Chapter 27: Betrayal

The letter arrived in the early morning.

The Eight Treasures Pavilion had not yet opened for business, and the kitchen in the back courtyard had just lit the stove fire, with the first whiff of sweet aroma drifting from the steamers.

The proprietress was leaning against the window of the private room on the second floor, holding a cup of clear tea in her hand.

She was wearing that vermilion robe, her deep purple long hair loosely tied up, and the morning light shone through the window lattice onto her face, making that enchanting countenance less mysteriously alluring in the night and more languid in the daylight.

The waiter cautiously went upstairs, holding a letter with no signature in his hands.

“Boss, it was just picked up at the door.”

Madam Xuanji did not turn around, merely extending two fingers.

The waiter understood and placed the letter at her fingertips, then bowed and retreated.

The envelope was made of the finest rice paper, with no markings, and the seal was casually glued with rice paste.

Madam Xuanji gently pinched it, and the letter slipped out.

The handwriting on it was neat and elegant, using the most common pine soot ink from the town’s bookstore, with even spacing between characters and proper strokes—this was something only a young lady from a prestigious family could achieve.

She quickly scanned the contents.

The letter’s content was quite simple: about the pool in the depths of the Peach Grove, about a imprisoned dragon, about a boy and his teacher, planning to borrow the power of the dragon clan to deal with a certain enemy.

At the end of the letter, a sentence was added in extremely small characters.

“If you desire the immortal fetus, this is a good opportunity.”

Madam Xuanji smiled.

She brought the letter close to her nose and gently sniffed it.

Beneath the ink scent, there was a faint trace of incense.

There weren’t many families in this county town who could afford incense, and the Zhang family was one of them.

“Eldest Miss Zhang.”

She softly uttered this title, with a hint of amusement.

“Truly not simple.”

She walked to the table, laid the letter flat, and her fingertips traced over those neat characters.

Each word was written steadily, without trembling, without hesitation, even without excess emotion, but the letter itself was the greatest emotion.

Betrayal.

Thorough betrayal.

Done quite crudely.

“What are you doing this for? Submitting a pledge of allegiance?”

Madam Xuanji thought about the intelligence her spies had gathered earlier—that immortal fetus was currently the fiancé who had not yet married into the Zhang family’s second miss.

Previously, it seemed that this eldest miss and that immortal fetus actually had a good relationship, but that immortal fetus had no interest in her.

It must be love turning to hate—who knows?

“Mad woman.”

Madam Xuanji commented, her voice carrying no praise or criticism.

“To go so far as to betray beautifully for the sake of love. What a pity.”

She picked up the teacup and took a sip; the sweetness was rich and mellow.

“It’s of no use.”

The things in the letter, she actually already knew most of them.

She had noticed the abnormality in that pool in the depths of the Peach Grove on the first day she came to Huaniang Town.

After all, the dragon qi there was too ostentatious.

As long as one inquired a bit about the local legends, one could figure out the general cause and effect of the matter.

She truly missed the times hundreds of years ago, when one could still see a few immortals and divine beasts; now, not even a shadow remained.

The reason she had held back was simply to wait.

Wait for the immortal fetus qi in the boy’s body to mature a bit more, wait for that boy to reach a dead end himself, wait until she could appear in the posture of a victor and easily seize the fruit.

The hunter’s pleasure was never just in the harvest, but also in appreciating the prey’s futile struggles.

But this letter from the Zhang family’s eldest miss did give her an amusing diversion.

“Since you want to play, then I’ll play along with you.”

Madam Xuanji set down the teacup and walked to the window, gazing toward the Peach Grove.

The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and that forest was still shrouded in hazy gray-white.

“Let me see how far you can go, little thing.”

She picked up the rice paper from the desk and wrote something in large strokes.

She raised her right hand, palm upward, and deep red internal force surged from her fingertips.

At first, it was just a wisp of light smoke, but soon it condensed and took shape, transforming into a palm-sized falcon.

The falcon was entirely crimson, its eyes two clusters of leaping flames, with clear feather patterns visible, even the fine down trembling slightly in the wind.

Transforming qi into form, condensing spirit to bestow life.

This was a method only available in the Saint Transformation Realm.

Madam Xuanji folded the rice paper into a thin strip and inserted it into the copper ring that illusioned on the falcon’s leg.

She whispered a few words to the falcon, and the crimson little beast flapped its wings, passed through the window lattice, merged into the morning mist, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

It would fly north, toward a certain stronghold on the edge of the grasslands, where her people were, the dark lines she had arranged for many years.

The content of the letter was simple: within three days, seal off all trade routes from Huaniang Town to the northern borders, especially those few hidden paths.

If anyone attempts to go north, intercept them, but do not kill, unless the other party resists too fiercely.

What idea that Eldest Miss Zhang was playing at, she still knew.

She did not want this person to die; that would be too uninteresting.

After doing all this, Madam Xuanji sat back by the window, picked up the tea that had completely cooled, and slowly sipped it.

Her gaze fell on the rooftops of the Zhang residence in the distance, where cooking smoke had just risen, and the day’s life was about to begin.

“The winner can only be me.”

She said softly, with utmost confidence, carrying a playful smile.

The sunlight finally pierced through the morning mist, shining on the signboard of the Eight Treasures Pavilion.

Downstairs came the sound of the waiter removing the door panels, and the clamor of the morning market gradually surged onto the street.

A new day had begun.

……………………

When Nanxi opened his eyes, the sky was already bright.

Shuang Feixue’s leg was indeed pressing on him; although it felt plump and very soft, it was still heavy and not comfortable.

The woman was not sleeping peacefully, her brows slightly furrowed, lips pursed, as if worrying about something even in her dream.

Nanxi gently moved her leg away, got up from the bed, his movements very light, without waking her.

He walked to the window and pushed open half of it.

The morning breeze surged in, carrying the faint floral fragrance wafting from the peach blossoms.

The day had arrived.

Nanxi looked at the silver ring on his ring finger; he had worn this thing since childhood and had taken it off before, but it seemed to have no effect.

At least when he learned it was something from the heavens, the boy had started testing it.

Nanxi had soaked it in water, burned it with fire, even dripped his own blood on it, but in the end, there was no effect.

Perhaps this was just an ordinary relic?

Nanxi did not know; what he most wanted to figure out now was the sword in the dream.

The boy clenched his fist, then loosened it; there was no special feeling, no power surging out, no memories awakening, nothing.

It was as if that dream really was just a dream, absurd and bizarre, and after waking, nothing had happened.

But was it really a dream?

Nanxi remembered every detail: the twisted shadow sword, the blood-red sky, the black sun, and that masked boy who claimed to be his past self.

Those dialogues, those skeletons, that sentence about coming here when at the end of one’s rope.

It was too real.

Real enough to make him doubt that it might not be a dream.

At least in a dream, it was impossible to have that kind of real sense of complete control over oneself.

“Xiao Xi?”

From behind came Shuang Feixue’s voice, carrying sleepiness.

Nanxi turned back and saw that she had already sat up, the thin blanket sliding to her waist, revealing her upper body clad only in undergarments.

The morning light outlined her voluptuous curves, and those red marks left from last night were particularly conspicuous on her fair skin.

Nanxi walked back to the bedside, sat down, and naturally reached out to pull her into his embrace.

Shuang Feixue obediently leaned on his shoulder, like a cat that had found its reliance.

Clearly, she was the elder, yet at this moment, she was like a child.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

She asked, her fingers unconsciously rubbing Nanxi’s lapel.

“Not exactly a nightmare.”

Nanxi said.

“Just a very strange dream.”

The boy briefly recounted the dream, without omitting or adding content, though some dialogues he had truly forgotten.

Shuang Feixue listened quietly, and only after he finished did she speak softly.

“That might be the depths of your primordial spirit.”

She said.

“When a martial artist cultivates to a certain realm, after the divine soul stabilizes, sometimes one can introspect oneself during meditation; I’ve only heard of such situations.”

She raised her head, looking into Nanxi’s eyes.

“Did that past you say anything important?”

“He said, if at the end of one’s rope, one can go find that sword.”

Nanxi said truthfully.

“But I’m not sure if that’s real, and I don’t know how to go.”

Shuang Feixue was silent for a moment, then hugged him tighter, and said with some consolation.

“Who knows? Perhaps when the time comes, everything will become clear.”