Chapter 673: Who Is Being Troubled?

The soldier and the sergeant behind him locked eyes, their gazes exchanging one meaning in the air—this matter is not something their rank can meddle in.

Qingque didn't notice any of this at all.

She thought, "It's over, it's over; it must be that the fish just now made too much noise, and Grand Diviner finally found out."

Now, as a result of goofing off, a fish exploded on the street, and it was Mo Yin's body that blew up; it's no surprise Grand Diviner will summon her for a lecture.

Still, come to think of it, she was acting out of a sense of justice, so she should get a reduced sentence, right?

Forget it, anyway water comes and earth hides, we'll meet each move with a counter, and decide later according to the circumstances.

She waved her hand.

"Then lead the way."

After speaking, she looked up and saw eight Cloud Cavalry still standing there, not moving a hair.

The soldier still kept his fist‑clasped stance, while the sergeants behind him stood upright, their expressions all subtly odd, like someone constipated for three days yet too afraid to use the restroom.

Qingque tilted her head.

The sparrow on her finger tilted its head along with her.

"What's the matter now?"

The soldier only then snapped back to attention, quickly straightened up, pulled his arm toward the alley entrance, and his voice rose a half‑tone higher than before.

"Uh—okay! Miss Qingque, this way, please!"

As he turned to lead, his boot caught on the bluestone slab, nearly causing a fall.

The sergeants behind them brushed aside a path in unison, their movements so orderly it seemed rehearsed, yet each face was more expressive than the last.

Qingque followed the soldier, her steps still at that leisurely pace.

The sparrow perched on her finger for a while, apparently finding the spot comfortable, so it folded its wings, curled into a round, gray fuzzball, its bean‑black eyes half‑closed, and began to doze.

Qingque lowered her head, glanced at it, and her mouth twitched.

All she wanted was to quietly sip a cup of tea.

Why does it have to be so difficult?

The Cloud Cavalry behind her kept a three‑step distance.

A sergeant leaned toward another sergeant's ear and whispered something.

The other sergeant immediately jabbed him with his elbow, signaling him to Shut Up (Cocktail Technique).

The group thus passed through the alley and onto the main street.

Qingque led, with eight Cloud Cavalry behind her, a dozing sparrow perched on her finger, and her robe fluttering gently in the wind.

Passersby on the street turned their heads to stare.

Qingque felt that her tea would not be enjoyed today.

Perspective shift.

After Heimu exited the Observation Carriage, she did not rush back to the hidden carriage.

She stood in the train's corridor for a while, her back against the metal wall, the cool sensation passing through her clothes to her skin.

The corridor remained quiet, the light strip's glow softly spreading over the dark floor, even the air seemed solidified.

The system was still searching, Jizi had already begun dreaming, and on Xianzhou, Qingque was surrounded by eight Cloud Cavalry.

Everything kept moving, but she didn't want to deal with any of it now.

Heimu raised her hand and sliced the air before her.

Where her fingertip passed, space rippled like a water surface, a ring of violet‑black ripples spreading outward from the center, finally silently cracking open a door.

Inside the door was a pure black void, nothing visible, only the edges faintly glowing.

She stepped forward and entered.

As the door closed behind her, all sound vanished.

Heimu stood on a black platform.

The platform floated at the very center of the void, its surface smooth enough to reflect a silhouette.

The platform's edge had no rail; one step outward led to endless darkness.

Above there was no sky, below no ground, and all around was the same pure black.

Heimu walked to the platform's edge, placed one hand into the void, and the fine specks of light, as if summoned, gathered from all directions, rapidly coalescing under her palm into a black metallic railing.

She placed her other hand as well, leaned her weight forward slightly, her ash‑gray long hair falling from her shoulders, the tips hanging over the railing, gently swaying in a faint breeze from an unknown source.

Then she lowered her head and looked down.

Deep beneath the platform, a massive block of ice hung.

From Heimu's height, looking down was like standing at a cliff's edge, gazing over a frozen lake.

The ice's hue wasn't pure clear but a very pale gray‑blue, as if the whole winter sky had been compressed into the block.

The ice surface was riddled with fine cracks radiating from the center, each fissure sealing a dim light.

Encased within the ice was a person.

Bai E.

Or rather—Shen E.

The body floated at the ice's center, like an insect trapped in amber.

The shattered body was riddled with cracks and scorch marks, its edges curling, revealing an equally broken husk beneath.

The ash‑gray hair remained suspended in the ice, each strand distinct.

The eyes were tightly shut, yet the face was not calm; brows knit, lips slightly open, as if in the moment before being frozen it was still speaking or shouting something.

The great sword was also in the ice, hanging less than a foot to his right side.

The blade was likewise riddled with cracks, the edge missing several pieces, yet the winding patterns on the hilt remained clearly visible.

Heimu leaned on the railing, chin on the back of her hand, her violet‑black eyes quietly watching the figure inside the ice.

She stood at the edge of the platform for a long time.

In the void there is no concept of time, no day‑night cycle, no reference by which the passage of time could be measured.

She does not know how long she has stood, she simply watches—watching the motionless body inside the ice, watching the dim light sealed within the fissures.

Then she spoke.

"Hey."

Her voice traveled through the void, struck the ice, bounced back, turning into a series of vague echoes.

The figure inside the ice, of course, gave no response.

Heimu was unfazed, shifted her chin on the back of her hand, and continued speaking.

"Can you hear me?"

The void swallowed half of her voice; the remaining half drifted toward the massive ice, striking the surface and shattering into faint remnants.

No one answered.

The figure in the ice was as quiet as a statue.

Heimu's fingers tapped the railing twice, producing a crisp "ding‑ding" that rang especially clear in the silent void.

"If you can hear me—"

She paused; the violet‑black light in her eyes dimmed slightly, as if weighing something.

Then she said, "Could you grant me permission?"

The silence of the void grew heavier.

"I can give you a good future."

Her voice lightened a bit, as if speaking of something she herself was unsure of, "or rather, a not‑bad ending."

The figure in the ice gave no reply.

Gray‑white hair hung motionless in the ice.

Throughout the space only Heimu's own voice echoed, circling outward until it faded into the darkness beyond the platform's edge.

Heimu waited a moment.

Then she shook her head.

"Sigh."

The sigh carried a hint of helplessness; she released the railing, straightened her posture, and her gray‑white hair slipped from her shoulders to her back, a few strands catching the faint silver glint of the void's dim light.

The violet‑black hem of her skirt swayed lightly at her thigh, its lace trim's shadow falling on the black platform surface, quickly swallowed by the dark ground.

"Who am I troubling…"