Dark clouds swallowed the moon. The night turned wild with wind, and Fuli Valley—lying in the shadow of Wuming Demon Mountain—was silent as a grave.
On the pitch-black stone road, a strip of dark green gauze drifted down, and in the dim glow of the street lamps, the glass-feather headdress on the newcomer's head gleamed with an eerie coldness.
Curfew had long since fallen. Not a single soul moved through the streets of Fuli Valley.
Gu Chang walked unhurriedly down the road and stopped before a well. In the weak light, two characters could be made out on the stone rim: "Shi Nie."
Shi Nie was the only sweet-water well in Fuli Valley. Every household drew from it for daily living.
The newcomer glanced down into the mouth of the well, then pressed his lips together. A mischievous smirk curled across his thin mouth. With a casual lift of his slender arm, a flash of silver light slipped from his hand and fell into the darkness below.
He did not linger. He turned and walked away.
The next day, the people of Fuli Valley began to react after using water drawn from Shi Nie.
Some were burned. Those with insufficient cultivation—after drinking—simply died.
Fuli Valley belonged to the demonic realm, steeped in darkness and impurity. By contrast, Liaoyin's cultivation realm was serene and ethereal. Though the two sides had not fought for many years, they held each other in constant restraint within the Three Realms. And because Liaoyin had many allies among the cultivation sects, the affairs of the Three Realms had, for years, been guided largely by those sects on the surface.
Inside the Demon Lord's hall on Wuming Demon Mountain—
A subordinate knelt and reported, "Reporting to the Lord—there were anomalies among the people of Fuli Valley this morning. It has been confirmed that anyone who used the water from Shi Nie suffered burns of varying severity. Some of the younger ones even died after drinking it. The casualties are now severe. It is feared someone tampered with Shi Nie. Does the Lord need to go investigate?"
Li Minghan looked as though he already knew the reason. Beneath the unseen mask, a satisfied smile formed—yet his voice stayed calm, feigning ignorance.
"Is that so?" he said. "Qiuyan—go call Hua Ruoying. Have her treat the injured. The rest of you, come with me. We'll investigate Shi Nie."
With that, Li Minghan rose and set out for Fuli Valley.
Fuli Valley was already in ruin.
Groans filled the streets. Countless demonic folk lay on the ground—some collapsed against walls or curbs, their bodies and faces burned in varying degrees.
When Li Minghan appeared, people along the street bowed one after another.
As the emperor of the demon race for generations, Li Minghan had always treated the people of Fuli Valley kindly. He was beloved here.
Riding astride his mount, Li Minghan watched the bowed figures lining both sides of the road, and mockery simmered in his thoughts.
"I heard my brother was kind-hearted, that he treated the demon folk well. Today it seems he even plays savior."
"Look at them—lined up like this. There's no majesty of the demon race at all. They look more like human commoners begging at a household gate."
The Demon Lord's troops soon reached the site of the incident. Li Minghan dismounted and strode to Shi Nie's well. The well mouth had been covered with wooden boards, weighed down with stones.
"What's going on?" Li Minghan demanded, voice stern.
A servant hurriedly explained, "Lord—for some reason, the water from Shi Nie today… anyone who touches it suffers injury. We feared something beneath the well might harm people, so we had it sealed."
Li Minghan's tone snapped cold. "Foolish."
He flicked his fingers. The boards flew off the well mouth and smashed into the nearby wall, splintering.
He ordered a bucket drawn.
When the water was brought up, Li Minghan stepped forward and dipped his fingertips lightly into it, then withdrew them. Beneath the unseen mask, his lips moved as if silently reciting a spell. Moments later, the skin of the fingers that had touched the water flushed visibly red.
"There is indeed a problem with this well water."
Once he confirmed it, Li Minghan turned his palm and began a silent incantation. As his wrist rotated, the spell continued to activate. The water within Shi Nie started to roil and bubble, white steam billowing upward as if the entire well had begun to boil.
Then something rose slowly from the depths—
A jade-like pendant, flashing with silver light.
Li Minghan deliberately lifted it higher, closer. The clear peach blossom pattern carved into it became visible to everyone present.
A middle-aged man beside him blurted out, "That's the Empty Flower Token!"
The crowd erupted.
Hearing someone recognize it, Li Minghan's lips curled slightly. Satisfaction flickered in his eyes.
Someone cried out, "The Empty Flower Token? How is that possible? That token belongs to the Liaoyin Realm. How could it appear at the bottom of Shi Nie in Fuli Valley?"
Another voice rose, sharper, angrier. "How could it end up there for no reason? Someone threw it into our well to harm us!" Then the words turned into venom. "Those from Liaoyin—pseudo-gentlemen hiding behind cultivation!"
The discussion surged and fell like waves. More and more people learned that the thing beneath Shi Nie—the culprit—was the Empty Flower Token. The anger in the air thickened and began to boil. Some were so enraged they looked ready to march straight toward Liaoyin for answers.
Li Minghan stood silently among the noise, listening.
His thoughts were coldly amused.
"Demons are demons. Malice comes as naturally to you as breathing."
A woman suddenly pushed through the crowd, grief twisting her face. She fell to her knees at Li Minghan's feet, pounding her chest as she sobbed.
"Demon Lord, you have to help us! My little treasure isn't even five years old. This morning he was thirsty, so I told him to fetch water himself. I didn't expect that after drinking from this well… he—he died!"
A young man shouted from the crowd, dragging an older man forward. Half the old man's face was burned away, unrecognizable.
"And my father—he only washed his face with the well water this morning, and now there's no flesh left!"
Another woman lifted the hands of an elderly woman beside her, her own voice shaking with fury.
"My mother is the same! Look—this water corroded her hands. There's only bone left!"
As more voices joined in, the whole of Fuli Valley churned with rage. Li Minghan watched it all, speaking in a tone that sounded comforting, almost gentle—yet a faint, barely perceptible anticipation glimmered in his eyes.
"Everyone, calm down," he said. "This matter still needs investigation. Fuli Valley has long been peaceful and has had no disputes with the cultivators. I believe they wouldn't harm innocent people here for no reason."
A voice snapped back immediately, "No reason? It's obvious they did it deliberately!"
Another added, "We've kept to ourselves in Fuli Valley for years. They probably think we're easy targets—think they can bully us however they like."
Someone else shouted, "They're pushing the line! Who doesn't know the Demon Lord suffered injuries after his last seclusion? They want to take advantage of his illness—wipe us out first, then seize Fuli Valley and Wuming Demon Mountain!"
A rugged man stepped forward, righteous fury in his eyes. "Those so-called cultivators are hypocrites. I've been disgusted with them for a long time. If SiTu Fan can't give us an explanation today, this won't end!"
"Yes!" voices surged. "It won't end!"
Li Minghan raised a hand again, as if trying to soothe them.
"Everyone, please—perhaps there is a misunderstanding—"
A woman snarled, "What misunderstanding? Someone wants to harm us. Are you saying we stole their token and threw it into our own well?"
Another voice rose, bitter with long-held resentment. "We've tolerated Liaoyin for too long. If it weren't for the Demon Lord mediating generation after generation, we would've confronted those 'gentlemen' long ago. We would've shown them demons aren't that easy to bully."
"Enough!" someone shouted. "We fight back. Let them know demons are not to be messed with!"
Fuli Valley boiled.
And all of it—fueled by the Empty Flower Token.
Not long after Li Minghan left, Hua Ruoying arrived in Fuli Valley. She moved through the street, inspecting injuries one by one.
A shadow guard approached her. "Miss Ruoying—the injured are mostly gathered here."
Hua Ruoying's expression tightened as she examined another wounded villager. "Most have burns of varying degrees." She exhaled, low. "If what they said is true—if the injuries were caused by that Empty Flower Token—then only the Ice Bamboo Jade Scroll can repair this damage."
The shadow guard looked startled. "Ice Bamboo Jade Scroll?"
"Yes." Hua Ruoying's voice turned solemn. "It's a miraculous healing item from a spring deep in the Ice Bamboo Forest." She lifted her gaze. "Gather a team. Arrange care for the injured villagers. I'll go to the Ice Bamboo Forest—returning may take several days."
Her instructions came crisp and firm.
"While I'm away, give them pain-relieving and calming medicine. Don't let any wounds come into contact with Shi Nie's water. Wait for me to return before making any decisions."
"Understood." The shadow guard nodded and went to make arrangements.
Hua Ruoying murmured to herself as she turned, "The fastest route to Ice Bamboo Forest is through the Extended Plain. The medicinal ingredients needed for the Ice Bamboo Jade Scroll shouldn't be hard to find there."
Back in the Liaoyin Realm, at Mirror Cloud Residence—
Li Luoning's earlier suspicion had been correct.
Mi Xingzhe had indeed used the acupuncture methods he learned from the Ling Shu Classic to hinder his own recovery.
That day, there had been tiny ceramic shards embedded in his flesh from the shattered teapot. Mi Xingzhe had dug them out with his bare hands.
When he looked at the wound he'd made—and at the blood spilling out—an unexpected sense of relief washed through him.
During this period of dulled sensation, he had experienced an ease he'd never known before. And so, at night, he quietly slipped into the study and taught himself meridian-acupuncture techniques from the Ling Shu Classic.
But precisely because of this, Mi Xingzhe began to develop unconscious, ugly habits—the same ones Yun Qingyi had noticed on his fingers.
Sitting at the desk, lost in thought, Mi Xingzhe absentmindedly rubbed the skin behind his neck again and again. Without realizing it, his pale skin swelled from constant scratching. In some places it split, bleeding slightly.
Mi Xingzhe did not notice. Or rather—he did not care.
His fingers wandered. The nails sank deeper. Fresh blood gathered beneath his fingernails.
Then a gentle voice spoke right beside his ear.
"Xiaoxiao, what are you thinking about?"
Mi Xingzhe jolted slightly. Only then did he realize Yun Qingyi was there.
"Senior Brother?" Mi Xingzhe forced a casual tone. "I was just thinking about these few lines."
Without thinking, he pressed the hand that had been behind his neck onto the paper in front of him, while pointing at a passage in the book with the other hand.
He did not notice the faint bloodstain left on the white page.
"Let me see." Yun Qingyi stepped to his side, took the book, and glanced over it.
"Oh—these lines." Yun Qingyi spoke as if about to explain and write it down. But just as he lifted the pen, his eyes caught on the smear of red at the edge of the page.
Yun Qingyi's brows drew together.
Master's worry had been right.
At first, Yun Qingyi had been half skeptical—thinking Li Luoning was simply overanxious. But after finding the box beneath Mi Xingzhe's bed that day, Yun Qingyi had been almost certain. He simply hadn't caught Mi Xingzhe in the act, so he had kept silent.
Now, seeing the blood—
The pen paused in midair.
Yun Qingyi's gaze dropped to Mi Xingzhe's fingertips. The faint red there, against pale skin, felt suddenly glaring—enough to stir irritation that had been building for days.
Mi Xingzhe waited for Yun Qingyi to continue writing, but when the silence stretched, he looked up, confused.
"Xiaoxiao, what's wrong?"
He followed Yun Qingyi's darkening gaze, and only then saw the blood on his own fingertips.
Instinctively, Mi Xingzhe curled his fingers and began to pull his hand back—slowly, carefully—trying to slip it beneath the table.
Yun Qingyi caught his wrist.
He opened Mi Xingzhe's palm and held the fingertip firmly, revealing the bright red stain.
Yun Qingyi's face went cold.
He stood there in silence for a moment, eyes sweeping Mi Xingzhe from head to toe—searching for the source. Then his gaze fixed on Mi Xingzhe's neck.
Yun Qingyi reached out, pushed aside the messy hair, and touched the back of Mi Xingzhe's neck with a fingertip.
When he withdrew his hand, a fresh, warm smear of blood gleamed on his skin.