Fang Youcheng paused for a mere two seconds before bursting into loud laughter. “Interesting, truly interesting.” He clapped his hands, turned toward Bo Ruofeng, and offered a hollow, sarcastic sneer. “If I didn’t remember the way in, I would have thought this wasn’t the Northern Pacification Marquis Manor at all.”
Sensing that the man’s words carried a deeper meaning, Bo Ruofeng played along and asked, “If this is not the Northern Pacification Marquis Manor, then what place should it be?”
“It must be…” The smile vanished from Fang Youcheng’s face in an instant. His pupils turned as dark as an abyssal chasm, sweeping coldly over the group of people before him as though looking at a pile of corpses. He stated in an icy voice, “A den of Northern Yue spies.”
With this definitive verdict, the servants standing before him instantly reacted—some wearing grim expressions, others revealing faint guilt, and still others shifting their gazes evasively. Taking in all of their reactions, how could Bo Ruofeng fail to realize that Fang Youcheng was right?
“You bandits! How dare you sneak into the Marquis’s manor!” Old Yuan pointed at them, his finger trembling violently—not out of fear, but from sheer rage.
The Northern Pacification Marquis Manor possessed a resounding reputation and had repelled countless Northern Yue troops. Yet today, because the estate was left with only the elderly, the weak, the women, and children, these people had seized the opportunity to bully their way inside. “Young Master, do not panic! This old servant will protect you with his life!” With that, he dashed back into the room, emerging a moment later clutching a rusty, long saber.
This identity was truly troublesome, even becoming tangled up in a dispute between two nations. Bo Ruofeng pressed his dark brows together, thinking to himself that ever since waking up, he hadn’t done anything special, spending every day properly recuperating in the manor and serving as a model of eating, drinking, and waiting to die. How on earth had he been targeted and poisoned, and how had so many traitors managed to crawl in?
As he pondered, he unconsciously rubbed the wooden armrest, then abruptly realized his thoughts were straying off course and clenched his fists.
No, that wasn’t right. He might not have been targeted only after waking up. Whether it was Zhang Chao or these domestic servants before him, it was highly likely that this body had been targeted all the way back on the journey from the northern frontier to the capital.
Connecting this to the servant’s corpse discovered in the lotus pond a short while ago, and looking closely now, Bo Ruofeng didn’t see a single familiar face among this crowd. The few remaining servants from before had likely been secretly disposed of long ago, leaving only Old Yuan, who, as the veteran steward of the manor, was spared because these people feared acting too obvious and didn’t dare move against him lightly.
Yet why had they dared to drop all pretense and tear away the mask today?
If he only had his memories, he wouldn’t be completely in the dark, reduced to such an absurd situation. Bo Ruofeng let out a heavy sigh. Since ancient times, he had never heard of any marquis reduced to the point of being wiped out in the capital by an enemy nation. The Northern Pacification Marquis Manor truly had terrible luck to end up with a master who suffered from amnesia. If he hadn’t wanted to visit Old Yuan today, he probably wouldn’t have noticed a single flaw, and when the time came to be framed for treason and have his estate confiscated, he wouldn’t even know what hit him.
“This is the capital. If you wipe out the entire Northern Pacification Marquis Manor, none of you will make it out alive.” Bo Ruofeng narrowed his eyes. “Speak, what do you want?”
Someone stepped forward from behind, whispered a few words to the leader, and then stepped back. The leader raised his voice and said, “Marquis, if you hadn’t insisted on investigating, we wouldn’t have wanted to do anything either. Now, we have only one demand.”
Raising the tip of his blade, he swept it through the air toward Bo Ruofeng sitting in the wheelchair and the three people standing behind him. “We will send men to escort you back to your room to rest, but the two people behind you must be buried here today!”
At these words, murderous intent burst forth from Fang Youcheng. He sneered, “I have lived for so many years, and you are the first person who dared say such a thing on my turf.”
Bo Ruofeng raised a hand to stop Fang Youcheng, who was intent on unleashing a massacre. He knew Fang Youcheng possessed formidable martial arts and that hidden guards were certainly stationed around them, meaning this wasn’t a simple three-against-many scenario on the surface. The moment Fang Youcheng made a move, both sides would clash.
Yet he still had doubts in his heart that needed verification. With a subtle shift in his gaze, Bo Ruofeng asked, “What if I refuse?”
“The Marquis had better think carefully.” The leader motioned behind him. “Bring them up!”
With his eyes splitting in anger, Old Yuan almost lunged forward. “Young Mistress!”
It turned out that two rebels dressed in servant garments were dragging Bo Yueying forward from behind. Her hair-pin was disheveled, her dress torn, and she looked thoroughly wretched. The leader pressed his blade against Bo Yueying’s slender neck. Terrified with tears in her eyes, Bo Yueying wailed pleadingly, “Second Brother, save me!”
“Little Sister.” Bo Ruofeng’s pupils constricted sharply, and he slapped the armrest in anxiety. “Do not hurt her! Direct whatever you want at me.”
“Hmph.” The leader said dismissively, “Such deep sibling affection, Marquis. If you obediently come over, we naturally won’t harm the young lady’s life.”
Hesitating, Bo Ruofeng turned his head to look at the two men beside him.
The bandit chief pressed his long saber an inch closer. A bead of blood welled up on Bo Yueying’s neck, scaring her out of her wits. Biting her lip, she looked at Bo Ruofeng with pleading eyes. Pouring oil on the fire, the bandit chief added, “You had better think clearly. Those two people are nothing more than a servant and a minor guard. But the one in our hands is your only surviving relative.”
With her eyes swimming in tears, Bo Yueying gazed straight at Bo Ruofeng with reddened eyes. Looking utterly sorrowful, she let out a single cry: “Second Brother…”
After a moment of silence, Bo Ruofeng wore an expression of forbearance and said with difficulty, “You are right.” Turning his head away, he avoided Fang Youcheng’s meaningful gaze. “Ying’er is far more important to me than these two people.”
Silently taking a step back, Fang Youcheng slid a hard object from the gap behind Bo Ruofeng’s wheelchair and poked it against his waist.
Bo Ruofeng’s gaze darkened. “As long as you do not hurt her, I agree to everything. But I have one condition.”
“Speak your piece,” the bandit said impatiently.
Closing his eyes, Bo Ruofeng spoke with extreme reluctance, “Old Yuan has tended to the manor for many years, and I cannot bear to see him come to harm. I hope you will only make your move after my little sister and I have left.”
Old Yuan cried out in anguish, “Young Master, it is this old servant’s incompetence that failed to protect you and the young lady!”
The bandit leader watched the three of them vigilantly. Hearing that the condition was merely delaying their action, he readily agreed. “Very well.” After all, whether they made their move sooner or later, those two individuals were destined to die regardless.
Ignoring the two men behind him, Bo Ruofeng pushed his wheelchair forward alone. Keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead, he did not spare a single glance at the two men left behind.
Once they had covered half the distance, the two bandits rushed forward impatiently, pushing his wheelchair from behind. Showing worry on his face, Bo Ruofeng spread his hands out eagerly. “Do not hurt her! Return her to me.”
At a gesture from the bandit leader, the two men holding Bo Yueying’s arms released their grip. Staggering forward a step, Bo Yueying threw herself onto Bo Ruofeng’s knees.
Having just escaped, she drew a deep breath, her cries just starting to bubble up. Bo Ruofeng’s expression shifted slightly. In a flash, one hand curved into a claw to lock around her slender, fair throat, while his ankle hooked the wheelchair to spin around in a swift, agile maneuver, launching the chair back toward the two trailing bandits. The heavy wooden armrest caught the two unsuspecting, half-crippled bandits off guard, knocking them flat to the ground as the wheelchair shattered into pieces.
None of the bandits had anticipated that he could suddenly stand up! Even Bo Yueying was stunned.
By the time these people snapped out of their silence, recovering from their shock to draw their blades and step forward, he had already locked his grip around Bo Yueying’s throat, retreating a few steps to put distance between them. “Do not move closer! Stay where you are.” The dagger Fang Youcheng had secretly slipped to him earlier was now pressed against Bo Yueying’s neck.
He stated calmly, “If you don’t want your master to meet a bad end, drop your weapons.”
Leaving aside the bandits, Old Yuan was the first to be utterly dumbfounded. He trotted forward a few paces, but fearing that Bo Ruofeng might accidentally hurt her and not daring to act rashly, he stammered in panic, “Young Master, she is the Young Mistress! How could the Young Mistress be associated with these Northern Yue scoundrels?”
Hearing this, Bo Ruofeng furrowed his brows and cast a defensive look toward Old Yuan. Standing right in the middle of both factions, he had no intention of retreating further.
Beside Old Yuan, Fang Youcheng’s mouth twitched into a smile, though the arc was hardly noticeable. Having guessed a fraction of Bo Ruofeng’s intentions, he rested his hand on his sword hilt, staring sharply at the brother-and-sister pair while maintaining strict vigilance.
Exchanging glances, none of the bandits made a move.
Clutching Bo Ruofeng’s arm that held her captive, Bo Yueying cried out in disbelief, “Second Brother! I am Ying’er!”
Bo Ruofeng tightened his grip on her windpipe, causing Bo Yueying to choke and gasp in distress.
Bo Ruofeng said calmly, “Oh? Are you?”
“Of course I am!” Bo Yueying struggled. “Second Brother, have you lost your mind! I am your own flesh and blood!”
“No, you are not,” Bo Ruofeng stated with certainty. Lightly dismissing the matter, he added, “You probably don’t know yet, but my memory recovered long ago.”
“Impossible!” Bo Yueying raged, reacting intensely to the claim.
“Why is it impossible?” Bo Ruofeng chuckled softly, his voice brushing against her ear as gentle as a lover’s whisper. “The physician in my courtyard is none other than the divine doctor whom the world has sought in vain. If a cripple can stand, what’s a minor case of amnesia?”
Her eyeballs darted rapidly. Clearly driven to fury, yet seeming to recall something, her hurried breathing turned calm once again.
“Divine doctor? Ha!” she mocked with disdain. “That is the imperial holy drug, A Dream of Pasts Forgotten, which I personally spoon-fed you for five full days. Forget amnesia, you should have lost all cognitive function and regressed into a foolish infant. The holy drug is infallible! But how laughable, truly laughable!”
As if figuring something out, she laughed aloud. “Why didn’t I realize it sooner? The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Ever since we ambushed the Marquis’s manor carriage on the road back to the capital, we were already the mantis. Since Bo Yueying could be fake, what’s so strange about an amnesiac Bo Ruofeng being fake?”
“It is my only regret that I did not recognize your fake identity sooner,” she continued, her tone shifting to bitter hatred. “Had I known, I wouldn’t have tried to dose you into a docile puppet; I would have killed you long ago!”
Bo Ruofeng fell silent. His claim of recovering his memory was merely a bluff to test the opponent. Yet the woman was so certain that the holy drug could induce amnesia that he momentarily wondered whether he really was an impostor as she claimed, or if the holy drug had merely erased his memories of this lifetime while leaving behind a previous existence.
Discarding further speculation, Bo Ruofeng tightened his grip and demanded, “Cut the nonsense. Where is the real Bo Yueying?”
The woman answered with a breathy whisper, “Dead.” She split her lips into a silent, mirthless grin. “Her corpse was left to rot in the wilderness.”
“Vixen! Why did you kill the Young Mistress?!” Old Yuan was already beyond comprehension, overwhelmed by events exceeding his understanding—the young master’s amnesia, the young lady being a disguised Northern Yue spy who had invited wolves into the house, and now, the true Bo Yueying seemingly…
Regaining her composure, Bo Yueying smiled charmingly. “If I hadn’t killed her, how could I have stolen her identity to enter the palace?” Murderous intent flashed in her seductive eyes. “What a pity that since you’ve learned the truth today, not a single outcome will change. All three of you must die here!”
No sooner had the words fallen than she abruptly reversed the arm Bo Ruofeng used to restrain her. With a sharp snap, her abnormal physical strength threatened to cleanly fracture his forearm.
Clenching his teeth, Bo Ruofeng thrust his dagger viciously into the woman’s collarbone. Letting out a cry of pain, she endured the agonizing injury to fling Bo Ruofeng’s arm away, mustering all her remaining strength to strike him with a palm strike.
A profound surge of internal energy slammed into his body. Experiencing the formidable power of inner force firsthand for the very first time, Bo Ruofeng felt as though his internal organs had been rattled by a strange wave, sending agonizing pain through every bone and meridian. The sharp pain in his chest nearly caused him to faint.
His weakened limbs refused to obey, buckling beneath him no matter how hard he tried to stand. Bracing himself to stagger back a few steps, he clutched his chest, fell onto one knee, and shivered all over. Lifting his gaze through a blur of dizziness, he saw the hidden guards rush into the fray to battle the bandits, turning the small clearing into a battlefield.
Amidst the flashing swords and glinting blades, a figure tore through the chaos toward him. With a brilliant flash of steel, a sword pierced straight through the left side of the chest of the woman who had attempted to deliver a finishing blow to Bo Ruofeng.
Coughing up a mouthful of resentful blood, the woman trying to kill Bo Ruofeng forced herself to turn her head, catching sight of Fang Youcheng’s gloomy, handsome face behind her. “It’s… you again.”
Because this man knew too much and dared to expose her plans—coupled with the fact that her scout sent to monitor Bo Ruofeng had recently been eliminated—she had suspected him and sought to quietly dispose of him.
Bo Ruofeng’s accidental discovery of the missing Old Yuan and his desire to visit him had simply delivered the opportunity right to her door. She deliberately revealed flaws just to manufacture a reason to slaughter all the friends Bo Ruofeng had brought back recently, ensuring Bo Ruofeng would obediently become her puppet.
Originally, every step of the plan had proceeded so smoothly; nothing should have gone wrong here. Everything had been ruined by this man.
“Who… on earth… are you?”
With a swift pull of the blade, the woman swayed before Bo Ruofeng and collapsed onto the ground, lifeless.
Without receiving an answer, she died with her grievances unredressed, her eyes fixed wide open upon the blue sky.
Stepping over her corpse, Fang Youcheng hurried forward to lift Bo Ruofeng. “Wake up!” Anxiously tearing open the front of Bo Ruofeng’s clothing while his consciousness wavered, he discovered that a needle-sized puncture wound on his chest was turning a bruised, dark purple. Checking Bo Ruofeng’s face, he saw the color of his lips deepening.
This was the unmistakable sign of poisoning.
“I shouldn’t have humored you, I was too arrogant!” Fang Youcheng exclaimed anxiously. Had he simply slaughtered everyone outright, it would have been better to kill the innocent than let a single guilty party escape.
However, he knew Bo Ruofeng valued familial bonds and would never strike without confirming whether the woman truly was Bo Yueying. Pulling Bo Ruofeng’s arm over his shoulder, he supported his waist with one hand and cupped his knees with the other, lifting him up to hurriedly seek out the divine doctor, Chen Wushang.
Passing by the woman’s corpse, he paused for a fraction of a second, shouting for a hidden guard to bring her body along. Perhaps the antidote could be found on this woman.
“Poison… he has been infected with three varieties of Northern Yue toxins… memory loss, mental confusion, physical frailty…”
“…The Northern Yue holy drug, A Dream of Pasts Forgotten… exclusive to the saintess. Driven to desperation, they actually intended to use the saintess for a honey trap to beguile His Majesty…”
“…The poison has invaded his heart meridians… difficult to save… unless…”
Fragmentary words drifted like unformed sentences into the consciousness of the unconscious man. Struggling through the darkness, Bo Ruofeng forced his eyes open to meet a face both familiar and strange.
“You’re awake?” Gripping his right hand tightly, Fang Youcheng frowned in anxiety. “It’s alright, I will definitely save you. We will go together to find Master Mingkong of Huguo Temple.”
“Master… Mingkong?” Reacting sluggishly, Bo Ruofeng muttered the name.
“Right, do you remember him?”
Struck by a splitting headache, Bo Ruofeng raised a trembling hand to clutch his head, offering no relief to the agonizing pain.
Countless fragmented images flashed before his eyes, figures flickering amidst laughter and curses. Mingkong… Gritting his teeth, he squeezed Fang Youcheng’s hand tightly. “Old… bald… donkey!”
“You remember him?!” Surprised, delighted, and utterly jealous all at once, Fang Youcheng asked, “Ruofeng, do you remember who I am?”
Yet the scolding Bo Ruofeng offered no further response, slipping entirely back into unconsciousness.
How much time passed in the endless dark? Countless starlight twinkled within Bo Ruofeng’s mind, human figures flickering within each separate speck of light. The figure of Master Mingkong materialized within the very first speck of starlight.
Twenty-four years ago, in the northern frontier of the Southern Yao dynasty, during the late summer of June, the Northern Pacification Marquis Manor welcomed the birth of a male child, filled with endless laughter and joyous celebration.
Master Mingkong, who ought to have been far away in Huguo Temple within the capital, abruptly appeared in the northern frontier, holding a staff and walking alone to knock upon the gates of the Marquis’s manor.
He offered blessings for the child, gazing for a long moment into the eyes of the infant who clutched his tiny fists tightly in the swaddling clothes without crying or making a fuss. Turning to the exuberant Marquis who was happily gulping down wine amidst the celebration, the monk said with utmost solemnity:
“Reporting to the Marquis, this child possesses the natural destiny of the Phoenix, bearing the future of a nation. He cannot be raised as an ordinary child.”
The words stunned the entire room. The wine jar in the Northern Pacification Marquis’s hand shattered upon the floor, the Marchioness’s smile froze on her face, and for a moment, silence hung heavy in the room. Exchanging glances, both husband and wife suspected they had misheard a word or two.
Only the three-year-old heir, Bo Yunqi, tugging at his mother’s garments with wide, grape-like eyes darting about, boldly piped up to ask aloud:
“Father, what is the Phoenix destiny, ouch?”