To lose a son in old age… to send off one’s own child to the grave… and worse yet, to have nearly been killed by that very same child—after such staggering highs and lows, Murong Xing was utterly exhausted, both in body and soul. His heart was so numb from grief that even his expression had frozen into a lifeless mask.
Murong Qiufeng stood with his head slightly bowed, silent.
At this moment, he truly didn’t know what to say.
Comfort him?
He couldn’t even comfort himself—how could he possibly offer comfort to anyone else?
The room was deadly quiet, save for the occasional crackle from the coals in the brazier.
After a long silence, Qiufeng finally decided to break it.
“Father… are you planning to resign your post?”
Murong Xing slowly opened his eyes. His gaze, somewhat cloudy, turned to carefully study this son—this child whom he had barely cared for over the years and who, to him, felt almost like a stranger. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. A faint grunt escaped his throat—perhaps a reluctant yes.
Qiufeng’s heart eased a little.
Truth be told, he had originally wanted to urge his father to resign anyway.
Court politics were a treacherous ocean—today’s glory could be tomorrow’s ruin.
And now, after such a family upheaval, Qiufeng wished nothing more than for his parents to set it all down and live out their remaining years in peace.
He didn’t speak further. Though they were father and son—and not without affection—there was, undeniably, a deep unfamiliarity between them.
That unfamiliarity was also what made Murong Xing feel the most bitter and ashamed.
If there was anyone he truly owed, it wasn’t his eldest son Murong Hao, who had been raised at his side—but this youngest son, whom he had barely known his entire life.
Murong Xing had entered court service at twenty and quickly married the prime minister’s daughter—Murong Qiufeng’s mother. In just three years, his career skyrocketed. But the prime minister’s daughter had always been frail and couldn’t satisfy the fiery passions of a young rising star.
Among aristocratic families, having multiple wives and concubines was par for the course.
Still, Xing had once promised the old prime minister to stay faithful to his daughter alone.
But men—especially those surrounded by temptation—rarely keep such promises.
One careless affair with the daughter of another official left the woman pregnant. When her family came demanding justice, Murong Xing’s household descended into chaos.
His wife fell ill from heartbreak, the old prime minister flew into a rage, and the scandal caused a stir throughout the capital.
Eventually, it was Murong Xing’s wife who insisted the woman be taken in as a concubine, knowing her own body couldn’t withstand much more.
In the years that followed, that concubine bore him two sons and three daughters. But the fifth daughter died in infancy, and the fourth son disappeared at a young age.
As the years went on, the lady of the house—Qiufeng’s mother—found herself increasingly pushed aside.
When her health finally improved, she gave birth to twins: Murong Qiufeng and Murong Qiujun.
But childbirth further weakened her to the point of permanent infertility.
Qiufeng, born frail from the start, suffered one illness after another. Even a breeze could leave him bedridden.
In the early years, Murong Xing did check in out of guilt—but as his power grew, his attention to home faded.
The inner court was left to run itself.
Qiujun, raised in that environment of neglect and rivalry, became sharp-tongued and aggressive—always forced to contend with her stepmother and half-sisters.
Qiufeng, meanwhile, was sent away for treatment at thirteen and didn’t return for five years. Other than a few letters on holidays, he had barely any contact with his family.
Murong Xing had only summoned him back recently because he realized his son had come of age—it was time to plan his future.
He never expected it to coincide with such a massive upheaval in the family.
Murong Xing was an old fox—just a bit of thought, and he could see the full picture.
Why did Prince Ye return at this precise moment?
Why did disaster strike so soon after?
Clearly, the court was about to undergo a great purge.
And the Murong family, which had grown too powerful, was the sacrificial offering.
He had spent the past several days pondering all this.
A lifetime of effort… and for what?
Bitterness and disillusionment led him to consider retirement.
After a long pause, Murong Xing finally asked:
“If I were to resign, what’s your opinion?”
Qiufeng pressed his lips together, then sighed gently.
“Father… I was going to advise you to do just that. After all this, of the three dominant noble houses in Yan: the An family is finished—at best, they’ll be exiled; the Dugu family will surely be weakened while they’re at it. That leaves only us, the Murong family…”
“…And because of your elder brother’s scandal, even if the Murongs survive this round, any chance of becoming the last family standing will only lead to our own downfall,” Murong Xing finished the thought for him, voice heavy.
He turned his gaze toward the doorway. “This family… I spent my whole life building it. Now all I see is desolation.”
Qiufeng quickly shook his head.
“No, Father. The Murong family became what it is only because of you. Without you, we would be nothing. But… serving the emperor is like dancing with a tiger. Court favor turns fast. One day you’re in—next day, you’re dust. None of this is your fault.”
Murong Xing let out a bitter laugh. “Yes… today’s stars, tomorrow’s castoffs…”
He covered his face, half mocking, half heartbroken.
“To think, I spent all these years navigating those waters… and still, you see it more clearly than I do. Maybe it really does take an outsider’s perspective.
And you?
What do you plan to do?
If I resign, I intend to take the whole family and leave the capital.
Will you come with us—or will you stay and help Prince Ye?”
Qiufeng froze, caught off guard by the question.
A flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes. His lips pressed tightly together.
Murong Xing stared at him, clearly waiting for an answer.
Qiufeng clenched his fists. After a long pause, he inhaled deeply and looked at his father with determination.
“Father… before I answer… there is something I must tell you.”
But Murong Xing suddenly closed his eyes and raised a hand to stop him.
In that instant, he looked even older, even wearier. His voice grew hoarse and dull.
“Before that… answer me one thing.”
Qiufeng frowned in confusion. “Please ask, Father.”
“Your sister… Murong Qiujun… where is she now?”
Qiufeng’s face changed. He looked up at his father, startled.
Had it not come right after his last statement, the question might not have seemed odd.
But now… now it struck deep.
Did Father already know something?
Was that why he asked this, right at this moment?
Qiufeng’s face turned pale.
He didn’t answer.
Murong Xing opened his eyes again. They were filled with disappointment and pain.
“Your sister… she’s not in the prince’s residence, is she?
Or if she is… she’s not living well. Not as well as you’ve led us to believe.”
Murong Qiufeng’s face shifted again, this time to one of deeper shock—but not for the reason Murong Xing assumed.
To Murong Xing, however, that expression was all the confirmation he needed.
His sharp, seasoned eyes had long suspected something was amiss between his son and Prince Ye, but he had constantly forced the thought away. Now, he could no longer deny it.
A heavy wave of bitter regret and fury surged up in Murong Xing’s chest. He stared at Qiufeng, voice trembling with anger and grief.
“Qiufeng… I know the Murong family has wronged you. If you want revenge, if you resent us, if you hate us—that’s fine. But take it out on me! Qiujun is your sister. You’re a man—how could you steal your own sister’s betrothed and still live with yourself?
“What would your mother think if she knew? And you—are you truly willing to throw away your dignity to become a man’s plaything? Is this what you’ve reduced your life to?”
Qiufeng’s face went stark white. He looked at Murong Xing in disbelief, then gradually, his eyes filled with hurt and disappointment. He stumbled back a step and gave a bitter smile.
“So this… is how Father sees me?”
Murong Xing faltered for a moment. “Is it… was it not your choice? Did Prince Ye force you?”
Qiufeng’s lips curled faintly in sarcasm. His laugh was faint and hollow, as if mocking both himself and his father. Just as he was about to answer—
A cold voice interrupted from the doorway.
“He is my Wangfei, not my plaything.”
Both men froze.
Shangguan Ye entered with a dark face, eyes sharp and dangerous like a falcon’s. He was furious—not only because of what he’d overheard, but because of the pale hurt on Qiufeng’s face. That pain pierced him deeply.
Yet there was nowhere to vent that anger.
“Prince Ye,” Murong Xing greeted him with ice in his voice, showing no fear. “And what exactly do you mean by that?”
Shangguan Ye strode toward Qiufeng, speaking slowly:
“The Grand Chancellor was right about one thing—your family owes him far too much. As for your daughter, Murong Qiujun… she’s not in the Prince’s Residence. In fact, she never was.”
“What? You—what have you done to Qiujun?”
“Hmph. Does the Murong family even remember that Qiufeng exists?” Shangguan Ye’s voice was like a blade. “If not for him, I would have had Qiujun executed long ago—sliced into a thousand pieces.
“You still don’t know, do you? The person who rode in the bridal sedan that day wasn’t Qiujun—it was Qiufeng. Perhaps you, Chancellor, can explain how your daughter vanished just before her wedding?”
Murong Xing’s face turned ashen. He stared at Qiufeng, stunned and confused. Qiufeng was silently giving Shangguan Ye a pleading look, brows furrowed.
But Shangguan Ye ignored it, face cold.
“What exactly happened? Qiufeng, where is your sister?”
“Hmph, allow me,” Shangguan Ye said coldly.
“Your darling daughter was already pregnant with the prince of Yu Kingdom’s child before the marriage. She had her brother take her place and eloped with her lover across the border to become a Yu princess.
“She’s likely living quite happily now. But let’s applaud her courage—abandoning her duty, betraying her country, and sacrificing her own brother to escape responsibility. The Murong family really raises its children well.
“And now, you dare to blame him? If not for him, the entire Murong family would’ve been buried with Murong Hao.”
“Enough, Ye. Stop,” Qiufeng finally stepped in, voice low and tired.
He turned to his father, eyes pained. “Father… Qiujun is my twin. I would never harm her.
“As for the Murong family—I’ve never resented anyone. Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth. And yes, Prince Ye and I… we’ve chosen each other, for life.
“I know I’m a man, and I know the world may not accept us. But I don’t care. We love each other. That’s enough.
“I’ve never wanted to use this relationship for power. Perhaps I will help him manage things, but I will never enter court as an official.
“If Father truly believes I’ve disgraced the Murong name…”
Qiufeng paused for a long moment, then drew a deep breath, turned away, and said softly—
“Then… treat it as though the Murong family never had a son named Qiufeng.”
Murong Xing’s face went ghostly white. His body trembled violently.
He stared at his son’s retreating back in disbelief.
But Qiufeng didn’t look back. He simply took Shangguan Ye’s hand and led him out quickly.
Shangguan Ye didn’t speak. But as they walked away, he turned once more to give Murong Xing a long, cold stare.
That look—layered with anger, disappointment, and warning—made Murong Xing’s heart tremble.
Chill seeped into his bones, his chest grew tight, and he began to cough uncontrollably.
Outside, the pair walked swiftly across the snowy courtyard.
Shangguan Ye suddenly tugged Qiufeng into his arms, pressing his head gently against his shoulder, stroking his back softly.
Qiufeng didn’t resist. He only clung more tightly to Ye’s waist.
After a while, Shangguan Ye finally spoke, voice soft and tender:
“I’ll always be by your side. And maybe this… is for the best.
This way, you’re mine alone.
No one else will steal your attention.
You’ll only need to focus all of yourself on me.”
Qiufeng blinked, then looked up—eyes red-rimmed, lashes still damp with tears. Moved and annoyed, he bit down on Ye’s chin.
His voice, muffled and helpless, muttered, “What kind of comforting is that?”
Shangguan Ye chuckled.
The bite didn’t hurt—it just tingled. “If you want to take advantage of me, just say so. I’m already yours, you know.”
Qiufeng’s face flushed red. The sadness from earlier had already been chased away by this nonsense.
Just as the two were flirting and teasing each other, they were interrupted.
Zanyang stood there, watching them with a half-smile.
“Master. Young Master. Someone just showed up outside—half-dead, insists on seeing the Young Master for a final message.”
“…What?”
Qiufeng froze, and a sudden, ominous weight settled in his chest.
“You know who it is?”
Zanyang raised a brow, tone casual but eyes gleaming with mischief.
“No name. But he’s dressed in white. Quite the looker too.”
He said it to Qiufeng, but his gaze was deliberately aimed at Shangguan Ye, eyes full of amusement.
White robes.
Qiufeng’s heart skipped a beat. His face turned pale.
Could it be… Senior Brother Yun Feiyang?
He seized Zanyang’s arm.
“Where is he?!”
Even Shangguan Ye looked surprised, seemingly having the same suspicion—but when he saw just how anxious Qiufeng became, his mood instantly soured.
The three rushed back to the inner courtyard.
Youxiang was calmly tending to some potted flowers nearby. The moment she saw them coming, she disappeared into the shadows without a sound.
Qian Baihuan was lounging at the stone table, sipping wine and admiring the plum blossoms. When the trio arrived, he didn’t need to ask—he simply pointed silently toward one of the rooms.
Murong Qiufeng anxiously entered the room, hurrying to the bedside. But the moment he saw the man lying there, he froze—then gasped in horror.
“Brother Yuntian?! Yuntian ge?!”
He called out a few times, but there was no response. The man on the bed wasn’t just gravely wounded, he was also clearly poisoned.
Qiufeng immediately turned and called out, “Xiao You, come quickly and take a look!”
Youxiang had already followed him inside, though dragging her feet. She pouted but eventually moved closer and muttered, “He’s been hit with the Nine Nether Cold Poison, and his heart meridian’s been damaged. Internal injuries are critical, and the poison on his external wounds has prevented them from healing—they’re still bleeding. He’s unconscious and has likely been this way for several days. Frankly, it’s a miracle he’s still breathing.”
Qiufeng’s face turned grim. “Can he still be saved?”
Youxiang cast a sideways glance at her master, who stood silently with arms crossed, then exaggeratedly shook her head. “Nope. Dead for sure.”
Murong Qiufeng, of course, saw through her act and felt slightly relieved. He turned to Shangguan Ye. “Ye…”
Shangguan Ye shrugged nonchalantly. “Do whatever you want. You don’t need my permission.”
Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed—it wasn’t Yun Feiyang lying there. But Yuntian was Feiyang’s right-hand man. If Yuntian had ended up like this, then Feiyang was likely in deep trouble as well.
Qiufeng looked to Youxiang again.
By now, she was already seated by the bed, busily working. Inwardly, she couldn’t stop grumbling. The prince talks such a good game—but he’s really just using us poor little daisies as his scapegoats.
After a long, thorough inspection, Youxiang’s expression finally turned serious. She frowned as she withdrew the golden needles she’d inserted into Yuntian’s body.
“Well?” Qiufeng asked anxiously.
She turned to him with furrowed brows. “This is… bizarre. It’s amazing he’s even alive. His internal injuries are devastating, his meridians are damaged, and besides the cold poison, he’s also afflicted by an extremely rare gu poison. What’s more unusual is that the mother gu has already died, which should’ve triggered the child gu to kill him instantly—but he somehow managed to destroy the child gu himself through sheer force of will.”
Qiufeng’s eyes widened. “So then…?”
“It’s honestly miraculous. Killing the child gu caused the poison to spread through his blood, but it turns out that blood poison counteracted the Nine Nether Cold Poison just enough to keep him alive—for now. Gongzi, I need to start removing the gu worms immediately. After that, we’ll need your master’s Fire Qilin Inner Technique to purge the remaining cold poison.”
She turned to look at Shangguan Ye.
Shangguan Ye raised an eyebrow. “Fine.”
Qiufeng looked at him with deep gratitude. “What else do you need? I’ll get it.”
Youxiang nodded, her eyes twinkling with a mix of curiosity and excitement. She hadn’t mentioned one other detail—Yuntian had another poison in his system. A kind so rare it had nearly vanished from the world. Her interest as a poison researcher was thoroughly piqued.
From morning till dusk, Murong Qiufeng waited in the courtyard, heart pounding, nerves frayed—not just for Yuntian’s survival, but for his senior brother Yun Feiyang’s safety.
Yuntian wasn’t just anyone—he was second-in-command at Mufeng Pavilion, a true vice-master unlike Qiufeng’s honorary title. If Yuntian had risked his life to get here, was it related to his shifu?
Back then, Feiyang had left in a rush, claiming urgent matters. Qiufeng had trusted him. But now… doubt crept in.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
Shangguan Ye emerged, face calm—but a closer look revealed the exhaustion in his eyes.
Qiufeng rushed forward. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
Shangguan Ye gave him a tired smile, soothed that this little rascal still thought of him first. That slightly softened the resentment he’d felt over how much attention Qiufeng had given Yuntian. He shook his head. “I’m fine. Just tired. I’ll rest.”
Just then, Youxiang came out carrying a wooden basin, face pale and steps unsteady—but eyes sparkling with satisfaction.
Qiufeng looked at her. Before he could ask, she announced, “He’s safe for now. The poison’s been cleared temporarily. He’s out of immediate danger, but his injuries are very serious. We’ll have to wait until he regains consciousness to tailor further treatment.”
Qiufeng’s heart, which had just eased, tensed again. “So… he’s still not out of the woods?”
Youxiang shrugged. “This is all I can do for now. His internal injuries might need my master to treat. And I don’t know who he crossed, but these wounds and poisons are… strange. Some aren’t even from the Central Plains. For instance, that gu poison—it’s from Xuelai Kingdom, a type of royal gu bred exclusively by their court. I’ll need to study it more closely.”
Qiufeng frowned at the basin in her hands. The liquid inside was… odd. It looked like blood, but not quite.
“Oh, this?” Youxiang said casually. “It’s blood drained from his wounds. But the strange thing is—whatever injured him must have been coated in poison, and the type is even more baffling. From what I can tell, it came from Snake Ridge in the Southern Wastes. That poison isn’t even supposed to exist outside their borders.”
Qiufeng’s face changed immediately.
Snake Ridge—that name was infamous. It wasn’t a place, but an ancient, secret sect of poison masters—virtually a nation unto itself. Legend said their founder was a serpent demon who had cultivated for ten thousand years but failed to transcend and perished. Yet his descendants remained, passing down countless poison arts.
Though notorious, Snake Ridge rarely left its territory or caused trouble. Most considered them neutral—deadly, but dormant.
If someone from Snake Ridge had acted… this was no trivial matter.
Shangguan Ye, meanwhile, looked far too entertained. So Mufeng Pavilion had racked up some nasty enemies, hadn’t they? All sorts of shady types showing up with old vendettas.
Youxiang added, “Oh, and one more thing—the Nine Nether Cold Poison he was hit with? That’s actually a martial technique, supposedly the exclusive skill of Elder Nine Nether of the Deathly Ice Domain. But oddly enough… this one looks like a fake.”
Qiufeng’s eyes narrowed. “You’re saying someone faked the Nine Nether Cold Palm to frame someone?”
Youxiang shrugged. “Could be. But who knows. We won’t know more until he wakes up.”
And with that, she hoisted the basin and walked off, mumbling about needing to run tests.
Qiufeng stood there, head spinning. This wasn’t just some vendetta or simple attack. No—this had the markings of a carefully orchestrated setup. Whether it was aimed at his shifu… or Mufeng Pavilion as a whole… remained to be seen.
But one thing was certain.
When Yuntian woke up, everything would change.
