A magical journey of a sharp-tongued woman and a goofy man

The clapper had just struck three times at the hour of Yin (3-5 AM), and a thin layer of frost had formed on the blue brick floor of the ancestral hall.

Ye Shuli pressed the fragment of the Kunlun Mirror into the groove of the bronze token, and the dark gold patterns spread along the unburnt lamp oil of the Seven Star Lamp to the bottom of the offering table.

Jiang Ye was squatting on the roof beam adjusting the sextant when the candied hawthorn skewer suddenly pointed to the ancestral tablet in the northwest corner.

"Two of the four elders from the east, west, south, and north are absent." Ye Shuli used a candlestick to burn off the lamp oil on her sleeve, and the smoke condensed into half a human face in the star model that Jiang Ye had just improved.

The sixteen longevity lamps moved automatically without wind, and the swords of the seven core disciples simultaneously emitted a buzzing sound.

The patriarch's rosewood chair armrest suddenly developed three fine cracks, exactly like the cracks on the back of his hand last night.

Just as Ye Mingchuan was about to speak, the pillars on the east side collapsed with a crash, and from the dust emerged the blood-stained imprint on the bottom of the bronze cauldron from the previous night—the emblem of the Murong clan, who were wiped out thirty years ago.

"It's just spiritual energy resonance." Ye Mingchuan's nephew, Ye Cheng'an, kicked away the broken wood. "Could some people be considering the losses from the tournament as a conspiracy?" The ruby ​​on his sword reflected Jiang Ye's movements as he adjusted the sextant, and a candied hawthorn skewer suddenly pierced the gray-blue light dormant on the back of the ruby.

As Jiang Ye flipped and leaped off the roof beam, three tiles fell with him, the sound of them shattering coinciding with the sudden attack of Ye Shuli's hidden weapon, which pinned the blood-red imprint to the ground.

Everyone could see that the tiny ice cracks on the edge of the imprint could be pieced together with the patterns on the back of the clan leader's hand to form a complete array.

"The patrol team's shift change interval yesterday was half a quarter of an hour longer than usual." Ye Shuli tossed out a recording jade slip, and Jiang Ye's sextant projected the missing star chart. "The spiritual energy at the Kan position of the ancestral hall's defensive array is three-tenths weaker than at the Li position. Only someone proficient in the Murong clan's array formations could achieve such an error..."

"Enough!" Ye Cheng'an slammed his sword hilt heavily on the offering table. "You think you're something just because you won a tournament..." He suddenly fell silent—Jiang Ye was standing behind him at some point, a candied hawthorn skewer pressed against the spiritual meridian node on the back of his neck.

Ye Shuli's fingertips ignited with cold fire, and she forged the blood-written characters into the Murong clan's unique Ice Soul Stone: "At three-quarters past Xu hour, I will examine the life lamps of the entire clan." As she turned around, her crimson cloak swept across Jiang Ye's wrist, and the modified revealing powder in her hidden pocket was already sprinkled on Ye Cheng'an's hem.

As the fog rolled over the training ground at dawn, twenty-three disciples followed Ye Shuli as they moved between the nodes of the defensive array.

Jiang Ye held up a compass inlaid with fragments of the Kunlun Mirror, and the candied hawthorn skewers were driven three inches into the ground every hundred steps.

As the patrolling grey falcon swept past the ancient locust tree in the southeast corner for the third time, Ye Shuli suddenly pressed down on Jiang Ye's left shoulder—the compass needle was trembling wildly at the meridian, but the star map projected by the sextant showed no abnormalities.

"The third fluctuation of spiritual energy." Jiang Ye chewed on a hawthorn pit, the sweet and sour taste dispelling the bitter fragrance of the revealing powder.

The ice crystals on Ye Cheng'an's sword tassel suddenly floated into Murong Clan array symbols, but turned into mist before the crowd could gather around.

The cold fire in Ye Shuli's sleeve chased the mist and burned to the top of the ancient locust tree, only scorching off half a withered leaf with ice cracks.

As the sun slanted across the eaves of the library at the end of the hour, Jiang Ye used syrup to reconstruct the incomplete array diagram on the glazed tiles.

Ye Shuli dipped the withered leaves into the illusory image reflected in the Kunlun Mirror, and the cracks formed a pattern of the Big Dipper swallowing the tail snake with the lines on the back of the clan leader's hand.

The two simultaneously reached for the jade talisman in their robes—the natal lamps, which should have been checked at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM), now automatically lit up seventeen times in the library's cellar.

"On the night the Murong family was massacred, the Big Dipper shifted three degrees." Ye Shuli crushed the revealing powder, and the same fishy smell as the candle tears from the victory celebration banquet seeped out from the cracks in the floor tiles.

Jiang Ye suddenly pressed the candied hawthorn to her lips, the sweet and sour taste overpowering the warning that was about to come out—the talons of a grey falcon flying past the window were covered with vermilion powder unique to the rival family in the championship.

As dusk painted the western wall red, Ye Shuli stood atop the watchtower.

Jiang Ye's sextant showed that the firelight reappeared 300 miles away, but it was 2 quarters of an hour ahead of the actual time.

She gripped the Kunlun Mirror, which had developed new cracks, tightly in her sleeve, unaware that a hundred miles to the southeast, someone was using a cracked bronze mirror to aim at the Ye family ancestral hall—the Big Dipper reflected in the mirror was rotating counterclockwise.

(This is a suitable prelude and ending; no further events are introduced.) (Continued in the main text)

As the crackled bronze mirror atop the mountain gleamed with a deep blue light, sulfurous mist rose from the bottom of Qixia Ravine, a hundred miles away.

Zhao Tianque, the leader of the rival clan, kicked aside the half-melted black iron chain at his feet, and crushed the last bit of cinnabar on the communication talisman with his gilded thumb ring: "Is the remnant soul of the Murong clan really in the Ye family ancestral hall?"

"The news of checking one's natal lamp at three-quarters past Xu hour has reached the Third Elder's ears." The woman, emerging from the shadows, removed her fox fur coat, revealing a blood-red tattoo on her collarbone identical to the one on the bottom of the bronze cauldron. "That arrogant young master Ye Cheng'an is currently throwing a tantrum at the visible powder on his robe."

Zhao Tianque threw the cracked bronze mirror fragments into the lava pool, and the Big Dipper, which had been rotating counterclockwise on the mirror, suddenly froze: "Have the Chen family of Qingzhou make their move at the hour of Yin (3-5 AM). Remember to use the 'Seven Stars Soul Severing' move that the Murong family used thirty years ago." Ice crystals seeped from the stone wall behind him, gradually solidifying into the outline of the tournament referee.

At this moment, in front of the seventeen natal lamps that flickered in and out of the cellar of the Ye family's library, Ye Shuli used a fragment of the Kunlun Mirror to scratch across the third floor tile.

Dark red fragments seeped from the moss-covered cracks, smelling the same as the liquid seeping from the cracks on the back of the chieftain's hand.

"The patrol team's shift change record at Shenshi (3-5 PM) has been altered." Jiang Ye chewed on a freshly skewered candied hawthorn. The sextant projected onto the star map on the wall was missing the Xuanwu constellation. "Besides the four elders, who can access the patrol map..." Suddenly, the candied hawthorn skewer struck something behind the lamp stand, and half a piece of ice crystal embedded in the wood grain fell off in a flurry.

The cold flame at Ye Shuli's fingertips suddenly went out.

The ice crystals and the cracks in the withered leaves she burned at the top of the ancient locust tree that morning were clearly remnants of the same spiritual energy.

The key to the library's cellar is held by only five members of the entire clan.

"Young Miss!" The patrol captain burst open the wooden cellar door. "The spiritual energy of the defensive array in the southeast corner is leaking out!" In the center of the array plate he handed over, the Murong clan emblem was devouring the Ye family totem.

Jiang Ye's candied hawthorn skewer suddenly turned towards the window—the Second Elder, who should have been in seclusion in the ancestral hall, was hurrying past with his clothes stained with the red scale powder, a specialty of Qingzhou.

Ye Shuli gripped the Kunlun Mirror, which was now cracking.

The core array diagram of the family's defensive formation is known only to the patriarch and the heir. If even the elders don't know it... As her crimson cloak swept across the scattered debris, she didn't notice that Jiang Ye quietly picked up half a hawthorn pit with teeth marks from the lamp oil.

The sound of the clapper at the second quarter of the Yin hour was trembling.

Ye Shuli stood in front of the repaired southeast corner defensive formation, watching Jiang Ye use syrup to seal the last crack.

The sextant's star map still lacked the Black Tortoise constellation, and the patrol captain had just reported that the spirit tortoise kept in the Third Elder's courtyard had inexplicably developed a Big Dipper swallowing a snake pattern on its shell.

"Eating too many candied hawthorns can upset your stomach," Ye Shuli suddenly said.

Jiang Ye's wrist trembled slightly, and the syrup drew crooked runes on the array eye stone.

The half-eaten hawthorn pit that slipped from his sleeve matched perfectly with the tooth marks found in the cellar.

As the morning mist drifted over the weapon racks in the training ground, Ye Shuli discovered ice cracks on the inside of Ye Chengan's sword sheath.

On the back of the ruby ​​inlaid in the sword hilt, gray-blue light spots have condensed into miniature array symbols.

However, half a grain of cinnabar had somehow gotten mixed into the flame of her own destiny lamp.

"The inspection should be done in advance at the hour of Xu (7-9 PM)." She pressed the cold fire into the communication jade talisman, and the firelight illuminated the slightly bulging revealing powder in Jiang Ye's sleeve pocket.

The boy chuckled as he handed over a new candied hawthorn, the tip of the skewer stained with a bluish-black liquid identical to the crack on the back of the clan chief's hand.

As the torrential rain at noon washed over the animal heads on the eaves, Ye Shuli stared at the rubbings of the seventeen natal lamps on her desk.

Jiang Ye's improved developing powder produced spots of varying depths on the rubbing, with the three deepest marks corresponding to the First Elder, the Third Elder, and... She abruptly closed the jade slip, and a soaking wet envelope was suddenly stuffed into the window crack.

The handwriting on the anonymous letter was blurred by rain, but the words "Murong's Remnant Soul" and "Seven Stars' Broken Soul" were still clearly visible.

The tea stains on the edge of the letter were exactly the same as the Xue Ding Han Cui fragrance that the Third Elder was used to use.

"Found it!" Jiang Ye burst through the door, bringing a gust of wind and rain into the room. A piece of glass with ice-crack patterns was being picked up by a candied hawthorn skewer. "The cinnabar powder on the tip of the gray falcon's claw comes from the Chen family of Qingzhou..." His voice trailed off—the anonymous letter in Ye Shuli's hand was floating on the celebratory banquet invitation that the clan leader had just sent. The bamboo patterns on the two types of paper were exactly the same.

Suddenly, the sound of a jade cup shattering came from deep within the cellar, and sparks burst forth from all seventeen natal lamps at the same time.

Ye Shuli gripped the Kunlun Mirror, which had developed its fifth crack, unaware that the gray falcon flying past the window was tossing a letter from its claws toward the eaves of the ancestral hall.