“What kind of talk is this, Flower King?”
Feng Zihuang’s smile faded as he looked at Yun Qingxue with utmost seriousness. “Once you gain your freedom, you may go wherever you wish. If you’d like to visit my Feather Clan, I would naturally welcome you. But if you have other plans, I shall wish you all the best!”
“Does the Phoenix King truly have no conditions for helping me?” Yun Qingxue asked with a calm smile.
Feng Zihuang’s eyes gleamed as he gazed at her. “What if I said I don’t? Would you believe me?”
Yun Qingxue shook her head without hesitation. “No.”
“Hahaha!” Feng Zihuang laughed. “The Flower King is truly forthright. Aren’t you afraid of angering me so much that I refuse to help you?”
“Since the Phoenix King came specifically after hearing of my presence in the Beast Clan, why would you refuse to help me just because of a few blunt words?”
Their eyes met—one clear as water, the other brimming with amusement.
“You make a fair point. I came for you, so why would I abandon you over mere words? But there’s one thing you’ve misunderstood.”
“What is it?” Yun Qingxue frowned.
Feng Zihuang smiled again. “I do have my own considerations in helping you. But rest assured, Flower King, I am not like the Beast King Cang Yan. I don’t believe in forcing things.”
Yun Qingxue lowered her gaze. Feng Zihuang was making it clear that he wouldn’t coerce her as Cang Yan had.
Free help? Did good fortune really fall from the sky? What was Feng Zihuang’s true motive?
Feng Zihuang observed every subtle shift in Yun Qingxue’s expression, knowing she still distrusted him. Unfazed, he asked, “Are you wondering what I truly seek?”
He had seen through her thoughts and voiced them outright.
Yun Qingxue decided not to mince words. “Exactly. I’m curious—what does the Phoenix King stand to gain from this?”
“Do you know the history of the Xuanling Continent?” Feng Zihuang countered with another question.
The abrupt shift left Yun Qingxue momentarily bewildered.
“How is the history of Xuanling related to why you’re helping me?”
“Naturally, it is.” Feng Zihuang nodded calmly. He raised his hand, and fiery red light coiled around his fingertips, as intense as the robes he wore.
An ancient book slowly materialized within the crimson glow.
Feng Zihuang extended his hand, and the book descended steadily into his palm.
He offered it to Yun Qingxue with both hands. “Flower King, perhaps reading this will help you understand why I wish to aid you.”
Puzzled, Yun Qingxue accepted the book. Its cover bore four bold, gilded characters: *Xuanling Chronicles*.
From the title, she guessed it was a historical account of the Xuanling Continent.
The book wasn’t particularly thick—perhaps thirty or forty pages at most.
“Someone else is coming to see you,” Feng Zihuang suddenly remarked, raising an eyebrow.
Yun Qingxue looked up.
This was the difference in their power—she sensed nothing, yet Feng Zihuang had already detected the approach of an outsider.
“Read the book as soon as you can. I’ll visit again when time permits. I hope that once you grasp its significance, your wariness toward me will lessen.”
Feng Zihuang cupped his hands in farewell. With a tap of his toes, he vanished into thin air.
Everything happened so swiftly it felt like an illusion…
Yun Qingxue had no time to examine the book. She quickly tucked it beneath her pillow.
Given Feng Zihuang’s abilities, if he said someone was coming to the Boxi Palace, it was almost certain.
At this hour, the only one likely to visit was Cang Yan!
Hadn’t that guy hosted a banquet for Jin Lin and Feng Zihuang tonight? He must have drunk plenty—why was he wandering here so late instead of sleeping?
The night pearls in the room cast a soft glow.
Yun Qingxue lay down fully clothed, pulling the covers over herself and closing her eyes in feigned sleep.
If Cang Yan saw her “asleep,” perhaps he’d take the hint and leave.
Just as she thought this, a faint sound came from the palace doors.
Light footsteps entered, paused after a few steps, and then stopped near the entrance.
With her eyes closed, Yun Qingxue could distinctly feel a scorching gaze sweeping over her.
She remained still, enduring the scrutiny.
Soon, the sensation of being watched faded, and the footsteps resumed—this time, growing fainter.
The creak of the palace door closing reached Yun Qingxue’s ears.
Whoever had entered must have seen her “sleeping” and left.
Remembering how her last act of feigned sleep had been mocked by Cang Yan, she kept her eyes shut this time.
She lay there, eyes closed, until, gradually, she drifted into real slumber.
Then, a suffocating sensation seized her. The air grew thinner, unbearable.
Yun Qingxue opened her eyes in agony—only to meet a pair of golden pupils, cold and devoid of warmth.
Those eyes, the color of the sun, held no trace of its radiance. They were frigid, like the gaze of a specter from the underworld, or ice that had never known thawing for a thousand years.
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