The bluestone slabs in the back alley of the Xuan'an Bureau were chilled by the night dew. Pi Yanlin cradled A Lian in one arm, his other hand lightly supporting her back.
The young girl’s body was as light as a sheet of paper, her forehead burning with a fever that felt alarming. She kept muttering, "The Holy Monarch reveals his spirit," her voice trailing off like spider silk scattered by the wind.
"Just leave me in the secret chamber," he said, turning his head toward Gu Qinghuan. His boot soles ground against the scattered bricks on the ground—on his way back from the ancestral hall, he had intentionally taken three hidden alleys to ensure he hadn't been followed by remnants of the Holy Monarch Cult.
Chapter 42