They finally set off. Lang Huan gently lifted Feng Yao onto Xiao Bai's back, then climbed up behind her, wrapping her arms around Feng Yao's waist.
"What's wrong?" Lang Huan asked softly. "Who has made you angry?"
Feng Yao said nothing. Her gaze remained fixed on the path ahead, her lips pressed into a tight line. The silence stretched between them until she spoke.
"I've already sent two units of the Azure Falcon Army ahead of us. Ruochen and Commander Zhang are leading them... to Bai Yuan Mountain. But Qiu Yue says there's still no news from them."
Her hands clenched slightly. She no longer knew what Feng Tianwei was planning. Mo Jie, whom she had intended to use against him, had died before any of her strategies could even begin. Everything was slipping out of her control.
Lang Huan could feel it now: the quiet storm hiding beneath Feng Yao's calm expression.
Gently, she leaned closer and murmured, "Don't worry... They might have already reached Bai Yuan by now. And didn't Master Xuankai and Gao Fei make it through the Soul Lost Forest safely before? We'll be fine too."
Feng Yao exhaled softly, her breath curling in the cold air. "Let's hope so..."
Their journey continued in silence, the rhythmic thud of hooves muffled by the thick carpet of fallen leaves. Lang Huan guided Xiao Bai forward, closing the distance between them and Master Xuankai, who rode ahead at the front of the group.
"Master…" she asked, a hint of curiosity and concern in her voice. "Is Bai Yuan still far from here?"
Master Xuankai didn't turn, his eyes scanning the dense forest ahead. A faint crease lined his forehead as he replied.
"We should focus on getting through the Soul Lost Forest first," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "No one can predict what might happen in wild lands like these… especially now that we're no longer following the proper route."
The mist hung low, swallowing the path ahead. The air was thick with the scent of damp soil and rotting leaves. The wind swept through the forest in cold, biting gusts, sharp enough to sting to the bone.
Lang Huan looked down at Feng Yao in her arms. She felt the subtle change in the woman's body—the tension easing little by little as drowsiness began to take hold. Quietly, Lang Huan pressed her lips to Feng Yao's cheek.
"Are you sleepy? Lean on me and sleep... I'll keep you safe."
Behind them, Feng Xi Yan watched the scene with a complicated look in her eyes.
Everyone always said the Eighth Princess was blessed with good fortune. As a favored princess, she received better than anyone else—more than any of her brothers or sisters.
But only now did Feng Xi Yan see the truth—her father never truly loved her. Nothing mattered more to him than power and wealth. Not even his own child.
And in the end, it was the unfavored one who turned out to be truly fortunate.
Her royal sister had Ye Langhuan, who looked at her as if she were the only person in the world. Who treated her like something precious.
Feng Xiyan couldn't help but think it was deeply unfair.
Wasn't it her father who wanted her to marry Ye Langhuan in the first place?
Their father had not arranged any marriage yet, but Lang Huan's eyes seemed already filled with only her royal sister. Resentment bloomed like thorns in Feng Xiyan's heart.
Just then, the sound of hooves approached. Wei Yanzhou rode up beside her, trying to speak.
"Your Highness... may I—"
But before he could finish, Feng Xiyan turned sharply toward him. "Stay away from me."
Without waiting for his reaction, she gripped her reins tightly and urged her horse forward, galloping into the thick mist, chasing after Lang Huan, who was already far ahead.
Though it was still daytime, the sunlight barely reached them. Towering, ancient trees loomed overhead, their thick canopies blotting out the sky. The leaves were tangled with low-hanging mist, turning the air into a dull, grey haze. It felt as though dusk had arrived far too early.
Before long, the group reached an abandoned village. Crumbling houses stood silent and empty, their roofs half-collapsed, overtaken by creeping vines and rot. The wind threaded through broken windows, carrying with it a faint, haunting sound.
It was then they realized: they had entered the Soul Lost Forest.
A faint, sour odor lingered—twisted their stomachs and made every breath feel strained.
Deciding it was too dangerous to go on without rest, the group set up a small camp on the edge of the ruined village. No one spoke much. Even the fire they lit seemed to burn more quietly than it should.
That night, Feng Yao found her thoughts drifting back to the hot spring they had passed earlier in the day. She remembered the warmth of the rising steam, the gentle ripples across the water's surface. It seemed like the perfect place to ease the tension in her chest.
Quietly, she turned to A Li and spoke in a soft voice.
"Prepare my bath."
A Li nodded and moved quickly. She gathered fresh clothes, towels, and fragrant flower petals she'd collected earlier from the forest.
When the time came, Feng Yao slipped away into the misty woods. A Li followed close behind, joined by Qiu Yue and Wu Ming. The three women remained at a respectful distance once they reached the spring, forming a protective perimeter to ensure no one would disturb their mistress.
The quiet sound of water filled the air, mingling with the soft fragrance of flower petals that drifted lazily on the surface. Mist swirled gently around the hot spring, wrapping the scene in a dreamy, ethereal glow. It was a rare moment of peace in a land that offered so little of it.
Elsewhere, back at the camp, Lang Huan sat beside the fire, helping Master Xuankai roast the pheasants they had caught earlier that day. She poked at the fire in silence, but her eyes kept drifting toward the woods.
Where is Feng Yao? She hadn't said where she was going. Even though Qiu Yue and Wu Ming had gone with her, the atmosphere of the Soul Lost Forest was unsettling.
Noticing her sitting alone, Feng Xi Yan approached with a casual air. In her hand was a small cup of wine. "Want to drink with me?" she asked lightly
Lang Huan surprised, then gave a polite nod and accepted the cup. She brought it to her lips and took a small sip—then another.
It only took three sips before the heat began to rise in her cheeks. Lang Huan had never been good with alcohol, and now her face had turned a soft shade of red. Feeling embarrassed, she quickly stood up, brushing off her robe and reaching for a nearby lantern.
"Your Highness, I'm going to rest," she said quickly, trying to keep her voice even.
She turned and walked away, her steps quicker than usual.
Feng Xiyan watched her go, a bitter twist creeping into her expression. She knew Lang Huan wasn't going to rest.
A moment later, Feng Xiyan set her cup down and followed silently into the mist.
Lang Huan wandered through the village looking for Feng Yao, but the eldest princess was nowhere to be found.
Drawn by instinct, Lang Huan made her way toward the woods behind the village. That's when she spotted A Li and Qiu Yue standing close together beneath a withered tree, speaking in hushed tones. Their guards' posture was relaxed, unaware of her presence. Lang Huan's eyes lit up with a playful idea—she decided to take the path behind them and sneak up to give them a little scare. A mischievous smile spread across her face.
As she moved quietly through the trees, she noticed a thin trail of steam rising into the night air She paused, frowning slightly, and then she remembered the hot spring they had passed earlier in the day.
Curious, she followed the faint sound of water. The further she went, the stronger the floral scent became.
The trail led her to a large rock. As she stepped around it, she saw the beautiful scenery. A steaming pool surrounded by smooth stones, with wildflowers blooming along the edges. The water shimmered softly under the warm light of a lantern nearby. The steam mixed with the sweet scent of flowers, filling the air with a calming fragrance. It felt like a hidden oasis tucked away from the rest of the world.
She simply stood there, taking in the beauty of it all—the soft sound of water flowing and the gentle rustle of leaves.
Then, a voice broke the silence. Lang Huan turned her gaze toward the source and saw a figure moving gracefully in the water. It was Feng Yao, partially hidden by the steam, relaxing in the hot spring with her eyes closed.
Feng Yao's long dark hair was wet, clinging to her shoulders, glistening under the soft light of the lantern. The makeup she had worn earlier was gone, and her cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat of the water. a faint serene smile tugging at the corners of her lips, It was such a stark contrast to the cold expression she had during the day.
Her gaze lingered on the elegant line of Feng Yao's neck. The gentle curve of her collarbone, the delicate slope of her shoulders, and the faint outline of her chest beneath the water's surface—it made her heart started to race.
Lang Huan's fingers tightened around the lantern handle. She knew she should turn away, but her body refused to move, caught in the spell of the moment.
She watched as Feng Yao gently tilted her head back, water droplets sliding down her skin. Her fingers skimmed lightly over her damp skin, tracing a slow, graceful line from the curve of her shoulder down to her collarbone, and then across the upper curve of her chest. The elegant motion made the water ripple softly around her.
Crack!
Her foot accidentally stepped on a dry branch. The sharp sound broke through the quiet night.
Feng Yao's head snapped up, her dark eyes alert as they locked onto the source of the noise. Lang Huan's body stiffened. For a moment, time seemed to stop—two pairs of eyes locked together across the soft glow of the hot spring.