Sleep didn't come easy after the demonstration.
Yu Jingming lay in bed, staring at shadows dancing across his ceiling, mind churning through implications and possibilities. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Master Chen's expression—that mix of fascination and suspicion that meant trouble. The old alchemist knew something was off. Maybe not the specifics, maybe not the reincarnation part, but enough to be dangerous.
Around three in the morning he gave up trying to rest. His body was exhausted but his mind refused to cooperate, so he dressed quietly and slipped out of his chambers. The palace at night had a different character—quieter, more honest somehow, with servants and guards showing their real faces when no nobles were watching.
He moved through corridors he'd memorized over the past weeks, heading nowhere in particular. Just walking, thinking, trying to process the mess his careful plans had become.
Tiandang mountain range. The place where Ye Fan had died. The memories surfaced unbidden—that strange light cutting through his cultivation chamber, the searing pain as it pierced his defenses, the horrifying realization that someone had found a way to kill him despite all his power.
Fifteen years ago. That's what the timeline suggested. Fifteen years since his death, and now strange phenomena were supposedly occurring there again.
Coincidence? He didn't believe in those anymore.
The outer courtyard was deserted except for a few guards who barely glanced at him. Princes wandering at odd hours wasn't unusual—insomnia and stress came with power, or proximity to it. Yu Jingming found a bench near the garden wall and sat, letting the cool night air clear his thoughts.
He needed to investigate Tiandang. Needed to know if his death had left traces, clues about who'd killed him and why. But leaving the palace would be complicated now. Elder Wu wanted daily training sessions. Master Chen was watching him constantly. The king himself had taken interest.
Trapped by his own success.
"Can't sleep either?"
Yu Jingming turned to find Feng Yue emerging from the shadows, dressed in simple robes with her hair loose around her shoulders. She looked younger like this, less guarded.
"Apparently not," he replied. "You?"
"Same." She sat on the other end of the bench, maintaining careful distance. "Too much thinking, not enough quiet."
They sat in silence for a moment. Companionable, oddly comfortable despite barely knowing each other.
"That pill you made today," Feng Yue finally said. "Ninety-two percent purity. That's not beginner's luck."
"No. It's not."
"So what is it? Secret master? Hidden talent? Deal with a demon?"
He almost laughed at that last one. "Would you believe natural genius awakening after a near-death experience?"
"Not really." She pulled her knees up, hugging them. "I know what real progress looks like. What you're showing isn't progress—it's knowledge that should take decades to acquire, appearing overnight."
Smart girl. Too smart.
"And you're telling me this why?"
"Because I recognize it." Feng Yue turned to look at him, green eyes catching moonlight. "The way you moved during that refinement—there were moments where you forgot to pretend. Where you just did what you knew, muscle memory taking over. I've seen that before."
His instincts sharpened. "Where?"
"My teacher. Before she died." Feng Yue's voice dropped. "She was like that sometimes. Would do techniques nobody should know, then catch herself and make excuses. Said she'd found old texts or learned from her master, but..." She trailed off.
"But you didn't believe her."
"No. I think she was remembering something. Someone she used to be." Feng Yue shrugged. "I never asked. Figured everyone deserves their secrets."
They sat with that for a while. The implications hanging unspoken between them.
"Your teacher," Yu Jingming finally asked. "How did she die?"
"Assassinated. In her sleep, which should've been impossible—she had protections, arrays, enough defensive measures to stop a Divine Emperor." Feng Yue's jaw tightened. "Someone found a way through them anyway. Used a technique that left no traces except a strange light residue on her meridians."
Yu Jingming went very still. "Strange light?"
"Yeah. The investigators couldn't identify it. Said they'd never seen anything like it before." She looked at him. "Why? Does that mean something to you?"
It meant everything. It meant his death and her teacher's death were connected. It meant whoever killed Ye Fan had killed others too, probably anyone who showed similar anomalies.
It meant Feng Yue might be in danger. And so was he.
"Maybe," he said carefully. "When did this happen?"
"Three years ago. I was fourteen." Her voice stayed flat, controlled. "They never found who did it. Case went cold after a few months."
Three years ago. Twelve years after Ye Fan's death. So the killer—or killers—were still active, still hunting people who didn't fit normal patterns.
"I'm sorry," Yu Jingming said, meaning it. Loss like that left marks that never quite healed.
"Thanks." Feng Yue stood, brushing off her robes. "Anyway. I just wanted to warn you. Whatever secret you're carrying, be careful. People who stand out too much tend to have accidents." She started walking away, then paused. "Oh, and if you're planning something stupid like investigating dangerous mysteries alone, maybe don't. Having backup is useful."
She disappeared into the shadows before he could respond.
Yu Jingming sat alone again, mind racing faster than before. The strange light. The assassination of someone with anomalous knowledge. The timing. It all connected in ways that made his chest tight with old fear and new purpose.
Someone was hunting people like him. Like Feng Yue's teacher. Probably had been for years, quietly eliminating anyone who seemed to possess impossible knowledge or skills.
The question was why. And who was behind it.
He stood and headed back toward his quarters, but his path took him past the library—a massive building that housed centuries of accumulated texts and records. On impulse, he changed direction and approached the entrance.
The night librarian looked surprised to see him but didn't object when Yu Jingming requested access to historical records. Princes had privileges, even forgotten ones.
The record room smelled like old paper and preserved wood. Row after row of carefully maintained documents, organized by date and subject. Yu Jingming started with fifteen years ago, looking for anything about Tiandang mountain range.
There. A brief official report about unusual spiritual energy fluctuations in the area, investigated and deemed natural phenomena. Except the investigator's notes mentioned "light-based anomalies" that couldn't be explained.
The same strange light that had killed him. That had killed Feng Yue's teacher.
He kept searching, going back further. Twenty years. Twenty-five. Thirty.
Pattern emerged. Every few years, someone notable died under mysterious circumstances involving unexplained light. Sometimes cultivators, sometimes alchemists, occasionally array masters or artifact refiners. Always people with unusual talents or knowledge that didn't match their apparent background.
Systematic elimination. Methodical. Patient.
Someone—or some group—had been hunting anomalies for decades. Maybe longer. And they were very, very good at covering their tracks.
Yu Jingming copied down names and dates, memorizing details. This was bigger than personal revenge. This was an organization, a conspiracy that stretched across years and probably involved powerful people.
He was in way over his head. Again.
But he'd been in dangerous situations before and survived. Would do it again now.
"Interesting reading?"
He spun to find Elder Wu standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.
"Just researching history," Yu Jingming said, keeping his tone casual despite his racing heart. "Couldn't sleep, figured I'd learn something useful."
"Mm. History." Elder Wu stepped closer, eyes scanning the documents spread across the table. "Particularly history about unexplained deaths and mysterious phenomena. Curious focus for a sleepless prince."
Trapped. No good excuse coming to mind.
"I like mysteries," Yu Jingming tried.
"Do you." Elder Wu picked up one of the documents—the report about Tiandang. "This mountain range. You know it's forbidden for palace residents to visit without explicit royal permission?"
"I wasn't planning—"
"Don't lie to me, boy." Elder Wu's voice hardened. "I've been alive long enough to recognize when someone's planning something foolish. You want to go there. Investigate whatever happened fifteen years ago." He paused. "Around the time you were born, interestingly enough."
The timing wasn't coincidental. Ye Fan had died around when this body had been born. Could that be connected? Reincarnation didn't just happen randomly—there were rules, conditions, cosmic balances that had to align.
"I'm just curious," Yu Jingming said carefully.
"Curiosity kills more cultivators than arrogance." Elder Wu set the document down. "But I suppose I can't stop you from being interested in history." He headed for the door, then paused. "If you were to hypothetically visit Tiandang—which I'm certainly not suggesting—you'd want backup. Someone experienced enough to handle threats. Someone who could explain your absence if questions arose."
Yu Jingming stared. "Are you offering—"
"I'm offering nothing. Just stating facts." Elder Wu's smile was thin. "Tomorrow night, if a certain prince happened to be near the eastern gate around midnight, he might find unexpected assistance for any theoretical journeys he wasn't officially planning."
He left without waiting for response.
Yu Jingming stood alone in the record room, surrounded by documents about mysterious deaths and unexplained phenomena, and tried to process what had just happened.
Elder Wu knew something. Probably suspected a lot more. And instead of reporting him or asking uncomfortable questions, the old instructor was offering to help.
Why?
Maybe because he had his own mysteries. His own suspicions about what was really happening in this kingdom.
Or maybe he just recognized someone walking into danger and decided to make sure they survived it.
Either way, tomorrow night Yu Jingming would have answers. Would finally see the place where Ye Fan had died and hopefully understand what was really happening.
He gathered the documents carefully, memorizing final details before returning them to their proper places. Then he headed back to his quarters as dawn light began touching the eastern sky.
Tomorrow night. Tiandang mountain range.
Where everything had ended before.
Where hopefully everything wouldn't end again.
He climbed into bed as servants began stirring in distant corridors, finally feeling tired enough to sleep. His last thought before drifting off was about strange lights and mysterious deaths and conspiracies that stretched back decades.
And about how spectacularly dangerous his second life was turning out to be.
But at least it wasn't boring.
That counted for something.