Chapter 111: An Unexpected Revelation – Qingluo’s True Identity

The snow on the ridge was too deep, making it impossible to run swiftly. Yet, to buy time against Yun Yi, Shen Qianmo could only exert all her strength to press forward.

Everywhere was a vast expanse of white snow; she neither knew where the path ahead led nor how long she had been running.

The biting wind atop the peak cut across her face like a sharp blade. Her face had grown stiff and numb from the cold, but her body grew hotter with the exertion of running. Sweat beaded on her forehead and dripped down along her temples.

Her figure was light and nimble like a swallow, weaving deftly through the jagged rocks and cliffs to shake off the pursuers hot on her heels.

She slipped into a narrow crevice behind a steep cliff, holding her breath. The sound of footsteps gradually faded in her ears.

Leaning against the rough stone wall, the coarse gravel pressed painfully against her back.

The howling cold wind rushed through the crevice, causing her to shiver.

The wild sprint had drenched her in sweat, and now the wind’s chill penetrated to her very bones.

After steadying her breath and resting briefly, she resolved to find a way down the mountain.

Sitting and waiting for death was never her style.

Winding through a maze of stones, she emerged into a stone forest, only to find the cliff’s edge directly ahead.

This path was a dead end.

Turning around, Shen Qianmo faced a gleaming long sword aimed at her heart.

The sword’s owner was clad entirely in black, the face veiled in dark gauze—a killer from the Shadowless Sect.

This assassin was as petite as she was, the sleek black garment outlining a slender, graceful form.

The killer was a woman.

“Princess Xuan, there’s no running today. Save your strength and surrender quietly,” the voice was as clear and melodious as a yellow warbler’s song. Though threatening, it sounded strangely pleasant to the ear.

After a brief shock, Shen Qianmo regained composure and fixed her gaze on the black-clad woman before her.

Only a smooth forehead and a pair of striking, stark black-and-white eyes were visible beneath the veil.

Those eyes stirred an inexplicable familiarity in Shen Qianmo.

An expert in sketching criminal portraits, she possessed a natural acuity for observing facial features.

Her delicate brows furrowed slightly, searching her memory.

“You are... Qing Luo?!” Though stunned, Shen Qianmo was certain she was not mistaken.

---

The eyes belonged unmistakably to Qing Luo.

Upon hearing this, the woman’s gaze flickered and avoided direct eye contact, denying flatly, “Who is Qing Luo? Princess Xuan, don’t waste time. Come with me to meet our master.”

Catching the hesitation in her eyes, Shen Qianmo knew she had been seen through.

“Your voice is lovely. It must have been hard being made mute all this time,” Shen Qianmo said evenly, emotionless.

The woman chuckled softly, tinged with self-mockery: “I knew nothing could be hidden from you, Miss. Since you’ve uncovered the truth, there’s no need to hide it anymore.”

She raised her hand and gently removed the black veil.

A delicate, beautiful face revealed itself—large eyes, a small nose, rosy lips, and a pointed chin. If not Qing Luo, then who?

“Miss, are you surprised?” Qing Luo’s voice was soft and sweet, yet Shen Qianmo felt an icy chill—a deep betrayal by someone she once trusted.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

Why had Shen Qianxue known about her using hypnosis on the assassin on the way back to the capital, a matter few knew after Meng Yuanheng suppressed it, and Qing Luo was one of them?

Why had Mo Hanshan used Tietou as bait to lure her to the snow ridge? Qing Luo, having followed her for so long, naturally knew her special affection for orphans.

“So you’re from the Shadowless Sect!” Shen Qianmo said coldly. “Since when? Or have you been their spy by my side from the very beginning?”

“Do you still remember my real name?” Qing Luo avoided directly answering, tightening her grip on the sword pointed at Shen Qianmo’s heart.

Her real name? Shen Qianmo frowned, recalling the moment she first met Qing Luo.

She had stood quietly among a group of maidservants awaiting selection, unassuming and composed, like a daisy standing proud in the frost.

She couldn’t speak and had to write her name on paper.

It was still spring then; now it was early winter.

Reflecting on the past felt like a lifetime ago—she had already been here so long.

“Zhao Linger,” Shen Qianmo recalled the three delicate characters on the paper.

“Miss, your memory is impressive,” Qing Luo smiled bitterly and asked, “Do you also remember Zhao Sanhuai?”

Shen Qianmo certainly did.

He had set fire to the small courtyard where the original owner lived, and she had been reborn in that blaze. Later, she uncovered the truth and exposed the arsonist. Zhao Sanhuai was imprisoned in the woodshed and committed suicide that very night.

She had never intended to kill him but, being new to the Duke’s mansion and desperate to establish her authority and protect herself, she had felt indebted to Zhao Sanhuai.

---

“Could it be that you and Zhao Sanhuai…”

“Zhao Sanhuai... is my father,” Qing Luo’s eyes blazed with anger and sorrow.

So that was it!

Recalling the past, Qing Luo spoke with righteous fury, “You noble families have no idea of the hardships of the poor. My mother was gravely ill without money for treatment. My father, desperate, enlisted as a servant in the Duke’s mansion. Yet shortly after, he met a tragic death. They claimed he set the fire deliberately and committed suicide out of guilt. Impossible! My father was honest all his life. He would never commit arson for no reason. You drove him to his death and then branded him with a stain that can never be washed away. It’s outrageous!”

Her words grew more impassioned, her eyes aflame, chest heaving. The hand holding the sword trembled slightly.

After her father’s death, her mother also grew ill and passed away, leaving Qing Luo alone and destitute. She could not even afford to bury her parents properly, wrapping them hastily in two tattered mats.

She had tried to seek justice at the Duke’s mansion but was always driven away without a chance to plead.

Since then, she lingered near the mansion, waiting for an opportunity. Until the day a group of thugs targeted her, beating her unconscious and taking her to an abandoned temple to assault her. At the critical moment, Mo Hanshan happened upon the scene and saved her.

From then on, the Shadowless Sect became her home, and Mo Hanshan her master.

So Qing Luo’s story was far deeper than it seemed.

Regarding Zhao Sanhuai’s case, Shen Qianmo admitted some negligence. She had ordered compensation for his family, but it seemed the servants handling it had embezzled the funds.

Faced with Qing Luo’s bitter accusations and grief, Shen Qianmo was momentarily speechless.

As the two confronted each other, a stern voice from afar reached them clearly.

“I did not summon you to reminisce with Princess Xuan. Have you obtained the Mozi Token?”

Hearing Mo Hanshan’s voice, Qing Luo’s expression shifted, clearly fearful of him.

A powerful aura, mixed with the cold wind of the snow ridge, swept toward them like a black hawk soaring over the snowy peaks.

Behind him, several black-clad attendants spread out, blocking Shen Qianmo’s escape.

Mo Hanshan’s eyes were cold and ruthless as they slowly swept over Shen Qianmo’s calm face before turning to Qing Luo with a grave tone: “Where is the Mozi Token?”

Qing Luo sheathed her sword and knelt to Mo Hanshan, her voice trembling: “I have searched the entire Duke’s mansion, but the Mozi Token... remains missing.”

“Useless!” Mo Hanshan’s face darkened as he roared, “You can’t even find a token. What use are you?”

“I deserve death! I deserve death!” Qing Luo’s forehead struck the snow heavily, trembling all over.

Mo Hanshan merely snorted coldly, ignoring her, and stepped closer to Shen Qianmo. His gray-white beard quivered slightly; his gaunt face was full of menace as he grit his teeth: “Princess Xuan, hand over the Mozi Token.”