Chapter 91: What Does He Mean?

The social death game ended, and not a single winner emerged from the Golden Tower.

Those who lost the first trial, though lacking firm will, at least preserved their dignity.

Of the five contestants who entered the third trial, nearly all saw their public personas collapse—even Da MoMo, whose Dao heart was deemed unshakable, discovered something within himself he dared not face, and hastily withdrew.

Xie Jinhuan may have become the winner, but now he only regretted coming to this hellish place.

At this moment, leaning on the railing with both hands to catch the cold wind, every recollection of Hou’s great mallet made the veins on his dorsal hand bulge.

Linghu Qingmo stood before him, seeing Xie Jinhuan unable to let go, and comforted him:

“It was all illusion. No need to take it seriously. You… what exactly did you see just now?”

“I saw the most terrifying thing in this world.”

“Huh?”

Xie Jinhuan wasn’t unwilling to describe it—he simply couldn’t.

It was like an unspeakable ancient deity; even attempting to recall it awakened a trembling deep within the soul.

“Better not ask. That kind of thing—you only need to glimpse it, and you’ll suffer nightmares for half a month.”

“Really?”

Linghu Qingmo was genuinely curious, but she couldn’t see what was in Xie Jinhuan’s mind, so she asked with concern:

“Are you alright? Is your injury serious?”

“Not serious—just a stress reaction.”

“Would you like to rest for a while?”

Xie Jinhuan paused briefly, then glanced toward the Golden Tower’s main hall.

With the arena over, spectators and contestants alike flooded into the hall to celebrate.

“Dan Yang Yi Dian Hong,” the biggest winner, was now utterly boastful, shouldering the plaque reading “Upright Gentleman” and shouting from atop a table:

“All drinks tonight are on the account of His Highness the Prince! Drink yourselves blind!”

“Whoa—”

“Your Highness is truly generous!”

Many of the onlookers had come just for the free meal; now they surged with excitement, rushing to claim seats.

Lin Wanyi, carrying Meiqiu on her shoulder, wandered through the hall, observing the commotion.

As the winner, Xie Jinhuan would inevitably have to join the celebration—but right now, he had no mood for it. He only wanted to kill two people to calm his nerves.

Changle Street isn’t far from here; Han Jingchuan should be inspecting entertainment venues now. If he hurries back, he won’t miss much of the feast.

But if he vanishes for even a few minutes, he must have a solid alibi…

As Xie Jinhuan pondered silently, his hand rested on the Zhenglun Sword, seeking help from the ghost bride who had nearly broken him apart.

Ye Hongshang materialized behind him, glancing down at the hall:

“As long as someone sees you, you don’t need to speak to anyone.

“You pretend to rest in your room. Have Wanyi carry the Zhenglun Sword around the hall. I’ll occasionally cast an illusion to make them ‘see’ you walking on the second floor—then afterward, many will testify you were present.”

Xie Jinhuan thought the plan perfect, and immediately rubbed his chest:

“Sss~”

Linghu Qingmo, watching the bustle below, hurried to support his arm:

“Does your wound hurt again?”

Xie Jinhuan shrugged slightly: “I did get angry just now. Probably need to regulate my meridians. I’ll come down later.”

Linghu Qingmo accepted this without suspicion, supporting his arm as they sat in the VIP lounge.

Xie Jinhuan feigned inconvenience from his weapons, unstrapping the Tiangang Club and Zhenglun Sword, then handed the Zhenglun Sword to MoMo:

“I’ll rest here alone. You take the sword to Miss Lin.”

“Huh?”

Linghu Qingmo took the sword, looking puzzled: “Why give the sword to Doctor Lin?”

Xie Jinhuan paused briefly, then smiled faintly:

“She’ll understand. Tell her to wander downstairs for now. I’ll come down shortly.”

?

Linghu Qingmo wondered if this was some lovers’ secret—but why send her to deliver the message?

She was still Doctor Lin’s romantic rival. She couldn’t just go up and say:

“Jinhuan sent me to tell you to wait here nicely~”

That would make her sound like a scheming concubine hoarding the master for herself, keeping the lawful wife away.

Linghu Qingmo was reluctant, but took the sword anyway. Just as she rose to leave, Xie Jinhuan called out:

“MoMo, wait a moment.”

“More?”

Linghu Qingmo looked puzzled.

Fearing MoMo might rush in later to check on him, Xie Jinhuan feigned hesitation, then pulled her sleeve and sat her beside him:

“Qingmo, in the third trial… did you see me…?”

Linghu Qingmo trembled violently, leaping to her feet and assuming the icy, unshakable Daoist maiden persona:

“I… I saw nothing! The witch cult’s artifacts cloud the mind—I sensed something was wrong and broke free with my Awakening Spell!”

“Really?”

Xie Jinhuan studied the agitated MoMo: “Then why are you blushing?”

“Am I?”

Linghu Qingmo felt her face burning, yet forced calm into her expression:

“Maybe I ran up the stairs too fast. Illusions aren’t real—I saw nothing. You… rest well. I’m going down now.”

Before she finished speaking, she vanished with a “whoosh”—likely using the Ten Thousand Li Divine Step Spell.

Seeing this, Xie Jinhuan knew MoMo wouldn’t dare come upstairs for now. He’d planned to call his ghost bride—but then remembered she’d been taken away. Suddenly being alone felt strangely unfamiliar.

For an assassination, he couldn’t use his own weapons. Xie Jinhuan placed the Tiangang Club beside his pillow, briefly checked the corridor outside, found no one nearby, locked the door, and slipped out silently through the window…

…

——

“Come on, drink up~…”

“Congratulations, Your Highness, you hit the jackpot…”

…

The Golden Tower’s main hall buzzed with noise; countless drinkers clustered in groups, discussing the previous matches.

On the central stage, musicians and dancers performed.

Lin Wanyi, seeing Xie Jinhuan hadn’t come down and unfamiliar with the place, didn’t go up to look for him—she merely wandered the hall, still worrying about his injury.

But with Linghu Qingmo right there, she couldn’t very well rush up to compete for his attention—even if she could have won.

As she mused aimlessly, a voice called from behind:

“Miss Lin?”

Lin Wanyi halted, turned, and saw Linghu Qingmo approaching, holding Xie Jinhuan’s sword, her expression oddly strained.

“Miss Linghu, why are you down here alone? Where’s Xie Jinhuan?”

“He’s resting upstairs. Uh… he asked me to give you the sword.”

“Huh?”

Lin Wanyi was baffled, taking the Zhenglun Sword:

“Why is he giving me the sword?”

Linghu Qingmo didn’t know either—she merely repeated the message:

“He said you’d understand. He wants you to wander downstairs first. He’ll come down after resting.”

Do I understand?

Lin Wanyi was utterly confused. She wanted to ask more, but Linghu Qingmo vanished with a “whoosh,” as if afraid she’d pull her hair. She could only stare at the sword, mentally speculating:

Sending a sword to ward off evil…

Is this telling her to sever ties with demons and become a good woman?

He didn’t even give me a martial scripture—how am I supposed to cut…

Or is there another meaning…

Lin Wanyi recalled moments with the sword—the first time, bathing at Xie Jinhuan’s home; the second, tied to a tree and electrocuted…

Is he telling her to wash herself clean tonight and tie herself up?

Pfft~

He’s an upright gentleman. Even when he kissed or touched me, it was open and honest. How could he be so lewd…

Lin Wanyi’s cheeks flushed. She wanted to go ask—but Xie Jinhuan told her to wait here. She could only pace back and forth, pondering the sword’s deeper meaning…

And as Lin Wanyi’s mind wandered, several nearby young ladies, glancing sideways, suddenly noticed the distinguished Xie Jinhuan glancing down from the second-floor railing—then retreating into his room…

(End of Chapter)