Zhou Yitang listened intently to every word he said.

Her naturally aloof brows furrowed deeply.

Why does he keep mentioning others, but never her?

In her thoughts, Zhou Yitang suddenly remembered that Min Ning intended to send him flowers, and her brows furrowed further.

After a moment of contemplation, she suddenly said, "The flowers have bloomed."

Chen Yi, who had been talking about Taihua Mountain earlier, froze in confusion. Not understanding her words, he noticed the autumn flowers still in bloom and found it rather intriguing.

He picked one, then smiled and said, "You're right. When the time comes, I'll make a long journey to bring Luan Huang a flower—she'll definitely be moved."

Zhou Yitang: "...…"

The one-armed woman fell silent. She spoke as much as she intended; if he didn't understand, then he simply didn't understand.

She had never asked too much in such regard.

The two walked leisurely along the mountain trail for roughly three or four miles.

Zhou Yitang's steps came to a halt—it was time for their farewell.

Chen Yi turned his face, filled with unspoken emotions. With a soft sigh, he said, "Well… goodbye."

The one-armed woman replied, "Goodbye."

Chen Yi could discern how unwilling she was to lower her guard, let alone pour out her heart.

A sigh escaped his lips. Without pressing further, he turned around with a wave of his hand and strode into the distance.

The sky stretched wide and bright, sunlight cascading over the long path that meandered into the mountains.

It was full of ease and elegance.

But his steps stopped all of a sudden as a figure flitted past him. He turned, only to find Zhou Yitang coming near.

She lightly brushed a kiss on his cheek, as fleeting as a dragonfly touching water.

Chen Yi's eyes widened as the flower he held between his fingers dropped to the ground, bouncing a few times.

"Go ahead."

Zhou Yitang turned her back to him, leaving nothing for Chen Yi but her retreating figure.

A gust of wind swept by, and soon she vanished amidst the misty mountain trail, leaving only a solitary silhouette.

Chen Yi finally came back to his senses and laughed warmly into the wind:

"Hey, were you jealous?"

His voice echoed through the mountain range,

but apart from his own echo, there was no reply.

Chen Yi bent down to pick up the fallen flower,

and suddenly remembered her words: The flowers have bloomed.

It dawned on him—when she was by his side, he had not even noticed the flowers blooming.

......…

After Chen Yi left, Zhou Yitang switched back to her Qing Yuan identity.

To her, Qing Yuan was just like Zhu Yu—a convenient identity for her missions. Yet unlike Zhu Yu, Qing Yuan's role was less critical and more dispensable.

Qing Yuan stayed close to Lu Ying—not entirely as protection, but more as a timely guide. Whenever Lu Ying became trapped at bottlenecks or awash with confusion, Qing Yuan would appear right on cue to enlighten her.

Why never as Zhou Yitang? The reason was quite simple—Lu Ying viewed her as a teacher and took her words as absolute truths.

People often obey absolute truths without questioning them. But without questioning, there is no understanding, no realization.

To Lu Ying, Zhou Yitang's elusive presence had become natural. Among her fellow disciples searching for her, not one would suspect Qing Yuan was Zhou Yitang.

When Lu Ying returned unharmed, her fellow disciples all breathed a collective sigh of relief. After recounting the entire ordeal in detail, her story was largely believed. But Lu Ying, mindful of Chen Yi's current status as a major offender guilty of flagrant disrespect, carefully withheld his name.

Buddhist discipline forbids false speech, meaning no reckless talk, but deliberately withholding matters wasn't considered false speech.

Qin Peng's body was handed over to the county government, while the disciples of Yin Sword Mountain chose not to linger. After briefing the government on the incident, they returned to Yin Sword Mountain the following day.

With the endorsement of the Yin Sword Mountain disciples and the County Magistrate's investigation into Qin Peng's suspicious background, the case concluded quickly. His body was placed in the morgue.

As night fell, a ragged figure climbed over the wall and snuck inside the morgue.

The intruder's hair was matted, their face haggard, and their body frail. Yet, with unparalleled agility, they eluded attention, knocked out the guards, and swiftly located Qin Peng's corpse.

If Chen Yi were present, he would've instantly recognized this person as the beggar he'd encountered outside the inn.

At the time, Chen Yi tossed Copper Coins that arced skillfully in three directions, all caught precisely by the beggar, each coin landing in the bowl with a resonant clink.

Chen Yi took a second look at him but dismissed it shortly afterward. After all, in his travels, he had seen all sorts of things. Besides, the beggar's ragged appearance led him to assume they were likely a disciple of the Beggar Clan—hardly someone one would associate with Lifeng Pavilion.

As for Qin Peng, even he had no knowledge of this beggar among their ranks—a precaution to maintain secrecy among killers.

The beggar pulled apart Qin Peng's garments, probing the ruptured knife wound:

"The blade entered cleanly, trajectory consistent, without deviating upon piercing the body—a remarkable mastery of knife techniques."

Focusing further, he measured the wound size with his fingers.

"The blade is as thick as a fingertip—neither a broadsword nor a short blade. Could it be the Brocade Spring Blade or Yanling Saber?"

In the dimness, he couldn't discern clearly. Carefully, he maneuvered the corpse beneath the window's beam of moonlight.

Using his fingers, he widened the wound and continued inspecting:

"The wound narrows at the entry and widens deeper inside. The Yanling Saber's cut is wholly uniform—this couldn't be the Yanling Saber. It appears to be the Brocade Spring Blade."

After observing the wound, the beggar's thoughts raced, mentally sifting through everything he'd seen and heard during his days in Liu Feng County.

Gradually, his eyes narrowed.

The beggar fished three copper coins from his pocket,

and murmured to himself, "Could it... be him?"

.........…

.........…

At the Cao family estate.

Taking a break at home, Cao Wendo headed to the study today, intending to copy Wang Xizhi's Lanting Pavilion Preface. For scholars, replicating calligraphy or paintings was less about technique and more about the state of mind. Only in moments of pure serenity could one truly grasp their essence. For this reason, Cao Wendo had strictly ordered no disturbances early on.

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