Chapter Two: Those People, Those Stories (Part 2)

Ouyang Ke’s eyes gleamed, his spirit shaken. He no longer paid any attention to Tolui, instead smiling with poetic charm, “I am Ouyang Ke, a man of my word. Once spoken, how could I go back on it? However, he may leave, but Lady Huazhen must remain…”

“Very well.”

Cheng Lingsu had already anticipated he would not be so easily appeased. Yet, this suited her—it was easier to contend with Ouyang Ke alone, giving her a chance to escape. With Tolui present, she would have more concerns. Without waiting for him to say anything else, she interrupted and agreed outright.

Ouyang Ke was surprised at how quickly she consented, laughing heartily, “Now that’s more like it. With that troublesome eyesore gone, we can have a proper conversation.”

Cheng Lingsu ignored him, turning her back, and drew out a handkerchief adorned with blue flowers. She shook it lightly in the air, then bound it around Tolui’s wounded palm, returning the two blue flowers to her bosom. She quickly explained the situation to Tolui, urging him to leave at once.

Tolui’s face was ashen. He stepped back twice, then suddenly snatched up the saber lodged by his feet. Fixing his gaze on Ouyang Ke, he swung the blade fiercely through the air before him, “Your martial skills surpass mine, and I am no match for you. But today, as the son of Temujin Khan, I swear to the grassland’s heavenly gods: once I have eradicated those who plot against my father, I will challenge you! I will avenge my sister and show you what true heroes of the prairie are!”

As the son of a Mongol tribal chief, Tolui was affable and deeply loyal, unlike Dushe, who was arrogant and dismissive. Yet Tolui’s inner pride was no less than Dushe’s. As Temujin’s favorite son, he well knew his father’s aspirations—to turn all lands beneath the sky into Mongol pastures.

For this goal, Tolui had trained in the army since childhood, never missing a day. Who would have thought, after years of hardship, not only would he fall into enemy hands, but now he could not even safely bring his rescuing sister home! Cheng Lingsu’s words were true; the priority was Temujin’s safety, and Tolui should hasten back to mobilize troops to rescue his father. Yet the shame of leaving his sister behind, forcibly detained, choked him so much he could barely breathe.

Mongols value their word above all, especially vows made before the prairie’s gods. Tolui knew he was no match for Ouyang Ke, yet his solemn oath was resolute and sincere, his words brimming with heroic spirit. Though not a master of martial arts, his years in the barracks had endowed him with the same kingly aura as Temujin—a commanding presence that even Ouyang Ke, not understanding the specifics, felt secretly intimidated.

A warmth surged in Cheng Lingsu’s heart. The hot blood that belonged to Temujin’s daughter sensed Tolui’s unwillingness and determination, surging like a torrent, moistening her eyes. She turned slightly, shielding herself from Ouyang Ke’s possible attack, and whispered, “Go quickly, hurry home. I have my own way to escape.”

Tolui nodded, stepped forward, embraced her, then turned away without so much as a glance at Ouyang Ke, running toward the camp’s gate.

On the way, a few guards tried to stop him, but he felled them all with a single stroke of his blade.

Only when she saw Tolui seize a horse at the camp’s edge and gallop away did Cheng Lingsu finally relax, letting out a soft sigh.

In her previous life, her master, the King of Poison Hands, used poison as medicine to heal the sick, yet he firmly believed in the cycle of karma. In his later years, he embraced Buddhism, cultivating his character and reaching a state of neither anger nor joy. Cheng Lingsu was his youngest disciple during those years and deeply influenced by him. This turn of fate, having died once, yet arriving here—she could not help but believe there might be some other purpose at work.

She had never intended to entangle herself too deeply with the people and affairs of this world, always thinking to find an opportunity to escape far away, return to the shores of Lake Dongting, and see what White Horse Temple looked like centuries later. Perhaps open a small clinic, heal the sick, and spend her days in longing and remembrance for that person of her previous life.

But if Temujin were in danger, the Mongol tribe she had lived with for ten years would also face calamity. The mother and brother who cared for and raised her, along with all the clansmen she saw every day, would suffer. After ten years together, how could she stand by and do nothing?

Thinking of this, Cheng Lingsu sighed again.

Noticing her gazing absentmindedly in the direction Tolui had left, sighing repeatedly, Ouyang Ke lifted his chin and sneered, “What, so reluctant to part?”

Hearing the implication in his words, Cheng Lingsu frowned, pulling herself together and retorted, “I am worried about my brother. Isn’t that natural?”

“Oh? He is your brother?” Ouyang Ke raised an eyebrow, a fleeting hint of delight in his eyes. “Then… that young man earlier was your lover?”

“What nonsense…” Cheng Lingsu abruptly stopped, realizing, “You mean Guo Jing? You were already… you knew when we arrived?”

“Not you all—just you. As soon as you came, I knew.” Ouyang Ke was quite proud, clearly pleased by her reaction.

Though Cheng Lingsu had dismounted far away, his internal energy was deep, his hearing far beyond that of ordinary Mongol soldiers. He had noticed her sneaking into the camp almost immediately and was about to reveal himself when he saw Ma Yu whisk both her and Guo Jing away.

His uncle, Ouyang Feng, had suffered a setback at the hands of the Quanzhen Sect years ago, so the Western Poison lineage always harbored some resentment and fear toward Quanzhen Daoists. Recognizing Ma Yu’s Daoist robe, Ouyang Ke recalled his uncle’s warnings and decided not to show himself, instead remaining hidden and observing their exchange.

He had expected Cheng Lingsu to persuade Ma Yu to storm the camp for a rescue. He didn’t know Ma Yu was the Quanzhen Sect’s leader, only thinking that besides the thousands of soldiers, there were several martial experts brought by Wanyan Honglie, enough to keep Ma Yu occupied, perhaps even eliminate him, reducing Quanzhen’s strength. Yet the Daoist hadn’t invaded the camp, but instead left with Guo Jing, leaving Cheng Lingsu alone.

At this moment, Cheng Lingsu began to piece things together, “Wanyan Honglie secretly came here to incite conflict between Sangkun and my father, hoping the Mongol tribes would feud endlessly—so that the Jin Empire would have no northern threat.”

Ouyang Ke cared little for such schemes, but seeing Cheng Lingsu’s earnest analysis, he nodded, praising, “So quick to deduce matters—you are truly clever.”

She brushed aside a strand of windblown hair, her gaze as clear as the Onan River on the prairie, “You serve Wanyan Honglie, yet you let Guo Jing return to warn them, and now let Tolui go to mobilize troops. Aren’t you afraid of ruining his plans?”

Ouyang Ke laughed, reaching out to lightly touch her chin, “Afraid? What do his schemes matter to me? If I can win a beauty’s smile, what does anything else matter?”

Cheng Lingsu did not smile; instead, her brows furrowed slightly as she stepped back, avoiding the fan that teasingly brushed her chin. She reached out, and with a crisp slap, caught the dark fan head in her palm. A chill pierced her skin to the bone, making her almost let go at once—only then did she realize the fan’s ribs were forged from black iron, cold as ice.

“What? Do you like this fan?” Ouyang Ke, seeming casual, flicked his wrist, freeing the fan from her grip and reclaiming it. With a flourish, he snapped it open and gently waved it before him, “If you fancy another, I can give it to you. But this fan…” He paused, then laughed softly, “If you truly want it, then stay by my side always, and you can see it whenever you wish…”

Author’s note: Oh, Ouyang Ke, she only liked your fan—can’t even part with it? So stingy~

Ouyang Ke: That was… cough cough… a gift from my uncle…