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Zong Yue didn't simply wipe her memory but sealed it instead. As long as she was willing, she could have remembered any time she wanted to, yet she did not. She was even more vicious than his golden needle, choosing to seal herself.

About a decade ago, alone at the top of a cliff, under the cypress trees, the little child had been placed in a bamboo basket and sent down the river, following the current. Zong Yue had stood there, atop the cliff, watching the basket drift away into the distance as the bright, silver moon shone down on it. It had been nearing mid-autumn, and the moon had been shining brilliantly, reflecting across the ripples of the water, resulting in him being unable to determine the direction that the basket had drifted to.

At the time, he had felt a pang of sorrow, sighing at the uncertain future that awaited the child as she drifted away, thinking how cruel destiny was.

Who would have thought that he had been the one who had built walls around his own thinking?

Zong Yue fell silent. Currently, he was using Shadow Blade's face, with his glassy eyes, jet-black hair and crimson lips, fierce and beautiful. However, aside from the usual intimidating beauty of Shadow Blade, there was a faint paleness peeking through, the color of snow in the moonlight.

Because of revenge, he had sacrificed too much, such as taking on dual identities during day and night, such as taking on the face of Shadow Blade, such as his arrogance during his youth. Yet now he finally knew, the deepest and most painful was that he had unknowingly stood against her, exiled her, hurt her.

Meng Fuyao, too, was silent, her heart numb and confused. She had always known that Zong Yue had a part to play in this, yet she had always avoided delving deeper into the matter because Zong Yue and Zhangsun Wuji were different. Zhangsun Wuji must have had his own predicament to break his promise, but it may not have been the case for Zong Yue. He was never considered to be a good person, and he had never hesitated to resort to underhanded tactics to seek revenge. He had struggled through the passage of loss, and in that struggle, countless innocents had fallen under his hand. So who could assure that Xu Wan had not fallen under his hands too? After all, back then, the mother and daughter duo could only be considered as strangers to Zong Yue.

The Zong Yue back then had no reason to protect her, but could possibly have some reason to hurt her.

Hence, she had been afraid to find out the truth, afraid that after finding out she would not know whether to be grateful to him or hate him. Thus, she had retracted the hand that was resting on Old Lu's chest and covered his mouth, refusing to let him continue speaking.

Even so, she was unable to escape the truth and could only start over in this manner.

Now that the end had become like this, she unexpectedly released a sigh… It wasn't that bad, not that bad; after all, Zong Yue was still a youth back then, and even when his family had changed his heart, he had still managed to retain a sliver of humanity. He had not raised his sword against Xu Wan in the end, killing her was but fulfilling her request.

As for the mistakes that he had committed… including Zong Yue blocking Xu Wan and causing her to be caught, she might as well also blame the eight-year-old girl who had locked the cupboard back then.

The truth that had been simmering in the depths of the past had finally surfaced, and she couldn't immediately shake off the thoughts in her heart. Every time she thought of Zong Yue watching passively as Xu Wan was being tortured, her heart would turn cold. She stroked Xu Wan's remains lightly, and after a long time, she said mildly, ”I'll stand by what I've said, this is a joke played on us by the Heavens, it can't be controlled by anyone. My gratefulness and hatred cancel out each other, so we're even.”

After that, she picked up Xu Wan's remains and left without looking back.

Zhangsun Wuji followed her quietly. As he passed by Zong Yue, he glanced at him as if wanting to say something, but eventually remained silent and left.

It wasn't anyone's fault, yet it was also everyone's fault. Everything was but the result of Heaven's will.

Zong Yue remained unmoving. He slowly sank to the ground, sitting on the floor of the Yan Ling Palace, where the tragic incident had happened 14 years ago, sitting on the pile of dust and ashes.

The moon cast its pale glow, carrying a slight, bloody hint, as though it were the same night 14 years ago, hanging alone atop the cypress trees.

'Fuyao.'

'Today, I finally understand.'

'I have crossed tens of thousands of miles, slain thousands of lives, written and drunk years of poems and wine, yet I am unable to earn your unconditional gaze.'

The night sky was still dark, lit up with countless glittering stars. It was Xuanji, Tiancheng era, Day 5, Month 4, Year 30. When the sky started to brighten, it would be the coronation ceremony to crown the new queen. Xuanji's history was about to flip to a new page, yet the palace was dark and somber without a trace of celebratory air.

However, the front of Yongchang Palace was brightly lit.

The 30,000-strong Imperial Army guarding every gate and door had yet to stop Meng Fuyao from entering. They stood guard, swords out, bows taut, filled with energy as the wintry sun reflected off their armor. Tens of thousands of soldiers stood there waiting, silent without even so much as a cough.

The fire shone brightly, cutting through the harsh winter cold, casting a faint glow over the entire White Jade Square.

Together with the last 3,000 of her men, Meng Fuyao entered calmly. Outside the palace gates, Tang Yi Zhong's 50,000-strong army stood behind her in support.

The 3,000-strong cavalry lined up in front of the palace in unison.

The brave calvary of Dahan was famed throughout the Five Regions Continent, and the 30,000 soldiers of the Imperial Army gazed at them with admiration, yet were unable to say anything.

The weapons of the Dahan soldiers trembled in their sheathes, awaiting their king's command, eager to turn this evil dynasty into a bloody massacre.

Instead, a horn sounded from within the palace.

”May Crown Prince Wuji and King Meng of Dahan please enter the palace—”

Meng Fuyao raised a hand and smiled. At this juncture, was there still a need for such announcements? 'If you let me in, I'll come in, if you don't let me in, I'm still coming in anyway, the only difference was whether or not I would have to step over several corpses to enter.'

She strutted in fearlessly as the 30,000-strong Imperial Army silently parted to create a weapon-filled, narrow path.

The forest of soldiers stretched from the entrance all the way to the top of the pedestal. Meng Fuyao suddenly remembered walking a similar path in Taiyuan. Back then, she had not known any martial arts, she had been hurt, in disguise, frightened and anxious.

Now, she was nonchalant, free, happy, and glorious.