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

Faced with her almost-close, piercing gaze, Si Chen remained motionless, not even his eyelashes trembled.

He looked down at her, his glassy eyes reflecting her alluring face, as well as the hatred in her eyes that seemed to burn everything away, and... other more complex things.

"If I hadn't come," he stated slowly, his voice calm and even, "you would have truly taken his life."

Chu Qingyue scoffed, her laughter particularly jarring in the quiet alley. "Kill him? The Imperial Advisor overestimates me." She took a half-step back, spreading her arms wide, her red robes fluttering in the wind.

"Elder Brother, his mother is the Empress, his maternal grandfather is the Prime Minister, and he was personally chosen as the Crown Prince by divination. How could I possibly kill such a person so easily?"

Her smile faded, but the bloodshot in her eyes deepened. "If I had that ability, I wouldn't have been sent away as a dog for a political marriage seven years ago."

Si Chen looked at the cinnabar mark between her brows, as red as a drop of blood. His eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly. He habitually raised his hand, his fingertips gathering pale golden spiritual energy, and his voice finally showed a very subtle fluctuation: "This scar... can be healed."

Chu Qingyue nimbly dodged to the side, as if avoiding a venomous snake.

"Heal?" She laughed, a laugh laced with manic mockery. "If this scar is healed, will all the other wounds disappear? Can the torment I endured for seven years and over two thousand days in Beiming be dug out of my bones? Grand Preceptor, your spiritual power can heal flesh and skin, can save the dying, but perhaps it cannot... return to me Chu Qingyue, who was sent away at thirteen for a political marriage and suffered endless humiliation in a foreign land?"

The spiritual power at Si Chen's fingertips silently extinguished. He looked at her, and at this moment, the Dao Heart he had cultivated for four hundred years was rippled with an almost imperceptible ripple. The ripple was very light, but it was enough to make the star chart in his sleeve tremble incessantly.

Chu Qingyue caught the fleeting moment of relaxation in his eyes, and a mixture of pleasure and pain welled up in her heart, causing her eyes to redden. Suddenly, she laughed again, a laugh as alluring as a poppy in full bloom.

"Now that the Imperial Advisor has rescued the Crown Prince, I have nowhere to vent my pent-up frustration—"

She slowly drew her soft sword from her waist, the blade gleaming coldly in the moonlight. "The only option left is to fight the Grand Preceptor. If you defeat me, tonight's matter ends here." She pointed the sword at him, her red robes and dark hair whipping wildly in the night wind. "If you lose..."

She licked her red lips, a mad glint in her eyes. "I'll tie up the Imperial Advisor and hang his nameplate here in the Pavilion of Relief. Let everyone in the capital see how their revered Imperial Advisor... indulges in the pleasures of the mortal world."

Si Chen looked at her and finally sighed softly. The sigh was so light that it seemed like just an illusion created by the night breeze. He raised his hand and snatched a long sword from the ground—an ordinary iron sword, its blade still stained with blood.

"As you wish."

Before the words were even finished, Chu Qingyue had already struck like a red lightning bolt! Her sword moves were fierce and unpredictable, carrying the violence and bloodshed of the northern desert winds and sands.

Every sword strike went straight for the vital points, leaving no room for retreat, as if the person standing opposite her was not her former god, nor the obsession she had buried deep in her heart for more than four hundred days and nights, but her irreconcilable mortal enemy.

Si Chen did not use his spiritual power, but only met the attack with his sword. The two, one in purple robes with silver hair and the other in red robes with black hair, moved nimbly and intertwined between the narrow alleys and rooftops. The sword light was as white as snow, and their robes were as white as clouds. The sound of metal clashing echoed in the silent imperial city, startling a few dogs barking in the distance.

Chu Qingyue's swordsmanship was fundamentally taught to her by him. In those years, he taught her to hold the sword, corrected her moves, and told her that the sword was a weapon of protection, not a weapon of killing. Now, however, she used this swordsmanship with murderous intent, each move deadly.

Si Chen calmly accepted the challenge, handling it with ease.

He could feel her anger, her pain, and her need for a cathartic release. So he fought with her, danced with her under the moon, and helped her unleash the hatred and resentment that had accumulated over the past seven years onto the blade.

Time passed amidst the flashing swords. An hour went by, and Chu Qingyue's forehead was covered in a fine sweat, her breathing slightly erratic, yet her attacks grew even more ferocious.

She suddenly changed her tactics—no longer any of the moves he had taught her back then, but a strange, unpredictable, and completely unfamiliar swordsmanship. Every move precisely countered his habitual responses.

Si Chen's gaze narrowed slightly. In a flash, all the clues connected: she first sent Chi Xiao to abduct people, which was actually a test; if he didn't intervene, everything would be fine;

If he makes a move, she will personally appear to entangle him and use martial arts to hold him back; but the real killing move... the star chart in her sleeve trembles violently.

Si Chen deflected her attack with a single sword stroke, gracefully retreating three zhang, and looked up towards the direction of the palace. In the night sky, distant flames seemed to flicker, interspersed with faint shouts of battle.

He slowly turned his head and looked at Chu Qingyue.

She had sheathed her sword and was wiping a trace of blood from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand—in the final exchange, she had deliberately created an opening and endured his sword strike, just to keep him here longer.

At that moment, she smiled like a triumphant enchantress.

"Has the Imperial Preceptor finally figured it out?" Chu Qingyue tilted her head, her dark hair slipping down her shoulder. The jade hairpin, which had somehow come loose, was now clutched in her hand, toying with it.

"The first lesson you taught me was the law of cause and effect, and that retribution is inevitable. You rescued the Crown Prince, ruining my mood, so this pent-up frustration—naturally—should be your responsibility. And also…"

She approached step by step, her embroidered shoes brushing against the hem of his purple robe, leaving faint dust stains on the expensive brocade. "What I'm about to do is not something you can stop me from. If you ruin my plans again..."

She tiptoed, her red lips almost touching his earlobe, her breath sweet as orchids, yet each word was chilling:

"I think the Grand Preceptor certainly doesn't want to know the consequences. After all, no matter how high the Star-Picking Tower is, it's still vulnerable to fire; and no matter how powerful the Grand Preceptor is, he still needs... to sleep, doesn't he?"

Just then, a completely black bird flew through the night and landed steadily on her shoulder, chirping softly a few times.

After hearing this, Chu Qingyue's smile deepened. She took two steps back and gave Si Chen a deep look. Her gaze was complex and hard to decipher—it contained hatred, resentment, a fleeting pain, and a domineering air of control.

"The game has only just begun, Your Excellency." As soon as she finished speaking, she used her lightness skill, and her scarlet figure disappeared behind the rooftops in a few leaps.

----------

Si Chen stood still, the night wind ruffling his silver hair and the hem of his robe.

The astrolabe in his sleeve continued to tremble, the uneasy fluctuations growing stronger. He raised his hand, his fingertips tracing the intricate patterns on the astrolabe's surface, his glassy eyes reflecting the deduced trajectory—bloodshed, power struggles, dynastic turmoil, and… a lingering crimson figure.

"The Imperial Advisor."

Bai Chuan landed silently, kneeling on one knee. His white clothes were stained with blood, and he had many sword wounds on his body. Although they were not fatal, he looked disheveled.

"Your subordinate is incompetent." Shirakawa lowered his head, his voice filled with guilt and lingering fear.

"While escorting the Crown Prince to Xuanwu Street, they were suddenly ambushed by another group of men in black. Their martial arts style was completely different from the previous group; every move was ruthless, their teamwork was impeccable, and... it seemed to be specifically designed to counter disciples' techniques. After a long struggle, the Crown Prince was still kidnapped."

He paused, then added, "Now, an hour has passed."