Qin Lan told him everything.

Zhengxiong’s fury erupted. “Ye Qingge! How dare she?! Even the one-eyed wolf wasn’t safe from her schemes!”

“At first I didn’t believe she’d do such a thing,” Qin Lan said coldly. “But this maid swore it was Ye Qingge who sent her. She said Ye Qingge barely touched her food that day—she must have known the dishes were poisoned. She even knew I was the one who laced them!”

Her eyes gleamed with venom. She snapped the whip again, lashing the half-dead maid across the face. The girl convulsed once, twice—then went still.

“It seems,” Zhengxiong said slowly, eyes narrowing to slits, “that Ye Qingge must be eliminated.”

Qin Lan summoned guards to remove the body. Then, seated at her vanity, she calmly painted her nails a glistening crimson. “You came home late,” she said softly, “What did His Majesty say?”

“The Emperor has ordered Ye Qingge and the young prince to enter the palace in three days—to formally dissolve their engagement.”

Qin Lan smiled faintly. “And what of Xue’er?”

“I mentioned her,” Zhengxiong replied bitterly. “The Emperor only said the royal image must be preserved. The young prince’s marriage will be left to his own choosing.”

Qin Lan chuckled. “That’s fine. Once Xue’er returns from her training, her talent will speak for itself. When the Emperor sees what she’s become, no one else will be fit to be princess but her.”

Her eyes darkened. “But my beast’s death will not go unavenged.”

Zhengxiong’s smile turned cold. “Keep her alive until the audience with the Emperor. After that, do as you please. Just make sure it’s done before the Grand Elder returns.”

Outside the lattice window, a faint shadow slipped away, silent as smoke.

Wind whispered.

Qingge, cradling Ji Yue in his fox form, returned to the Windmoon Pavilion.

Ji Yue snorted, his whiskers twitching. “If I were at full strength, those two fools would’ve been dust with a swipe of my paw.”

Qingge laughed, ruffling his fur. “For now, you just need to look cute.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t resist further.

By evening, a messenger from Qin Lan arrived, summoning Ye Qingge to the training grounds.

The Night family might not be the oldest in Beiyue, but with the Grand Elder Ye Qingtian in their ranks, their prestige was unmatched. Every noble house with power had its own martial arena—and the size of that arena often reflected its strength.

After all, beyond food and wealth, force was the measure of true authority.

The Night family’s training field lay to the southeast, where morning sun met spring breeze—vast, grand, and dazzling.

Ye Qingge rarely came here. With her broken dantian, she’d been a laughingstock in the family. Why present herself for more ridicule?

But today, as her soft boots touched the stone of the arena, every head turned.

Training ceased.

Dozens of gazes—surprise, contempt, mockery—fell on her.

From the center of the field, Ye Qingqing leapt gracefully down from the plum-blossom stakes, her red battle suit sharp and confident. She landed before Qingge, looked her up and down, then laughed exaggeratedly.

“Heavens, sister—did you lose your way? This is the training ground. Since when does trash like you belong here?”