FRGNM -Chapter 233 The Realm… or Beauty?

On both sides, the ancient tree roots quickly entwined together, blocking the invading black poison and forcing it outward. The spots where the silver needles fell precisely avoided those roots, perfectly suppressing the venom outside.

Ling Ruoxi knew how difficult this needling technique was. Only she and Qingyi could see those ancient roots—everyone else thought nothing unusual was happening. In truth, Luo Mingyu was the hardest case to treat.

“How long has he been unconscious?” Ling Ruoxi stood up, swiftly pinching a silver needle between her fingers. Her right hand sank as, at the instant the roots shifted, she accurately drove the needle into Luo Mingyu’s acupoint.

The poison within his body was forced back a little more. Qingyi wiped away cold sweat and said in a low voice, “Two hours. The needling is extremely difficult. The roots move without any pattern—trying to place all the needles at once is almost impossible.”

Her eyes locked onto the turbulent poison. Ling Ruoxi’s gaze darkened. With a flick of her wrist, another silver needle went in. Her technique was slightly superior to Qingyi’s, but more importantly, her spiritual power far exceeded his, allowing her to precisely catch the moments when the roots shifted.

Whoosh!

The silver needles fell in rapid succession. Ling Ruoxi stepped back; the wound was now covered with needles. She lightly tapped with her right hand, purple Dou Qi flowing from her wrist and coiling around the injury.

Her hands quickly formed seals, complex hand signs unfolding as incantations surfaced in her mind. With half-closed eyes, she spoke solemnly, “Healing Art!”

Black poison dripped continuously along the needles. The purple Dou Qi transformed into a white aura that wrapped around Luo Mingyu’s wound and burrowed deep within. The surrounding ancient roots stirred briefly, then, sensing no threat, quickly tunneled back into his body.

All the poison was completely drawn out. Spiritual energy entered his body, rapidly repairing Luo Mingyu’s wounds.

“Whew… you really have a way,” Qingyi panted, removing all the needles. There wasn’t the slightest mark left on Luo Mingyu’s chest—it was as good as new.

The sleeper’s breathing steadied, color returning to his face as he lay deeply asleep on the couch.

Letting out a long breath, Qingyun quickly said, “Alright, everything’s fine now. Everyone should rest.”

“Mm.” They were all utterly exhausted, their spirits stretched to the limit.

Ling Ruoxi slowly lay down beside Luo Mingyu and closed her eyes. She had a beautiful, beautiful dream. In it, she found her father and returned to Qiongyu Immortal Island with her two children. They prepared her wedding; her red gown was stunning, radiant. Two small flower children stood before them, offering blossoms.

But suddenly, the fiery red flowers turned into blood, soaking her clothes. Even the people beside her melted into blood as well. The horrifying scene jolted her awake—only to find that the person beside her was gone.

“Mingyu!” Ling Ruoxi jumped out of bed and flung the door open.

Dark clouds pressed low in the sky, lightning flashing everywhere. In moments, bean-sized raindrops poured down, a torrential downpour that sent everyone outside scrambling indoors.

“Huh? Ruoxi, you’re awake?” Silver Wolf shook the rain from his hair, looking at her as he straightened his clothes. Confused, he asked, “Why are you out here? You’re still weak. Qingyi said you can’t use Dou Qi for a while. Hey—where are you going?!”

Seeing Ling Ruoxi about to leave, Silver Wolf hurriedly grabbed her. Noticing the empty room, realization dawned. “Oh, I get it—you’re looking for Luo Mingyu, right? Don’t worry, he went to the palace.”

“To the palace? What for?” Ling Ruoxi’s expression sank slightly. Could it be Murong Ming?

Waving his hands, Silver Wolf laughed bitterly. “Relax, not Murong Ming. Nangong Mo called him—said there was something to discuss. He should be there by now. You should rest. He’ll be back soon.”

“No, I’m going too!” Ling Ruoxi stood up.

Silver Wolf quickly clasped her wrist. She was really pushing it—still badly injured and already thinking of running out into the storm. With wind and rain like this, she’d definitely fall ill again.

“Hiss—” Ling Ruoxi subconsciously exerted force with her right hand and sucked in a sharp breath. She tried to summon her Dou Qi, only to feel her dantian flare with blade-like pain. Frowning, she stared at the rain outside, hoping only that Luo Mingyu would return quickly so she could see that he was safe.

The rain continued to fall, washing away all traces of bloodshed.

—

Inside the palace, a man sat holding a teacup, lips slightly curved as he glanced at the person beside him. A glint flashed in his eyes as he set the cup down and said coolly, “So—you plan to marry Miss Qian?”

“Yes. Luo Mingyu, I told you this long ago—treat Ruoxi well. I hope you won’t forget it.” Nangong Mo nodded solemnly and slowly extended his hand.

Luo Mingyu chuckled, grasping Nangong Mo’s hand. They bumped each other’s chests, then clasped hands again. A sharp light flashed in Luo Mingyu’s eyes as he curled his lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of Ruoxi. By the way—your imperial grandfather has woken up. He wants to see you.”

“Oh?” Nangong Mo froze, not quite understanding.

Just then, a young eunuch stood outside, bowing. “Your Highness, His Majesty summons you.”

“Alright, I’ll go at once.” Nangong Mo cast Luo Mingyu a strange look. “You’re coming too?”

“That’s your family matter—I won’t interfere,” Luo Mingyu replied lightly. “Since you’ve decided to treat a girl well, cherish her. My little Ruoxi should be arriving soon too. Later, we still need to visit Murong Ming.”

With a faint smile, he gazed at the dispersing dark clouds. The first condition is done. What about the second? Will you really use something impossible to make things difficult for her again?

—

The sleeping palace was deathly silent. The maids standing around didn’t dare breathe, heads lowered.

Murong Hua, dressed in yellow inner robes, leaned against the bed. His unfocused eyes stared ahead. A painting scroll lay open on the floor—on it were the very verses Consort Li once recited, and a woman painted within: wearing a pink peony dress, long hair flying, twin swords raised, her jade-white right leg lifted high in a kick toward the head.

A perfect image—now gone forever.

“Imperial Grandfather.” Nangong Mo stepped inside. When his gaze fell upon the painting, his heart trembled, unease rising.

Murong Hua nodded dully, then his eyes suddenly gleamed as he pointed at the portrait. “Do you know who this is?”

“This… is Consort Li, Imperial Grandfather.” She could have lived, but chose death—ending her love for him and her own longing. What she never knew was that the person Imperial Grandfather loved most… was her.

Nangong Mo clasped his hands. “Imperial Grandfather, please accept my condolences. Your poisoning was unexpected, and Consort Li, she—”

“Enough. What’s past is past.” Murong Hua sighed, sorrow flashing through his dark eyes as he pressed a hand to the bed and slowly stood up.

Without anger yet commanding awe, he laughed coldly. “They all think I’m a muddled, incompetent ruler. In truth, I never wanted to be emperor. I wanted someone else to sit on this throne. Though I indulged in music and dance, I never built my own power. Lie Yun coveted the throne for a long time but dared not act rashly. He missed his best opportunity—and died by your hands.”

“Imperial Grandfather, this realm was hard-won. Why not wish to rule it?” Nangong Mo asked quietly, brows knit. Could someone truly abandon such vast dominion?

Murong Hua shook his head, smiling faintly. “They all think I’m senile, yet I know everything. Everyone wants to be emperor—I did too when I was young. But once you reach this position, you realize the burden is far from simple. One mistake, and the nation falls. Knowing that, would you still dare to act recklessly?”

“As for why I didn’t want it—because of love.” He touched his chest and laughed softly, tapping his heart. “I’m not like you. You met Qian Yi and fell in love at first sight. You want to marry her—and her status suits yours, so no one objects. But the woman I loved… was merely a courtesan. Morally unacceptable.”

“What’s more, she was an assassin—sent to kill me, hiding in a brothel. How could she ever marry me?” Murong Hua pounded his chest, laughing bitterly. “The guard who ‘assassinated’ her was specially arranged by me—a superb killer who could pierce the heart without causing death. I staged her death and hid her in the harem. I didn’t want to hurt her again. I didn’t want to face her, or see her tears. So I became incompetent, decadent—hoping my father would depose me, so I could be with her. But he didn’t care. He kept me on the throne. Now I’ve finally done it… and she has left me.”

Pressing his hand to his heart, Murong Hua laughed—a laugh filled with desolation. In the end, everything he did came to nothing. The realm… the beauty… both slipped from his grasp. Who could truly understand such a heart?