The imminent outbreak of conflict was forcibly extinguished by Yu Lin’an and the others, who sensed something was wrong midway and jumped in with jokes and banter.
The Floating Jade team left the manor.
Watching that group walk off without looking back, Su Lingxi’s face turned cold as if forged from ice.
After a long moment, she exhaled deeply and said to Xi Liu, “Send word—I will enter the palace shortly to see His Majesty.”
After a pause, she added, “Arrange a meeting between me and Zhang Jin Zhi.”
Xi Liu immediately carried out the instructions.
Back at the North Courtyard, the people of Floating Jade were completely sleepless after that night.
Several cups of hot tea were set on the table in the hall, and someone had already grabbed a cup to stay alert.
Seeing Ye Zhuxu sitting with eyes closed, showing no intention of speaking, Sang Chu dutifully brought up business:
“The Commander’s sword technique was enough to cut through the demonic seal—it’s only a matter of time before the monster is found and destroyed. But even now, the other matter remains unresolved.”
He dipped his finger in tea and wrote two characters beside him: Lian Xing (Linked Stars).
The Twelve Witches.
The Lian Xing Formation. Not even a clue yet.
“It’s not like we haven’t searched—we just really haven’t found anything,” Tian Jiang gestured toward herself and Yu Lin’an.
“The very first day Yu Lin’an and I arrived, we suspected that little girl by Su Lingxi’s side. Her age just doesn’t add up.”
Yu Lin’an continued, “Su Lingxi left Floating Jade when she was around eighteen or nineteen. She’s the only one who replaced Qiao An. The other eleven? Not a single one is under a hundred years old.”
At this, Tian Jiang looked a little dissatisfied.
Yu Lin’an, noticing he was about to speak, raised a hand to calm him down.
“Alright, I know. Tian Shuang was also under a hundred when she left—very young. And we all know how powerful the Twelve Witches were. One of them could take on a hundred of me. But everyone knows the price of being expelled from the Sect.
They wouldn’t still be stubbornly going on in their old age. Still, after all this time, just maintaining their youthful appearance must take all their strength.”
At Floating Jade, being a hundred years old is the prime of life, full of ambition and potential. In the human world, that’s already a pile of bones buried in the earth.
He added, “Who would waste their power on such a thing?”
“To preserve their strength, some didn’t even keep their youthful looks.”
“That female official named Xi Liu? Looks no older than a teenager.”
Lin Yu pressed her eyes in frustration and spoke the bitter truth:
“Even if we find them, what good does it do? Either their memories are completely gone, or they’re like Su Lingxi—totally uncooperative despite memory loss. What can we do with them?”
“That’s why,” said Sang Chu, “we have to find the one most likely to still remember something.”
Several people’s eyes flickered.
Sang Chu had previously said their team was like a pile of scrap metal—not because they lacked ability, but because their hearts were not united.
Over the past fourteen years, the people of Floating Jade had barely gone out.
Those with any ties to the Twelve Witches were heavily guarded, with no way to act.
Now that demon-hunting was back on the agenda and the Sect’s restrictions were lifted, their team—at least half of whom were related to the Twelve Witches—each had their own thoughts.
Since they were out in the world now, naturally, they wanted to see how the ones they missed had fared. Were they living well?
Happy?
Beyond that, there was little they could do.
The exiled could never go home.
That was Heaven’s decree—no one could defy it.
They longed to meet, but didn’t dare to.
The Twelve Witches were exiled for a great crime.
Though it had been years, the past wasn’t so easily buried.
Now that the matter resurfaced, no one could be at ease.
After all, who knew what would happen once the Twelve Witches and the Lian Xing Formation were found?
Ultimately, those people were not like Su Lingxi.
Su Lingxi was the Imperial Preceptor.
This was Chang’an.
The Emperor was protecting her.
Outside, the night wind still blew.
The windows were shut, making the room feel stifling and airless.
After a long while, Bai Xiao rubbed at the frost-like markings at the corners of his eyes and whispered, “If there’s anyone left who might still remember the past…”
The names of the Twelve Witches flew through everyone’s minds, then paused, zoomed in.
Sang Chu narrowed his eyes, listening to someone pronounce a name, word by word:
“Zhang Jin Zhi.”
“Yes,” he said.
“Zhang Jin Zhi practiced Soul Control. Extracting memories was his specialty.”
Yu Lin’an hadn’t responded yet, when someone nearby, completely lacking tact, suddenly chimed in, “What a pity. I feel like Su Lingxi actually knows the truth. If she had a better grasp of basic arts, she might have learned a bit of Soul Capture too.”
Floating Jade’s spell disciplines were many and highly specialized.
No one practiced dual arts—not because they didn’t want to, but because they couldn’t.
But Incense Art was the origin of all spells.
With it as a foundation, in theory, it was possible.
That theory was proposed by the Grand Archmage, but it had failed utterly.
Her prized pupil Su Lingxi had seemingly poured all her talent and will into Incense Art and couldn’t even master the basics.
The teaching sessions were so disastrous it was enough to break anyone’s spirit.
Even the Third Master, who never pushed anyone and just wanted to nap, was left stressed out when she took over.
Without a grasp of basics, how could she ever touch another branch of magic?
Yu Lin’an shot a glare across the room. Of all things to bring up now—why mention Su Lingxi in front of Ye Zhuxu?
Did he think the two of them hadn’t fought enough yet?
Ye Zhuxu made no other move.
He leaned against the window, gazing outside at the broken, rusty iron trees.
He was recalling Su Lingxi’s earlier expression.
Once the mask of civility forced by necessity was torn away, there was only true rage, coldness, and aggression beneath.
Her eyes hadn’t changed—but the fury in her pupils burned like twin blazing fires, warping even his snow-white reflection.
It seemed he had really destroyed something she deeply cared about.
But it wasn’t enough.
Not nearly enough.
The fury in her eyes should blaze like wildfire, turning into intense hatred—so much so that she would abandon all reason to fight him with everything she had, leave behind everything she now cared about, and go down in flames with him.
That was what he wanted to see.
What he longed for.
So what now, since it’s come to this?
If they were doomed to die together anyway, he didn’t want to be the only one haunted by malice and choked by memories, while Su Lingxi lived on, pure and unburdened.
If they couldn’t love each other, then let hate bind them until death.
In a few days, there would be results from the sword puppets as well.
He really wondered—when the illustrious Imperial Preceptor saw her manor filled with the bloodied corpses of her beloved boys, what expression would she wear?
Would she be angry?
Would she… feel pain?
Ye Zhuxu lowered his gaze for a long while, then quietly rose and walked out.
The tea beside him still swirled gently with its unfurled leaves—untouched.
Sang Chu couldn’t hold it in and called out: “Commander!”
“We’re discussing serious matters.”
“I’m tired,” Ye Zhuxu said calmly, without stopping.
“Tell me tomorrow what you’ve decided.”
Sang Chu inhaled deeply and asked Yu Lin’an, “Was he always like this?”
Yu Lin’an thought for a moment, then said, “This isn’t too bad—he didn’t even tell you to get lost.”
A sense of helplessness welled up in Sang Chu’s heart.
Forcing himself to stay calm, he returned to the earlier point.
“If Su Lingxi had truly cut ties with the Twelve Witches, we can reconsider the Zhang Jin Zhi plan. But if she’s still in contact and knows he may still remember their secrets, then where would she most likely hide him?”
Sang Chu’s trusted subordinate Hua Zhi spoke up:
“Right under her own nose—the safest place.”
And in Chang’an, what’s the most impregnable place of all?
The place guarded by the Dragon Vein and the Imperial Seal.
The Imperial Palace.
Clouds rolled and dispersed, moonlight flowed like water.
Officials of the Great Yin Dynasty would attend court around the fifth watch, before dawn.
It was now the fourth watch, the emperor had just awoken and was washing up.
Su Lingxi paused in her steps, and under the guidance of a maid carrying a lantern, entered a side hall.
Because she had sent word ahead, the side hall was already lit.
Between the beams and eaves, the dougong (interlocking wooden brackets) curved upward like the wings of a giant bird.
There was a plaque with characters, written personally by the emperor: “Jinyu” (Gold and Jade).
Gold and jade symbolize noble quality and virtuous character.
All those serving inside were young male attendants.
One had been waiting outside for a while and quickly stepped forward to bow when he saw Su Lingxi.
“Imperial Preceptor, my lord is expecting you.”
Su Lingxi acknowledged him with a hum, glanced around, and before stepping over the threshold, instructed:
“Everyone out.”
Ordinarily, since this was the inner palace, and Su Lingxi was an external official, they shouldn’t meet in private.
But due to the unusual nature of the relationship between this monarch and her Imperial Preceptor, formalities were often set aside.
Moreover, the emperor had already issued prior orders, so the attendants withdrew swiftly without hesitation.
Despite the intense summer heat, there was no ice basin in the hall, and no one fanned the air.
The bead curtain was half-open, the drapes half-lowered, and a screen embroidered with pines and cranes stood behind.
Two tall bronze lamps, nearly as tall as a person, stood beside the connected cabinets flanking the desk.
As over a dozen flames flickered, the air in the room grew stifling. Yet thick cushions remained on every chair.
Prince Yan, Xue Huai, feared the cold in winter and the heat in summer—he was always sensitive to temperature.
Beneath the lamp’s glow, someone was leaning over a table, meticulously sketching the final details of a city defense plan.
Even when he heard someone enter, his hand remained steady, his eyes never lifting.
He spoke gently:
“Wait a moment. Just a few more strokes.”
Su Lingxi bent one leg and leaned against a bookcase for a while before moving to the window.
“Can I crack the window open a bit?”
“If you want to, go ahead.”
Zhang Jinzhī still didn’t look up, but chuckled at her words.
“I’m not that weak yet.”
“Not yet,” Su Lingxi said with no expression.
“But I heard you were bedridden again recently.”
“Forget it. Don’t open it.” She said, “I’ll be leaving soon anyway.”Zhang Jinzhī put down his brush, set the drawing aside to dry, and walked around the table.
He bent down to retrieve a sachet of incense powder and a small censer from a drawer under the bookcase.