Chapter 167 You’re Indeed Still Alive

Chapter 167: You Are Indeed Still Alive

On the first day of the Zhao family’s downfall, Zhao Qi’s students, who had petitioned the court on his behalf, were ordered by the Emperor to return home for indefinite reflection.

It was uncertain whether their official positions would still be vacant upon their return.

After that, no one dared to foolishly approach the Emperor to proclaim Zhao Qi’s innocence.

As for Zhao Qi, imprisoned in Zhen Prison, he pleaded with Bai Xiuming on the very night of his arrest, offering his full cooperation. In that place, no matter how stubborn one was, a single round of torture could break anyone.

In the end, he confessed to everything—whether the crimes were truly his or not.

In his confession, Zhao Qi claimed that the entire Zhao family had followed the late King of Northern Wilderness, acting on his instructions in all matters concerning the Shang family. The late King had not only coveted the Shang family’s wealth but also sought their secret Ghost Control techniques.

This confession offered no benefit to the Zhao family but thoroughly implicated the Northern Wilderness King’s residence. One could imagine the late King’s profound regret when he met Zhao Qi in the afterlife, wishing he had eradicated the Zhao family back then.

Two days later, Zhao Qi’s confession and the long list of crimes committed by the Zhao family were presented to the Emperor. With a stroke of his imperial vermilion brush, the Emperor sentenced the entire Zhao family to execution.

As the Zhao family met its end, many officials in the capital who had been deeply entangled with them also fell from grace one after another.

Within just a few days, the long-past case of the Shang family massacre and the assassination of the Northern Wilderness King’s Consort finally spread throughout the capital.

Originally, the assassination of the Consort would have been a huge scandal, but now it was linked to the massacre. Anyone who heard the full story couldn’t help but lament the tragic fate of the Shang family and the sheer depravity of the Consort’s family.

Zhao Qi’s decades of good reputation were completely ruined in a single day.

Even the Consort likely never imagined that after her death, people would still curse her memory and say she deserved it.

The turmoil outside had no effect on A Chan. She continued her days as usual, tending the incense shop.

After seeing off a customer, she carried a small stool outside the shop. The sunlight was especially nice that day, and Boss Xu from the neighboring bookstore was also sitting against the wall, surrounded by a group of children.

Boss Xu was telling them the details of the Consort’s assassination. Though his version strayed far from the truth, the children listened spellbound.

A Chan propped her chin in her hands, tilting her face slightly as she listened just as intently. The warm sunlight bathed her pale, delicate face, giving it a golden glow.

When Boss Xu finished, the children, far from being frightened, clamored for another story. With a sigh, he obliged, and A Chan watched them with a faint smile.

This horrifying tale of family turning on family would eventually become material for gossip among the capital’s residents, passed down through generations.

But in these stories, there would be no mention of her.

A Chan’s eyelids drooped, and Boss Xu’s voice gradually faded from her ears as her consciousness plunged into darkness.

When the darkness lifted, the brilliant sunlight still shone upon her.

Now, she lay lazily sprawled on the open ground outside the shop, her fur gleaming gold under the sun.

The street was empty. Boss Xu, who should have been sitting by the wall, was gone, and Chen Hui was nowhere to be seen behind the shop counter.

In this world, only she remained—along with a black chain reaching into the sky, coiled around her right hind leg.

The chain swayed back and forth, the sound of cracking echoing in A Chan’s ears. As she watched, the last chain binding her shattered link by link until it vanished completely.

A Chan stood up, shaking her fur, her eight tails swaying softly.

She ran through the empty streets for what felt like forever. The road seemed endless, yet she felt no fatigue—only the exhilaration of new freedom.

After completing a full circle, she returned to her doorstep and peered inside. The house was still empty.

She had thought something would happen once the last chain broke, but everything remained unchanged. None of her hopes had come to pass.

The joy in her heart slowly gave way to disappointment. A Chan sat at the doorway, her tails drooping to the ground, gazing up at the blue sky with a quiet whimper.

"Miss Ji, Miss Ji, are you alright?"

A hurried voice called out to her. A Chan slowly opened her eyes to see Boss Xu looking at her with concern.

"Miss Ji, are you feeling unwell?" he asked.

A Chan shook her head, only to realize her face was wet. She touched her cheeks—they were covered in tears.

She froze. Had she been crying just now?

"Should I call a doctor for you?" Boss Xu still seemed worried.

"It’s nothing. I just had a nightmare and got scared," A Chan managed a smile and replied.

Boss Xu could tell she wasn’t being entirely truthful but didn’t press further.

A Chan glanced at the sky and decided not to linger outside. Carrying her stool, she returned to the shop, where Chen Hui was going over the accounts behind the counter.

After placing the stool in a corner, A Chan thought to herself—perhaps everything she had experienced was truly just a fortunate accident? Not the result of careful scheming, nor the work of her parents.

Over a year had passed since she became human. She had grown accustomed to living as one, made many friends in the capital, found someone she loved, and lived each day happily.

Perhaps continuing like this wouldn’t be so bad?

Without disturbing Chen Hui, A Chan walked through the shop and retreated to her room in the backyard.

The moment she stepped inside, a sudden drowsiness struck her. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she could barely keep them open.

Closing the door, she stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it, still wearing her shoes, before sinking into a deep slumber.

A Chan slept soundly, so deeply that even when Chen Hui came to call her for dinner in the evening, she didn’t wake.

No matter how Chen Hui tried to rouse her, A Chan remained unresponsive, not even stirring slightly. Becoming more worried, Chen Hui summoned a doctor to examine her.

After checking her pulse, the doctor declared A Chan perfectly healthy—merely in a deep, natural sleep.

As for why she couldn’t be woken, she was likely exhausted and might wake on her own by morning.

Chen Hui found the diagnosis unconvincing and called for a second doctor, who gave the exact same verdict.

After seeing the doctors out, Chen Hui closed the door and stayed in A Chan’s room to watch over her.

On the bed, A Chan’s breathing remained steady, her complexion rosy. Gradually, Chen Hui’s anxiety eased.

She finally accepted the doctors’ words—perhaps A Chan would wake once she had slept enough.

Shortly after midnight, the candle on the holder burned out, plunging the room into darkness.

Chen Hui remained seated in the chair, not bothering to fetch a new candle.

Suddenly, a flash of red light flickered outside the window. Moments later, a loud clap of thunder erupted across the sky.

Chen Hui hurried to the window and pushed it open. Though it wasn’t raining, the sky was alive with rolling thunder—strangely, the lightning was crimson. Each bolt unfurled like a vast red net, a terrifying sight to behold.

After a few more claps of thunder, Chen Hui quickly shut the window.

She only stared at the sky for a moment before her heart pounded with dread. The lightning and thunder instinctively made her sense danger.

At this moment, thunder rumbled incessantly across Great Xia, and many witnessed the terrifying spectacle in the sky—the blood-red lightning, like wounds tearing across the sky.

In King Ming's estate, when the thunder sounded, King Ming pushed open his door and stepped outside.

Standing in the courtyard, he gazed up at the sky, his face clouded with grief.

He whispered, "I thought you simply refused to meet old friends... So you are truly gone..."

When a Fifth Realm master falls, heaven and earth grieve in unison.

A sworn brother who'd fought beside him had departed for reasons unknown.

As another peal of thunder exploded, King Ming vanished from his residence and reappeared the next instant at Bai Xiuming's estate.

Bai Xiuming was still awake—or more accurately, he had been asleep but was jolted awake by the thunderclaps.

When King Ming arrived, he saw his son standing beneath the corridor in only a thin black robe, scowling at the heavens, clearly in a foul mood.

"What's with the grim look?" King Ming's voice suddenly rang out, though Bai Xiuming showed no surprise.

"I'm wondering when this thunder will stop. I still have morning court to attend tomorrow."

"How pedestrian."

Unfazed by this two-word critique from King Ming, Bai Xiuming remained unmoved. "If you weren't so 'pedestrian,' you could actually work at the Bright Mirror Bureau, and I wouldn't have to work so hard, old man."

King Ming promptly snapped his mouth shut, ending the topic.

After listening to the thunder for a while longer, Bai Xiuming finally asked, "Did you know this fallen Fifth Realm cultivator, Father?"

With only thunder and no rain, this phenomenon was strange and could only be attributed to a celestial omen.

Such an omen was unlikely to signal the ascension of a Fifth Realm cultivator—it must signify a fall.

Last time, when a Fifth Realm demon emerged, it hadn't even drawn Father's attention. Yet now, he'd come knocking at this hour, clearly troubled.

King Ming did not hide it. "Yes, an old friend of mine."

"Which race?"

"Demon race."

Bai Xiuming frowned slightly but said nothing.

King Ming closed his eyes. When he opened them again after a long pause, a flash of molten gold gleamed in his gaze.

He turned to Bai Xiuming beside him and said, "My friend perished in the wildlands."

"So?"

"Once you finish this case, go and offer condolences for me."

King Ming could not leave Great Xia without permission, but Bai Xiuming could.

"Understood."

The wildlands... Bai Xiuming suddenly recalled that half-breed A Chan let slip in Xiling—she had gone to the wildlands, hadn't she?

Perhaps A Chan would want to see her?

Meanwhile, in the Northern Wilderness, thousands of miles from the capital.

Above the Northern Wilderness King's estate, the thunder shook the very foundations, yet it did not disturb the figure in the study.

Inside the study, a lamp adorned with a hundred luminous pearls hung from the beam, flooding the great chamber with light.

Bai Zhanhuang sat behind the desk in a white narrow-sleeved mandarin-collared brocade robe, the luminous pearls' glow reflecting off his handsome yet utterly expressionless face like carved jade.

At this moment, he was looking down at a golden book spread open on the desk.

It was the *Earth Spirit Book*.

The book lay open, the left golden page inscribed with the name "A Chan," while the right bore the name "Zhao Mingwei"—the name of the Consort of the Northern Wilderness King.

Originally, the names on both golden pages had been pale as ash. But shortly after the world-shaking thunder began, the name belonging to A Chan on the left page seemed to come alive, slowly blooming back to scarlet life.

Bai Zhanhuang brushed his fingertips over the two characters and whispered, "A Chan... You really are still alive."