Li Jiniao had been alone in his small courtyard for several days. Originally brought in as a mere appendage, his position had grown increasingly awkward in the absence of the others—effectively forgotten. With the earthquake, Black Stone City was preoccupied, and meals were no longer delivered. He had to fend for himself, bowing low to go to the kitchen to purchase inferior ingredients, then stacking stones in his courtyard to build a stove and cook meals. Often, the smoke would choke him, and when he lifted the lid of the pot, the contents were meager and unimpressive. On one occasion, the guards outside even reprimanded him, complaining that the smoke was too heavy and the sight unattractive. Li Jiniao nodded and bowed repeatedly, showing his utmost deference. Behind him, the tortoise-back snake orchid had fully bloomed, and the delicate scenes of gentle morning light, cool autumn rain, soft morning mist, and golden sunset with light snow had gathered—exactly the kind of poetic setting that would make literati and scholars bow in admiration. Yet he felt not a single spark of appreciation or delight. Such refined ambiance required not only a full stomach and warm clothes, but also leisure and comfort to truly savor. So, upon seeing several people return, Li Jin'ao was genuinely overjoyed, rushing up to ask endless questions, full of excitement and surprise. Yet, unfortunately, Ding Liu and the others were either busy or lying down, too tired to respond—no one had the energy to pick up the conversation. After a while of warming them up and inquiring after their well-being, the courtyard was once again left with only Li Jin'ao and a chicken that had slowly descended from the carriage, carrying itself with great dignity. — Soon after Ye Liuxi and Fei Tang returned, a large number of medical staff arrived, setting up a full-scale operation with an array of equipment and surgical tools, and even formally arranging to designate a sterile ward. The few newcomers, being outsiders, couldn’t quite grasp the details, but since everything was so bustling, they felt confident and reassured, their minds at ease. Chang Dong’s current condition wasn’t a burden, nor could he contribute much—he was somewhat obstructive on site and found the room stuffy, so Fei Tang had simply moved a reclining chair to the courtyard for him to rest and enjoy the view. After a while, he began to feel as though someone was observing him from the side. He looked up and met Li Jiniao’s gaze—exactly what Li Jiniao had been hoping for. Knowing that such moments were rare, he beamed warmly and waved enthusiastically, “Hey, Chang Dong!” Chang Dong found this a bit unusual, then realized: Li Jiniao had actually called his name correctly—no small feat. Li Jin'ao came over, hesitating at first, and began with a tentative opening remark, bringing out his brother Zhen Si-Hai: "Our Zhen Si-Hai, how did he do during his time at the gold mine? Wasn't he satisfactory?" Chang Dong, who didn't particularly enjoy discussing people's merits or shortcomings, was equally reserved: "He's quite energetic." Since conversation thrives on mutual exchange, he also racked his brain to find something to talk about: "And you—did you visit the grand museum? Did you come away with any new insights?" Li Jin'ao had been waiting for just such a response. With a sigh, he slumped down beside Chang Dong, the fine, steady rain of the turtle-back snake-pepper leaves drifting gently over his head—perfectly matching the mood of melancholy and quiet sorrow: "Life, really, is far better when you have power and influence. And don't even talk about heroes asking nothing of their origins—your very origin shapes the path you take." Chang Dong knew there was more to come. "You know, I'm a distant branch of the Li family. I've never really touched the Li family's shadow puppetry secrets—my only claim to fame is carrying a stage box and performing shows. Honestly, who's really better than whom? If I had the chance, I'd probably do even better." "Having lived half my life, I haven't achieved much. I always thought that to truly make a difference, I'd need to head to a big city. Well, you've seen how Zhao Guanshou treated me, haven't you? After all, I finally managed to get in through the good graces of Lady Liu Xi—only to find out... well, that's not exactly what I expected." He leaned closer to Chang Dong, lowering his voice: "Do you know that even the antique display stands at their museum are based on a version I've learned?" Chang Dong remained composed: "In what way?" Li Jin'ao snorted, "There's quite a bit more than my version. I've finally figured it out. The kind of ordinary fengshi we ordinary practitioners can access are mostly the popular, mass-market versions. The ones in the museums are the complete, full versions. That's why Zhao Guanshou was reluctant to let me see them—some of the most important details, in fact, are even covered up with golden lids, as if they were being held back with modesty." Golden lids? Chang Dong's mind stirred. "Is it on a wall with painted panels, where there's a golden slab in the center, looking at first like just decorative?" "Exactly." "So what exactly is covered up?" "The 'Kui.'" Li Jin'ao gestured with his hand. "It looks like a serpent, with eagle's claws, a flat, round head, and a tuft of hair on its crown—said to be the tenth son of the dragon, specifically designed to bewilder people." Chang Dong's heart pounded. "Is there anything else?" "Nothing else. All I saw was a painting, with a brief inscription at the bottom." Hey, listen—how unreasonable is this? It’s not even a secret! What can we, ordinary shamans, possibly gain by being made aware of it? We, the peripheral branches, have already been far behind the shamans of Black Stone City in basic fundamentals. Now, on top of that, they’re still holding back information from us—our starting point is already so far off! He was just about to go on with his complaints when suddenly he stopped. Chang Dong’s face grew serious, his brow furrowed, completely absorbed in his own thoughts, not listening at all. Li Jinao realized then that Chang Dong was a patient—his doctor had specifically advised him to stay calm and avoid agitation. His own stream of complaints must have seemed rather unbecoming. He blushed slightly and said, "Well, I’ll go back now. You rest, just rest a bit..."... Chang Dong stayed seated until late in the afternoon. Fei Tang came to call him for dinner and couldn't help saying, "Dong, you've just been sitting there motionless—don't you find it cold? Your hands and feet must be frozen stiff. Even if you love watching plum blossoms, you wouldn't go this far, would you?" Chang Dong suddenly asked, "Have you seen Jiang Zhan often during your captivity?" The transition between these two sentences was so abrupt that Fei Tang only realized it after a moment: "Yes." "Have you noticed Jiang Zhan has a tattoo?" Didn't he notice? Fei Tang nodded. "On which hand does Jiang Zhan have the tattoo?" "The left hand—just like Qingzhi. Oh, and it's the same as Xi's sister too. Didn't Qingzhi once mock me, saying Xi's sister had copied her?" "During the time we were in Jin's cave, when I wasn't fully conscious, do you remember whether Liu Xi cut off Jiang Zhan's left arm or right arm?" Fei Tang was certain: "Left arm." "Still showing Chang Dong Ye Liuxi's move: 'Just like this—swiftly flick it over. It's mainly because my sister's blade is so excellent; if it were an ordinary one, the effect wouldn't be this impressive.'" Chang Dong remained silent. — The medical team at Blackstone City has been inconsistent. Cases that seemed to be improving suddenly take a nosedive, like passengers on a roller coaster. Just when things start to show promise, they abruptly worsen—like young shoots that seem destined for vigorous growth, only to be suddenly hit by frost and wilt. After just two days, Ding Liu lost patience. Yet the doctors worked tirelessly, rising early and staying late, their eyes red from sleepless nights. She couldn't blame them for being mediocre, so she quietly asked Ye Liuxi behind their backs: "Sister Ye, can we go out now? Can we go out?" Ye Liuxi went back to Zhao Guanshou for a follow-up. After a moment's pause, Zhao said: "We can't just leave at a moment's notice—route and security considerations matter. How about you wait one more day, while I make the arrangements?" One day wasn't much to ask—after all, day and night would pass quickly. The breakfast on the second morning was scattered and disrupted. Two Yulin guards arrived first, delivering Zhao Guanshou's message: Ye Liuxi had once mentioned that Ding Liu had been stabbed on her head, which had only been hastily bandaged and not properly attended to. Now, with her departure imminent, a thorough examination was indeed necessary. Black Stone City has the required equipment, though it would need to be moved; they would need to take Ding Liu there for the examination. Matters concerning the head are always of great importance, and Ye Liuxi accompanied Ding Liu to the examination. The others continued dining, but not long after, two more Yulin guards arrived, this time to fetch Ahu, their demeanor harsh—handling her roughly, dragging her off immediately—and stating that there were some unusual aspects regarding the gold mine incident, which required Ahu to be taken back for questioning. FeiTang found the Yulin guards' conduct absurd: Ahu couldn't even speak, so what could they possibly ask her? Even if there were anomalies in the gold mine matter, could it possibly be Ahu's responsibility as a minor figure? Wasn't this simply an act of bullying? FeiTang couldn't bear it any longer and accompanied Ahu to the questioning. Originally, a full table of people were dining, but in no time at all, only Changdong was left. Yet even stranger was to come—though they had only just begun to eat, someone already came to clear the dishes. Changdong held his chopsticks, a little helpless, smiling with a mix of amusement and bewilderment. Just as he was about to speak, the person clearing the table busied themselves, not lifting their head: "Old Zhao would like to see you. He said, don’t tell anyone—just treat it as a casual stroll. Walk all the way to his place and go straight to his study. You needn’t worry—just chat a bit, and you’ll be back quickly. He won’t keep you long." Changdong felt a sudden sense of alertness. Of course, this morning has been full of unexpected events—there must be something brewing. He just hadn’t expected it to center on him. Changdong placed his chopsticks back on the table. —Just treat it as a casual stroll. Indeed, it was redundant. Given his current condition—unable to run or jump—he could only manage a slow walk. Chang Dong walked through the courtyard, stopping briefly to say hello to Li Jinao, who seemed eager to join him for a stroll. But just when things were about to unfold smoothly, the disruption arrived: the Yulin Guards blocked Li Jinao at the entrance, firmly demanding that he clear out the small kitchen he had set up two days prior. Truly painstaking—yet the more painstaking Hua Guanshou was, the more enthusiastic he became about this visit to the study. Hua Guanshou had always been most concerned and vigilant about the Liuxi faction. Why, then, had he suddenly summoned him? Was this a strategic move to undermine Liuxi? A subtle maneuver to create discord? Despite all the smooth progress, Chang Dong had anticipated a steady, adaptable response. Yet, as he pushed open the study door, he paused momentarily. To his surprise, Hua Guanshou stood aside, and the one seated in the main chair was... Qingzhi? Chang Dong didn’t display any overt astonishment. He closed the door gently and spoke calmly, “Did I mishear? Has the Yulin Guard indeed communicated with Xieyan, or was Qingzhi, in fact, one of their dispatched representatives all along?” Zhao Guanshou chuckled and paused to say, "Let me introduce someone. This is Long Shen's daughter, Long Zhi—precisely the 'Lady Long' you've been hearing about all along." Chang Dong remained standing. "Then it makes sense why Lady Long has been so 'ill'—being ill enough to remain bedridden and avoid visitors, allowing her to stay close to Jiang Zhan and move quietly in the background. Lady Long's illness is merely a pretense. The real illness, I suspect, belongs to someone else." As he finished, his gaze seemed casually swept over Zhao Guanshou. A slight embarrassment flickered across Zhao Guanshou's face. Long Zhi gestured toward the chair across from her. "Please sit down. There's a lot to discuss today—standing all this time might make you tired." Chang Dong pulled the chair out and settled into it, glancing around. On his previous visit, he had come with quiet stealth; this was his first formal visit. The city of Hei Shi had suffered an earthquake, and even this study room had not escaped the tremor—its tilt was particularly deliberate: as one entered from the door, the room rose gradually The books stacked against that wall had once been neatly aligned, but now they were all crushed flat against the glass surface, creating a deeply oppressive atmosphere—so much so that one felt certain the glass would shatter completely at any moment, spilling the paper volumes out like a tidal surge. Chang Dong shifted his gaze. Indeed, he had a slight obsession with order; such a scene made his eyes uncomfortable. He looked up at Long Zhi. Long Zhi smiled, “It’s just so many things happening—I’m not sure where to begin. How about this…” She lifted her left sleeve, revealing the kui-long tattoo on her forearm. “Do you recognize this tattoo?” Chang Dong nodded. “You have it, so does Liu Xi, and Jiang Zhan as well. You once mentioned that Liu Xi was imitating you.” With her right index finger, Long Zhi gently brushed the tuft of hair on the kui-long’s head—something quite endearing. “Actually, among the three of us, only one person’s tattoo is genuine.” She turned her index finger toward herself: "My tattoo was crafted by a master specifically skilled in this art—each stitch was carefully placed according to the design. The ones on the two of them are called Kuilong." "Kuilong originally was the tenth son of the dragon, but lacking the ability to move heaven and earth or flood and overturn seas, people have traditionally favored only the nine sons of the dragon." "Kuilong manifests itself primarily by confusing and disorienting its host, yet it has one flaw—it cannot go unnoticed. It always leaves a mark resembling a tattoo on the left wrist. Once this secret spreads, the very effectiveness of Kuilong will diminish; anyone seeing that mark will immediately recognize they’ve been set up. Thus, for years, the existence of Kuilong has remained known only to a small number of high-ranking officials within the realm." Pausing slightly, she then looked at Zhao Guanshou: "Notice how little reaction he’s shown—despite all I’ve revealed. Therefore, don’t underestimate Ye Liuxi and her circle. She likely knows far more than you imagine." She murmured, pulling her sleeve up to cover the tattoo and continuing. "There are three types of kui. The first is called 'tun kui,' which is quite fascinating—it works like a crawling creature, devouring memories. It consumes the earlier part of a complete experience, leaving you with only the later portion. It may swallow most of it, so you remember only a small part. This is a form of amnesia, but more reliable than ordinary amnesia—observe the characters in films who suffer amnesia: after a head injury or when exposed to a familiar setting, they often suddenly recall key moments, which is quite distressing. Tun kui, however, is far more dependable. With it present, such unexpected incidents will never occur." Chang Dong slowly curled his hand as he lowered it. "The second is called 'dai kui.' It is also remarkable—it seamlessly replaces someone you remember with another person, from childhood through adulthood, down to every single detail, without a single oversight." "The third one is called Bù Kuí. You’ve never met this person, yet once Bù Kuí takes hold of you, you’ll feel as though you truly have a lifelong friend, a love as strong as gold, or an enemy whose loyalty is unshakable—despite the fact that that person doesn’t even exist at all. So isn’t Kuí quite rare? Alas, grass can be blown back to life by spring winds, but the truly wonderful things often vanish too soon—Kuí was among the first to disappear in the Guan region. By my generation, only two Kuí remain in Guan: one is Tun Kuí, and the other is Dài Kuí. And each Kuí can only be used once in a lifetime. About a year and a half ago, in order to resolve the century-long crisis that had arisen in Guan, I made up my mind and used both of these two Kuí."