Chapter 53: I Have No Weaknesses Now

Staring at the thick blood mist before him, Mo Yun’s expression did not change in the slightest. He simply walked forward calmly, gazing silently, then waited.

When the blood mist finally dissipated, he still did not see what he hoped for.

“It seems everything he said was true,” Mo Yun remarked evenly.

Since the Song of Winter had not appeared within Bei Zhou’s corpse, either he had hidden the spiritual artifact in advance, or, as he claimed, someone else had already taken it before this, and he simply never made it public.

“At least we’ve eliminated one suspect,” the man in black emerged silently behind Mo Yun and spoke.

“That seventh prince is truly interesting,” Mo Yun turned to look at the man in black. “He’s like a rat scurrying from hole to hole.”

“He’s running out of places to hide,” the man in black replied flatly. “Now, our target can be narrowed to Liu Ru.”

“What about Su Ziye?” Mo Yun countered.

“If they’re together, it’s best to kill them both,” the man in black said coolly. “But if they’re apart, focus on Liu Ru.”

“The timing?” Mo Yun asked.

“You’re the executor of all plans. The timing is yours to choose, except for the deadline: before the third trial officially ends,” the man in black said calmly.

“Then I clearly don’t have much time left,” Mo Yun looked up at the dark vault above. “The Bluewing faction won’t let this go, but we don’t mind either. What’s the update on the weapons?”

“The Startrack Elders’ Council refused,” the man in black replied succinctly.

“Why?” Mo Yun asked.

“They’re questioning your capabilities,” the man in black looked at Mo Yun. “You control so many resources now, yet you can’t achieve such a simple task, and even want to use the council’s most precious treasures. The council is furious.”

“Assassinating two Strath princes was never a simple matter. If I fail, I’ll certainly die, and you might not fare any better,” Mo Yun said coldly. “And I want to know where exactly Liu Ru is living in this city. Why is there still no trace?”

“There are some leads, but things don’t look optimistic,” the man in black said, his tone unusually heavy. “Have you ever heard of the Third Prince?”

“The Third Prince?” Mo Yun asked in confusion. “The third prince of the Strath Empire?”

“The Third Prince of Nightleaf City,” the man in black replied coolly. “A terrifying figure who resides in this city.”

“How terrifying?” Mo Yun asked.

“Unfathomably so,” the man in black replied, meeting Mo Yun’s gaze. “And from certain clues, we’ve deduced that Liu Ru might be living with the Third Prince right now.”

Mo Yun was incredulous at the man in black’s description. The Bluewing had their own lair in Nightleaf City, but Darkstar could still break through forcefully and decapitate Bei Zhou within it. Though it sounded effortless, the actual feat spoke volumes of Darkstar’s power.

“What do you suggest?” Mo Yun asked.

“My suggestion is to abandon the route of a covert assault, or perhaps we should consider targeting Prince Xiye first,” the man in black said.

“That’s not possible,” Mo Yun replied at once. “Either wrap up both lines at the same time, or strike at the seventh prince first. Otherwise, if we alert him, all our efforts could be wasted.”

For, relatively speaking, Xiye was out in the open. Though he tried to cover his tracks, he hadn’t truly gone underground.

But the seventh prince could change his appearance at will. If he got wind of their plans, tracking him down again would mean starting from scratch.

“You think you haven’t already alarmed him?” the man in black retorted.

Their presence here, after all, was due to the clues left by that prince.

“It’s not the same,” Mo Yun shook his head. “Even if we can’t be certain of the seventh prince’s identity, Liu Ru is undoubtedly closely connected to him. Capturing or killing Liu Ru would achieve most of our goals. Even if she’s just bait, until we really act, he’ll keep her in play, waiting for us to bite.”

The man in black was silent for a moment, seeming to accept Mo Yun’s reasoning. “About their residence, I’ve remembered something.”

“What is it?” Mo Yun asked.

“There’s someone in this city who can help us find where they’re living.”

“Who?” Mo Yun asked.

“A somewhat troublesome person,” the man in black replied.

“How troublesome?” Mo Yun asked.

“She’s a member of Snow Burial Society,” the man in black said calmly.

Mo Yun fell silent instantly.

A long moment passed.

“Tell me her name,” Mo Yun finally decided.

The man in black seemed to smile.

“Xie Yanluo.”

…

…

“What do you mean, it’s already settled?” Liu Ru was thoroughly baffled by Su Ziye’s words.

That very day, Bei Zhou had issued a public challenge. Had Liu Ru accepted, she’d have been crushed in an instant. It was only her strong nerves that had helped her muddle through.

But just managing to muddle through was not a solution. Bei Zhou would challenge her again, and Liu Ru couldn’t keep dodging forever—excuses would run out. Her best hope had been for Su Ziye to step in as her substitute.

Liu Ru was fully confident Su Ziye could win.

That confidence came from how young Bei Zhou appeared to be.

According to Su Ziye, he was unbeatable among his age group; no one his age could be his match.

“It’s just as I said—already settled,” Su Ziye replied, playing a game of riddles with Liu Ru.

“Unless something unexpected happens, Bei Zhou should already be dead,” Su Ziye said, looking at Liu Ru.

The youth spoke so calmly, but Liu Ru felt a chill run down her spine.

She’d already figured out Bei Zhou was a big shot; the Song of Winter now in her hands had been snatched from him. How could someone she’d seen alive that day be dead already by nightfall, as Su Ziye claimed?

“How did he die?” Liu Ru asked.

“I wrote him a spell, and obviously, it’s taken effect,” Su Ziye smiled.

His smile was gentle and pure, yet Liu Ru felt a sudden coldness. “Were those people trying to kill you?”

Su Ziye looked at her, his smile fading. “Yes.”

“Are they that terrifying?” Liu Ru couldn’t help but ask.

From what Zhou Yi had described, Bei Zhou was undoubtedly someone with a powerful background; Lan Liu, by comparison, had been a nobody.

But this powerful figure had died the very day Su Ziye wrote the spell. The ones who did it must be truly fearsome.

“More terrifying than you can imagine,” Su Ziye smiled. “And there’s something even more frightening.”

“I already know,” Liu Ru sighed. “They’ve mistaken me for you.”

“You don’t sound afraid at all,” Su Ziye said, studying her. “At least not compared to how you reacted to Bei Zhou’s death.”

“As you said—fear is a pointless emotion. Terror can help you stay alive, but mere fright will only get you killed faster,” Liu Ru replied calmly. “Besides, I knew this was my fate before I ever came here.”

“Do you remember when you taught me chess?”

“Every pawn, upon reaching the end of the board, becomes a sacrifice.”

“I’m just such a pawn—only able to move forward, unable to retreat. But one day I’ll reach the edge, and that day will be my death.”

Su Ziye listened quietly. When he heard Liu Ru’s final words, he smiled. “I didn’t teach you chess for you to use it now.”

“But it’s apt, isn’t it?” Liu Ru asked.

Su Ziye had to admit, “Yes, it is.”

“Do you regret it?” Su Ziye asked.

“Why would I?” Liu Ru replied. “If I’ve made it this far, it means I’ve done well, doesn’t it?”

Su Ziye’s original task for Liu Ru had been to become him; now, almost everyone took Liu Ru to be Su Ziye. By that measure, she’d succeeded brilliantly.

“I wanted to ask if you want to quit,” Su Ziye said, looking at her.

“There’s such an option?” Liu Ru laughed.

“There is now,” Su Ziye said seriously.

“You’re not that kind,” Liu Ru sighed. “Don’t tempt me.”

For human nature cannot withstand temptation.

“I’m not kind enough, but I am, without doubt, a good person,” Su Ziye said calmly. “You still have one chance to leave.”

“There’s nowhere for me to go back to,” Liu Ru said quietly, meeting his gaze.

Su Ziye looked at her, and couldn’t help but smile.

“You truly are the one I chose.”

“If there’s another chance in the future, I’ll teach you a new game—I hope you’ll like it.”

“It’s a promise,” Liu Ru nodded.

…

…

Xie Yanluo had not visited Liu Ru and the others recently.

She was busy.

Before, she could take leave to personally monitor Liu Ru, but after just one day, she was convinced Liu Ru was trustworthy. Then, on the day of the Hall of Stars auction, she’d been drafted for security duty. With the third trial following on its heels, Snow Burial Society had to take the lead on all aspects of security and surveillance. This was their busiest time of the year.

Even today, during the interval between the third trial events, Xie Yanluo still had no time to rest.

Today, she was on patrol.

In other words—on duty.

Unnoticed, a week had slipped by.

Of course, most members of Snow Burial Society only worked one day a week, but sometimes, extra shifts were simply unavoidable.

After all, regular shifts and overtime are two very different things.

Patrolling for Snow Burial Society was relatively easy; they just had to walk the streets of Nightleaf City, treating it like a leisurely stroll.

In theory, they were supposed to maintain public order and stop any street fights or disturbances. But, for a long time, Snow Burial Society had enforced things with a straightforward approach—by arresting and detaining offenders at the slightest excuse. Coupled with the fact that Nightleaf City had very few outsiders, public order here was exceptionally good.

Today was no different. Xie Yanluo walked the streets of Nightleaf City with a stern face, ignoring all smiles and greetings sent her way. She seemed like a cold, unfeeling machine. All she wanted was to finish her patrol and settle down somewhere shady for a large glass of iced lemon water.

But in the next instant, it was as if a black curtain fell. Darkness swallowed her vision.

She instantly became alert, her right hand reaching to her waist for the crystal used for sending distress signals. A single squeeze would alert Snow Burial Society’s headquarters in the Moon Tower.

“Who are you?” she called out into the apparent emptiness before her, her tone icy. “You should know exactly who you’re dealing with.”

“Miss Xie Yanluo, please remain calm,” a black-haired youth in a stylish gray pinstripe suit appeared before her, speaking with impeccable politeness. “We only wish to ask you a few questions privately, which is why you’ve been invited here.”

“As long as you answer, we guarantee you will leave unharmed.”

“What do you want to know?” Xie Yanluo gripped the crystal tightly, wary.

“It’s simple,” the black-haired youth smiled. “You were on patrol on June first, weren’t you?”

A sense of foreboding crept into Xie Yanluo’s heart.

“You encountered two people on the street that day—one named Liu Ru, the other Su Ziye—and then you all went somewhere together.”

“Could you tell me where that place was, and how to get there?”

“As soon as you answer and I verify it, you may return safely to where you were. You’re even free to alert your superiors immediately; we won’t restrict you in any way.”

He was courteous and deferential, as if he stood entirely on her side.

Xie Yanluo sighed, looking down, then glanced up and smiled. “I thought you were going to ask something difficult. This is so simple, but I am a bit thirsty. Could you give me some iced lemon water?”

The black-haired youth seemed unsure he’d heard correctly. He tilted his head, “Could you repeat that?”

So Xie Yanluo did.

The youth frowned slightly, pressing a hand to his ear and murmuring a few words. After a moment, he reached out, and a large glass tumbler filled with ice and lemon water appeared in his hand.

“Here,” he said, taking a single step to appear instantly before her. Xie Yanluo was under no restraint, so she accepted the glass and drank it all in one go.

“Thank you,” she said politely, returning the glass.

She looked up, calmly crushed the warning crystal in her hand.

“I have no weaknesses now.”

“And I will not tell you anything.”