Things Are Different and People Are Changed

The northeastern border of the capital city was also where the frontier of the Ancient Kingdom of Lixun lay.

It was there that the Ancient Kingdom Academy, jointly founded by the four great kingdoms, stood tall.

Strictly speaking, however, the Academy’s foundation lay precisely at the crossroads of the four realms—Lixun, Baiyao, Beiming, and Xiyun.

It was the only cultivation sanctuary on the continent that did not belong to any single nation.

Here, an unspoken rule existed: no one could engage in private combat.

Not even a king was permitted to violate it.

For that reason, Shangguan Xunyi had chosen this place as their destination.

She did not believe that the patriarch of the Shangguan family could be more important than the face of a monarch.

She planned to rush to the Academy overnight, seek protection from her own master, ensure their safety, then slowly untie the knot in Yun Mu’s heart, nurture affection over time, and eventually spend a shamelessly happy life together.

That was the little scheme in her heart.

Unfortunately… dreams were beautiful, but reality was cruel.

Now she had run into the trouble she had both expected and dreaded.

The girl gently set Yun Mu down, leaning him against a massive boulder.

Feeling the familiar aura rapidly approaching, her expression hardened—Shangguan Hongzhi had caught up.

“Xunyi-sister, you should go first. It’s not convenient for you to carry me—”

“Shh.”

She raised her hand and covered the boy’s mouth.

Unfastening the Qiankun pouch from her waist, she pulled out a black cloak radiating a mysterious aura and swiftly draped it over him, tying it securely.

“Xiaomu, don’t say anything more. Once I’ve made up my mind, I won’t change it.
Whether it’s taking you away or everything I’ve done until now—you understand?”

“…Yeah.”

“Good.
This cloak is a treasure given to me by my master.
It can conceal your aura completely so no one will detect you.
There’s only one of these, so you must keep it safe, alright? Don’t lose it.”

After whispering by his ear, she straightened up, cupped his face with one hand, her cheeks flushing pink, then covered his eyes with her other hand.

“I—I’m sorry.”

Then she leaned in and kissed him again.

It was the same soft warmth as before—perhaps because his body was too weak to resist, or perhaps because the darkness amplified every sensation.

Resting against the stone, Yun Mu felt the shy movement of her tongue with startling clarity.

It was sweet, like syrup—soft as water and intoxicating.

It reminded him of the faint tipsiness when he’d secretly sipped his master’s sweet wine as a child, that gentle numbness rippling through his body.

“Mm…”

Unconsciously biting her lip, the girl finally pulled away, reluctant.

Her eyes were hazy, her breath unsteady.

Seeing how flustered the boy looked, she licked her lips, still unsatisfied.

But she knew this was no time for intimacy.

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down—scolding herself in her heart for being “too needy” while repeating “calm down” until her thoughts steadied.

“Xiaomu, in about a minute, you’ll be able to move again.”

She pointed toward a rushing river not far away.

“When you can, swim straight across. Don’t look back.
Find an old man named Li Changyi and tell him my name. He’ll understand.”

She paused, noticing the cloak ties she’d fastened too hastily earlier, and reached out with a smile to double-knot them.

“If I’m still alive, I’ll apologize for those two sudden kisses, alright?
Then… I’ll grant you any wish you want. I’ll be your wi—never mind.
Anyway, just do as I say, okay?”

The words she wanted to say never left her lips.

She pinched Yun Mu’s cheek lightly, and before he could speak, she turned and ran.

The boy stared after her tall, retreating figure, his mind hazy.

In that moment, he seemed to see the farewell scene with Lin Xizhi all over again.

It was the same gentle pinch on the cheek, the same ifs and maybes.

But back then, he had obeyed—because he believed that if he was a good child, his master would return as promised.

He had been wrong.

Lin Xizhi had never returned.

And from that day onward, she had never touched his face again.

The boy’s throat burned with a silent scream, but the cloak smothered all sound.

His body twitched, but strength had not yet returned.

He could only watch as the girl grew smaller and smaller in the distance, until she vanished from sight—his chest tightening in pain.

‘Xunyi-sister… wait…’

At the riverbank,

Shangguan Hongzhi stood alone, gazing at the endless surge of water.

His anger had subsided, leaving only a calm, heavy air.

“It’s been so long since I last came here.”

He closed his eyes, hands clasped behind his back, listening to the waves crashing ashore.

“To look upon such a river alone… it feels rather lonely, doesn’t it?
A pity your father is no longer here, Xunyi-niece.”

Behind him, Shangguan Xunyi stood, a blood-red spear aimed straight at his back.

She said nothing.

Her foot slammed down, propelling her forward like a loosed arrow.

Scarlet star power coiled around her right arm, a spectral dragon spiraling along the spear’s tip as it roared forth.

Shangguan Hongzhi did not move.

He only sighed deeply.

An immense pressure burst forth, stopping her dead mid-charge and throwing her back more than ten meters before she hit the ground.

Branches snapped loudly.

The spear’s tip carved a straight line across the earth—shallow at first, then deep, until it buried itself in the soil.

“Ah… to raise your hand against your kin for the sake of an outsider.
If your father were alive, he would be heartbroken.”

He continued speaking as if to himself, spreading his arms and tilting his head toward the sky, his tone grand and mournful.

“Back then, he and I both left from this very place to study at the Academy.
We were young, full of pride and ambition… and now—everything has changed.”

Spears of light came at him from every direction, each one filled with fierce power.

Shangguan Xunyi searched desperately for an opening, but the difference in strength was too vast—none of her strikes even scratched him.

Yet she did not stop.

Her movements grew even faster, her pulse gates opening to the limit.

In her mind, there was only one thought left:

No matter what, she had to buy Yun Mu as much time as possible.

“Ah… truly a foolish child.
Using your power like this, damaging your very foundation.
Even if I don’t strike you down, you’ll collapse soon enough from star force exhaustion.
Is it really worth it?”

Shangguan Hongzhi suddenly turned, his eyes flashing with ruthless light.

In that instant, the girl—still midair—was crushed to the ground by sheer pressure, unable to move.

“And… did you really think you could delay me for long?”

He extended his right hand, shaping it like a claw, and lifted her from afar as though pinched by invisible fingers.

Slowly, she rose into the air.

Her spear slipped from her weakening grip, falling to the ground with a dull clang and scattering dust.

“Hmph.”

He kicked the weapon aside and looked up at her pale face, narrowing his eyes.

“Xunyi-niece, I never wished to do this.
After all, you share my brother’s blood.”

He loosened his grip slightly, smiling.

“So tell me—where did you take Yun Mu?
Surely he didn’t actually cross the river?
Otherwise, why would you be here blocking my way?
Be good and tell your uncle, and I’ll spare your life.”

His false gentleness slithered into her ears.

She couldn’t help the disgust twisting her face.

She knew perfectly well his words were only bait.

So-called kinship, so-called concern—

Before this man’s self-interest, they were as worthless as dust.

In fact… his plan to replace Shangguan Qiuyue’s bones, though dressed in the name of fatherly love, perhaps hid far darker secrets beneath.

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she simply looked toward the churning river not far away and smiled faintly, her expression calm.

‘Xiaomu should have escaped by now, right?
He called me Xunyi-sister again—he must’ve listened like when we were children.’

The two stood locked in silence.

Shangguan Hongzhi gazed at the girl’s expression, killing intent flickering in his eyes, yet he still didn’t strike.

Because he knew—

As long as she lived, Yun Mu would not leave of his own accord.

The boy was surely still nearby, watching quietly, perhaps even planning to come out himself.

So he only needed to wait.

Moments later, the grass nearby rustled softly.

And above the shaft of the fallen red spear…

A thin, bony hand suddenly appeared.