He was perfectly aware that the sole reason Luo Xiaofeng had agreed to this marriage was the ancient secret manual, the White Lotus Sword Canon, which Qin Yan had handed over—a treasure refined by White Cloud Manor over generations.

Luo Xiaofeng had now achieved the body of a Martial Saint. With such power, he was undoubtedly the strongest in the entire Shu Yun Kingdom, yet in the grand scheme of the world, he remained utterly insignificant.

Setting aside the legendary figures of old, the Tianyuan Empire alone boasted four visible Martial Saints, not to mention those who operated in the shadows. If Luo Xiaofeng harbored any ambition to unify the realm, he absolutely had to elevate his strength further.

Thus, he scoured the land, gathering all manner of martial arts manuals, intent on absorbing them all to break through that elusive barrier.

The White Lotus Sword Canon was the true cornerstone treasure of White Cloud Manor, far exceeding any ordinary martial scripture. Though he knew it rested in Qin Yan’s hands, Luo Xiaofeng understood that even killing Qin Yan might not force such a supreme technique from him. He never expected Qin Yan to offer it willingly, asking only for one small favor in return: arranging this marriage for his daughter.

As the ruler of a nation, Luo Xiaofeng was perfectly clear about the long-standing feud between Marquis Baiyun and Ye Jingyu. Originally, he had no intention of intervening in their conflict, but lured by the White Lotus Sword Canon, he agreed to Qin Yan’s terms.

The reappearance of formidable powers like Huangfu Yun and the Dugu family brought immense pressure to bear upon him. Although he held the throne, before experts like Huangfu Yun, he was nothing. Therefore, to augment his own capabilities, everything else faded into triviality.

Strength is the foundation; strength is the ultimate law.

This was the singular, obsessive thought burning in Luo Xiaofeng’s mind. Consequently, regardless of Qin Yan’s true motives, he chose not to scrutinize them.

Ye Jingyu, naturally, was oblivious to the undercurrents between Luo Xiaofeng and Qin Yan. He simply held the small hand of Xiao Shixuan, walking step by step out of the Royal Palace, his mind relentlessly turning over the day's events. He genuinely could not fathom why Luo Xiaofeng’s demeanor had shifted so abruptly from geniality to icy indifference.

Could it be that the dignified sovereign of a nation feared something?

In the sky, the last remnants of the setting sun had vanished beyond the horizon. A few stars flickered into existence in the deepening night, much like the fluctuating state of Ye Jingyu’s own heart—now bright, now dim.

Dejectedly leaving the palace, glumly boarding his own carriage, and sullenly speeding toward the State Protection Residence, he spoke not a single word along the way. Meanwhile, Hei Ming Shixuan, whether from fatigue or some other cause, had fallen into a deep sleep in his arms. Gazing at the little girl nestled against him, a faint smile finally touched Ye Jingyu’s lips—a smile tinged with bitterness, and perhaps... resignation.

The carriage halted at the State Protection Residence, where attendants rushed out to greet them. After handing the sleeping Xiao Shixuan over to Hu Yanmeng, his eye unexpectedly caught the fleeting glimpse of a slender green figure disappearing nearby.

“You all return to the manor first. I need to take a short walk. Don’t follow me,” he instructed Lin Xiaoyi and the others before Ye Jingyu turned and headed in the direction the green silhouette had vanished.

Chi Xiuxiu and the others knew that Ye Jingyu was no longer the man he once was; with his current strength, few could harm him, so none dared pursue.

He cut through two narrow alleys, eventually reaching the banks of the Tianyun River in Yun Jing—a great waterway that bisected the entire capital city. Downstream lay Yun Jing’s most notorious pleasure district, but Ye Jingyu currently stood upstream.

Twilight had fully settled. The people of this world lacked the vibrant nightlife of his previous existence. Apart from those men who had nowhere else to go making merry in the boat houses downstream, the vast majority were already home resting, rendering the riverbank remarkably serene.

Qin Yuting, clad in a light green gauze skirt, stood by the water’s edge. Her willow-slender figure complemented the riverside willows, creating a scene of striking beauty.

For some reason, an inexpressible feeling of tenderness surged within Ye Jingyu.

Of course, it was only tenderness.

“Do you need something from me?” Suppressing that stirring of pity, Ye Jingyu spoke in an even tone. He showed no anger at her being the daughter of the man who killed his father, nor did he offer tenderness due to her status as his fiancée. He spoke as if addressing a complete stranger.

“I’m sorry…” Hearing Ye Jingyu’s flat tone, a sharp pang struck Qin Yuting’s heart, yet the words that escaped her were utterly bewildering.

“Sorry? Where is that coming from?” Ye Jingyu had already endured enough inexplicable words today to easily accommodate one more.

“I didn’t know Father would act on his own accord…” Qin Yuting continued, her voice melodious yet burdened with a deep weariness, as if she had been laboring long.

“And what is your position on this matter?” Ye Jingyu instantly understood; she was clearly aware of the decree issued by His Majesty regarding the marriage.

“I… I don’t know…” Qin Yuting replied shyly, lowering her head.

“I recall that back at White Cloud Manor, you constantly wished for my death,” Ye Jingyu observed coolly. His tone was level, yet to Qin Yuting’s ears, it was laced with biting sarcasm.

“That was the past,” Qin Yuting offered as a defense.

“But now, your father equally wishes for my death,” Ye Jingyu stated coldly, refusing to engage in that debate.

“If he truly felt that way, why would he request His Majesty to grant the marriage in the first place?” Qin Yuting suddenly looked up, meeting Ye Jingyu’s gaze, though her eyes flickered uncertainly.

“Do you think it’s out of guilt? A desire to compensate me?” A cold sneer touched the corner of Ye Jingyu’s mouth.

“Is it not?” Qin Yuting looked at him, expectant.

“Do you believe it?” Ye Jingyu maintained his sneer, his eyes fixed intently on hers.

Under Ye Jingyu’s unwavering stare, Qin Yuting slowly lowered her head. While she was genuinely pleased by her father’s sudden decision, that joy was accompanied by a trace of profound doubt.

“If he has truly repented, would you forgive him?” After a moment, Qin Yuting looked up again, her clear eyes meeting Ye Jingyu’s.

“If I killed your father, would you forgive me?” Ye Jingyu countered with icy sharpness.

Qin Yuting fell silent.

If that were the case, what would she do?

Her father must surely realize that Ye Jingyu would never forgive him, so why insist on marrying her off? And why, tonight, would he allow her to leave the Marquis’s estate to seek him out?

“Whoosh…” Just as Qin Yuting wrestled with her confusion, a sharp glint of cold light tore through the darkness of the night, shooting directly toward the center of Ye Jingyu’s brow.