When Mo Xi came out of the Cold Chamber, the jailer’s soul was nearly gone.
Earlier, the cruel official Wangshu Jun had come to interrogate Gu Mang. When he left, he was dressed in a spotless silk sapphire-blue robe, not even the moonlight stone pendant on his chest had shifted. But when he went in, good heavens—Gu Mang had been turned into a complete blood-soaked mess.
Wangshu Jun hadn’t even gotten blood on himself, yet he had already tortured the man to that state. And now Xihe Jun went in—his entire imperial guard uniform was almost soaked through with blood. What, was Gu Mang going to—
Just thinking of it made the jailer’s legs weaken. If not for his apprentice catching him in time, he would have collapsed on the spot. He steadied himself and bowed shakily: “Xihe Jun, safe travels.”
Mo Xi’s face was pale, lips pressed tight. Without a word, he walked out of the dark, oppressive prison passage. His iron-toed boots struck the cold bricks with sharp, brittle sounds.
“Celestial Life-Prolonging Dew! Celestial Life-Prolonging Dew!! Hurry! Hurry!!”
The jailer, trembling, clutched the healing elixir and led a group of healing cultivators into the Cold Chamber. But the moment they stepped in, they froze.
Gu Mang lay on the stone bed, wrapped in a black-and-gold imperial cold-resistant cloak. From within the fur trim, half his thin face could be seen—but it was clean.
The apprentice blinked. “Master… w-what is this…?”
The jailer’s eyes landed on the intricate golden serpent emblem on the cloak sleeve. His heart jolted—this was the Northern Border Army insignia.
Then he suddenly realized: when Mo Xi had entered earlier, he had been wearing a cold-resistant cloak. When he came out, he was in a neat, tight black outfit. That cloak… could it be…
He swallowed and stepped forward cautiously, lifting a corner of the cloak.
As expected, Gu Mang was breathing evenly beneath it, fast asleep. His wounds were all neatly sealed.
The apprentice leaned in. “Ah! Isn’t this Xihe Jun’s outer robe?”
“…”
“Master, didn’t they say Xihe Jun has obsessive cleanliness? He never lets anyone touch his things???”
The jailer turned back, speechless. “Do you think he’s going to take it back now?”
“Oh…” the apprentice scratched his head sheepishly. “That makes sense.”
After a pause, curiosity got the better of him. “But wasn’t Xihe Jun here to interrogate him? Why is he treating the prisoner so well?”
“He’s not a cruel torturer,” the jailer said, though even he sounded uncertain. He patted the apprentice’s shoulder solemnly. “Not everyone is like Wangshu Jun, who enjoys seeing blood.”
“Ah…”
“Today’s matter—none of you speak of it,” the jailer instructed the others. His eyes once again drifted to the shimmering golden serpent on the cloak. “Remember. Too much talk brings trouble.”
—
Mo Xi walked along the snowy imperial road. Cold wind struck his face, yet without his cloak he did not feel cold at all.
His eyes were heavy and burning, his heart pounding like a drum. One phrase kept echoing in his mind.
I want… a home…
That sentence was like a spark thrown into dry grass inside his chest, burning all the way through him until even his eyes felt faintly hot.
He increasingly suspected Gu Mang might not actually be mentally damaged. Otherwise, why would his unconscious murmurs be that sentence?
That burning in his chest was both torment and hope. So consumed by thought was he that he did not even notice his blood-soaked robes drawing stares from passersby.
Snow fell heavier, yet the light in Mo Xi’s eyes grew brighter.
He thought: no matter what, once this case was concluded, he would take Gu Mang away from Murong Lian.
Only then could he stay by Gu Mang’s side and find out whether he was truly broken—or simply pretending.
Just as he was lost in thought, a sudden shrill scream pierced the air.
“Aaaaah—!!”
Mo Xi halted and looked toward the sound.
The capital was under strict alert. He immediately moved toward the direction of the scream.
It was a wine shop. Tables and chairs were overturned, jars smashed, aged pear wine spilled across the floor, filling the room with a sharp fragrance.
Customers scrambled outside. On the second floor, several cultivators were gathered, including Yue Chenqing.
Yue Chenqing was clutching a bleeding arm, furious. For someone usually so cheerful, he now looked like he was about to explode.
“Cowards! Little turtles! Not loyal at all!”
He rarely cursed, so even his insults were childish.
“It hurts so much!”
Mo Xi arrived upstairs just as Yue Chenqing shouted again, “Big bad dog!”
He raised his head—and directly cursed at Mo Xi.
Mo Xi: “…”
Yue Chenqing froze. “Xihe Jun?! Why are you here? I wasn’t talking about you…”
“What happened?” Mo Xi asked, glancing at him. “You’re injured?”
“Yes! A black-clothed man suddenly broke in through the window and tried to take away a girl called Xiao Cui.”
Yue Chenqing, still angry, continued rambling. “She’s really kind, always giving us extra snacks…”
“Speak to the point.”
“Oh—right. So we tried to stop him, but that guy used some strange demonic technique. I didn’t even touch his sleeve before he slashed me. Then my so-called friends all ran away! Total cowards!”
Mo Xi frowned. “Where did he go?”
“I don’t know. He was too fast. Like he wasn’t even human. Just—whoosh—and gone. Maybe he’s that rumored brothel killer…”
Mo Xi’s expression sharpened. “What did you say?”
“The Red Candle Pavilion case.”
Mo Xi crouched to examine Yue Chenqing’s wound. His brows furrowed deeper.
“…Broken Water Sword.”
Yue Chenqing paled. “Sword Master Li Qingqian?!”
Mo Xi did not confirm. “Go home. Don’t wander the capital recently.”
“My father is in seclusion, my uncle ignores me… I can’t stay home…”
“Then go to your brother.”
Yue Chenqing muttered unhappily, “He’s not my brother…”
Then he changed topic. “Oh right, Xihe Jun, why are you covered in blood?”
“I dealt with someone.”
Yue Chenqing’s eyes widened. That sounded… lethal.
Mo Xi ignored him. “Can you draw the kidnapped girl?”
“Yes!”
Yue Chenqing quickly drew her portrait. Mo Xi studied it but saw nothing special.
Until Yue Chenqing added a small tear mole at the corner of her eye.
Mo Xi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “She has a tear mole too?”
“Huh? Too? Who else does?”
Mo Xi said slowly, “One of the five women taken from the Red Candle Pavilion also had one.”
He thought: was this tear mole a selection trait? A “life-saving mark” for the killer?
Yue Chenqing hesitated. “Xihe Jun… there’s something else.”
“What is it?”
“When I fought that black-clothed man… I couldn’t see his face, but I felt something familiar. A kind of… presence. I’ve felt it somewhere before.”
Mo Xi asked, “Where?”
“I can’t explain. It’s just a feeling. But he disappeared too fast.”
Mo Xi replied, “I’m not certain yet. Go to Shennong Terrace for treatment, then report to the Peace Bureau.”
“Got it!”
Before leaving, Yue Chenqing suddenly turned back. “Oh right… I heard Murong Dage has imperial permission to interrogate Gu Mang at any time. Do you know?”
“…Yes.”
“Should we stop him first? Otherwise Gu Mang might get…”
“No need,” Mo Xi said calmly.
He touched the silver serpent ring on his thumb.
Inside it, a tracking spell he had placed on Gu Mang was still active. If anything happened, he would know immediately.
“I’ve prepared for it,” Mo Xi said. “No matter what Murong Lian does, I will know.”
After parting ways, Mo Xi returned to his residence and reviewed the portraits of the five missing women.
He compared Xiao Cui with the tear-mole girl.
Soon, patterns emerged: similar lips, similar noses.
He ordered the guards to escort matching women to the Peace Bureau for protection.
As expected, abductions soon slowed. Only occasional cases occurred when some were not yet protected in time.
The capital grew tense. Cultivators stopped traveling alone. Shops closed early. Talismans sold out. Fear spread.
Snow fell. Nights grew quiet.
Mo Xi sat in his courtyard, reviewing reports, unconsciously turning his serpent ring.
Then—hot.
The ring burned violently.
The serpent pattern twisted into a pointer, aimed toward the southwest.
Its silver scales turned a deep green.
Poison.
Not unusual—Murong Lian often used drugs during interrogation.
But the direction was wrong.
Southwest… not the prison.
It was the Burial Grounds of Heroes.
War Soul Mountain.
Why would Gu Mang be moved there?
At that moment, alarm bells rang through the entire capital.
Thirteen strikes.
A prisoner had escaped.
Gu Mang had escaped.