Weeping Bitterly

Ouyang Ke’s eyes lit down, his heart shaken. Ignoring Tolui, he smiled and said, "What kind of person am I, Young Master Ouyang? Since I have given my word, how could I go back on it? However, while he may leave, you, Princess Huazheng, must stay..."

"Very well."

Cheng Lingsu had long anticipated that he wouldn't let the matter rest so easily. Yet, this was perhaps for the best; dealing with Ouyang Ke alone would give her a better chance to look for an opening to escape. With Tolui still around, she would inevitably be constrained by worries for his safety. Therefore, before Ouyang Ke could utter any more nonsense, she cut him off and agreed directly.

Ouyang Ke hadn't expected her to agree so readily. He burst into laughter, "That's more like it. With the eyesore out of the way, the two of us can have a proper chat."

Ignoring him, Cheng Lingsu turned her back, retrieved the handkerchief wrapping the blue flowers from her bosom, and shook it slightly in the air. She bound it around Tolui's split and bleeding thumb-web, then tucked the two blue flowers back into her tunic. After briefly explaining the situation to Tolui, she urged him to leave first.

With an ashen face, Tolui took two steps back, suddenly ripped the saber planted at his feet out of the ground, and glared in Ouyang Ke's direction. With a fierce downward stroke, he slashed a void through the air right before himself: "Your martial arts are formidable, and I am no match for you. But today, in the name of Temüjin's son, I swear to the god of the grassland! Once I have exterminated those who conspired against my father, I will surely fight you to the death! I shall avenge my sister and show you what the heroic sons and daughters of the grassland truly are!"

As the son of a Mongol tribal leader, Tolui was amiable and fiercely loyal, unlike the blindly arrogant Wanyan Wushi. Yet his inner pride was no less than Wushi's. Being Temüjin's favorite son, he understood his father's vast ambitions and grand vision: he wanted to help his father turn every land covered by the blue sky into pasture for the Mongols!

For this goal, he had trained in military camps since childhood without a single day of slack. Little did he expect that after years of rigorous practice, not only would he fall into enemy hands today, but he would also be unable to safely take his sister, who had come to rescue him, back home! Tolui knew in his heart that Cheng Lingsu was right; his priority should be Temüjin's safety, and he needed to return swiftly to mobilize troops to support his ambushed father. Yet the thought of his sister being forcibly detained here choked him with a humiliation so profound it nearly stopped his breath.

Mongols prized keeping one's word above all else, let alone an oath sworn to the god worshipped by everyone on the grassland. Knowing his martial arts were inferior, Tolui had still made this oath with unyielding resolve. His expression was devout and stern, and his words surged with heroic spirit. Although not a master of martial arts, the broad shoulders tempered by years in military camps carried an innate aura of royalty, identical to Temüjin's. It was a commanding, awe-inspiring presence that made even Ouyang Ke—who hadn't caught the specific meaning of his words—secretly startle.

A warmth welled up in Cheng Lingsu's heart. The hot-blooded spirit belonging exclusively to Temüjin's daughter seemed to feel Tolui's reluctance and determination, rushing up like a torrential current and stinging her eyes with a faint heat. Keeping a calm expression, she stepped sideways to block any potential line of attack from Ouyang Ke, and whispered, "Go quickly, return at once. I have my own way to escape."

Tolui nodded, stepped forward again, and wrapped his arms around her in a brief embrace. Without casting another glance at Ouyang Ke, he turned and sprinted toward the camp gates.

Along the way, a few guards left behind saw him running out of the camp and tried to intercept him, only to be cut down one by one, falling to the ground.

By the time she saw with her own eyes that Tolui had seized a horse at the edge of the camp and ridden far away into the distance, Cheng Lingsu finally let out a sigh of relief and eased her mind.

In her previous life, her master, the Medicinal King of Poisonous Hands, used poisons to make medicine and heal the sick, yet he firmly believed in karmic retribution. In his later years, he had converted to Buddhism, cultivating his mind until he reached a state of utter detachment from anger or joy. Cheng Lingsu had been his youngest disciple taken in during his twilight years and was deeply influenced by him. After this twist of worldly reincarnation, despite clearly having died, she had somehow been sent here. She had to believe that perhaps, in the unseen realm, there was some other purpose at work.

Originally, she had no wish to become overly entangled with the people and affairs of this world. She had even thought of finding a chance to flee far away, return to the shores of Lake Dongting, and see what the Bailma Temple of several centuries later looked like now. She would open a small medical clinic, heal the sick, and spend the rest of her life guarding the longing and deep affection she held for that person in her previous life.

Furthermore, once Temüjin fell into peril, the Mongol tribe where she had lived for a decade would also face disaster. Her mother and brother, who had truly cared for her and raised her, along with the clansmen she saw and lived among every day, would all be caught in the catastrophe. Having spent ten years together, how could she simply stand by and watch with folded arms?

Thinking of this, Cheng Lingsu let out another faint sigh.

Noticing that Cheng Lingsu had been gazing off in the direction where Tolui had left, completely lost in thought and sighing repeatedly, Ouyang Ke lifted his chin and sneered, "What? Are you really that reluctant to part with him?"

Catching the underlying implication in his words, Cheng Lingsu frowned, pulled her thoughts back, and blurted out, "I am worried about my brother. Isn't that only natural?"

"Oh? He is your brother?" Ouyang Ke raised an eyebrow, a flash of fleeting joy dancing at the corners of his eyes. "Then... was that fellow from earlier your lover?"

"What are you talking ab—" Cheng Lingsu suddenly paused as realization dawned. "You mean Guo Jing? You were already there before... You knew the moment we arrived?"

"Not 'you all', just you! The moment you arrived, I knew." Ouyang Ke looked quite pleased, clearly deriving immense satisfaction from her reaction.

Though Cheng Lingsu had dismounted far away, his inner cultivation was profound, and how could his hearing compare to that of ordinary Mongol soldiers? He had discovered her almost the exact moment she sneaked into the main camp. Just as he was about to reveal himself, he saw Ma Yu step forward and take both her and Guo Jing away.

Years ago, his uncle Ouyang Feng had suffered a crushing defeat at the hands of the Quanzhen Sect, so the lineage of the Western Poison harbored deep-seated resentment and wariness toward Quanzhen Taoists. Recognizing Ma Yu's Taoist robes and recalling his uncle's past warnings, Ouyang Ke had dismissed the idea of showing himself. Instead, he remained hidden in the shadows, watching them exchange one question and answer after another.

He had originally expected Cheng Lingsu to persuade Ma Yu to charge into the camp together to rescue the captives. Unaware that Ma Yu was the leader of the Quanzhen Sect, Ouyang Ke simply figured that aside from millions of troops, the camp also held Wanyan Honglie and several martial arts experts who could easily entangle Ma Yu—perhaps even giving him a chance to eliminate the Taoist priest and rid the Quanzhen Sect of a powerful pillar. He hadn't anticipated that this Taoist priest not only refused to raid the camp but actually took Guo Jing away with him, leaving Cheng Lingsu behind all by herself.

Cheng Lingsu gradually pieced the situation together in her mind. "Wanyan Honglie came here in secret, likely to seize the opportunity to provoke strife between Jamukha and my father, keeping the Mongol tribes at war with each other so that his Great Jin Empire would have no trouble from the north."

Ouyang Ke had no interest whatsoever in such political struggles. Seeing how earnest Cheng Lingsu looked, he simply nodded along and offered a compliment, "Drawing inferences from one instance—you truly are remarkably clever."

Reaching up to brush aside a strand of hair blown loose by the wind, Cheng Lingsu's gaze was as clear as the crisp waters of the Onon River on the grassland. "You are one of Wanyan Honglie's men, yet you let Guo Jing return to report and give a warning, and now you've let Tolui go back to mobilize troops. Aren't you afraid of ruining his grand scheme?"

Ouyang Ke laughed aloud, reached out, and lightly tapped her chin with his fan. "Afraid? What do his schemes have to do with me? If I can win a beauty's smile, what does any of that matter?"

Far from smiling, Cheng Lingsu furrowed her brows, retreated half a step to evade the frivolous folding fan approaching her chin, and shot out a hand. With a crisp "snap," she caught the jet-black tip of the fan right in her palm. An intense chill instantly pierced straight through her skin and into her bones, making her want to let go almost immediately. Only then did she realize that the ribs of his fan were forged from profound iron, cold as ice.

"What? Do you like this fan?" Ouyang Ke flicked his wrist with seeming casualness, parrying Cheng Lingsu's hand and retracting the folding fan. With a swift flick, he snapped it open and gently waved it before his chest. "If you fancy something else, I wouldn't mind giving it to you, but this fan..." He paused thoughtfully, then chuckled softly again. "If you like it so much, as long as you follow me without leaving my side from now on, you'll naturally be able to see it all the time..."