In the capital city of Songjing, the eastern district is where the high-ranking officials and nobles live. The place really comes alive during the early morning court sessions. Even before the sun rises, the streets are packed—carriages darting back and forth, sedan chairs moving in an endless stream.
Here, everyone knows their place. Vice ministers give away to ministers, ministers step aside to chancellors, and chancellors, in turn, yield to the princes. Amid the chaotic rush of carriages, these unspoken rules keep things running smoothly, adding a strange kind of order to the city's frenzy.
In the shadow of a high wall, Li Xun stood tucked away, watching the scene with a cold gaze. The nearest carriage wheel was no more than five feet from him, yet none of the elite guards flanking the convoy so much as glanced in his direction. Even if they did, all they'd see was an ordinary patch of shadow beneath the wall.
To think such restrictive seal art from the Mingxin Sword Sect was being used to hide from ordinary mortals—what a waste of good technique!
The stream of carriages didn't clear out until nearly half an hour later. Only then did Li Xun get to his feet. After making sure of the direction, he moved along the edge of the wall, using the shadows cast by the towering walls and grand courtyard as perfect cover.
He slipped silently through a few streets. The surroundings felt both familiar and strange, and half-formed childhood memories tugged at his mind, leaving him a bit unsettled. But after about the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, he finally reached his destination—the Prince of Fortune's residence.
This was the imperial estate gifted by the current emperor to Prince Fu. In all of the eastern part of the capital, it ranked among the most extravagant mansions. Even the stern-faced house servants standing guard outside the grand gates were enough to make anyone lacking guts feel half a head shorter.
I'm back...
Staring at the gates from a distance, Li Xun felt a flood of emotions rise in his chest. But they barely stirred the surface before sinking back into stillness.
What's the point of dwelling on this now, when life and death hang in the balance?
Suddenly, he froze, brow furrowing. It wasn't the sneering gatekeepers that gave him pause—but a sharp, creeping unease coiling inside him.
The Blood Nightmare was stirring.
There were still more than two hours before its usual time of torment—yet here it was, writhing awake, and that's despite Jade Bixie's suppression.
A terrifying thought struck Li Xun: It's responding to something...
As if sensing a presence beyond his body, the cursed thing seemed to open its eyes, stirring with eerie awareness.
Every hair on his body stood on end. Instinct screamed at him to run—and run he did, not stopping until he'd put eight streets between himself and whatever had triggered the reaction.
Only then did the Blood Nightmare settle back into its dormant state.
Gasping, Li Xun clutched his chest, words failing him.
The irony wasn't lost on him—how ridiculous he must look! Hadn't he returned precisely to seek out the Blood Wanderer and fulfill their decade-old pact? To free himself from this curse?
Now that the moment had come, why was he running away like a cornered rat?
The answer coiled in his gut like a serpent: First, he'd never truly believed the Blood Wanderer would honor their agreement. Second, and more terrifying, was the primal dread now pulsing through his veins—a fear that bypassed all logic, whispering of horrors no rational mind could fathom.
He looked back toward Prince Fu's residence.
Was it just his imagination? In the pale morning light, it seemed like a thin, blood-red mist had wrapped itself around the estate. Within it, he thought he heard the shrieks of countless tormented souls clawing to break free.
He shivered.
He looked back once again, and all he saw was the soft glow of the rising sun.
Even so, he felt that the little courage he had so painfully gathered had vanished like smoke at that moment.
He ran like a man fleeing disaster, rushing off into the distance.
This year, the snow came unusually late. It wasn't until a few days before the Winter Solstice that it finally started falling—reluctantly, like it didn't want to. In the blink of an eye, all of Songjing was buried under a thick white blanket. The temperature dropped like a stone, and in the southern districts of the capital, who knew how many beggars froze to death overnight.
Normally, that kind of thing was barely worth a mention. Just send a few officers to clean up the bodies, dump them outside the city, and call it a day.
But not today.
Before dawn had even broken, the Capital Magistrate himself led a sweeping operation through the entire southern city, working alongside the Jinwu* Guards (Imperial Insignia Guard). It was like casting a giant net—they combed through every street, every alley, not once, but three full times.
Any frozen corpses they came across were dragged out of the city and buried with surprising care. As for any wandering jianghu or unruly types, the guards didn't even bother asking questions—they just went in and arrested them. In just a couple of hours, the chaotic, rough-edged southern quarter had been scrubbed clean, guarded like the imperial palace itself.
idlers loitering on the streets, no matter who they were, were hauled off to the dungeons. The common folk were ordered to stay indoors, locked in by the soldiers, forbidden to step outside.
Is this... the emperor going out on tour?
Li Xun stood in the shadows, mulling it over. The scene stirred a vague memory—he'd seen something like this before. Judging by the date, tomorrow was the Winter Solstice. Most likely, the Emperor was preparing to head to the southern outskirts for the Heaven-Sacrificing Ceremony.
In the mortal realm, the Heaven Sacrifice was a big deal. Even the Son of Heaven had to follow strict rites: move into the suburban palace days in advance, burn incense, bathe in silence, abstain from pleasure of women and music, eat only vegetarian meals for days—all to show sincerity before the heavens.
But the Longqing Emperor? He couldn't even be bothered. The day before the ceremony, he was still lounging in the luxury of the Forbidden Palace. As for fasting and purification? Not a chance.
Has mortal emperors really become this shameless?
But that thought barely flickered through Li Xun's mind before it was gone. He had his own problems to worry about—what business did he have judging imperial rituals?
What was really troubling him was the lockdown. With the Emperor on the move, the entire city was under martial law. Someone like him—no travel permit, no clear identity—if he got caught by the authorities, even if he was in the right, there'd be no way to explain himself.
His movements were severely limited.
With no other choice, he was forced to play hide-and-seek with the city's soldiers — doing his best to avoid the heavily patrolled streets and hanging instead around the quiet alleys and forgotten corners.
It had been more than a month since the disaster at Tiandu Peak. In all that time, Li Xun had been wandering through Songjing. Aside from the first day—when he'd worked up the nerve to try his luck at the Prince of Fortune's estate—he'd spent every other moment loitering in the southern part of the city, racking his brain for a way out of his predicament.
But how could he possibly come up with a foolproof plan?
Every strategy, no matter how clever, rests on the foundation of power. If the strength between both sides is close, maybe there's room for tactics and trickery. But if the gap is like heaven and earth, what's the use of scheming? It'd be no different from an ant trying to shake a tree — what good are a thousand plans then?
That was exactly how things stood between him and the Blood Wanderer. And he was the ant in this scenario, by the way. No matter how carefully he schemed, if Xue Sanren wanted him dead, it would take no more than a flick of the finger. The difference in strength was too vast—no amount of strategy could bridge it.
Li Xun understood this all too well. And yet, his mindset now was no different from a gambler who had lost everything, clutching his last chip, placing it all on the most unlikely bet, praying to win back everything he'd lost.
And what supported this kind of mindset—besides the absolute despair of having no way out—was also the full year of breathing room he had fought so hard to secure. There was still a "long" time left before the ten-year pact with Blood Wanderer reached its end.
Letting a patrol squad pass by, Li Xun finally stepped out of the shadows at the street corner. He watched their retreating backs with an expressionless face.
By now, he no longer looked like some ragged wanderer. Over the past month, he'd made do. Thanks to his lightness skill and a few risky moves, he'd actually managed to earn himself a decent, if ill-gotten, sum.
The human mind is a strange thing. Li Xun might not be some paragon of virtue, but he was still born into a noble house—and growing up, he'd always looked down on thievery with contempt.
But once you take that first step… there's no going back.
At first, he'd only stolen out of desperation—a bit of silver, a decent robe to cover himself. That's what he told himself. But once he got a taste of what stealing could bring—the rush, the ease, the rewards—something inside him shifted. He couldn't stop, even if he wanted to.
In just under a month, he'd already made his rounds across the capital, slipping in and out of homes like a shadow. He didn't take much—never enough to cause a stir—but if he needed something, he took it. Clothes, coin, a warm meal. It was easier than sneaking into his own courtyard used to be.
Now, dressed head to toe in the finery of a noble young master—Sichuan-embroidered brocade robe, a belt adorned with pearls and jade—such attire had been as natural as breathing to him in his childhood, and even now, he felt no discomfort at all in it.
His Azure Jade sword was hidden away somewhere safe, out of sight. No need to draw the soldiers' attention.
He wandered around the southern city for a while longer but still hadn't found a decent place to stay. Inns, teahouses, even shabby guest lodges—every one of them had been turned inside out by enforcers and soldiers. If you didn't have travel permits or proper papers, you'd be dragged straight to the magistrate's office for investigation.
That left Li Xun drifting like a ghost, endlessly roaming the city. As twilight began to fall, he was already weighing the idea of slipping over to western or northern city—places where patrols were thinner—and maybe finding a place to crash for the night.
Just as he was working through the options, the southern part of the city suddenly erupted into a commotion. The chaos seemed concentrated in a few key blocks—and unfortunately, Li Xun had wandered right into one of them.
He reacted instantly. A quick flicker of movement, and he melted into the shadows.
Within a few dozen heartbeats, the streets swelled with people. Crowds of commoners poured into the area from every direction, packing the sidewalks. Blocking the road ahead was a solid wall of fully armored Jinwu Guards.
At first, Li Xun wasn't quite sure what was happening. But when he saw the blank resignation—or in some cases, the eager curiosity—on people's faces, he understood.
Ah. One of those imperial shows.
These civilians were probably brought in to chant "Long live the Emperor!" and put on a display of loyal enthusiasm.
With the crush of bodies pressing in from all sides, there was no way for Li Xun to keep hiding. So he simply stepped out, blending into the crowd. As long as he kept his head down, the guards wouldn't spare him a glance.
His ears, sharp as ever, caught the faint sound of distant drums and trumpets—the imperial procession was drawing near. A moment later, even the commoners could hear it: the rolling thunder of a thousand voices shouting, Long live the Emperor! Long live the Emperor!
It only took one person to set it off. Then, as if on cue, everyone along both sides of the street dropped to their knees. Li Xun frowned but followed suit, kneeling with the rest. Still, something about the whole scene left a bad taste in his mouth.
As the procession got closer, the chorus of Long live the Emperor! kept rising, crashing like waves. The crowd grew restless. A few people tried to stand up for a better view, only to be met with the stomp of metal-shod boots and the threatening clash of halberds—Jinwu Guards making it very clear they weren't in the mood.
The crowd quieted down, but the murmurs didn't stop.
All around him, people were whispering—some wondering aloud what the emperor looked like, or what kind of auspicious signs he might be surrounded by. That sort of talk was laughable superstition, but at least it passed the time.
Others traded rumors, gossiping about the emperor's private life: tales from the harem, drama at court, his strange hobbies. Stories that had been passed from mouth to ear, alley to alley—most of them nonsense, but still entertaining.
Li Xun had spent over a month wandering Songjing. It wasn't all brooding and plotting—sometimes he needed to get out of his own head. He'd loiter in teahouses, linger in taverns, soaking in the city's atmosphere.
He'd long since heard the rumors: the emperor was a devout believer in Daoist alchemy. In recent years, he'd been throwing out rewards left and right to all sorts of so-called Daoshi (Daoist priests)—especially those who claimed to refine immortality elixirs, whom he treated with exceptional favor.
It's said that this all began two years ago, when the emperor appointed an extremely powerful National Preceptor—one said to summon wind and rain, scatter beans into soldiers, and be capable of anything. He was further rumored to refine elixirs of immortality and possess mystical arts that ward off all evil.
That kind of figure was exactly the sort of sinister sorcerer you'd expect to see at the side of a deluded ruler!
Thinking back to the imperial children he'd seen in his youth, and comparing them to the current emperor's behavior, Li Xun couldn't help but sneer in his heart.
What truly caught his interest, though, was the rumor that this so-called National Preceptor wasn't a Daoist priest at all—but a young priestess, famed not only for her power, but for her beauty. Supposedly, she was so stunning that she'd captivated the entire capital.
That little detail added a whole new flavor to the tale of "the emperor obsessed with alchemy"—a touch of scandal, a hint of seduction.
A female National Preceptor?
Now that piqued Li Xun's curiosity.
"Long live the Emperor!"
The shout broke out in ragged waves, then quickly gathered into a roaring tide. For a moment, the whole street echoed with cries of "Long live the Emperor!" The vanguard of the imperial procession had already passed, and now the rear was approaching—a golden canopy held aloft, bright yellow and impossible to miss.
Li Xun's eyes were sharp. He immediately spotted another ornate parasol, this one pale cyan with delicate tassels, moving alongside the imperial canopy. It was no less magnificent.
But according to Great Zhou protocol, when the emperor toured the city, no one but the empress was permitted to ride beside him—and even she would only do so in the phoenix chariot. All the ministers and officials had to follow on foot.
That meant this person… wasn't the empress.
Yet they sat shoulder to shoulder with the Son of Heaven?
"That's the National Preceptor's Great Luo Pure Wondrous Umbrella…"
"She's here too?"
A ripple ran through the crowd—not panic, but anticipation. A strange mix of reverence and curiosity swirled in the air as murmurs spread: the National Preceptor, the mysterious woman in the emperor's favor, had appeared in public.
In that low buzz of excitement, the emperor's dragon chariot rolled past. As expected, in order to preserve the emperor's majesty—or perhaps just for security reasons—the interior was hidden behind layers of gauzy curtains. You could just barely make out the shape of a person inside. Nothing distinctive. Nothing surprising.
But the figure beneath the cyan canopy a few paces behind…
Now that was a different story.
That figure drew every eye like a magnet—outshining the emperor entirely.
Li Xun, like everyone else, looked over.
There was a curtain there too: sheer white, nearly transparent. But it was thin, too thin to truly conceal. For someone like Li Xun, whose gaze could pierce shadows and tricks alike, it might as well have not been there at all.
His eyes fixed on the woman's face.
And in that instant, it was like a film of water rose before his eyes—like mist drifting across a lake at dawn. Not thick, not heavy, but enough to blur the world. Everything he saw through that veil shimmered and wavered, half-real, half-illusion.
Li Xun froze.
His mind went hazy, like he'd just stumbled into a dream.
What the hell?
It was so strange, so sudden, so overwhelming…
Then it hit him:
He hadn't actually seen her face at all.
What?
He blinked, tried to shake off the confusion.
The cyan parasol was almost directly in front of him now. He frowned, trying to look again—and then his heart skipped a beat.
At that exact moment, the jade Bixie amulet on his chest suddenly flared to life. A burst of cool energy surged out from his heart, flooding his limbs in an instant. The sensation was far stronger than anything it had ever triggered before.
A chill washed over him.
It wasn't just from the amulet—something far deeper, far more primal, was rising up from within. A cold, sharp dread that even the Jade Bixie couldn't suppress, slicing straight through flesh and bone.
Then, he heard a sound.
A soft hum—barely audible, but impossibly clear. Like a drop of cold water falling from a stalactite deep inside an underground cavern.
Drip.
The sound echoed in his bones, awakening every nerve in his body. With the next breath, he felt as though he'd inhaled pure ice.
In that instant, Li Xun felt as though every drop of blood in his veins was freezing solid.
He stared wide-eyed at the Great Luo Pure Wondrous Umbrella, now directly across from him. Behind the thin veil, a pair of eyes looked back at him—clear, calm, and terrifyingly cold.
There was curiosity in those eyes, yes—but more than that, an overwhelming indifference. An ancient, inhuman stillness. As if she saw all the people lining the streets not as lives, but as dust—fleeting, trivial, beneath notice.
And in that moment—locking eyes with her—Li Xun nearly screamed.
A cold sweat broke out across his back.
For one brief second, he thought…
He thought he was looking at the Demon Phoenix again.
...... notes:
jianghu people: martial artists, wanderers, mercenaries, outlaws, etc. (those living outside the bounds of official society)