Chapter 107

Fu Ming's wrist gave an almost imperceptible tremor. He dropped his gaze to where their sleeves overlapped and said nothing.

Moments later, Fu Ming dismissed the shadow guards who had forced the alchemist to his knees, leaving only Lin Yu, Fu Ming, and the alchemist in the hall, which fell silent at once.

Lin Yu sensed something off about Fu Ming. A racing heartbeat could be chalked up to anger at the eunuch, but he was still smiling, yet the air around him crackled with displeasure. Why?

That eunuch had merely tried to provoke Fu Ming, to beg for a quick death—anyone could see that. Along the way, he'd also tried to pin the charge of 'beguiling the sovereign' on her, hinting to outsiders that her relationship with Fu Ming was unusual, that her position as Divine Maiden came from the emperor's favor, not from public acclaim.

But Lin Yu would be leaving soon, and she didn't care what others thought of her or her title.

Soon the Lin Yu identity would cease to exist, and whoever wanted the Divine Maiden's seat could fight over it—it had nothing to do with her.

Fu Ming had been emperor for over twenty years. He'd seen it all. Did this really get under his skin?

To Lin Yu, these petty words meant nothing, but to Fu Ming, this was no small matter. Gao's outburst earlier—the guards outside, the maids and eunuchs passing by—anyone with ears had heard it.

He knew full well the palace was riddled with informants. Within a stick of incense, the news would spread to numerous factions in and out of court. Even if he killed every guard outside, it wouldn't help. There were too many hidden watchers to ever catch them all.

Too many coveted the Divine Maiden's position. What would they do when they heard?

They understood that slandering the Divine Maiden for harming cultivators, ruining her reputation, did nothing. As long as the emperor didn't speak, Lin Yu would forever be the Divine Maiden of Heaven's Mandate Tower.

So they'd take a new tack: spread rumors that the emperor and the Divine Maiden were intimate, petition the emperor to take her into his harem. The common folk would never accept a Divine Maiden who had won her position by seducing the emperor.

A goddess should be lofty as the bright moon, untouched by the dusty world. He wanted Lin Yu's path to be brilliant, not tangled up with someone like him.

Lin Yu's cool fingertips still rested on his pulse. Fu Ming listened to his own heartbeat, and it was racing faster by the moment.

Clearly, Lin Yu beside him noticed his accelerating pulse—faster even than when the eunuch had first provoked him.

Lin Yu furrowed her brow, confused. Was it really that upsetting that he was said to admire her? Was liking her that shameful?

Did Fu Ming hate her?

"Now, everyone standing in your way is dead. Is my sincerity enough?" Fu Ming didn't notice his own intense shift in mood. He looked at the lone alchemist remaining in the hall. "Speak. Who sent you?"

The alchemist trembled and spat out a truth Fu Ming already knew. "It's the Imperial Censor. Most of us alchemists in Changsheng Hall have been promoted by him..."

"So..." The alchemist studied Fu Ming's expression as he spoke, terrified of provoking him and ending up chopped up and fed to dogs. "So many of us are loyal to him—but not me, Your Majesty, rest assured..."

"The Imperial Censor said the Divine Maiden harmed cultivators, stirring the people's anger, and you turned a blind eye. He couldn't bear it, so he sent many of his peers to counsel you. I was dragged along by force... I've never even met the Imperial Censor..."

As he spoke, he kept distancing himself, insisting on his innocence, but Fu Ming knew well that Changsheng Hall had been founded with the Imperial Censor's maternal clan's money, and its selections and promotions were mostly his doing. Anyone who entered the hall was tied to the Censor somehow.

But Fu Ming couldn't be bothered to expose the alchemist's absurd lie. He lowered his eyes. "You want to live?"

The alchemist nodded eagerly, eyes pleading.

"But what you've offered is already known to me. It's not enough to spare you." Fu Ming's other hand still clutched the delicate dagger.

His low voice came from above the alchemist's head. "What do you think you can offer to buy your life?"

The alchemist didn't reply. Fu Ming cut to the chase. "With all the Censor's patronage, you rose to your current position. You must know him quite well, yes?"

"Since you're so familiar, you must have dirt on him from inside Changsheng Hall, right?"

The alchemist kept his head down, silent, seemingly calm, but his curled fingers betrayed his panic—his nails scraped against the floor, making faint sounds.

When Changsheng Hall was founded, its public mission was to give ordinary people a cultivator's power without training—to gain cultivation, wield artifacts, avoid sickness, and live forever without death.

These words might fool common folk, but anyone with a sliver of knowledge about cultivation knew it was impossible.

Everything needed a foundation—building a house required a base. What the alchemists did was erect a towering mansion on bare ground, no pilings. How could that work?

But whether it was possible didn't matter; people wanted to believe. With cultivators growing more brazen, society needed a force to check them.

As long as the alchemists stayed in line, drew their pay, and brewed some useless elixirs, Fu Ming could keep turning a blind eye. The trouble was the Censor's order to develop an elixir of immortality, falsely claiming it was the emperor's will.

For months, to test this supposed immortality pill, they'd seized many able-bodied young people as guinea pigs. None survived—nearly a thousand dead in just a few months.

Changsheng Hall had covered it up, answering every inquiry with: the elixir works wonders and will be ready in a few years.

"Bring me the trial subjects' registry inside Changsheng Hall, and the immortality pills you've produced. Use those to buy your life." Fu Ming said. "Do it, and the Censor's nine clans will be executed. You'll be free, nobody holding anything over you."

Killing the Censor was a sure thing—whether or not evidence existed, Fu Ming would kill him. But to uproot his mother's clan and all the tangled connections, he'd need the nine-clan execution.

Killing one man was easy. Killing everyone behind him required a justifiable reason.

"If you can't get it, the Censor will be executed tomorrow. I'll make you his execution overseer, how about that?" Fu Ming joked. "Then the Censor's kin will come after you. You'd better hide well and not let them find you."

That forced a choice: do it, or die.

The alchemist wrestled with it for a long time, then finally kowtowed, accepting the task.

The alchemist was led away. Lin Yu looked at Fu Ming. "Still angry?"

Fu Ming pressed his lips together, trying to speak but unable to voice the words. He didn't know how to phrase it—or perhaps he didn't understand what he was thinking.

"Come on." Lin Yu patted Fu Ming's shoulder, as if to comfort him. "It's just that he said you admire me. Why get so worked up?"

"Isn't it fine being tangled up with me?" She poked his palm, and the hand that had been resting on his pulse slipped away.

Her fingertips brushed across his palm with an indescribable sensation—fleeting. Lin Yu withdrew her hand, fingertips sliding away. Fu Ming's hand curled slightly, but he couldn't catch hers.

Fu Ming looked at her very seriously, so close between them. "Didn't I say it? I'm not worthy of you."

Lin Yu laughed, clearly intrigued. "Why not?"

"You said it yourself." Fu Ming paused. "You're a princess, and I'm just a minor commander. Of course I'm not worthy."

It was from the Li Kingdom illusion, when they first met, when she'd said it to swindle a marriage.

Lin Yu's smile froze. No wonder it sounded so familiar—she'd said the exact same thing before...

She let out an awkward laugh. "Why are you so grudging?"

"It's not grudging," Fu Ming said softly.

Lin Yu leaned in, hair cascading down her back. "Then what is it?"

Light strands of hair slipped toward Fu Ming, a faint fragrance lingering around him. Moved by some impulse, he raised a hand to catch a strand of her hair. "It's..."

"Hmm?"

As he searched for words, he lowered his eyes and suddenly met Lin Yu's gaze. In an instant, Fu Ming stopped breathing, all his attention fixed on her long lashes.

"I won't tell you. Figure it out yourself."

Lin Yu thought for a moment, unable to guess his meaning. She gave a light snort. "Tch... keep your secret."

"Where are you going?" Fu Ming called after her as she stood up.

"To get things done." Lin Yu walked out, saying, "I'll tell you when it's done. If you're curious, you can think about it."

Fu Ming let out a helpless laugh, watching her figure recede and vanish from sight. Was she... getting back at him?

...

At the disciples' quarters.

Lin Yu looked at the people before her, her expression serious. "Have the elders said when the Xianzun will return?"

The seven before her shook their heads in unison, their movements as synchronized as puppets. "No."

Lin Yu paced around them. These seven were the ones she'd infested with gu worms back in the Ghost Realm. After days of testing, she'd fully learned to control the worms—and through them, the people.

"Elder Ming Jing? Has he returned?" Lin Yu asked again.

"He's back, at the back mountain now." Someone answered immediately.

"Let's go. Take me to him." Lin Yu said. "Remember, don't alert anyone."

The disciples nodded stiffly, movements rigid. Lin Yu sighed softly. The art of gu had been lost to time; few knew how to use it. In three days, she'd managed to barely control them through trial and error.

Those who swallowed the gu, when not under control, were indistinguishable from normal people. But when controlled, if the user's skill was unrefined, they'd move stiffly, like marionettes.

Lin Yu didn't have much time to master gu. As long as their thoughts and bodies obeyed her will, it was enough.

That night, Lin Yu followed them through the thick fog, through tangled, thorny woods, and after many twists, finally came to the depths of the back mountain, where a bamboo house came into view.

"This is Elder Ming Jing's residence," someone whispered.

The bamboo house's window was open. Through a thin mist, a young man's face appeared—just as they'd all said, a face nearly identical to the Xianzun's.

But this one looked younger and thinner.

On an early spring night, still cold, he sat by the window draped in a cloak. With the window open, the wind flickered the candle flame, making shadows leap across the walls.

Perhaps because Lin Yu's gaze lingered too long, he suddenly sensed being watched. His eyes sharpened, and he rose, stepping out of the bamboo house.