Ning Jianlin was surprised by this new theory. His eyes widened, then his brow furrowed into a thoughtful frown. “What do you mean?”

“The two events— the escape and the assassination— must be connected,” Song Mingzhen explained. “If the goal was to kill Qin-zongzhu, then why would there be a need to orchestrate a prison break as well? The most obvious reason would be to create a distraction— and yet the Second General’s escape was even more covert than the assassination itself.”

He ruminated over it for a bit longer before continuing. “But which event would cause more of a stir, or create more instability in Baidong Mountain? The assassination, certainly. Where have your efforts been focused, Ning-zongzhu? How have you approached this crisis?”

“… we have been hunting down the clan leader’s murderer, and questioning all those who might have some grudge against him,” Ning Jianlin replied, realization dawning upon his face. “You mean to say… all of that might have been to cover up the escape?”

Song Mingzhen nodded. “It’s possible that this was not done out of a grudge against Qin-zongzhu at all.”

“But why kill the leader of a cultivation clan?” Ning Feiyun countered, “If it was a distraction he wanted, there are plenty of ways to create one that are less risky. And less extreme.”

He did have a point. Song Mingzhen crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. There were so many potential accidents that could occur in Baidong Mountain. If all that was needed was a distraction, then simply making a single alteration to a spiritual tool’s inscription could potentially blow up half the mountain. It would be devastating, for sure, but it could at least be contributed to some indistinct cause. Killing Qin Wenying had only painted a massive target on the back of his killer, and Ning Jianlin clearly had no intention to rest until that person was found and punished.

Song Mingzhen thought back to the attack on Anfeng City. There seemed to be a few similarities— especially in the way that both incidents seemed to be intended to cause as much alarm as possible, with relatively few casualties. Suddenly, he looked up.

“The guards at the prison… were they harmed?”

Ning Jianlin shook his head. “No. They were only knocked unconscious, but none of them were seriously injured.”

How strange. Song Mingzhen nodded. “I see. Have they been questioned?”

“Of course. None of them know who it was, or even how they lost consciousness in the first place. It seems that something was done to make them lose a part of their memories of that night,” Ning Jianlin replied. Then, he added, “Naturally, they are not cleared from suspicion. There is only so far one’s words can be trusted, so they are under surveillance as well.”

Lost memories… even though the situation was wildly different, Song Mingzhen couldn’t help but think of his own damaged memories. In his case, it was caused by the backlash of a demonic tool, but there were certainly other means of inducing memory loss.

“Perhaps there may be some way to recover their missing memories,” he suggested. “Those guards would be the most likely to know what happened. Even if they don’t recall the perpetrator’s identity, we could at least have a better idea of when the escape occurred.”

“My clan has a few medicine cultivators,” Ning Jianlin nodded. “I will instruct them to work with the guards.”

He turned to his adopted son, who seemed to have taken interest in the current conversation. Ning Feiyun had lost some of his miserable veneer, now looking deep in thought.

“Feiyun, since it’s no use continuing to follow that trail, perhaps it would be best to search in a different direction. You must accompany Song-gongzi to the mountain prison. If he is correct, and the Second General’s escape was the main objective, then it’s likely more preparation went into that part. There may still be some traces left to find.”

Ning Feiyun bowed his head. “Yes, Fuqin.”

“I will send word if anything more is discovered in your absence. That is all.”

Ning Jianlin dismissed them, and Song Mingzhen and Ning Feiyun left the meeting room together. Immediately, the atmosphere between them became quite awkward. In an attempt to ease the tension, Song Mingzhen offered a good-natured smile and tried to strike up casual conversation. “Ning-san-gongzi”—

“The prison is a distance away,” Ning Feiyun spoke at the same moment he did, his tone flat and businesslike. He hardly seemed to notice that he had interrupted Song Mingzhen at all. “If we find a lead, we will need to take advantage of it and follow it immediately. We may be gone for some time. Go get anything you want to take with you, then come meet me in the west terrace. I will wait for you there. We should leave as soon as possible.”

Hmph. Just when Song Mingzhen started to show him a bit of friendliness, he’d already slammed the door closed.

How rude.

No, rudeness alone didn’t explain it. Ning Feiyun seemed to be an anxious sort of person who was concerned with his reputation and standing, so he surely wouldn’t be so cold and aloof toward a guest that it felt outright disdainful. What on earth could Song Mingzhen have done to offend him?

He wanted to just be straightforward and ask directly, but he doubted that Ning Feiyun would give him a proper answer. The only thing to do for now as to try to ease the tension between them, to get Ning Feiyun to relax enough so he would reveal what happened for himself.

Song Mingzhen put on a warm and placid expression, then nodded his head. “Alright, then,” he said, “I’ll be back soon.”

It wasn’t so much that he needed to pack things up, but more that he wanted a few moments to himself, to make sure that he wasn’t missing anything important before setting out. He packed a few things into his qiankun bag then paused as his gaze fell upon Yang Anxiang’s note.

The paper had turned blank again, but Song Mingzhen didn’t want to risk anyone finding out. She was worried enough about things as it was, and he couldn’t guarantee that no one would poke around his room while he was gone and find it. He picked up the note and sent a burst of spiritual qi into it, which disintegrated it instantaneously.

Hopefully, nothing would happen to her while he was gone. She’d trusted him enough to potentially put herself at risk just to meet with him, and with how uncertain everything still was and so much left unsaid…

Still, it couldn’t be helped now. She’d just have to handle whatever her troubles were on her own until he got back.

Song Mingzhen couldn’t tell if he was dreading or looking forward to this next leg of his mission. On one hand, it was apparent that it wouldn’t be easy to get along with Ning Feiyun. On the other hand, he would have plenty of chances to figure out what exactly was going on between the two of them. Since leaving Dayuan, he had begun to wonder more and more about himself and who he was before the calamity. His own family and the people of Anfeng City held him in high esteem, and Ning Jianlin also had a good opinion of him, but the guards, servants, and other members of Yinshan’s cultivation clans didn’t seem to pay him much mind. He didn’t have a bad reputation, but he wasn’t nearly as famous as he was back home.

Ning Feiyun was an outlier— the only one who seemed to dislike him. Well, “dislike” was a bit strong… it was more that he seemed uncomfortable, maybe even uneasy. It was such a stark difference from what Song Mingzhen was used to that he couldn’t help but be curious.

At times, he found it difficult to understand himself. The way that he felt was often at odds with the perceptions others had of him, in everything from his hobbies to his skills to the way he interacted with others. Sometimes, it felt like the Song Mingzhen that everyone talked about was a completely different person. Though he couldn’t say he liked that Ning Feiyun had a negative opinion of him, at least it was a different opinion, a new perspective to take into account.

Still, no matter how useful it may be, he couldn’t exactly feel happy about spending time with someone that didn’t like him.

In the end, though, he didn’t have much of a choice— so it would be better to just make the most of it.

With all of his things packed up and the evidence of his meeting with Yang Anxiang destroyed, Song Mingzhen returned to Baiyu Palace’s west terrace. Ning Feiyun was waiting for him as promised, and the pair departed with hardly a word shared between them.

Ning Feiyun led the way back to the mountain’s entrance that Song Mingzhen had been turned away from earlier. He presented a token to the guards, who stood aside and deactivated the barrier, allowing the two to enter the caves.

Inside the cavern, the temperature was comfortable and the air was still. The chilly winter landscape outside faded into a distant memory. Crystal lanterns lit up as they passed by, illuminating the stone steps and quiet passages. Spiritual qi hummed through the walls, trickling like a brook in some places, rushing like a river in others. After descending for awhile via a narrow passage, the cavern opened up into a larger thoroughfare, with many smaller tunnels branching off in all directions.

Song Mingzhen took all of this in with keen interest. These caverns were the essence of Baidong Mountain, the wellspring that nourished all of Yinshan’s cultivators and their achievements. This was one of the best places on the continent for cultivation, so the Qin clan was naturally very protective of it. It was rare that an outsider would be allowed to set foot inside— so Song Mingzhen wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to have a look.

Beyond the first large chamber, the cavern opened up even further, the ceiling becoming higher and the space between the walls broader until it felt like it could contain the entire mountain. Now, the path had turned into a bridge, falling off at either side into a pit with no apparent bottom. Streams of glistening water flowed into the chasm from narrow crevices on the walls high above them, sending up a cloud of mist that hung in the air, creating a corona of reflected light around the crystal lanterns that shimmered in a rippling undulation. The sound of rushing water filled the air, washing their senses clean.

The cavern was a world of its own, set apart from the outside. There was a pure, breathless tranquility here that made it impossible to speak or even breathe too loudly— the only thing to do was to bask in the stillness, listen to the trickling of the cascades and feeling the cool, clean air brushing against his face.

Everything about this place was beautiful, peaceful, and calm.

So why did Song Mingzhen suddenly feel so anxious?

From the moment he stepped inside Baidong Mountain’s spirit caves, there had been a growing sense of anxiety within him. It began as a small kernel within his gut, and slowly spread out through his body until it turned to a knot in his throat. At first, he had ignored it, but by now his heartbeat was too loud to continue brushing it aside.

“Mo Yuan, why have you come here?”

Song Mingzhen startled when he heard Ning Feiyun’s voice. He hadn’t sensed anyone else approaching, so he was about to ask who his companion was talking to— but as he turned to look at Ning Feiyun, he saw that the other was simply continuing straight ahead as though nothing happened.

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It seemed as though he hadn’t spoken after all.

So… who had, then?

Faint whispers echoed in the back of Song Mingzhen’s mind, every word indistinct, like it was obscured behind a dark cloud of black mist. He felt a wave of dizziness and nausea wash over him, and a throbbing ache was forming behind his eyes. His steps faltered, then slowed, then came to a stop— and he reached up to press on the headache, stars dancing on the back of his eyelids in flashes of crimson and white.

A hand caught hold of his upper arm, and he snapped his head upright, jolting away as a burning, flame-like sensation darted up his arm from the point of contact. Panic lurched inside him, and he barely stopped himself from crying out.

Then, the burning sensation passed. His vision slowly came back into focus, and he saw that it was Ning Feiyun who caught him.

Ning Feiyun’s brow was creased, his midnight-black eyes glimmering with concern as he held on despite Song Mingzhen’s struggles. It was the first time that face of his had shown any expression other than misery or cool indifference.

“Song-gongzi!” he called out in a low, firm voice. Even though he hardly spoke louder than a whisper, it still managed to pierce through the haze in Song Mingzhen’s mind.

He realized now that he was standing just on the edge of the walkway, one small step away from plummeting down into the abyss beneath. His stomach lurched in a mixture of relief and terror.

“Ah…” he stammered out, “Thank— thank you.”

Ning Feiyun kept hold of him until he had fully stepped away from the edge. Only then did he release his grip. Song Mingzhen could feel a dull ache where his fingers had been— and he reminded himself not to underestimate Ning Feiyun’s strength should they ever face one another in combat.

“Are you alright, Song-gongzi?” Ning Feiyun asked.

Song Mingzhen nodded, managing a faint smile. Though there were still beads of sweat on his brow and he felt a bit numb, the dizzy spell had passed. “Quite alright,” he replied. “It’s just my old problem causing trouble.”

Ning Feiyun tilted his head ever so slightly to the side in question.

“My injury, during the war,” Song Mingzhen clarified. “I only regained consciousness a few months ago.”

“So… you’re still recovering.” Ning Feiyun’s gaze fell to the ground, a hint of tension returning to his expression. “Shall we rest?”

“Oh, there’s no need for that— I’m quite alright now. It was just a momentary problem,” Song Mingzhen insisted.

Ning Feiyun looked doubtful, but still nodded, and the two of them continued across the gap.

Truth be told, Song Mingzhen was a little shaken. Between falling into the mirror in his nightmare and nearly toppling off the edge here, he wouldn’t be surprised if he were developing a slight fear of heights. He felt a lot more at ease once they had finished crossing over the chasm and the stone walls of the tunnels enveloped them once more.

Once he had relaxed, he felt a warmth rising in his cheeks. Ah… how embarrassing, that Ning Feiyun had to catch him like that to keep him from falling off the pathway! Still, there was one good thing about it— at least he knew now that Ning Feiyun didn’t want him dead— which also made it far less likely that he was involved with the recent catastrophes.

Spiritual caves and other such places were not heavily guarded just for the sake of maintaining the great clans’ power and authority. Places with high concentrations of spiritual qi were just as much a danger as they were a blessing. The intense spiritual flow could easily overwhelm someone who was unprepared for it, causing injuries and even death at times— common mortals wouldn’t be able to withstand it, while even cultivators had to maintain a high level of discipline, continually circulating their meridians to keep from boiling over and falling into qi deviation. While someone at Song Mingzhen’s level wouldn’t have too difficult of a time, accidents still happened.

Ning Feiyun knew that Song Mingzhen was here to uncover the truth behind the attacks— and that he was an outsider, someone who wouldn’t be held back by family ties. If Ning Feiyun were truly the one responsible, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to simply let Song Mingzhen fall over the edge in that moment, vanishing forever into that unknown oblivion beneath, and then to return to Baiyu Palace and say that he had suffered an accident and been lost in the caves. Especially considering Song Mingzhen’s past injury, his recent recovery, and his less-than-stable cultivation, it would have been quite believable.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he’d caught Song Mingzhen, held him tightly, and refused to let go until he was sure that he was no longer in danger.

This person… Song Mingzhen really couldn’t make sense of him.

What he did know now, though, was that Ning Feiyun was not his enemy.

He was more intrigued than ever— and that intrigue washed away the last of his unsteadiness. When they first entered the caves, it was as if the stillness were wrapping around him, suggesting his silence with its own. He felt as though even if he tried to speak, his words would be drawn from his lips before they could even take flight and vanish into smoke, sinking down into the spirit veins beneath his feet and joining the ceaseless spiritual flow that surrounded them. The silence had been mesmerizing then, but after that moment over the chasm he no longer found it so tranquil. To prevent the whispers in the back of his mind from making use of it, Song Mingzhen decided to break the silence for himself.

“Ning-xiong,” he began, speaking familiarly enough to hopefully set the other at ease but not so familiar as to assume closeness between them. When Ning Feiyun didn’t seem perturbed that he was speaking, he continued. “About that problem of mine… ah, what I mean to say is, you and I have met before, right? Before the war, or perhaps during its course?”

Ning Feiyun stopped short. His shoulders stiffened, and he didn’t meet his companion’s gaze for a moment. Song Mingzhen watched this reaction attentively. It passed by in hardly the space of a blink and Ning Feiyun made himself relax again. He nodded.

“Yes… we have met.”

Once more, Song Mingzhen painted a smile onto his face, good-natured and slightly apologetic. “Ah, I see. Then that may explain some things… as a matter of fact, Ning-xiong, the truth is that I hardly remember what happened during the war at all.”

“Oh?” Ning Feiyun seemed interested now, his constantly-furrowed brow lifting a bit.

“Yes… after I was injured, I spent the past five years unconscious. My memory was also damaged,” Song Mingzhen explained. It felt odd to say it out loud like this. He didn’t usually speak of his memory loss to anyone, and he wasn’t exactly sure who knew and who didn’t. His father and brother, surely, but as far as he knew, this was the first time anyone outside of his close family and their physicians had learned of this particular misfortune of his. In a way, it felt good to lay it out openly this way. “My reason for saying this is… well, there seems to be some tension between the two of us. I know I wasn’t particularly welcoming when you visited Jieyun Hall a few months ago, but I fear that the offense may go further back than that. Sadly, I cannot remember what I did back then, but I don’t wish for there to be any grievance between us now— so I must apologize for whatever I’ve done to offend you in the past.”

Ning Feiyun’s eyes widened. Hurriedly, he shook his head. “Song-gongzi— there is no need,” he insisted. Then the bitterness flashed across his face once more. He looked away. “The one who has offended… it is not you. Certainly not you.”

Ah? What’s this?

So Song Mingzhen’s worries had been unfounded after all. At least, as far as his own wrongdoing was concerned. If Ning Feiyun were the one in the wrong… then perhaps Song Mingzhen had been the one holding the grudge.

That would certainly explain his standoffish behavior.

Ning Feiyun was quiet again, and his head was bowed, lips turned down and eyes strangely empty. He had an almost haunted look to him… no wonder Song Mingzhen had beaten him down so effortlessly back in Jieyun Hall. To Ning Feiyun, it must have seemed like Song Mingzhen really held onto tightly to his grudge for all those years.

Song Mingzhen sighed, reaching up to massage his threatening headache away again.

Then, he gave another placid smile. “If that’s so… well, whatever it is you may have done, I’ve forgotten that as well, so naturally I’ve put it behind me,” he said. “So— let’s not have any more ill-will between us. It can’t have been anything too heinous, so I’ll forgive you for it now. After all, we’re working together. Isn’t it better to set all of that aside?”

Ning Feiyun finally met his gaze. Conflict raged within his eyes for a long moment, and then his expression actually eased into something more relaxed. His brows softened, his tightly-pressed lips parted ever so slightly— and then, hesitating like he was stepping onto the surface of a frozen lake, the corners of his mouth turned up. Just a bit, and just for the briefest of moments, but it was unmistakable.

Song Mingzhen felt a surge of accomplishment— he’d actually gotten a little smile out of his cold, distant travel companion! Now, hopefully things would go more smoothly.

With pardon granted for a nameless sin and the dizzying abyss left far behind them, the two continued on their journey. Though Ning Feiyun was still uncertain, the tensions between them had faded away to nothing more than a few gossamer threads. He was a little more talkative, too, pointing out various noteworthy landmarks— magnificent rock formations, stunning waterfalls illuminated by slashes of sunlight from tiny gaps in the cavern’s ceiling high above, veins of spiritual ore that shone with both physical and mystical light in every color of the rainbow and then some. There were even some places, pocketed away here and there, that were almost like oases— tranquil pools of water as clear as glass surrounded by verdant growth, despite being far underground and the winter winds swirling the snow outside.

“Once this is taken care of, I’d like to see more of it,” Song Mingzhen said earnestly. Baidong Mountain’s spirit caves were well worth their prestige.

“Perhaps,” Ning Feiyun replied, still speaking with few words but hardly as stiff and stilted as before.

In Song Mingzhen’s opinion, that was as good as an affirmation as he could get right now. He wouldn’t mind cultivating in Baidong Mountain’s spirit caves for a bit, especially after his most recent breakthrough. Since he was helping to resolve Yinshan’s present crisis, surely it wouldn’t be too much to ask once everything was said and done.

Nonetheless, as wondrous as it all was, he still couldn’t shake that lingering unease that rested in the back of his mind. As much as he anticipated the new sights around each corner, he worried that he would hear those whispers in his mind once again. That in particular was very unsettling… none of it made sense to him, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was being targeted specifically. Or perhaps it all just originated somewhere deep within his own mind… somewhere he couldn’t penetrate no matter how deep into meditation he went.

As they proceeded through the caves, they came to what appeared to be a dead end. Ning Feiyun took out a small hand-held spiritual tool that resembled a falcon, with spiritual stones for eyes, inscriptions for wing-patterns, and turning gears in place of its heart. He set the falcon against the stone wall before them, and it burst to life— and merged itself with the wall. Now appearing two-dimensional, it followed the trail that Ning Feiyun marked for it with a hand seal, before reaching the end point and exiting the wall once more, perching atop its master’s wrist.

What was once solid stone turned to sand, crumbling to the ground to reveal a passage that continued on up ahead. A barrier not unlike the one placed at the cave’s entrance, but far less temporary, barred the way forward. For this, Ning Feiyun simply took out a small token and placed it in a certain location. The characters inscribed on the token connected to the rest of the barrier’s inscription, illuminating as it was completed.

“We can pass through now,” he said, beckoning Song Mingzhen forward.

They stepped through the barrier, which rippled with silver-hued light as it was disturbed, like passing an oar through the reflection of the moon in the water’s surface. Once through, Ning Feiyun removed the token, and the border solidified once more.

Song Mingzhen watched the entire process with great interest— something his companion noticed. Ning Feiyun, who often pointed things out and rarely explained them in full, held out the token for Song Mingzhen to see.

“This place is the secret entrance to the mountain prison,” he explained. “Only a few of these keys exist. My father has one, and the Qin clan’s head holds the other. This one is usually locked away, but it is occasionally loaned out with special permission. Usually, to enter the prison, one must go through the guarded entrance. This place is not a true entrance, but instead a seam in the barrier. Placing this token disrupts the inscriptions and opens the seam, allowing a small number of people to enter or exit— up to five, depending on where it is placed. No more or less than the keyholder allows can pass through— otherwise, the barrier will seal itself and an alarm will be activated. More than that, I cannot tell you.”

Song Mingzhen nodded. It seemed like Ning Feiyun was already coming close to revealing too much about the Qin clan’s secret arts. He’d make sure not to mention it to anyone else. “Fascinating,” he murmured, watching as the mechanical falcon was released once more, tracing the pattern in reverse along the border. The sand on the ground was gathered up, turning back to stone, and Ning Feiyun tucked away his spiritual tools, gesturing to the path before them.

They weren’t entering this way just so that Ning Feiyun could show off the Qin clan’s craftsmanship. They were doing so to keep their presence from being noticed by the mountain prison’s guards and administrators. The assassin had managed to infiltrate this place, after all, so no one here could be trusted. The fewer people who knew they were coming, the less likely that any remaining traces of evidence would be swept away. Still, it was all so fascinating that Song Mingzhen was almost glad that circumstances required an alternate route. The way of the sword and the way of toolmaking were vastly different, after all. Song Mingzhen found this sort of thing incredibly novel.

This part of the spirit caves was far different from the previous areas. Where before there had been quiet, gentle stillness, the stillness here was more akin to a tomb. There was a palpable aura of darkness and gloom, and the beautiful sights from before were nowhere to be seen. The spiritual flow felt oppressive instead of vibrant, and Song Mingzhen’s face twisted up. He suddenly felt a bit claustrophobic.

Ning Feiyun also fell quiet again, his previous good mood evaporating. It seemed that he was similarly affected by this place’s unhappy aura.

Moving through these tunnels felt like wading through mire. They crossed a few more barriers, and after each one the atmosphere felt worse. The crystal lanterns here seemed cold and dim, and the air was musty. It felt like it took twice as long to cross the same distance.

Finally, just when Song Mingzhen thought that they would never reach their destination, they emerged from a narrow corridor into a large, open chamber. The oppressive feeling was stronger here than ever before, and he halted in his tracks, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t take another step forward.

Ning Feiyun stopped alongside him, taking in the sight before them with a cool, indifferent gaze.

“We’re here.”