'll speak."
He paused, his expression turning cold. "Feng Mian behaved strangely—mind scattered, nearly like a fool. I cannot be certain whether he is pretending or truly broken. To be safe, I ordered him bound and guarded."
A deep shadow gathered between his brows. "As for the woman—Wan Luo—there are two souls inside her, fighting for control of one body. That is… not normal."
Ye Qixiu's teacup trembled slightly in his hand. His gaze darkened at once.
"Two souls contending for one body…" he murmured.
Then his expression changed abruptly. He rose in a rush, sleeves sweeping wide—tea splashing onto the table, utterly ignored.
His eyes dimmed, as if some long-sealed past had been forcibly pried open.
"When we were young and proud… I, Lin Zheng, and Ye Yi—among the Metal-Yao clan, we were all considered exceptional. Lin Zheng's mastery of mechanics and weaponcraft stood unrivaled; Ye Yi loved studying formations, and no ancient array was too obscure for him to find a thread through.
"As for me—I stood between them. I learned principles of craftsmanship with Lin Zheng, and I also accompanied Ye Yi in studying the arts."
His voice lowered, pain rising beneath it. "One day, I caught Ye Yi deducing a Black-Yao forbidden technique—the method of soul transfer. As a friend, I pleaded with him to stop. He stayed silent for a long time, then finally nodded, saying he would never touch taboo arts again."
Ye Qixiu's throat tightened. His fingers slowly curled against the table. "But who could have known… he only agreed on the surface. In secret, he took another path—using soul transfer as a template, he created the 'Transference of Yao.'
"Soul transfer requires Black-Yao crystals, and in those days we knew nothing of such crystals—nor how to obtain them. So Ye Yi replaced them with Metal-Yao power…"
His voice sank further. "When the Elder Council discovered it, they declared the Transference Art forbidden, and severely punished Ye Yi.
"Later, Lin Zheng was chosen as the Metal-Yao among the Five. And because of Lin Zheng, we came to know the Saintess of that era—Yan Ling."
"Yan Ling…" Si Mo Heng's chest jolted. For once, emotion broke through his composure. His voice trembled. "That… that is my imperial grandmother's name."
Ye Qixiu nodded slightly, expression complicated. "Yes. She was Saintess then, and later became the Yao Empress. Yaonan Hidden Manor—and the design of the Fate-Inscribed Pocket Watch—both had her hand in them."
His gaze grew heavy, as though piercing through time itself.
"Ye Yi harbored feelings for Yan Ling. But he never received even the slightest return. Yan Ling's heart belonged to the Realm Emperor; she never allowed him private affection.
"He could not have her, and his mind slipped. In the end, he became obsessed—wanting to use soul-transfer forbidden arts to seize the Realm Emperor's body. Then he could hold power… and claim Yan Ling as his own."
Lamplight swayed, throwing shadows across Ye Qixiu's face.
"Because of that, he fell into demonic ways and secretly cultivated Black-Yao arts. When the matter reached the Emperor, a sacred decree was issued—ordering the Five Yao to seal him at the bottom of Trial Valley."
Ye Qixiu paused, his voice growing even more pained. "For Lin Zheng, it was the deepest wound of his life—on one side, the imperial command; on the other, a sworn friend.
"But the command could not be defied. Ye Yi was sealed.
"And before the chains closed, he cursed us—poisonously, viciously: he would see the Yao Realm shattered and ruined; he would see the line of the Five Yao… cut off, without descendants."
A dead silence fell. Even the flicker of the candles sounded sharp.
You Qing frowned and asked, voice low. "Grandfather… do you suspect this was Ye Yi's doing?"
Ye Qixiu was quiet for a moment, then shook his head slowly. "By all reason, he should still be sealed beneath Trial Valley—unable to escape for all eternity."
His gaze darkened, doubt and weight mixing in his tone. "But in the entire Yao Realm, to my knowledge… only one man ever mastered both the Black-Yao soul-transfer art and the Metal-Yao Transference Art.
"As for whether someone else inherited it… or learned it in secret—"
He stopped, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I… cannot be sure."
You Qing lifted her eyes, expression grave, voice low but clear.
"Before, when I was in the palace, the Crown Prince told me he suspected Feng Mian was the Transference user. Looking now… could this be Ye Yi's handiwork?"
Her fingers tightened slightly, a chill in her gaze. "Feng Mian's actions are steeped in hatred and distortion. He destroys cities and razes villages not merely for resources, but as if he wants to drag the entire realm into vengeance and chaos…
"It resembles what you described—someone who truly despises the Yao Realm."
Ye Qixiu's brows drew tight. The teacup on the table gave a light knock as his hand trembled. His eyes turned abyss-deep.
"If it truly is Ye Yi…" he said decisively, voice heavy as iron, "then the seal of Trial Valley… has likely been shaken long ago."
The moment his words fell, the hall plunged into silence.
The candle flames shivered without wind, and every face looked even graver under their trembling light.