Chapter 3

Chapter 3

In the blink of an eye, Wen Hean's heart, which she had tried to calm, began to race, her thoughts swirling chaotically.

She wasn't really willing to believe that Lu Yuran would come to such a place.

But if it was truly him.

As she stepped over the threshold of her mud-built home and pushed the door open halfway, she couldn't help but bitterly muse that this was truly a case of misfortune never coming singly.

If Lu Yuran appeared to take her life, given her current state, she would be powerless to resist.

She wouldn't have a good fate.

As soon as the door opened, wind howled in, emitting a piercing shriek.

Wen Hean banished her distracting thoughts, composed herself, and scanned the room with her eyes. Her gaze paused briefly on the two celestial attendants closest to the door before silently settling on the figure by the window.

Just one glance made the corners of her lips involuntarily droop.

Any lingering hope vanished instantly.

"Second Young Master, it's been years since we last met. I trust you've been well." The first to speak was a shadow leaning against the wall, which Wen Hean had initially overlooked. Now, as he spoke, the shadow rapidly coalesced into a solid form—a young man with a long black ponytail.

He glanced at Wen Hean, tapping her face with interest, and asked, "What new trick is this?"

Though he said they hadn't seen each other in years, Wen Hean didn't recall ever meeting this person.

Wen Hean remained silent for a moment, then turned to look outside. The night was vast and dark, the distant mountain ridges looming like menacing ghosts. In the darkness, who knew how many of Mountain Wu's elite were lurking.

Feeling somewhat uncomfortable, she quietly removed her clay mask and placed it upside down on the still neat square table, tapping it twice with her knuckles. She politely answered the young man's question: "It's not a new trick; I made it myself from clay. Guixu has spread rumors about me being worse than a demon, so wearing a mask makes doing business easier."

"The clay comes from the wet mud at the small dock a mile away. I built a small kiln there. If you're lucky, it hasn't collapsed yet. If you're interested, feel free to try making one yourself, just remember to control the fire properly."

The young man inwardly clicked his tongue, thinking that this high-profile arrogance during success and dignified composure during failure was indeed characteristic of Wen Hean.

The figure standing by the window seemed to be startled by these sounds and turned around.

Golden appearance, jade essence, his demeanor was hard to match.

Through the dim candlelight, Wen Hean met his gaze, her expression composed: "I am not what I used to be. Whoever wants my life now can do so easily. Why would the Imperial Heir go through all this trouble to come here personally?"

Facing each other, she couldn't help but clench her fists, feeling a genuine sense of danger.

This was the threat from an equal opponent.

Because she knew his methods, she understood that the person before her was no ordinary adversary.

Lu Yuran glanced at her.

Due to his high position and long-held authority over life and death, the Imperial Heir naturally exuded an unapproachable aura of nobility. His appearance matched this. Amidst flickering candlelight and the dark night, he wore a simple white cloak, his long eyebrows reaching his temples, and his deep amber eyes seemed tired and lazy.

This diminished some of the danger.

"I came to Guixu, and you find it surprising," he said, his voice clear and lacking energy.

Wen Hean couldn't help but be surprised.

She was self-aware, knowing she had made many enemies over the years. She had considered extreme scenarios.

For example, Wen San and Jiang Zhao might come to Guixu.

These two, working together, had achieved a significant victory. Naturally, they would see her continued existence as a potential threat, so it wasn't impossible that they might act hastily out of desperation.

However, the situation within the Wen family was complex. With Wen San collaborating with outsiders to eliminate rivals, the higher-ups in the clan couldn't possibly be unaware. Their tacit approval was likely due to solid evidence and a careful weighing of pros and cons. At this point, Wen San needed to consolidate her power rather than risk accusations of fratricide by insisting on her death.

As for Jiang Zhao.

Recalling that day, Wen Hean still felt a heavy cloud of gloom.

He, a hostage prince left in Tian Du, had finally risen to prominence. At this time, he should return to the Imperial Court to prove his abilities to his father and the elders.

Her assumptions had proven correct.

Yet, Lu Yuran's arrival was unexpected.

After three years apart, this was their first encounter.

"Yes," she admitted, leaning against the corner of the table, her voice honest: "I thought our enmity wasn't deep enough for you to travel far and wide, sending Yin Officials to ferry you here personally."

This was already quite restrained.

In fact, she didn't think she and Lu Yuran had any real enmity.

Five years ago, their families had arranged a powerful marriage between them. Though there had been a period of mutual suspicion, caution, and competition, nothing major had occurred, and they had parted ways amicably.

So what enmity could there be?

Saying this, Lu Yuran seemed thoughtful, not eager to respond. Instead, the young man in black waved his hand, correcting her: "Second Young Master, you're mistaken. Your dealings with Jiang Zhao are one thing, but everyone knows to keep it under wraps. However, you may not realize that since your defeat in the power struggle, the entire jiuZhou is spreading rumors that you lost your mind over a man—according to my information, you and Lu Yuran haven't formally dissolved your bond yet."

His words weren't aggressive, even hinting at amusement, but Wen Hean fell silent.

She looked at Lu Yuran.

He was taller than her, his appearance simple. Just standing casually in the room, the fierce winds seemed to quiet. Whether serious or relaxed, he exuded a strong sense of pressure.

Undeniably, part of this feeling stemmed from the constant admonishments of the elders in their noble family.

Lu Yuran of Mountain Wu, with outstanding talent and unparalleled excellence, was born under auspicious signs, causing the long-dormant divine temple of Mountain Wu to suddenly glow brilliantly at night. From birth, he was crowned the "Imperial

The name "Imperial Heir" carries deep expectations from the Northern Ming Wu Clan, hoping that he would become the second person to unify jiuZhou and lead the Wu Clan back to its unparalleled peak.

From childhood to adulthood, this person's strength, reputation, and fame have always been far ahead of his peers.

Whenever he was mentioned, others would either envy or sigh.

And the young prodigies born in the other two families, whenever they thought of him, felt only dread.

Utter dread.

He is seen by the world as the true flawless jade, an unparalleled prodigy. Today, if there were one blemish on him, it would be Wen Hean.

As this person said, they had not officially severed their bond yet.

Thinking of this, Wen Hean realized belatedly that besides Wen San and Jiang Zhao, Mountain Wu must also hate her with a vengeance, wishing to eliminate her quickly—how could Imperial Heir Lu Yuran have a partner with a tainted reputation who couldn't extricate herself cleanly and was now stripped of power?

Realizing this,

her face turned grim.

After a moment of silence, Wen Hean seemed to be weighing her words. After a while, she frowned and said to Lu Yuran, "Others may not understand the situation, but you do. Three years ago, neither of us wanted to maintain this relationship. We agreed to go our separate ways and have nothing to do with each other, waiting for a suitable time to discuss severing the bond."

In other words, they ended their relationship first, and her involvement with Jiang Zhao came later.

Lu Yuran raised an eyebrow, not denying it.

Indeed, there was such an arrangement. The black-clothed youth showed evident interest, looking at Wen Hean and wiping his eyes, "But freedom and causing a public scandal are two different things. Think about it, Second Young Master. Isn't that right?"

Wen Hean pursed her lips, understanding fully.

Yes.

Freedom was an agreement made when they were equals. But once the balance was disrupted, the stronger party no longer needed to explain themselves to the weaker one.

All matters in the world work like this.

As for severing the bond, could there be a better opportunity than now? Could there be a more direct way than killing her?

Once she died, the rumors would dissipate—no one would dwell on the dead.

Wen Hean scanned the room inside and out, realizing she could not escape today's inevitable fate. She smiled faintly, placing the skewers and tightly wrapped medicine on the table, then turned to boil some water on the stove.

The room fell into a deathly silence, no one speaking until half the kettle boiled and bubbles started to rise, breaking the stillness like a reminder.

Taking advantage of turning to boil water, Wen Hean's fingers touched her waist, swiftly extracting three silver needles and hiding them in her palm. Unfortunately, cultivators often neglect other skills, so she was not proficient in formations or stealth techniques, able to exert only fifty to sixty percent of their power even at full effort.

Wen Hean waited, to see who would speak first, or perhaps, who would make the first move.

Passively accepting death was not her style—even a cornered rabbit would kick.

Lu Yuran was busy, and this visit was a personal matter, already an exception. He would not linger long in the small Guixu.

Sure enough, as expected.

Seeing her busy by the boiling water without further action, Lu Yuran knew he wouldn't get a cup of hot water here.

Not wanting to waste more time, he leaned on the windowsill, propping himself up, his expression still not good, and spoke again, "I came here today."

"To ask."

Now he looked directly at Wen Hean, as if the first sentence was just casual talk, while what he was about to say truly troubled him, being the main purpose of his visit: "After this incident, can your blindness be completely cured?"

Lu Yuran's voice was clear and cold, like the snow atop Kunwu Mountain, making resistance difficult. Now, he didn't put on airs as the Imperial Heir of Mountain Wu, his tone drawn out slowly, revealing genuine confusion.

"…?"

Wen Hean was genuinely taken aback, silent for a moment, then tugged at her lips, finding it absurd.

She stood straight, her small face emerging from her oversized coat, staring at Lu Yuran for a while. Seeing no room for negotiation, she reverted to her usual demeanor, her eyes sharp and cold, her words unkind: "Did you travel all the way from Mountain Wu to Guixu just to mock me?"

"Imperial Heir, is it necessary?"

They weren't a harmonious couple deeply in love. During the two years they lived together, they constantly schemed against each other, leading to chaos. Lu Yuran neither invested money nor emotion in her. Now, as victor over vanquished, taking her life was one thing, but did he need to be so petty?

Lu Yuran frowned.

There were few opponents who impressed him, and Wen Hean used to be one of them.

Judging someone's worth, noble children had their own criteria: strength, background, and mentality.

He admitted he wasn't kind-hearted. In the first two years of their bond, they fought fiercely, setting up barriers in the courtyard. After two years of struggle, neither got what they wanted, so they agreed to end the relationship secretly.

Her strength and cunning were something he experienced firsthand.

She lived up to the name of Tian Du's twin beauties.

But, was her judgment really that poor?

Two years ago, when he first sensed something through their bond, informed sources had already told him some news.

Logically,

since they agreed to have nothing to do with each other, how the Tian Du noble lady chose another partner was none of his business.

Yet, he still found out about the man's identity.

A prince of the Imperial Court held hostage in Tian Du, whose cultivation had stagnated at the seventh realm, with no chance of advancement.

Where did this man come from, and was he prepared to match wits with Wen Hean day after day, ready to be left with nothing?

Who would have thought that the one left with nothing wasn't the man, but Wen Hean herself.

I still remember the day when I first received the news. Shang Huai specially sent a paper figure, gloating as it floated in front of me to report live. At first, I listened absentmindedly, but eventually, I tossed aside the confidential letter and asked, "Did she do this?"

Sending assassins to kill the family head while he was in seclusion, attempting to break through to the Saint Realm—she was caught on the spot, and under torture, her subordinates confessed everything.

It was more absurd and dramatic than any fabricated plot in a storybook.

"That's how the Wen family is explaining it to the outside world," Shang Huai shrugged and said, "The evidence is clear, and the punishment has been decided. The Wen family won't investigate further."

"How do you feel about it? Aren't you feeling extremely bitter?" He shook his head and sighed, "Think about it, you've been married for a couple of years, sharing the same bed, yet you couldn't even get a useful piece of information from her. A mere Seventh Realm half-wit made Wen Hean willingly expose her fatal weakness."

I can hardly recall my exact feelings at the time. In the end, I only replied with two sentences.

"If it really was Wen Hean who did it, then she must be out of her mind."

Shang Huai pressed on with interest, "What if it wasn't her?"

"Wasn't her?" Lu Yuran picked up the letter he had discarded earlier, lowering his eyelids, and coldly remarked, "Then she must be blind."

Having such poor judgment in men—what else could it be if not blindness?

Lu Yuran lifted his eyes and saw sparks ignite in hers due to this direct mockery. This spark brought life to her pale cheeks, like the most vivid stroke on a painting, enhancing her already exquisite features.

Clearly, being brought down by a man and ending up in this situation was deeply humiliating for her.

Indeed, it was humiliating.

Ever since Wen Hean walked in, her demeanor and actions were composed, as if she had accepted even death calmly.

But I still remembered our past confrontations.

Lu Yuran glanced at her fists clenched loosely at her sides.

One could imagine that if he took a step forward with any sign of aggression, this seemingly cornered companion of his would unleash a flurry of silver needles, sleeve arrows, and swarms of venomous scorpions.

Thus, it seemed her character hadn't changed, and her mind was still functional enough for now.

Smart people always learn from their setbacks, and smart people understand each other with just a hint, without needing elaborate explanations.

Lu Yuran didn't want to argue about the topic of adding insult to injury. Every Spring Festival was the time when his body suffered the most, and this year was no exception. Having used his eighth sense recently, he could still feel his eyeballs pulsing even with his eyes closed.

He placed his slender fingers on his brow, looking even more listless, and cut straight to the point: "If you can."

Standing several steps apart, there was a clear divide between us, but when speaking these words, he wanted to see every expression on Wen Hean's face clearly. So he lowered his long fingers, revealing his raven lashes, his voice icy:

"Do you want to follow me?"

"To fight back."