The imperial guards roared their agreement, a hundred soldiers drawing their swords to pursue, while the remaining troops drew their bows, setting up archers and aiming at the two fleeing figures. Suddenly, Zhao Shun at the rear of the hall turned around, spread his hands wide, and then clasped them firmly over his chest. "Crack!" With a crisp, resonant sound, the artificial lake far off surged once more, sending up two serpentine water dragons—this time not aimed at the guards, but at the two fleeing princes. The water dragons spiraled and danced, colliding above the heads of the two rulers, transforming into a downpour. The rain blurred the vision; some archers released their bows, while those who continued firing lost all accuracy due to the combined obstruction of night and rain. Zhang Yuanqing and the graceful lady seized the opportunity, weaving through the opulent pavilions, leaping over artificial hills, and vaulting over the white jade railings, performing acrobatics through the vast palace complex, heading toward the southern gate. "Whizz!" A flaming arrow, soaked in oil and blazing brightly, shot from the distance. As the flames neared Zhang Yuanqing and Wan Fei, they suddenly expanded dramatically—Wan Fei turned her head and expelled a jet of water, extinguishing the spreading fire. At a distance, the sixth-level fire demon, whose flames had just ignited on his body, quickly faded out. The fire attack failed. At the crucial moment, Zhang Yuanqing leaped sideways and vanished. The two three-inch flying swords spun rapidly in the air, losing their target. Seeing this, Wan Meiren exhaled in relief, no longer fleeing, but turning to face the swordsman who was riding on flying swords after him. She drew out a black, flexible whip from her sleeve, raised her arm, and struck the lightly armored swordsman with a crisp "thwip"—but the swordsman, possessing insight, easily evaded the blow. Wan Meiren gently flicked her wrist, and the whip instantly split into two, then into four, then into eight—momentarily multiplying into thirty-two whip segments, spreading out and arching across the sky like a storm of limbs. "Thwip, thwip, thwip…" The sharp sounds of the strikes never ceased. Flying on swords was inherently less agile than on land; the middle-aged swordsman was struck by one whip, his skin and flesh splitting, then caught and drawn by the whip’s momentum, tumbling from the sky. Wan Meiren surged forward with a thunderous pace, like a war chariot, rushing toward the middle-aged swordsman. The two were less than ten meters apart. The middle-aged swordsman immediately felt his mouth dry, his cheeks wrinkling, his arm flesh shrinking and drying out. Within just a few seconds, sixty percent of the moisture in his body had been stripped away. The swordsman's expression darkened as he fought fiercely with the graceful lady, yet the sword techniques and close-quarters combat skills he prided himself on proved entirely ineffective against the water spirit's passive defenses. In the Five Elements theory, metal generates water—thus, in terms of elemental energy, water surpasses metal. As a result, the swordsman had little to no advantage against the water spirit. While not completely outmatched, he was absolutely without a chance of victory. Fortunately, at this moment, the fire spirit who had previously failed in his attempt to manifest fire energy arrived. This man had a full beard, a square face with intense, alert eyes, and a visible simmering impatience etched into his features. The fire spirit charged forward, clenching a glowing, intensely hot fire orb in his palm and hurling it straight at the lady. "Boom!" The fire orb exploded, its expanding flame casting bright light across the darkness, propelling the The fire demon general burst forward, his polished steel sword swirling with streams of flame, transforming into a blazing blade of fire and plunging it downward. The Empress Wei stepped aside, the sword's edge passing just beside her, sending a surge of flame bursting out and splashing onto the ground. Seizing the moment when the woman was momentarily held, the middle-aged swordsman once again leapt onto his sword, hovering in midair, gazing down at the scene, two pale beams of light radiating from his eyes and sweeping across the surroundings. The next instant, the two circling, dancing swords seemed to have locked onto something, turning sharply and shooting off toward the distance. "Plunged!" As the swords passed, droplets of water splashed up, and a figure tumbled out, steadying himself with a moment of unsteady wobble. It was Zhang Yuanqing. Hmph... Zhang Yuanqing winced, his face drawing tight. Though the water spirit abilities granted by the Yin-Yang robe had protected him from physical impacts, the shockwave power carried by the swords still pierced his spiritual essence. At the sixth level, the passive skill Shaking the Evil Spirits undergoes a substantial leap, becoming tangible and integrating into the weapon much like sword energy, inflicting significant damage upon the target's soul. Fortunately, although he is at the extraordinary stage, both the Night-Wanderer and the Illusionist are renowned for their powerful ethereal bodies, enabling him to endure. Were it any other profession at the extraordinary stage, his spiritual essence would have been severely compromised, leaving him unconscious. The mid-career swordsman murmured in surprise, "I never thought the royal figure, so immersed in courtly life, could achieve such mastery." Sword energy drawing the blades, the two flying swords reversed direction and surged forward once more. In that instant, Zhang Yuanqing reviewed all the extraordinary-level items in his inventory and the clan warehouse, and with a sense of profound sorrow, discovered that after gifting the red dance shoes, there remained not a single item capable of shielding him from a sixth-level attack. The gap in levels was simply too vast. Just as a sixth-level swordsman's Insight Technique can easily perceive a Night-Wanderer, it is precisely due to the difference in status. At the same level, such a technique would be The swordsman possessed an unyielding will; illusions, enchantments, and mesmerizing spells all fell short. For any extraordinary artifact to control a sixth-tier swordsman—let alone hold him—would be nothing short of miraculous. Zhang Yuanqing swiftly spun his thoughts and then produced two artifacts from the earth-based specialist class: a clay figure and a yellow clay shield. At the same time, he lifted his head and emitted a resonant, high-pitched cry into the night. Suddenly, a bright, clear beam of moonlight descended from the pitch-black sky, illuminating him. *Cry of the Moon!* He activated his long-dormant, exclusive Night-Wanderer skill—“Burst”—doubling his attributes. "Crack! Crack!" The spherical barrier formed by the clay figure shattered, and the yellow clay shield broke, yet Zhang Yuanqing demonstrated exceptional agility and reflexes, evading the lightning-fast twin swords. Under the power of the Cry of the Moon, his strength surged, yet he still showed no intention to engage in combat. As he prepared to unleash his Night-Wanderer escape maneuver, a sudden warmth surged across his forehead, his breath grew hot, his limbs grew weak, and he began to cough violently. Oh no, terrible—it's the pathogens... Zhang Yuanqing glanced around, but saw no manifestation of the plague deity spreading the sickness—instead, the middle-aged swordsman drew his flying sword again, launching a fresh assault. "Your Majesty!" Wan Fei gasped, taking a slash from the fire demon and retreating from the fray, then forcefully hurling out her soft whip. Two crisp thuds, and the flying sword was sent flying. Wan Fei dashed forward, arms flailing, whipping her soft whip in an effort to ensnare the water-deprived swordsman. Yet the same tactics failed against the swordsman; he swiftly raised his sword, ascending effortlessly above the whip's reach. While the blessing of Xiao Yue still held, Zhang Yuanqing once again activated his Night-Wanderer technique, vanishing from sight, then turned and retraced his path back toward the Summer Palace. The fire demon commander observed the swordsman high above, then turned and declared loudly, "Water monkey—bring rain!" The rain would outline the Night-Wanderer's hidden form. Hearing this, the Consort Wan, with eyes like copper bells, displayed a resolute determination and charged straight toward the fire-mage general—her move as suicidal as it was determined. The general immediately ignited his iron-long sword, sending forth a roaring flame, and swung it at Consort Wan. She tilted her head, deflecting the blade's edge, allowing it to slice through her body, releasing a dense mist of vapor. She then grasped the fire-mage's arm with her hand, her body radiating a steady black glow, violently drawing and consuming all moisture in the surrounding area. The rain failed to fall, as that would have continuously replenished the spiritual vitality of the昏king's warriors. The water-demon, known as the Water Monkey, and the swordmaster above in the sky, both hurried toward the palace gates. The fire-mage relaxed his gaze, exhaled a hearty "huh," and molten liquid flowed out from his pores. His facial features and flesh completely melted, transforming him into a strange creature emerging from a volcano. This was his passive ability—Runic Body. Runic Body enables the fire-mage to briefly become non-human, enhancing his fire control and flame resistance, making it especially effective in combat within fiery The lava-bodied creature contains virtually no moisture, allowing it to perfectly evade the moisture-depriving power of the Plague God. As the Fire Demon, transformed into a molten monster, seized Lady Wanfei and said with a hearty laugh, "Form the array!" At that moment, a hundred infantry arrived. A squad of heavily armored guards advanced and knelt single-kneed, placing their palms firmly upon the ground. "Roar—roar—" The stone pavement cracked, and successive compacted earth walls rose up, sealing Lady Wanfei and the Fire Demon general within. In the next instant, surging flames filled the narrow space between the earth walls, bursting forth like high-pressure jets of fire through the cracks. From afar, Zhang Yuancheng suddenly halted, turning his gaze toward the earth walls. The flames and yellow soil perfectly countered the Plague God's passive abilities—Lady Wanfei could no longer escape; she would be vaporized by the heat. "Your Majesty, the question you asked me...," came a strained voice from the cracks in the earthen wall, Lady Wan's voice barely audible as she struggled against pain, "it was done by Chancellor Zheng—it was Chancellor Zheng... I have gone to see the Empress Dowager..." Her voice cut off. She said "servant" instead of "subordinate." Zhang Yuanqing turned his gaze, continued rushing toward the Summer Palace, his face expressionless, his deep eyes blazing with fire. He dashed past the imperial guards, climbed over the carved Han white jade balustrades, and passed through one grand pavilion after another, eventually reaching the ruins of the Summer Palace, where he plunged into the lake. In his flowing dual-draped cloak, he moved like a submerged torpedo, stirring a steady stream of bubbles, diving into the lake bed. After sensing the current beneath, he located a narrow underground channel—less than half a meter in diameter—buried beneath layers of silt. Zhang Yuanqing's body flowed into the channel like water. ... In the southern part of the capital city, a narrow stream flows quietly. Along its banks stand ordinary folk homes with white walls and black tiles, closely clustered, interspersed with elegant brick-and-wood villas. A stone arch bridge, covered in moss, stands still under the moonlight. Suddenly, a splash of water breaks the stillness on the calm river surface, and a figure emerges from the water. Dressed in a bright yellow robe, his hair wet and flowing, his face pale as paper, he struggles to swim toward the shore. It takes him a while to cover just a few meters, finally climbing onto a wooden platform where a woman was folding clothes. He lies there, sprawled out, gasping heavily, coughing intermittently, as though he has used up all his strength. With trembling hands, he reaches into the air, grasps a porcelain bottle, removes the wooden stopper, and swallows the pills whole. His pale complexion gradually regains some color. Zhang Yuanqing is now in a poor condition. The aftereffects of the climax following the Xiaoyue performance, combined with the gradual invasion of the pathogens, are steadily consuming his vitality. Though the pills he was taking could treat the illness, they were of extraordinary quality—effective only in alleviating the pathogens of a sixth-level Wencheng deity, not in curing them entirely. "Master?" A joyful voice rang out from the shore, and two figures—one tall and one short—rushed toward him quickly. It was Jiang Jingwei and the Queen, both having escaped the palace via the underground river. They had traveled along the hidden river for a long time, emerged onto the surface, and found themselves outside the palace, now here, where they had remained hidden in the alleys ever since, waiting for Zhang Yuanqing. Zhang Yuanqing tilted his head slightly and looked at the two approaching figures, then smiled weakly, "Come, carry me—my strength is fading." The Queen volunteered, running down the stone steps. After carefully examining Zhang Yuanqing's body and finding no life-threatening injuries, she exhaled in relief, cradling him gently as she said, "What's wrong, Master?" "I've contracted the Wencheng deity's pathogens," Zhang Yuanqing said with a wry smile. "Take pills! Take pills!" Jiang Jingwei said anxiously. "Pills of extraordinary The queen held Zhang Yuanqing and hurried along the stone-paved path beside the river, now entering alleys and now crossing streets. After a quarter of an hour, they selected a household with a courtyard and slipped in. Using the hypnosis tool provided by Zhang Yuanqing, the queen hypnotized the homeowner, so that the middle-aged couple sincerely believed the three visitors were relatives from the capital coming to stay with them. The cousins and nieces had traveled far and were both tired and hungry—they needed a warm meal before they could sleep. The homeowner arranged them in a guest room and urged the woman to go to the kitchen to prepare food. Soon, the woman brought in three bowls of rice, a plate of vegetables, and a plate of preserved meat. "Sister, you rest first—we’ll clean up after dinner," said the queen, smiling warmly. "My nephew seems quite ill; tomorrow, I’ll have my husband take him to the Herbs and Medicines Pavilion. The Master of the Imperial Academy’s remedies can treat a hundred ailments," the woman said with pride typical of the capital’s people and deep admiration for the Herbs and Medicines Pavilion. "The Herbs and Medicines Pavilion?" "Jiang Jingwei speaks faster than her thoughts: 'Is that the pharmacy opened by the big boss?'" The woman, upon hearing this, looked deeply puzzled: "What exactly is a 'big Persian'?" The queen sighed sadly: "Er-ya has gone off again. Please don't mind her; she's been intellectually slow since childhood and often speaks nonsense." The woman, deeply affected by the spell, added with a sigh: "She must be a child with a hard fate."