Chapter 22: Can’t Escape Mommy’s Big Hand

The “Imperial” syllable had barely left Hou Boxuan’s lips when an invisible spiritual pressure descended, not targeting everyone present.
Ling Qingli inexplicably looked up at the overcast sky, thick with white clouds but few dark ones.
“Is it going to rain?”

She wasn’t sure, but this sudden presence, combined with the humid, stifling air before a storm, made her uneasy. It meant even light movement would make her sweat, her clothes sticking to her skin, forcing her to bathe—a luxury for a beggar with no fixed home and barely livable conditions.
Hou Boxuan bore the brunt, the pressure hitting him hardest. Though light, it carried a “try it and die” menace. The “Master” syllable lodged in his throat, turning into a muffled grunt.

His face flushed and paled in a vivid display, sweat beading on his forehead. He lowered his head, not daring to utter another word.
Bai Zhou acted as if nothing had happened, turning to Ling Qingli, her voice through the veil as calm as ever:
“The thing planted in her isn’t a common蛊 bug, but a child蛊 of the ‘Shared Fate Blood Puppet蛊.’ This蛊 is insidious, requiring the heart’s essence blood and soul of a blood kin to refine a living person into an obedient blood puppet. The blood kin, the ‘primer,’ is him.”

Her gaze flicked to Hou Boxuan.
“Their lives are intertwined, in a symbiotic state. If you’d forcibly dismantled that link, the child蛊 would’ve died instantly, killing its host—her—on the spot. The blood-soul connection between them would’ve snapped, and the backlash would’ve crushed his last shred of vitality. Both would’ve died.”

Ling Qingli’s face paled, a cold sweat breaking out as she realized how close she’d come to disaster.
Hou Boxuan trembled, collapsing to his knees before Bai Zhou, his voice choked with tears:
“My lady! Please, save my daughter! I’ll pay any price, even my life! I beg your mercy!”

Bai Zhou regarded him quietly:
“Stand. I remember you, a descendant of a founding general, guarding the frontier faithfully for years. Unlike those corrupt parasites, you’ve done well.”

Hou Boxuan felt as if pardoned, trembling with excitement.
Where calamity lurks, fortune follows; where fortune lies, calamity hides.
He rejoiced—the Imperial Master remembered him! Congmeng was surely saved! And the master, known for never taking disciples, now had one—could Congmeng also…?

Pushing aside his scheming thoughts, he staggered to his feet, hope reigniting in his eyes.
Bai Zhou studied Ling Qingli, then glanced at Hou Boxuan.
“The next part isn’t suitable for children. Both of you, wait outside.”

Curious but awed by Bai Zhou’s power, Ling Qingli didn’t dare question, nodding obediently and shuffling toward the hall’s exit, glancing back every few steps.
Hou Boxuan didn’t hesitate. He knew “not suitable for children” was an excuse—the Imperial Master’s divine techniques weren’t for mortal eyes.

Casting a final, deep look at his daughter, entrusting all hope to the white figure, he bowed respectfully, retreating and carefully closing the damaged door behind him.
Outside, the ruins of the battle stretched endlessly.

Ling Qingli leaned against a cold, broken wall, stealing glances at the tense Hou Boxuan beside her.
Unable to hold back, she whispered:
“Lord Hou, do you know my master?”

Hou Boxuan stiffened, turning slowly, his gaze a mix of disbelief and probing.
“You don’t know who your master is?”
His voice was hushed, as if afraid of disturbing the one inside.

Ling Qingli shook her head honestly, her small face etched with confusion:
“I only know her name is ‘Bai Zhou.’ She’s powerful and has… ways of dealing with me…”
Her words carried a lingering, unresolved grudge.

Hou Boxuan’s eyes flickered sharply, a realization dawning.
Had that great figure not revealed her identity to her disciple?
Was this a test? A trial? Or something deeper?

Unable to fathom the unfathomable Imperial Master’s intentions, he decided her actions had their own profound logic—best not to speculate.
He forced a stiff smile, dodging vaguely:
“Ah… yes, I know her… Lady Bai is… well… a mighty senior with vast powers, a pillar of our Great Han dynasty! Yes, a pillar! To be her disciple is an immense fortune. You must cherish it, cultivate diligently, and not disappoint her expectations!”

Ling Qingli: “…?”
Blinking her double pupils, she felt the city lord’s answer was odd—full of words yet saying nothing.
But “vast powers” fit her image of that woman perfectly.

So, her master was indeed an incredibly formidable person!
With that thought, the mild annoyance from his official tone vanished, replaced by a spark of pride. Even Hou Boxuan seemed more likable.
“I understand. Thank you, Lord Hou.”

She nodded, her gaze returning to the closed hall door, pondering Bai Zhou’s earlier explanation.
Her double pupils had only seen the thread, not the蛊 bug. So, they weren’t all-powerful… but still, a蛊 bug…

Curiosity stirred. She’d never seen one or known how to handle them. Once sparked, her curiosity scratched like a cat.
Hou Boxuan, watching her simple “I get it” expression, wiped cold sweat inwardly, hoping he’d dodged trouble and that the Imperial Master wouldn’t blame him.
He said no more, joining Ling Qingli in waiting.

Inside the silent hall, Bai Zhou approached the array’s heart where Hou Congmeng lay.
She stepped to the center, looking down at the half-conscious girl, her breath faint, the last traces of life being devoured by the蛊 bug.
“Qi Refining? That should suffice.”

Bai Zhou extended her right hand, gently touching Hou Congmeng’s brow.
Buzz—
Pure, precise spiritual energy surged into Hou Congmeng’s nearly depleted meridians, crushing the parasitic threads within like a tidal wave.

“Argh!!!”
Hou Congmeng’s body jolted, a pained but no longer mindless groan escaping. Her pale cheeks flushed unnaturally, the gentle yet potent energy forcibly pulling her from her half-puppetized haze.

Her consciousness surfaced like a drowning person yanked from water. Fragmented memories flooded her mind, pain and clarity crashing together.
Amid this agony and awakening, the energy ravaging the蛊 bug and repairing her meridians carried a distinct, cold, vast aura with an unchanging, peculiar texture…

Too familiar…
She’d felt this aura before…
It was no mistake!

Hou Congmeng’s unfocused pupils sharpened. Despite her body’s torment, her mind, sparked by this familiarity, cleared instantly, entering a sage-like focus post-craftsmanship, dragging her into a long-sealed memory…

When do people first form memories?
Hou Congmeng couldn’t recall, but she hadn’t forgotten. As a small child, she was always sick, frail, coughing for hours if a window was opened too wide. The bitter taste of medicine defined her childhood, her room steeped in its acrid scent.

Her father, then young, always had furrowed brows, his eyes heavy with worry and a weight she couldn’t grasp.
One day, he carefully carried her onto a carriage. The ride was long, jarring her into a drowsy haze.
She only knew they left Baihe City, heading somewhere far, far away.

Nestled in her father’s arms, she whispered:
“Daddy, where are we going?”
He patted her back gently, his voice low with a reverence she’d never heard:
“Be good, Congmeng. Daddy’s taking you to the capital, Anyang, to meet… a great person. If… if that lady shows kindness, your illness might be cured.”