Many, many years ago, she had once joked with Gu Jinheng and Xiao Yi—if one day they succeeded, they might as well grant her the title of “Supreme Unmatched Divine Martial First Lady.” She had even casually sighed that the title sounded incredibly domineering.
But that had truly just been a joke made out of boredom!
Pei Nai almost spat out a mouthful of blood.
Seeing her twisted expression, the little maid spoke cautiously, “You also think the title ‘Supreme Unmatched Divine Martial First Lady’ is too pretentious, right? The common people think so too, so they usually shorten it and respectfully call her Lady Yingwu.”
Pei Nai was stunned again.
……
After changing her clothes, Pei Nai stepped out of the room.
Everyone’s gaze fell upon her, and for a long while, none could recover.
They looked at Mingzhi before them, whose demeanor and bearing had completely changed. Their hearts filled with shock—how could a person differ so drastically before and after illness? Between her brows was a kind of authority never seen before, faint yet enough to make others want to submit without reason.
After a brief farewell to the others, Pei Nai followed Madam Ju out of the residence.
A carriage was waiting at the entrance, the coachman having been there for quite some time.
Pei Nai grabbed the strap of the carriage, about to step up, when her gaze casually swept the surroundings—and she nearly froze.
This place was very familiar.
Even though time had changed and things were no longer the same, even though the scenery had altered in many ways, she could still recognize it at a glance. This was Chaoyang, the capital of Tianyao—and aside from the military camp, the only place she was familiar with…
Pei Nai sighed inwardly. After losing her memory and being separated by ten years, she had returned here—the center of Tianyao’s power, a place filled with open and hidden संघर्ष, yet also the most prosperous and magnificent of all. It felt so distant from her past, yet so close at the same time.
She absentmindedly climbed into the carriage as the attendants set it in motion, the bells chiming by her ears.
Before she left, Madam Ju had given her many instructions. Not only had she prepared snacks and tea in the carriage, but also two warm cloaks, repeatedly reminding her to return home immediately once night fell.
Pei Nai agreed, though she didn’t think much of it. She lifted the curtain of the window and looked outside.
The streets bustled with people and traffic, the sounds of vendors calling and hawking never ceasing—this was the height of prosperity. Many shops along the road had changed their signboards, while some old establishments still thrived.
Everything seemed normal, yet something felt off.
People were dressed too plainly. Judging by their attire alone, it felt as though she were in Fengdu Luoshan, a ghost city of the underworld. Pei Nai shivered at the thought, then suddenly realized—
Right… today seemed to be her own memorial day.
Pei Nai scratched her head, feeling rather helpless.
The sky was growing dim.
At this rate, by the time the moon rose and the stars shone bright, she might not even catch up to the old monk.
For now, she could only search along the main road. And as night deepened, the monk might find another place to stay, making him even harder to locate. She couldn’t wait any longer.
Pei Nai quickly called out to the coachman, “Stop for a moment.”
Before he could react, she nimbly jumped off the carriage.
The carriage halted in the middle of the road. Pei Nai walked to the guards following behind and examined each of their horses. She shook her head—poor posture, low endurance—none were good horses. She felt a bit disappointed.
“Miss, is there something you need?” one of the guards asked.
“Oh, nothing, nothing. Just picking a good horse,” Pei Nai said as she turned.
Suddenly, her eyes lit up.
Among the two horses pulling the carriage ahead, one was a chestnut horse with a long neck, large eyes, and a full chest. She quickly stepped forward and ran her hand along its body.
A fine horse—truly a fine horse.
She immediately removed the connecting harness, leaving only the bridle.
The coachman could only watch silently, not daring to stop her.
Pei Nai led the horse to the back of the carriage and called to the nearest guard, “Come, come, get down.”
The guard obeyed and dismounted, standing there in confusion.
With practiced ease, Pei Nai removed his saddle and fitted it onto the chestnut horse.
“Give it to me,” she said, glancing at the stunned guard and extending her hand.
“Huh?” the guard blinked.
“The whip!” Pei Nai raised her hand again.
The guard hurriedly handed over the whip. Taking it, Pei Nai stepped onto the stirrup and mounted the horse in one smooth motion.
As the saying goes, the higher you stand, the farther you see.
Once mounted, Pei Nai realized something was wrong—very wrong.
People on both sides of the road had unconsciously stopped walking, their gazes converging on her. Who knew how long they had been watching? The crowd had already formed several layers, encircling them in a wide ring.
Pei Nai twitched her lips. Were people nowadays this idle?!
Too lazy to bother—chasing someone was more important.
“You all go back first,” she said. “Tell Madam Ju not to worry. I’ll return as soon as possible.”
The crowd parted on their own, making way for her. She immediately spurred the horse forward, leaving behind curious onlookers and her stunned coachman and guards.
That day, a piece of gossip spread through Chaoyang’s streets almost in the blink of an eye:
Before sunset, a beautiful woman had seized a carriage horse in broad daylight and galloped along the main northern road. Dressed in flowing white, her sleeves fluttering like banners, she passed like a streak of light—like a celestial being stepping out of a painting into the mortal world.
By the time Pei Nai herself heard this story, she finally realized just how wildly the public could fabricate tales.
But at this moment, she was still riding urgently along the road.
She moved swiftly, skillfully avoiding traffic, and soon reached the northern gate—only to be stopped by the guards as she tried to leave the city.
Pei Nai was puzzled.
The guards explained, “Recently, there have been frequent murder cases, and all the victims are government officials. Orders have come from above to strictly inspect everyone entering and leaving. See that line over there? Go queue up and be checked one by one.”
They pointed to a long line by the roadside.
Pei Nai was shocked at the sight. The queue stretched shoulder to shoulder, nearly reaching the next street.
By the time she got through, let alone chasing someone, it would probably already be dawn.
“Is there any way to leave the city without lining up?” Pei Nai asked seriously.
The guard replied sternly, “No. Unless you step over my body.”
Pei Nai pressed her lips together, tilting her head slightly as if thinking. Then she suddenly said, “Then forgive me.”
The moment she finished speaking, she bent forward and flicked her whip with lightning speed, wrapping it around the guard’s spear and pulling it into her hand. With a fierce swing, she struck the guard’s right chest.
It all happened too quickly—the guard had no time to react before he was knocked to the ground.
“If fate allows, I will personally come to apologize another day…”
Her words drifted into the air as she rode off, leaving behind the guard clutching his shoulder, staring dumbfounded at the spear she had thrown aside.
Along the way, Pei Nai asked many travelers for directions, confirming each fork in the road, until she finally determined the path the old monk had taken.
Night spread across the sky like a dark curtain, dotted with stars.
Still, she had not seen the old monk. Irritation crept in.
After hours of travel, she was parched. Just then, a faint light appeared ahead.
As she approached, illuminated by the moonlight, she saw clearly—
It was a small teahouse, nestled within a bend of the mountain.