Her figure was exceptional, with long, slender legs that gave her a very athletic appearance. Her shoulders and back were broad, and she wore a fitted martial robe with sleeves tied up—perfect for drawing a bow or wielding a blade. Pinned to the right lapel was a small golden Gesang flower.
Everyone’s gaze was immediately drawn to her. That wild beauty stood in stark contrast to the refined elegance of the Song lands, exuding a flavor all its own.
“Pardon the intrusion, everyone.” The northern woman called Baoyin smiled generously and took her seat directly opposite Mu Qingshan. She sat cross-legged without a care, flicking her porcelain cup with a finger to signal the maidservant.
“Bring a larger bowl and fill it up,” Baoyin instructed.
Cai Tuo then introduced the third person, who had lingered in the shadows. “This is Mr. Yelu.”
Compared to the previous two, Cai Tuo offered no further details on the third man’s identity, merely gesturing with a “please.” He was a youth about Chaosheng’s height. Upon observing his features, Wu Yingzong immediately locked onto him as the target.
Mr. Yelu sat on Baoyin’s other side. Under the brilliant lamplight, his true face emerged: prominent high cheekbones, thick rugged brows—the unmistakable blood of the Yelu family. It was Sa Luan, whom Xiao Kun had pursued for so long and whom Mr. Ying had abducted.
“Please, everyone.” After introducing the honored guests, Cai Tuo cupped his hands and departed for another wing to greet guests. Music began at the banquet as dancing girls twirled gracefully.
“Hmm?” Hulü Guang glanced at the “Mr. Yelu” across from him and felt a vague sense of familiarity, though the other paid him no mind.
“Do you know them?” Chaosheng noticed Mu Qingshan’s odd expression; he kept staring down the beauty called Baoyin.
Mu Qingshan stared across and said coldly, “That’s a long story.”
Chaosheng whispered to Wu Yingzong, “The one called Zhou Wang across from us is a demon.”
“Mm,” Wu Yingzong replied. “He’s shrouded in demonic aura. And Mr. Yelu?”
Chaosheng narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Sa Luan. “I don’t know who he is, but he reeks of demon. No—he is one! He has demonic qi!”
Chaosheng’s judgment was spot-on. He possessed the innate gift to discern pulse wheels accurately, whether in mortals, cultivators, or immortals. By sensing the flow of their qi meridians, he could detect spiritual power within. Perhaps this was a unique endowment from the Sacred Tree’s link to the Heaven-Earth Veins. Before demonic qi erupted, even the Demon Shaking Bell could not detect it—but Chaosheng could.
The sole limitation was that he had to see them in person; if they were absent, judgment was impossible.
Wu Yingzong whispered, “We need to send A Huang back to Jiangnan right away to notify Lord Xiao.”
A Huang had not come to the banquet that day, opting instead to wander. He had likely gone to the Grand Commandant’s mansion to visit his old flame. With officials away at banquets, pets at home enjoyed a night of freedom—perfect for romance.
“Young Sir, where do you hail from?” Zhou Wang suddenly asked.
“Kunlun Mountain,” Chaosheng answered.
“Ah, the immortal realm,” Zhou Wang nodded in understanding. “A land beyond time.”
“And where does Brother Zhou hail from?” Chaosheng asked between bites.
“From a place dark as night, without a glimpse of sky,” Zhou Wang said.
“That sounds truly grueling,” Chaosheng sympathized.
“It is,” Zhou Wang agreed. “The law of the jungle has reigned since ancient times. Those with superior cultivation base claim the cave heavens and blessed lands, while little demons scrape by in shadowy caverns.”
Chaosheng did not laugh. He studied Zhou Wang, gauging his true nature. Xiang Xian and Xiao Kun had never told him of their prior clashes with Zhou Wang, even before encountering Shuhu. Perhaps they had never taken this self-styled Weng Immortal seriously.
“I’ve been searching for you a long time,” Baoyin smiled.
Mu Qingshan replied coldly, “You should be tending to He Bule. Chasing me all the way here—you’re truly relentless.”
Hulü Guang glanced at Mu Qingshan, then at Baoyin.
“Don’t look!” Mu Qingshan said in a low voice.
“You never told me,” Hulü Guang said, astonished. “The one you’re hiding from is a great beauty!”
Mu Qingshan: “She’s no good.”
Baoyin laughed. “You’ve truly broken my heart, Qingshan. Where have I ever wronged you? Say it yourself.”
Mu Qingshan’s expression grew grave. At the banquet, they conversed via Sound Transmission Secretly, so the other guests heard nothing of their exchange. They merely saw the newcomers drinking.
As for “Mr. Yelu,” he sat rigidly behind his table, his gaze laden with malice, occasionally sweeping over them.
Tension hung among the group, eyes locked in mutual scrutiny. Zhao Gou watched for a long while, sensing something amiss, and spoke up. “How fares the north?”
No one replied. After a brief silence, Baoyin tore her gaze from Mu Qingshan’s face.
“Whom does Your Highness address?” Baoyin smiled.
Zhao Gou smiled too. “Anyone may answer. This Mr. Yelu—is he of the Liao Kingdom’s imperial clan?”
The Song had recently allied with the Jin Kingdom to topple Liao; enmity festered between them. The Shiwei People farther north viewed the Jin People as mortal foes. For years, the northern lands had bled in conflict, locked in blood feuds with the Jin Kingdom.
“We merely crossed paths on the road,” Baoyin’s bright eyes gleamed like pearls. “Grandmaster Zhou and Mr. Yelu invited me to travel together. We’ve formed no alliance—Your Highness needn’t worry.”
Called out, Zhao Gou laughed heartily. Though the officials bantered merrily, they had long noted the peculiar group and now strained to eavesdrop.
Chaosheng added, “The Cyan Wolf is the Shiwei People’s deity. Surely it doesn’t venture south from the tribe lightly. Is there urgent business?”
Baoyin smiled warmly, though she sighed. “Truth be told, my darling, I’ve traveled over a thousand li—for my runaway husband.”
Expressions varied around the table. None had anticipated this foreign woman airing her marriage woes openly at the banquet—an utter impossibility in the Great Song.
Chaosheng laughed. “Getting married? Congratulations.”
Hulü Guang countered, “If he won’t have you, you can’t force it.”
“There are endless forced matters under heaven,” Baoyin said gleefully. “What’s one more? Why not?”
