Chapter 82: Tianlong Temple!

Mu Wanqing’s eyes reddened, brimming with tears:“Fang Lang, I must leave… I cannot stay by your side…”

Fang Han was slightly surprised, vaguely guessing, and frowned:“Why?”

Mu Wanqing said softly:“Earlier, when I returned from Suzhou, I had already arranged a meeting with my shifu. The time and place were set. Now…”

If she delayed any longer, the appointed day would pass.

Hearing this, Fang Han was taken aback.

She had never mentioned it before.

But after a moment’s thought, he understood why.

She had neither wished to disrupt his matters nor shorten her own time with him.

He sighed inwardly.

This girl…

Fang Han asked: “Exactly when is it?”

Mu Wanqing bit her lip:

“In seven days’ time. It’s in the secluded valley where I grew up. Even with fast horses, it takes five days to reach.”

Fang Han was speechless. Reaching out, he gently pinched her soft, delicate cheek:

“You should have told me earlier.”

Mu Wanqing’s eyes reddened further as she buried herself in his chest:

“Fang Lang, once I meet with Shifu and explain, I’ll come back to you at once. You… you mustn’t go too far away, all right? I’m afraid I won’t be able to find you…”

Since childhood, her shifu Qin Hongmian had constantly instilled in her that “all men in the world are fickle and heartless.”

Over years of repetition, Mu Wanqing had inevitably been influenced—she feared that once she left, she might never find Fang Han again.

This, indeed, was why she had delayed leaving until the very last moment.

Fang Han wrapped an arm around her slender waist, lightly caressing, smiling:

“What do you mean I will go far? If you don’t come back, I’ll be the one to find you.”

After some thought, he added:

“Better yet, let us go together.”

In three days, the national master of Tubo, Jiumozhi, was due to arrive at Tianlong Temple.

The timing was tight, but worth attempting. If it worked, so be it; if not, he would go with Mu Wanqing to meet her shifu—or rather, her birth mother.

After all, having taken someone’s daughter, he could not avoid meeting his “mother-in-law.”

Mu Wanqing nestled against Fang Han, deeply moved.

If they went together, they would not need to part at all.

But after a moment’s thought, she shook her head:

“No, if I miss the time and shifu fails to see me, she may think I’m in danger. She’d go back to Suzhou to search for me—and that would be bad.”

That wretched woman surnamed Wang was troublesome enough.

If Shifu encountered her there, it could be dangerous.

After pondering a while, Fang Han nodded slightly:

“Very well. When the time comes—”

But before he could finish, Mu Wanqing interrupted:

“When the time comes, I will seek you and Sister Cheng.”

Perhaps because of this looming separation, Mu Wanqing felt overwhelmed with attachment. That night, she even wished to give her body and soul to Fang Han.

Fang Han could only sigh at her deep devotion, but in the end restrained himself.

Since she would be riding hard on her journey, best not to exhaust her needlessly.

The next day, he requested a fine horse from Prince Zhen Nan’s household.

Mu Wanqing gazed deeply at Fang Han, then mounted and galloped away.

Fang Han was not overly worried about her safety.

Firstly, the girl had abundant experience traveling outside, usually being the hunter rather than the hunted. Last time was an exception.

Moreover, she had two powerful advantages now.

One: her qinggong.

How could Fang Han not reward such a sweet girl who willingly offered herself to him? He had taught her the Lingbo Weibu, and during their half-month stay in Wanjie Valley, she had already grasped the basics.

Her lightness skill now far surpassed before.

Two: Cheng girl’s thorough upgrade of her “equipment.”

Bottles, jars—poisons, medicines for wounds and injuries—all prepared for Mu Wanqing.

If she actually used them…

The scene would be too dreadful to imagine.

Truly, Mu Wanqing’s danger level had become terrifying.

For this reason, Fang Han was at ease.

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That night, in the Dali royal palace—Emperor Duan Zhengming’s stern features tightened into a frown. After long contemplation, he sighed:

“That Tubo national master Jiumozhi—rumor says his Buddhist attainments are profound, and he also practices martial arts of great subtlety. He is a peerless master!

Now he has sent his visiting card, intending to come to our Tianlong Temple. I fear his purpose is not merely chanting sutras and preaching Dharma. His ambitions… are not small!”

Duan Zhengchun said:“Even if an ill guest comes, with the venerable monks of Tianlong Temple present, we need not fear him!”

Duan Zhengming sighed again:“Let us hope so.”

After a pause, he asked:“How has Yu’er been lately? Has he improved?”

Duan Zhengchun nodded:“Thanks to the Royal Brother’s sacrifice of inner strength to heal him, and with many days of care, he has gradually recovered. Please rest assured.”

“That is well. Yu’er is the future heir of our Dali kingdom. His safety concerns the stability of our nation. He must not come to harm. After this matter, you must guard him carefully—such an incident must never happen again.”

“I understand,” Duan Zhengchun replied.

At the mention of Duan Yu, Duan Zhengming could not help but recall the one who had threatened him. His brows knit:

“Only that Prince Yanqing… who knows what schemes he now plots.”

The people of Dali all believed Prince Yanqing dead. Who could have guessed that after so many years, he would suddenly reappear?

And upon appearing, he demanded abdication directly—a thought most unsettling to Duan Zhengming.

If not for Fang Han’s intervention, blocking Prince Yanqing and saving Yu’er from his grasp, matters might have turned dire indeed.

Even though Prince Yanqing’s disfigurement made him impossible to restore as heir, the line of Zhengchun would still have been severed.

As these thoughts swirled, Duan Zhengming stirred, rising and pacing. After some time, he turned:

“This Mister Fang—his martial arts are truly as formidable as you say?”

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