Sly Puppet

A bronze lamp that has never been extinguished for a century, and half a sapphire finger soaked in blood, reveal the treacherous secrets that have been erased by official history. Liu Yun, a young minister of Dali Temple, holds a silver autopsy needle in his left hand to solve the mystery of collaboration with the enemy in Heishui City, but the crescent scar on his right wrist reveals the bloodline of the Xixia royal family. Zhao Mingxiang, the princess of Yongning County, has a soul-calling seal branded on her collarbone. In order to investigate the death of her mother and concubine, she was involved in the strange case of the Liao envoy's poisonous murder. When the Chengying Sword was unearthed and split open the illusion of the Buddhist cave, the two of them knew that under the dragon vein suppressed by two hundred thousand war souls, there was a human-puppet chess game that had lasted for three hundred years - the child corpse at the Jiangnan altar was wrapped with the Longhu Mountain talisman, the merchant ships in Quanzhou Port were full of yin and yang puppets, and the emperor's alchemy room was practicing the immortality gu that was guided by twins. He cut open the corpse and saw the light of day, but he picked out the ice-blue Gu worm of the same vein as himself in the Tianling Cap; she burned her green hair to break the illusion formation, but saw the figure of the previous life who killed himself with a sword under the bronze coffin. When Liu Yun's right arm was covered with petrified cracks, when Zhao Mingxiang's black hair was stained with frost and snow, the Yingying Sword that had drunk all the blood of Baqi finally trembled - it turns out that the most sinister trick of puppeteering is to make two souls who should not love each other become each other's most fatal flaw in the vortex of conspiracy. In the autumn of the fourth year of Yuanyou, which is not recorded in history books, the three thousand weak waters of the Yi River reflected lanterns of blood all over the sky. Some people saw two shadows stepping on the moon and sinking into the river, and the shadow-carrying sword was broken into stars; some people picked up the broken tassels of the rusty sword, and saw a white-haired lady holding a jade sculpture in the ghost market in Bianjing, crying and writing a monument. Only the boat song of the old boatman at the ferry floats year after year: "Don't ask about the calamity of eternal life, just look at the Lianli lantern. Where the jade bones are sunk in the sand, they still illuminate the journey of returning guests." When you open this volume of manuscripts from widows, you will see not only the bizarre murders in the Eighth Fang of the Song Dynasty, but also the thousand-year dilemma of human beings as puppets and love as the guide.