Chapter 239: This Boy Probably Won

Night fell.

After the blinding fire faded, the endless snowfield was swallowed by a blizzard, plunging into a dark, lightless polar night.

Xie Jin carried the light, slender woman, moving silently through knee-deep snow in the dark, frequently glancing back at the sky behind him; only after distancing himself from Jianchuan did his taut nerves ease slightly.

After the earth-shattering explosion, Xie Jin nearly passed out on the spot; once he recovered, he grabbed Bu Yuehua and hid her in a snowdrift. After waiting a moment, he saw Lu Yan, driven mad, suddenly sprinting southward, and swiftly escaped.

Though Bu Yuehua had been aided by divine force, it could not change the fact that her spirit had been wounded and she was injured; the intense battle and subsequent explosion had left her nearly unconscious, and it was now “the ancestor’s power” carrying her forward. She lay slumped on his back, dazed, unaware how long she had drifted—until the howling wind drowned out her tinnitus and her thoughts gradually cleared.

Glancing around, she realized they had reached the snowfield far from the scene of chaos; she exhaled in relief, but the divine aid within her had vanished. The dual exhaustion of body and spirit left her barely able to lift her head, so she rested her chin on Xie Jin’s shoulder and whispered:

“Huh… are you hurt?”

Xie Jin had numerous superficial wounds, his robes charred black by the fireblast, but he could still hold on; he smiled in reply:

“I’m fine. Lu Yan took a hit too—he won’t catch up. Rest well. I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

As an elder, Bu Yuehua’s realm was far higher than his, yet the method to unseal the Seven Star Nails, along with all her opportunities and connections, came from Xie Jin. Now, trapped in this predicament, she relied on his immortal arts to survive—and was being carried to escape. She felt genuine shame; she wanted to thank him, but something felt off.

With a slight sensation, she realized her waist hung with her waist saber and Tingxue Sword, her right hand held Minglong Spear for Xie Jin, and her left gripped a warm, heavy plaque.

The plaque felt like jade, yet weighed heavily; tracing it with her fingers, she sensed the raised carving of a Vermilion Bird…

Bu Yuehua froze, lifted the plaque for closer inspection, and confirmed it was the ancestral treasure of Wu Ling Mountain; her eyes trembled slightly:

“How did I get the Chi Huo Token?”

“Huh?”

Xie Jin had been focused on escaping, not noticing these details; now seeing the token before him, his gaze also stilled:

“How did you get it?”

“Me?”

Bu Yuehua thought she lacked such ability—but upon careful recollection, she remembered: when the explosion threw her back, she had somehow raised her hand…

At that moment, Ye Hongshang materialized, floating before them with her red umbrella slung over her shoulder, her soul-stealing eyes gleaming with pride:

“I just snatched it on the fly. Impressive, right?”

Xie Jin hadn’t even seen how the ghost moved; his eyes widened in awe, and he understood why Lu Yan had chased southward; he replied:

“Incredible!”

Bu Yuehua clearly didn’t realize Xie Jin was speaking to his wife; at first she blushed at the compliment, but quickly realized the danger!

Stealing this artifact was worse than killing Lu Yan—he’d go mad searching for it.

That alone was bad enough, but the two of them had been ambushed in Jianchuan, which could be framed as self-defense. Yet to the Northern Zhou, the situation was entirely different.

Xie Jin, a rising star of the Southern Court, had secretly infiltrated the Northern Zhou, killed the Sect Master of Li Mountain Sword Cottage in the garden behind its compound, then refused arrest and injured the Vice Minister of the Taichang Temple sent to handle the case.

This was no less than Lu Yan traveling to the Great Qian, assassinating Mu Yunling at the Danyang Academy, then injuring Lu Wu, the True Person dispatched to investigate.

Regardless of motive, if word spread, it would ignite fury across the entire Northern Zhou court—allowing them to escape alive would be an unforgivable humiliation.

Xie Jin could explain it was self-defense—but the Northern Zhou had to believe him!

The commotion was too great; once word spread, legions of enraged pursuers would swarm from all directions.

Realizing this, Bu Yuehua grew tense:

“We must return to the Great Qian immediately. We killed Li Huaichuan and injured Lu Yan—Northern Zhou won’t believe our explanation. If we don’t run now, it’ll be too late…”

Xie Jin understood the situation, but he wasn’t afraid; in the Southern Court, he had to fight alone, but in the Northern Zhou, he had powerful patrons above him!

Yet his confidence depended on reaching Yanjing alive—if the Zhan Yan Sect or demonic Daoists intercepted them en route, he’d still face near-certain death.

So Xie Jin dared not delay; he sprinted swiftly toward Yanjing:

“Heading south now means being blocked at every turn. Going to Yanjing is the only clear path—they won’t expect us to run there.”

Bu Yuehua frowned: “Lu Yan is Vice Minister of Taichang Temple—Jingcheng is his territory. Relying only on your rank as a military officer…”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

“...”

Bu Yuehua thought they could reach the capital unharmed only if Xie Jin were secretly the Empress Dowager Guo’s lover—though that was unlikely, she still trusted his judgment and asked no more, only closed her eyes and cultivated to restore her strength, slumped on his back.

—

As night deepened, the snowstorm intensified.

Jiang Xian, clad in a blue constable robe, plunged her halberd into the snowdrift and used a light pearl to illuminate the area within a few feet, studying the footprints slowly being buried by wind and snow, then gazing ahead.

Each footprint spanned over a zhang—clearly a man’s, matching the height of the male bandit; the depth revealed he carried someone, meaning the female bandit of super-grade had been severely wounded in combat; the uneven steps indicated he himself was in poor condition…

Two exhausted bandits, one incapacitated—perfect to capture…

But they were extremely cautious: they avoided snow wherever possible, traversing forests, rivers, and small villages to evade pursuit.

Jiang Xian frowned, pondered a moment, then reached into her bulging robe and pulled out a palm-sized booklet.

Its title: *Jiang Xian’s Daily Record*, documenting her past in Jiang Family Fortress, her origins, and her goals for this journey to the capital. Several entries had been crossed out; the latest read: “Enter Fengyi Bureau,” followed by: “Become Empress Dowager Guo’s right hand.”

Solving the Baihua County case would get her into Fengyi Bureau—but becoming the Northern Zhou Empress Dowager’s right hand was still distant.

Capturing these two formidable bandits, however, could propel her to instant glory… but how to catch them…

Jiang Xian carefully flipped through her diary, then tucked it back into her robe. She rose, stood beside her halberd, and clasped her hands in a seal, murmuring:

“Three Pure Ones, lend me your power—reveal the Great Void…”

As her Qi-seeing technique activated, golden light surged from her temples, converging in her eyes.

The lightless snowfield, shrouded in blizzard, now shimmered in vivid hues—colors of qi drifted through heaven and earth.

Jiang Xian scanned the endless snowfield, searching the chaotic swirl of colors for traces. After a long moment, she dismissed the technique, drew her halberd, and sprinted in one direction.

But before she’d gone far, a whistling sound and a shout came from behind:

“Xiao Biao!”

“Why do you run like a rabbit? So fast…”

…

Jiang Xian glanced back; fearing the team leader might stop her, she accelerated into a full sprint, calling out ahead:

“Hurry up! I found their trail!”

“Huh?!”

Shen Cang sprinted with his blade, his face darkening at the shout; he cried out:

“Come back! If you find their trail, report to the experts—we can’t handle them ourselves!”

“Fortune favors the bold! Reporting means losing all the credit—keep running!”

“Sigh…”

…

—

Night deepened. In a small town northeast of Lizhou.

Xie Jin carried Bu Yuehua, silently leaping into an abandoned house. After confirming no one noticed, he pushed open the old door.

Creak~

Meiqiu, who had been watching from afar and then followed, now wisely perched on the roof as a lookout, monitoring all directions.

Though Xie Jin wanted to sprint straight to Yanjing, Lizhou was still far, and their earlier battle had drained them too severely to proceed without rest. Entering the room, he gently laid the ample-bodied Bu Sister on the empty bedframe and finally exhaled:

“Huh…”

After resting, Bu Yuehua had recovered somewhat, but still suffered from headache and profound weakness. Seeing Xie Jin sit beside her, she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped the frost and snow from his hair and eyebrows:

“Rest too. Are your wounds hurting?”

“I’m fine.”

Xie Jin had no serious injuries, but his skin bore many burns—though not debilitating. He glanced around, then tore off his charred, tattered robe.

Noticing bloodstains on her body and tears in her skirt, he turned and went outside, finding two sets of robes from nearby homes—of course leaving silver coins behind—then returned and placed them before her:

“Should your chest wound be re-bandaged?”

“Mm… I’ll do it myself.”

Bu Yuehua picked up the floral dress she’d found, rose, and leaned against the wall to enter the partition.

Rustle-rustle~

Xie Jin didn’t dare peer over; he sat on the bedframe, regulating his breath, and picked up the Chi Huo Token and Tingxue Sword to examine his spoils.

Outside, the snowstorm raged; inside, silence reigned—only their faint breaths could be heard.

In the partition, Bu Yuehua slipped off her torn skirt, revealing her curvaceous waist. Beneath the loose garment, her hips rivaled those of her obedient disciple; her front, like a steamed bun freshly removed from the pot, exuded the plumpness befitting a noble household.

She lifted her soft armor again, and the bandages bound to her ribs came into view. She bit her lip, loosened the bandages—and in the stillness, memories surfaced: just moments ago, in the tree hollow, she had lifted her underarmor, letting the child so close gaze upon her, even leaning forward to press her face against his…

Thinking of that scene, Bu Yuehua flushed with embarrassment; her composed cheeks reddened uncontrollably. Worse still, she’d been mad enough to say: “If we survive, let me kiss you.”

How could I say such a disgraceful thing?

Isn’t that old-age debauchery? If Wanyi found out, she’d glare me to death…

(←_←)!!

Bu Yuehua shrank her neck, pondering silently, then slightly leaned back, wondering if Xie Jin was thinking the same thing.

But she saw Xie Jin had changed into a simple yellow cloth robe, holding the three-foot Tingxue Sword in contemplation. His profile was cold as a winter spring—serious, focused. The rustic clothing couldn’t mask his aura of untainted purity—as if even a ripe young mistress lay beside him, he’d remain a true gentleman, unmoved.

Such a virtuous boy probably wouldn’t take her words seriously…

Whether Xie Jin accepted it was his affair; whether she fulfilled her promise was hers.

If she never mentioned it again, wouldn’t she be seen as a faithless, wicked demoness?

Should I mention it? He probably won’t accept… right…

If he does nod, it’s my own doing—but at least I’ll have no regrets…

(End of Chapter)