Returning the Jade Intact to Zhao

The weather was clear and bright.

Beigong Juechen had not seen such beautiful sunlight for a long time. The layout of the “Juechen Residence” was strikingly similar to that inside Li Manor; the flowerbeds were in full, vibrant bloom, seemingly untouched by the season. Beigong Juechen let out a meaningless smile.

He had come to the “Hundred Fiends Palace” ten years ago. On that day, he had bathed the sect in blood, slaughtering the palace’s followers and slaying its master. Yet now, he stood as nothing more than a prisoner. Beigong Juechen gave a self-mocking laugh—the Hundred Fiends Palace remained unchanged after a decade, but what he had to do now was find the palace’s hidden door, and he had only five days to do so.

As he wandered, he encountered not a single guard or follower, but he knew, countless eyes were watching him from the shadows. He looked around without restraint; since Qi Yong had agreed to the wager, no one would interfere.

Yet, he hadn’t expected there to be an unpredictable variable within the palace.

Ling Sheng wandered idly, bored to the point of despair. Here, he wanted for nothing, never forced to smile or please, but the monotony gnawed at him. Qi Yong hadn’t stepped into his chambers for centuries, and the others in the palace treated him as if he were air.

Suddenly, Ling Sheng’s eyes lit up. He saw someone—a man he had never once seen in the palace before. But as that man drew closer, Ling Sheng’s expression grew uglier and uglier.

He saw the man’s face—more beautiful than his own, the most exquisite he had ever laid eyes upon. A surge of jealousy flooded his heart, for not only was the man beautiful, but he exuded an aura that made Ling Sheng’s knees weak, a compulsion to kneel and bow in reverence.

Beigong Juechen paid no attention to the figure ahead of him. But as the distance between them narrowed, Ling Sheng’s already ugly expression twisted with fury and hate, for he saw not only the man’s face, but his eyes—rare, dark green eyes, shaped just like his own.

He suddenly recalled what Xi Mo had once told him: “That man’s eyes are a rare shade of dark green; his gaze is always so proud and sharp, it inspires awe and fear. Even at his most humiliating moments, he remains unbowed in his arrogance...” So it was him, it was actually him...

Ling Sheng closed his eyes, a wild urge to laugh up to the heavens welling inside him. And in fact, he did just that.

Beigong Juechen stopped before him, asking in a low voice, “What are you laughing at?” Ling Sheng’s laughter only grew louder. He looked at Beigong Juechen and coughed, as if he had choked on his own mirth. “Hahaha, do you know? I’ve always heard people talk about you—they say you inspire fear and admiration. But all I can think is, with a face like yours, if you went to a brothel, you’d have a thousand men spending their fortunes just to see you smile. Hahaha...”

Beigong Juechen frowned slightly. He cared nothing for such words. What concerned him was that this person was blocking his path. Beigong Juechen said coldly, “You’re in the way.”

Ling Sheng’s laughter stopped abruptly. He glared at Beigong Juechen, envy twisting his beautiful features. “I really don’t understand—if you’re so powerful, how did he end up capturing you as well?”

The crease between Beigong Juechen’s brows deepened. He simply reached out, shoved Ling Sheng aside, and walked past without expression. But Ling Sheng seized his sleeve from behind, refusing to let go. Though Beigong Juechen’s powers were sealed, dealing with someone as weak as Ling Sheng was child’s play. He twisted Ling Sheng’s arms behind his back, his other hand closing around his throat.

“Juechen.” Qi Yong, having rushed over at the first word from his subordinates, looked Beigong Juechen up and down, only relaxing when he saw he was unharmed.

Ling Sheng struggled, seeking help from Qi Yong, but as he met the master’s cold, emotionless gaze, his heart plummeted. He understood his fate with perfect clarity—death, with no hope of reprieve.

Beigong Juechen gave Qi Yong a cold look, then tightened his grip. There was a sharp crack; Ling Sheng’s head lolled, lifeless, no breath left in his body.

Casually tossing the corpse aside, Beigong Juechen sneered, “Palace Master Qi, your tastes are growing ever more peculiar.”

***

Three days later, the Pear Garden troupe’s carriage stopped at the gates of the Hundred Fiends Palace.

Mu Min, dressed as an ordinary servant, trailed at the end of the troupe. Tian Qing, robed entirely in black, watched the jittery group enter, his gaze finally fixing on Mu Min, lingering there for a long while.

Mu Min lifted his eyes and met the look without changing expression, then quickly lowered them and feigned a nervous demeanor. Tian Qing narrowed his eyes, waving a hand. “Hurry inside.” Mu Min nodded hastily and hurried after the others. Watching him go, Tian Qing let out a cold laugh.

The Hundred Fiends Palace was not like Li Manor; its chill and desolation were more intense. Boss Hou shivered despite himself. Standing at the front, he waved the troupe forward. “Move quickly, move quickly...” he muttered, hands tucked into his sleeves, cursing under his breath, “What a damned place—can’t wait to get out of here!”

At the rear, Mu Min slipped down a small path with his head lowered. Hiding behind a rockery, he took a human-skin mask from his breast and put it on. When he emerged again, he wore Tian Qing’s face.

The main hall of the Hundred Fiends Palace was cold and solemn. The jet-black marble floor shone like a mirror; along the sides, two ranks of candles burned. At the top, above a gilded throne, two dragons entwined. Qi Yong sat upright on the throne, expressionless as he regarded the people below. “Did Beigong Qiyi send you?”

Boss Hou swallowed and stepped forward with a gracious bow. “Palace Master, yes, it was indeed Young Master Beigong who invited us.”

Qi Yong raised his brows with interest. “Oh? And what does he want you to perform?”

“Well...” Boss Hou wiped sweat from his brow, forcing a laugh. “He...”

Qi Yong’s face remained unchanged. Boss Hou, after sneaking a glance upward, steeled himself and blurted, “The Young Master also asked me to deliver a message: that the Palace Master would be wise not to touch what belongs to others.”

The hall fell silent as the grave.

Qi Yong gazed at him without expression, until Boss Hou’s legs trembled and sweat poured down his back. At length, Qi Yong withdrew his gaze, a cold smile on his lips. “Since that’s so, I suppose I shouldn’t waste the Young Master’s good intentions. Go on, perform.”

Boss Hou finally relaxed a little, stepping back on shaky legs. Xiao Lian’er bit her lip, glanced at Qi Yong, and after a moment, began to sing.

Wearing Tian Qing’s face, Mu Min wandered the palace unimpeded.

He didn’t know where Beigong Juechen was held, nor was he familiar with the palace’s layout. All he could do was try every path, one by one. At last, after countless turns, he found a garden—one utterly different in style from the rest of the palace.

Above the stone gate, three grand characters were carved in flamboyant script: “Juechen Residence.” Mu Min narrowed his eyes and was about to enter when a figure suddenly appeared before him.

A man with exactly the same face as his own—or rather, the true owner of the face Mu Min was now wearing. Tian Qing reached out to grab Mu Min’s face, but Mu Min dodged, flicking his sleeve to scatter white powder in all directions. Tian Qing shielded his face, but the powder was nothing more than a decoy.

In a flash, Mu Min was gone. Tian Qing scanned the garden warily, then turned to look inside, eyes narrowing. Without the master’s permission, he was forbidden to step into Juechen Residence. Even so, he drew a deep breath and strode inside.

The courtyard was empty. Tian Qing knocked on Beigong Juechen’s door. “Excuse me, Master Beigong, have you seen a man in gray?”

Inside, all was quiet. After a moment, Beigong Juechen’s lazy voice responded, “No.” Tian Qing lingered at the door, listening intently, but the room remained silent. He stamped his foot in frustration and left.

Shortly after Tian Qing departed, Beigong Juechen set down his book and drawled, “You can come out now.”

Mu Min emerged at the summons. Beigong Juechen glanced at him and asked offhandedly, “Who sent you?”

“It doesn’t matter who sent me. What matters is, I’ve come to help you escape,” Mu Min replied.

“Oh?” Beigong Juechen raised an eyebrow. “How do you plan to do that?”

Mu Min handed him the human-skin mask, lowering his voice. “He must have gone to report to Qi Yong by now. If you wear this, you can walk out openly.”

Beigong Juechen examined the mask for a while before finally taking it.

Tian Qing entered the main hall. Xiao Lian’er was still singing—though she played young female roles, she was now singing a matron’s lines, oddly enough. Qi Yong, however, lounged in his chair, appearing to enjoy it immensely. Striding forward, Tian Qing whispered urgently into his ear. Qi Yong’s brows knitted tightly, and he sat up straight.

Xiao Lian’er started at the sudden movement and stopped singing. Qi Yong’s face clouded as he looked them over, then, after a long moment, he slumped back into his seat. Rubbing his brow, he murmured, “If you had kept watch at the door of Juechen Residence, perhaps nothing would have happened. But the moment you left, you gave him his chance.”

Tian Qing’s expression changed; he fell to his knees. “Palace Master?”

Qi Yong waved a hand wearily. “Enough. If he was confident enough to wager with me, he must have a foolproof plan.” Yet what Qi Yong failed to realize was that the wager had merely been Beigong Juechen’s ruse to buy time. There had never been any foolproof plan—this was all a scheme Beigong Qiyi had laid in advance.

Step by step, he had drawn everyone into the game, all for the sake of possessing just one man.

“Greetings, Right Protector.”

“Tian Qing” nodded coolly and strode out of the Hundred Fiends Palace.

Author’s note: Ling Sheng has exited as cannon fodder—la la la~

The story grows ever colder... I must hurry and finish it...