The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

"Oh."

A low chuckle escaped from Si Xingzhou's throat, as cold and deep as the undercurrent of an icy river.

"This time, it is I who have lost."

The smile didn't reach his eyes; instead, it condensed into a chilling light in those deep, emperor-like eyes.

That was a sharp scrutiny from a worthy opponent, a sudden and decisive counterattack.

He lowered his head, his gaze falling on the slender yet uncontrollable white figure in his arms, as if examining a rare piece of glass that he both wanted to keep and could never obtain.

"Jingzhi," he began, his voice slow and deep, like the sound of a chime striking snow, "it seems that the phoenix tree branch in front of my Luanfeng Palace will have to wait some more before it can welcome back a true guest from the heavens."

The arms around her waist slowly loosened, the force dissipating with composure and dignity, as if the forceful snatching of the red plum blossoms amidst the wind and snow was merely a romantic escapade for an emperor in a moment of pleasure.

Even after the play ended and the curtain fell, he remained the same aloof and unperturbed ruler of Xingze.

But deep within his eyes, a glimmer of darkness, a result of not gaining but losing, streaked across the sky like a shooting star, too fast to be caught.

Tangxi Snow: Her toes barely touched the ground, and she was steady as she sank slightly into the snow.

The veil and light gauze hung silently like a curtain, concealing all expressions.

She didn't look at him, but instead lowered her head and played with the translucent Snow Soul Fan in her hand.

The fan ribs are like solidified jade that has been frozen for ten thousand years, and the fan surface is like woven moonlight and ice silk, flowing with a clear and cool light at her fingertips.

The tense atmosphere and the emperor's imposing aura just now were nothing more than a passing breeze over a snowy mountain, leaving no trace on her ears.

"His Majesty."

She suddenly looked up.

The light gauze rippled, revealing a pair of peach blossom eyes that shone brightly, clear yet unfathomable.

The tip of the Snow Soul Fan, like an ice butterfly perched on a branch, lightly touched the chin of its superior, Xingzhou.

The movements were extremely gentle, almost graceful.

But the moment the tip of the fan touched her skin, the surrounding wind and snow seemed to pause.

An invisible chill spread, more chilling than swords drawn.

"Those who play with fire," she said softly, like willow catkins brushing against your ear, yet every word carried a hint of danger, "be careful... lest you get burned."

She leaned slightly forward, the veil almost touching his nose, her breath as fragrant as orchids:

"Burned to ashes...not even a trace remained."

Before she finished speaking, she had already gracefully turned around.

Her plain sleeves and skirt drew a crescent moon-like arc, blooming a breathtaking white amidst the snow and red plum blossoms.

In the next instant, she landed like a snowflake, swiftly leaping onto the horse's back.

"Chasing Stars, we're home."

With the reins raised, the black steed neighed loudly, shaking the snow. Its hooves trod on the jade-like ground, splashing up thousands of snowflakes. Like an arrow released from a bow, it broke through the wind and left only a trail of hoofprints and the gradually dissipating fragrance of plum blossoms.

"Sheathe your sword."

Mu Liang spoke softly, his voice like the deep tolling of an ancient bell.

"bass--!"

The Hidden Dragon Guards slid their swords back into their sheaths with a crisp, rhythmic sound, like tearing silk. Dozens of mysterious figures then transformed into a thin mist and dust, rushing towards the direction the princess had left, disappearing into the snowy forest in an instant, as if they had never appeared.

Only then did the tense atmosphere gradually relax in the distant mountains and forests.

Under the shadow of the ancient plum tree, Zhan Tang Ye Feng loosened the bowstring of his heavy crossbow, his eyes filled with relief—now that the Hidden Dragon Guards had arrived, there was no need for them to move again.

High on a snowy branch, Yun Jue Wu Yu crossed her arms and gazed into the distance, a slight smile playing on her lips beneath her silver mask, a smile that seemed both sighing and mocking.

Wuya, the leader, glanced at the isolated figure of Emperor Xingze in the snow, then looked at the vanished Xuanbai trace, shook his head, and his figure disappeared quietly like silver feathers melting into light.

The plum grove returned to silence, with only the soft rustling of the wind carrying away the last plum blossoms and the sound of snow falling on the branches.

Si Xingzhou stood alone amidst the vast expanse of white and scattered crimson, his deep blue star-patterned robe fluttering in the wind.

His gaze was deep and unfathomable as he followed the lone rider until the figure in black and white was completely obliterated in the twilight of the distant mountains and the chaotic snow and mist.

a long time.

He raised his hand and gracefully brushed away a whole red plum blossom from his shoulder.

The petals, as vibrant as blood, lingered on my fingertips for a moment before being swept away by the cold wind and turned to mud.

A very low laugh escaped from his thin lips, dissipating into the biting mountain wind:

"Tang Xiye...you really are...insanely insane...to the point of no return."

He originally thought that the Holy Emperor would at most send elites to protect him secretly, but who would have thought that at the time when the winds of change were gathering in the Nine Provinces and the undercurrents of the Nine Extremes Alliance were surging, he would transfer almost all of the last barrier protecting the emperor's carriage—the Hidden Dragon Guard—to Tang Xixue's side!

This is no longer affection, but an obsessive entrustment and a protection that spares no expense.

Did that emperor truly have no fear of binding all his weaknesses and armor to one person?

Little did they know that at this very moment, deep within the Baiyujing Palace, a hidden current was brewing, capable of devouring people.

Outside the Imperial Study, icicles hung cold.

Inside the hall, Shen Cuo, the cold-faced commander of the Imperial Guards, had just swung his sword to deflect the poisoned daggers of the third wave of assassins when several black-clad corpses lay silently at his feet.

The air was filled with a mixture of fishy and sweet smells.

Behind the imperial desk, a dark blue poison needle was struck firmly by a black folding fan that peeked out from the side, just three inches from the Emperor's brow.

With a soft "ding," the poisoned needle shot back into the darkness outside the window, accompanied by a muffled groan.

The white-robed strategist Yan Ci, holding a fan, remained expressionless. He slowly closed the fan, glanced at the emperor behind the desk whose brow hadn't even twitched, and sighed softly:

"Your Majesty, the capital is in turmoil. The Hidden Dragon Guard has been dispatched to the young prince's side. From now on, things will likely become increasingly dangerous for you."

Tangxi didn't look up at night, her vermilion pen flowing as she annotated, only saying in a calm voice:

"It's alright. Her well-being is my well-being."

In the plum grove, Qizhu waited by in a green-canopied carriage.

"Your Majesty, two things are now confirmed: First, Princess Jing is indeed Emperor Shengchen's only weakness, priceless; second..." he said helplessly, "the princess's security is probably even better than that of the Emperor's own guards. The Hidden Dragon Guard is only what's in the open; who knows how many more layers of eyes are watching from the shadows."

After saying that, Qizhu added in a low voice:

"Your Majesty's expression of unfulfilled longing just now was so convincing that even I almost believed it... truly remarkable!"

"ha."

Si Xingzhou was so angry that he laughed, a hint of mockery playing on his lips.

I don't know if I'm mocking others or myself.

He turned and boarded the carriage, the corner of his dark blue robe swirling up the remaining snow.

"Let's go pick up A-Zhe. This time, I've really lost."

Further up the mountain path, Qi Wang withdrew his last gaze.

The mountain breeze ruffled his dark hair, causing the silver bells in his hair to tinkle softly, like a sigh that no one could hear.

In this game of life, all those who have made their moves have entered the arena, and the winds of change are beginning to stir.

He, however, seemed to remain a clear-headed outsider.

"Everyone's drunk but I'm sober..." he muttered to himself, a faint weariness flashing across his cold, stern brows. "Worldly love is truly boring; what's more interesting than a sword?"

A figure inexplicably surfaced in my mind: a little sword immortal, as aloof and cold as the lonely moon.

"Where is the little sword immortal? And what about my wife, who is so far away...?"

He suppressed his emptiness and trudged through the snow toward Baiyujing City.

His figure stood alone and upright like a sword in the twilight and snow.

Mountains and rivers, palaces shrouded in mist and haze.

As soon as Qi Wang stepped into the palace, he saw Pei Yanchuan carrying a carved long box, his face beaming with joy as he greeted him:

"Lingzhi! You're finally back! Look—our sister-in-law has returned home!"

Qi Wang stopped in his tracks, his gaze fixed on the wooden box.

When I took it, my fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly.

He took a deep breath and slowly opened the lid.

The box is lined with soft velvet, and a long sword lies quietly inside.

The dark silver cloud pattern is simple and understated—it is his long-lost natal sword, "Dao You"!

The sword was intact, its aura warm and flowing, even more mellow than I remembered, as if it had been carefully nurtured and tempered.

"It really is... my long-lost wife."

Qi Wang said excitedly, his cold, hard outline softening slightly as it touched the blade.

He gripped the sword carefully, its weight, its curve, the feeling of blood flowing between them... everything was perfect.

"Ying Lin, where did you find it? And how did you restore it so perfectly?"

Pei Yanchuan smiled gently and said, "I didn't find my sister-in-law; it was thanks to my Highness. Not only did she find her, but she also personally repaired and tempered her, working all night long."

His Highness? Tangxi Xue?

Qi Wang's expression immediately turned strange, and his previous joy faded by three points.

That was the work of the wicked woman?

She can also repair swords?

Will his wife be ruined?

He immediately drew his sword, its cold light as clear as autumn water.

He carefully examined every inch of the sword's pattern, infused it with internal energy, and then casually performed a set of Wind-Slaying Sword Techniques in the courtyard.

The sword moves with him, his aura soaring like a rainbow.

The moves flowed smoothly and effortlessly, without any hesitation.

The sword energy, enhanced by the re-tempering of the sword body, becomes even more harmonious and spiritual when wielded.

It's true... it's been repaired extremely well.

Even better than before.

"How is it? Your Highness grew up in the Tangxi royal family. Every member of the royal family is not only exceptionally skilled in swordsmanship, but also proficient in the art of weapon forging."

Seeing the change in his expression, Pei Yanchuan explained gently.

"Your Highness is truly exceptional; gentle and kind, she is like the bright moon in the sky."

"Your Excellency, you really shouldn't... have such a deep prejudice against her."

Qi Wang sheathed his sword, stroking the warm hilt with his fingertips, and remained silent for a moment.

"Her swordsmanship... is indeed excellent."

He finally spoke, his voice hard but lacking the sharp hostility he had shown before.

"It's not entirely... useless."

Several beautiful images have appeared in my mind without me even realizing it.

The sound of the zither was like the cry of a crane piercing through the clouds, startling the cold hues of the heavens.

In an instant, she appeared deep in the plum grove, and with a graceful dance, she stepped across the icy lake, her snow-white robes scattering the sunlight across the pool.

Finally, the snow solidified on the mountain ridge, and a lone rider rode away in a cloud of dust. What the horse's tail swept up was not snow dust, but crushed stardust from the Milky Way.

The high wall of prejudice in my heart has quietly cracked open with a tiny fissure.

The cold wind still howled outside the palace, while inside the palace, candlelight flickered and the fragrance of medicine wafted faintly.

"Your injuries from the caning haven't healed yet, how could you start a fight?"

Pei Yanchuan frowned and spoke softly, the porcelain bottle in his hand reflecting the candlelight.

"The wound is bleeding so much that it has soaked through your clothes; it needs to be treated again..."

Pei Yanchuan was bending down to examine the wound on Qi Wang's back. Before his fingertips even touched the bandage, he suddenly saw the hem of the dark ink and crimson dragon patterned robe, carrying a chilling aura, sweep into the hall.

A deep, cold voice rang out from the palace gate:

"Praying for falsehoods."

Regent Qi Si stood at the intersection of the doorway and the shadows, his face half-hidden in the twilight, only his jawline sharp as if carved by a knife.

His gaze swept over Qi Wang's blood-stained back, his eyes churning with a deep-seated resentment like dark clouds pressing down on a city.

"Get out—" Each word was chillingly sharp, "Kneel for half an hour."

Qi Wang suddenly turned around, the candlelight flickering in his suddenly contracting pupils: "...???"

He stared blankly at his imperial uncle's face, which looked like it was about to explode with anger.

In a flash, he suddenly understood.

So... they were turned away and hadn't seen Madam Mei yet.

But why should this overwhelming anger be directed at him?