The mad princess forces love upon him, and the aloof imperial advisor trembles every night.

———Star-Picking Tower———

After Chu Qingyue left, only Si Chen remained on the observatory.

The air still held her unique, cool fragrance, mixed with the stench of blood, creating a strangely lingering scent.

The rain intensified, bursting into fragments of water on the jade-green ground.

He slumped onto the soft couch, his silver hair cascading down like a waterfall, a few strands sticky and wet against the corners of his bleeding lips.

Her purple robe was open, revealing a bright red tooth mark on her collarbone—she had bitten him with all her might, as if she wanted to brand him with an eternal mark.

The fingertips lightly touched the corners of the lips.

The blood was still warm.

The temperature was so hot that his fingertips trembled slightly, just like when she pressed her hand against his heart, her body temperature so scalding that it made his Dao heart tremble.

He closed his eyes and forcefully circulated the Heart Sutra of Ruthlessness: "If the heart is pure as ice, one will not be alarmed even if the sky collapses. One remains calm amidst all changes, with a tranquil spirit and peaceful breath..."

"puff--!!!"

Another mouthful of blood gushed out, splattering onto the unfolded star map, spreading out in a shocking red hue.

This time, however, the crimson was intertwined with strands of golden threads—a sign that the foundation of the Dao was crumbling.

Gold is becoming more and more abundant, while red is becoming less and less common.

The last thing that came out was almost entirely brilliant golden blood.

The blood that fell to the ground did not congeal; instead, it transformed into specks of golden light that rose and dissipated—as if the will of Heaven was gradually reclaiming the power it had bestowed upon him.

Dao Xinshi (the essence of Tao).

This strange phenomenon only appears when the foundation of the ruthless path is damaged.

Si Chen silently lowered his eyes to look at the remaining golden blood in his palm, then suddenly chuckled softly.

Laughter echoed in the empty observatory, carrying a touch of desolate mockery.

It's been four hundred years.

He sits atop the Star-Picking Tower, protecting the fate of the Great Chu Kingdom, receiving incense offerings from countless people, and is revered as an immortal and indestructible deity.

I have never been hurt, and I have never experienced what "pain" feels like.

Unharmed, indestructible, painless, and without sorrow—he once thought this was eternity, the price of transcending reincarnation.

Tonight, he experienced it all.

So this is what pain feels like. So this body, nurtured by the nation's fortune for four hundred years, can tremble and be as fragile as an ordinary mortal.

He leaned on the edge of the soft couch and slowly got up.

His movements were very gentle. He lowered his eyes to straighten his disheveled purple robe. His slender fingers trembled slightly from the pain. He had to tie the simple sash three times before he could finally manage to tie it properly.

When Shirakawa pushed open the door, this was the scene he saw—his revered imperial advisor, with blood-stained silver hair and a tattered purple robe, was bowing his head and intently tying his belt.

In that instant, Shirakawa's heart clenched, and his voice trembled: "Grand Preceptor, you...you are immortal, indestructible, and indestructible, why would you..."

"In this world, there is no such thing as true immortality," Si Chen interrupted him, his voice eerily calm.

"It's merely using the fate of the Great Chu Kingdom as a vessel to temporarily escape the cycle of karma."

"Now that the boat is sinking, what difference does it make whether we are injured or not, whether we die or not?"

He rose, the still-wet bloodstains on his purple robe spreading in the candlelight, like red plum blossoms suddenly blooming in the snow—eerie, dazzling, and carrying an ominous beauty.

Bai Chuan hurriedly offered a clean white handkerchief, but Si Chen did not take it.

He simply walked slowly toward the divination table, and the breeze stirred up by his robes extinguished a candle.

The light and shadow flickered on his face, outlining a breathtaking silhouette and revealing a kind of faith slowly crumbling deep within his eyes.

"But the Grand Preceptor's ruthless path is linked to the fate of the Great Chu," Bai Chuan pressed, his voice trembling, as if grasping at the last straw, "As long as the Great Chu doesn't perish, you will definitely be alright!"

"Therefore, when the fate of the nation is about to crumble, I... shall die." Si Chen stopped before the astrological platform, looking up at the vast star chart on the dome, his voice as soft as a sigh.

"It's alright."

"If one's destiny is ordained, death and the cessation of one's spiritual path are not necessarily unacceptable."

He spoke so casually and nonchalantly, as if he were discussing tomorrow's weather.

Shirakawa felt his liver and gall bladder tremble with fear upon hearing this:

"Imperial Preceptor! What will happen to the Star-Picking Tower if something happens to you?"

"What will happen to the people of Great Chu? You have protected peace for four hundred years..."

Si Chen did not answer.

He wants to cast another divination.

It's not about calculating the Chu Emperor, the eldest prince, or the fate of the nation.

Instead, it's about... Chu Qingyue.

The woman whose Daoist heart shattered at the slightest touch, the woman who vowed to slaughter all Daoists under heaven and to chase him to the underworld.

He wanted to know just how bright her destiny star, which he had personally pushed into the abyss of the Northern Sea, was now, and what kind of deadly intent it concealed.

The tortoise shell floated in my palm, and three ancient copper coins hummed and vibrated.

This time, the starlight on the observatory did not shine brightly; instead, it dimmed—as if the stars dared not peek at the outcome of this divination.

The hexagram is complete.

The copper coins fell to the ground, making a clinking sound.

Si Chen opened his eyes.

His pupils contracted instantly, then suddenly dilated—he saw the flames burning the wood, the black dragon falling into darkness, the imperial city splattered with blood, and… her destiny star was completely devoured by the crimson flames.

He didn't believe it.

His slender fingers picked up the coin and tossed it again.

Second time: Ominous.

The third time: extremely unlucky.

Fourth time: Dead end.

He seemed possessed, grabbing the copper coins and continuing his divination—this time, he used his heart's blood as the medium.

The scorching golden-red blood dripped onto the tortoise shell, where it was instantly absorbed, and the tortoise shell let out a mournful cry of unbearable strain.

The hexagram is complete.

It's still a very bad omen.

It's still a dead end.

He stubbornly cast the eighth hexagram, the tenth hexagram, the thirteenth hexagram... all the way to the sixteenth hexagram.

Every divination is done with heartfelt dedication.

Every divination result was exactly as predicted.

When the sixteenth coin landed, Si Chen's face was as pale as a sheet of paper, blood was flowing from the corner of his lips, and the bright red blood mixed with gold stained his chest and robes, blooming into large patches of tragic beauty on his purple robe.

But he doesn't care.

What he cares about is the divination result.

Sixteen hexagrams in a row, and every single one of them was the same—Chu Qingyue's fate and the destiny of the Great Chu Kingdom could only have one of them survive.

"Imperial Preceptor..." Shirakawa's voice trembled.

"Is the divination you performed... still the same 'Black Dragon's Fall' divination from seven years ago? The eldest princess, she..."

Si Chen slowly raised his head.

In the candlelight, his face was breathtakingly beautiful, yet also incredibly fragile.

In those sapphire-gray eyes, the star map was reflected, and also... a kind of collapsing faith.

"The hexagram shows that fire (Li) burns wood (Zhen), an omen of national and family decline." He spoke softly.

"The Black Dragon's fall from grace is the catalyst; first comes the calamity of fratricide, followed by the bloodshed in the imperial city."

"Even though she married far away for seven years, separated by mountains and seas... this divination remained completely unmoved, the calamity still lingers, unchanged in the slightest."

Shirakawa understood the "decline of the nation" and the "bloodshed in the imperial city".

"What should we do? Grand Preceptor, you must stop it! You must save Great Chu!"

Si Chen did not answer.

He simply stared silently at the sixteen copper coins stained with his heart's blood for a very long time.

As if suddenly remembering something, a glimmer of hope appeared in Shirakawa's voice:

"Imperial Preceptor, what about the First Prince?"

"The divination you performed for him as the heir apparent has now resulted in the eldest prince's death. Is the position of heir apparent truly... without any change whatsoever?"