Chapter 2: The State Preceptor Scheming to Overthrow the Court

The perimeter of Fangzhi Palace was the Wanren Palace Walls, guarded tightly with a soldier every ten steps, so the interior was comparatively lax. Only two guards stood watch at the entrance to the secret passage, and the long tunnel inside was empty.

A fist-sized copper lock hung before the dim cell, covered in layers of dust. The cage, forged from refined iron, allowed water and food to be passed through the gaps, but with her hands and feet shackled, she had to kneel on the ground and crawl to eat or drink.

—What kind of humiliation and suffering was this?

No wonder Xu Zhaosu’s eyes burned with unending resentment the instant she saw her.

The State Preceptor, clad in white robes, stood silently before the prison for a long time. Her gaze fell upon the disheveled figure inside, her back stiffening for a moment before she suddenly reached out.

—A streak of silver light flashed.

In that instant, the silver gleamed piercingly in the dim secret passage. Yet Xu Zhaosu didn’t blink once, her pitch-black pupils fixed deathly on the woman not far away, as if carving her excessively cold and aloof features into her heart with a knife.

Her slender, pale right hand was suited for wielding a sword. Having cultivated for many days on Snow Mountain, she seemed to carry the inhuman, aloof chill of its snow. In that moment, Xu Zhaosu even thought she had come to kill her.

Her recent movements had been too frequent; perhaps they had alerted this excessively clever woman.

—Was she truly about to succeed, only to fail at the last step?

—Then she watched wide-eyed as the slender Falling Snow Sword fell cleanly. The prison door, locked for a full year, was pushed open, and something landed lightly on the ground.

—She had severed the chains with a single stroke.

Shi Qingyi’s hands trembled—back then, to fit the persona of a ruthless, heartless scum, she had personally fastened the shackles. The only key in the world had been sealed away by her in Yuming Hall.

Half an hour earlier, when she had ransacked Yuming Hall and failed to find the key, she had nearly collapsed.

As the ultimate scum who had forced the villain to blacken, how could she possibly keep the key? Of course, she had tossed it away casually on the day she locked the door, aaaaaah!

As for where she had thrown it, could she admit she had flung it into the Taiye Pool on a whim?

As for how Xu Zhaosu had gotten out in the end last time, how was she supposed to know?

In desperation, she had fetched a famed sword that could cut iron like mud to try her luck. Heartbreakingly, that Falling Snow Sword, renowned for slicing through the world’s hardest substances, had been Xu Zhaosu’s birthday gift to her the previous year.

She had actually seen Xu Zhaosu’s expression in that instant—

A face full of cold mockery and towering hatred.

—At the same time, the perfectly fitting expression for an ex-girlfriend who had stolen her throne, imprisoned and tormented her for a year, then come to kill her with the gift she had given.

Shi Qingyi: “……”

She felt a twinge of myocardial infarction.

But she couldn’t break character, so she maintained her cold, emotionless face and walked step by step into the narrow cell.

The hem of her magnificent skirt, pure white like snow, stepped into that silent, cramped space. In just two steps, it was stained with filth and dirt. The palace servants behind her were terrified.

—The State Preceptor loved white and had severe mysophobia; even a speck of dust would darken her mood for a day. Yet now, she didn’t care about the cell’s grime.

There was no bed, no chair—just uneven, pitted ground. Her shoes had stepped in the snow outside, and now she felt the bone-chilling cold inside even more keenly with every step, cold enough to make her question her life choices.

—It was hard to imagine how Xu Zhaosu, raised in luxury from childhood, had endured a year here. No wonder her health deteriorated for life afterward, leaving her with chronic illness and a temperament that turned to slaughter without remorse.

“What are you here for?”

A hoarse voice, three degrees colder than ice, yanked Shi Qingyi back to reality.

—No, she was already pretty much there now.

Shi Qingyi’s mouth twitched. The woman before her had fully blackened.

This question was tough. As the former scum, Shi Qingyi felt the pressure.

Whatever she said seemed wrong. Even if she said a million “I’m sorry, please spare me, I’ll warm your bed willingly,” no one would believe it—and she might get killed ahead of schedule by this one.

Shi Qingyi remained silent. The sword shadow in her hand danced, and after a grating screech, the iron chains binding Xu Zhaosu’s limbs clattered to the ground.

Thanks to the skills honed across countless worlds, her swordsmanship was superb. The chains were intricately wrapped, nearly encasing the person entirely. Her blade grazed the trapped, immobile woman’s body repeatedly without so much as a scratch.

The sensation of the blade edge brushing past her ears and skin was terrifying, as if death had passed by inches. Not only did the palace servants outside think the State Preceptor meant to silence her, even Xu Zhaosu believed it herself.

Then she felt the biting chill of the ground suddenly lift. When she opened her eyes again, a stunningly clear face was inches away.

—She had landed in Shi Qingyi’s arms, held awkwardly as the woman carried her step by step toward the exit.

Shi Qingyi’s face remained flawlessly composed, but inwardly, she was in utter collapse.

—It wasn’t that Xu Zhaosu was heavy; in fact, she was frighteningly light. When Shi Qingyi’s arm circled her back, she could feel the protruding bones clearly—skinny to the point of having no flesh left, just a skeleton.

If not for her escape from this hell in a month, flipping the tables, she might not have survived this winter.

From the moment Shi Qingyi picked her up, Xu Zhaosu’s hand had gripped her arm viciously.

Untrimmed for nearly a year, Xu Zhaosu’s nails had grown savage. The force was as if she meant to tear her apart. Though the fine fabric prevented the sharp nails from piercing her clothes, the sting on her skin was still palpable.

—It hurt enough to make her cry.

—Hold it together, hold it together, don’t break!!!

The guards kneeling at the entrance were on edge—what was the State Preceptor doing here now? If Her Majesty’s deeds were exposed, what then?

The instant they heard footsteps, they looked up and saw a faint wisp of white drifting from the depths of the dark passage, pure as a heavy winter snow. That snow-white figure drew nearer, finally stepping out.

Not just him—all the people around widened their eyes in shock.

A woman in a snow-white skirt, untouched by dust, emerged slowly from the passage’s depths, cradling another woman in her arms. That ever-pristine white skirt was now stained with grime.

The person in her arms was filthy, covered in mud, her tattered clothes barely covering her body—yet she was unmistakably His Majesty, who had vanished from the world a year ago after being imprisoned here!

Having lingered too long in the dimness, Xu Zhaosu’s eyes couldn’t adjust instantly to the outside light. They unfocused for a moment, physiological tears rolling down her cheeks and into her collar.

The outdoor daylight, amplified by the snow’s glare, was blinding. In that moment of blurred vision, she saw nothing and instinctively gripped tighter.

—Her hand clutched Shi Qingyi’s arm.

That single squeeze dug into the delicate flesh. Blood seeped through, stark against the white skirt. Shi Qingyi paused slightly, then reached out to drape the State Preceptor’s wide sleeve over Xu Zhaosu’s face, blocking the piercing light—and incidentally covering the scantily clad body. Her fingers brushed her ear lightly, wiping away that tear.

She then glanced up and down, warning the group staring in astonishment.

Her gaze, accustomed to authority, was icy and imposing. The people below immediately bowed their heads, not daring to look up, though it did nothing to quench the raging gossip fire in their hearts.

—The State Preceptor carried out His Majesty???

Note: Carried. Carried!

Shi Qingyi lacked the courage to carry Xu Zhaosu all the way back to Yuming Hall across half the Imperial Palace—unless she bought medicine from the Main God Space, it was a pipe dream.

Moreover, snow was swirling outside now. She wasn’t dressed warmly, and Xu Zhaosu had only a thin dress; walking back would be self-torture plus attempted murder. Wisely, she called for a shoulder palanquin.

She held her charge, closing her eyes to rest and ponder whether to speak first, when the palanquin arrived. The moment she stepped in, Shi Qingyi felt unprecedented warmth.

—So warm.

After savoring it for an instant, she extended one hand outside. Moments later, a furry cloak landed in her palm.

—She was a hedonist; in every world, her comfort came first. She never shortchanged herself.

The people outside had good eyes—nice.

The cloak had a hood, with only faint golden cloud patterns on the edges amid pure white. It was warm to the touch, the inner fur soft and glossy—a rare fine item.

Just as she moved to shake it open, she felt the nails embedded in her flesh dig deeper.

Heart-piercing pain—

Shi Qingyi summoned every ounce of willpower to keep her face from twisting into a porcine squeal.

Then, with the hand holding the cloak, she tremulously lifted the sleeve covering the face in her arms.

In that instant, she froze—tears streaked the face before her. The woman in her embrace seemed to be enduring something desperately, refusing to make a sound, yet her fingers clenched ever tighter on her arm, as if trying to claw a hole through it.

—Pain she could empathize with all too well.

It was as clear as day: If it hurts you once, I’ll make you hurt ten or a hundred times!

And it seemed something had gone wrong again—