Unlike her usual regal attire, Qin Lianyi arrived dressed in a simple, form-fitting white dress. It was understated, clearly chosen to avoid drawing unwanted attention, yet the fabric clung to her curves in a way that did nothing to conceal her innate elegance. She descended from the sky like a falling lotus petal, her presence radiating a natural nobility that no simple clothing could hide.

“You…”

Qin Lianyi landed softly, her eyes widening as she stared at Han Lie. She froze, studying his face for several long seconds, unable to believe her own eyes.

“Is that… is that really you, Han Lie?!”

Ten years.

For a cultivator, a decade was merely a nap. But for Han Lie, the transformation was drastic. He looked younger, sharper, his aura completely reinvented. It was a change Qin Lianyi had not anticipated.

“Why? Do I look like an imposter?” Han Lie smiled faintly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Now you look like him!”

As soon as he spoke, the familiarity of his tone washed over her. Qin Lianyi finally dared to believe that the man standing before her was the one she had been longing for day and night.

She didn’t hesitate. She took two quick steps forward and threw herself into his arms, hugging him tightly.

“You finally came back to find me, Daoist Han!”

For a girl waiting for her beloved, ten years was an eternity.

“I said I would come back, didn’t I? I never lie to you.” Han Lie returned the embrace, his hand gently patting her back.

“Mhm!” Qin Lianyi buried her face in his chest, her eyes reddening with happy tears.

After a long, tender moment, Qin Lianyi reluctantly released him. She smoothed her dress, composing herself. “Daoist Han, why did you arrange to meet in a place like this? The forest? We could have easily met in the city.”

“Isn’t it quieter here? No one to disturb us,” Han Lie teased.

Qin Lianyi’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she nodded. Then, reality crashed back in. She looked up at him, her expression turning serious.

“Right, Daoist Han. The Zhuo Family… the people you asked me to look after… something terrible has happened.”

“I know,” Han Lie said calmly.

“You know?” Qin Lianyi started.

Han Lie nodded. He briefly recounted his infiltration of the Zhuo residence the previous night and his conversation with Zhuo Cheng.

“I’m so sorry,” Qin Lianyi said, her voice heavy with guilt. “I failed to protect them.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Princess Lianyi. You’ve done very well to keep them alive this long,” Han Lie reassured her with a gentle smile. “The real issue is the mastermind. It’s Mu Feng and his clan pulling the strings, isn’t it?”

Qin Lianyi nodded gravely. “Yes. But they’ve been incredibly thorough. There is no physical evidence, no paper trail, nothing that directly links the Mu Family to the false treason charges.”

Absence of evidence didn’t mean absence of guilt. Both Han Lie and Qin Lianyi could guess the truth with their toes.

For the Minister of War—Mu Feng’s father—a marriage alliance with the declining Zhuo Family was trivial. He wouldn’t destroy a noble house over a rejected proposal alone. The driving force here was Mu Feng’s personal vendetta against Han Lie, which he had transferred onto the Zhuo Family.

“The motive isn’t important right now. What’s important is the method,” Han Lie mused, his eyes narrowing. “Do you know who interrogated the young members of the Zhuo Family? The ones who confessed? Can we find them?”

From a strategic standpoint, the only way to break this deadlock was to flip the witnesses. The interrogators were the only ones who could testify that the confessions were extracted under torture and scripted by a third party.

But that presented a new problem: if the interrogators admitted to framing a noble family, they—and their entire families—would be executed. Getting them to talk voluntarily would be impossible.

They would need to use… unconventional methods.

Qin Lianyi shook her head, looking frustrated. “The interrogation was handled by the City Commandant’s personal unit. We obviously can’t ask the Commandant to hand them over. He locked the file.”

Han Lie’s brow furrowed. “That complicates things.”

If the witnesses were shielded by the Commandant, they were untouchable through legal channels.

“Does this Commandant have any weaknesses?” Han Lie asked.

“The Commandant is a strict conformist. He’s responsible for the order and security of Qin Yang City. He rarely participates in the political struggles within the palace, and he never takes sides,” Qin Lianyi explained. “You saw it yourself last time with Ye Lang. He chose a compromise to avoid offending anyone.”

“In my opinion… that’s a misreading of his character,” Han Lie countered, his tone sharp.

He began to dissect the situation with cold logic. “Last time, when dealing with Ye Lang and me, he remained neutral because you were there. He didn’t want to offend the Princess, nor did he want to offend the Mu Family. So, he sat on the fence.”

Han Lie paced a few steps, his mind working fast. “But we can’t look at that incident and this one through the same lens. This time, his men tortured false confessions of treason out of the Zhuo heirs. Do you really believe they did that without his permission? Or that he didn’t notice?”

Qin Lianyi’s beautiful eyes narrowed. It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head—sudden enlightenment.

“You’re right!”

Without the Commandant’s explicit or implicit approval, a low-level interrogator would never dare to manufacture a treason charge against a noble house.

“That proves it,” Han Lie said, his lips curving into a confident smirk. “The Commandant isn’t neutral. He has secretly colluded with the Mu Family.”

“The reason he didn’t take sides last time was purely because he feared your status as a Princess. But this time? The target is the declining Zhuo Family. He has the backing of the Minister of War. He has absolutely no reason to fear the Zhuo clan, so he happily sold them out.”

Qin Lianyi nodded slowly. The logic was flawless.

“But that brings us back to the start,” she asked, biting her lip. “How do we get the Commandant to cooperate? Or make him switch sides? If he’s already in bed with the Mu Family, he won’t betray them easily.”

“We divide and conquer,” Han Lie said after a long pause. “You go back to the palace. Sound him out. See if there’s any crack in his armor, any possibility of him flipping if the pressure gets too high.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to go bump into Mu Feng,” Han Lie said, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. “I want to see if that kid is the reckless, arrogant type of young master who likes to gloat.”

If Mu Feng was a hothead, he might slip up. If Han Lie could trick him into revealing something—anything—it could be the thread that unraveled the whole conspiracy.

They had time. The Zhuo Family wasn’t actually plotting treason, which meant Mu Feng needed at least another month or two to fabricate flawless physical evidence to match the confessions.

“Alright!” Qin Lianyi nodded solemnly, a determined smile gracing her lips. “Since you want to save the Zhuo Family, I don’t mind risking my life to accompany the gentleman!”

“Thank you, Princess Lianyi.” Han Lie cast her a look of genuine gratitude.

“From now on, just call me by my name. Adding ‘Princess’ makes us sound like strangers,” she chided gently, casting him a charming, sideways glance.

“Then I’ll call you Little Lianyi. How about that?” Han Lie teased.

“I like it!” Qin Lianyi beamed. The nickname was cute, intimate, and exactly what she wanted.

“Right!”

Suddenly, a spark ignited in Han Lie’s mind. His eyes lit up with excitement.

“What is it?” Qin Lianyi asked, confused by his sudden shift in energy.

Han Lie grinned, a stroke of genius forming in his head.

“Little Lianyi, tell me… where is the largest Pill Shop in Qin Yang City?”