“Where is his residence?”

Qiao Mu stood up, waved a hand, and turned her head toward a maid not far off.

“Go, bring out my silver spear.”

“Yes.”

The maid, who had hurried forward a few steps, stopped, bowed, and turned to leave.

“Liao Mushan’s residence is very close to here.”

the man replied.

“Qiao Mu, what are you planning to do?”

Xiao Yingtao stood up as well.

“Raid the household. Want to come along?”

Qiao Mu looked at Xiao Yingtao.

Feng Jiu’er stood up too. “Go prepare the horses, bring fifty of our men, go.”

“Yes.”

The man nodded and strode off.

Before long, Feng Jiu’er, Qiao Mu, and Xiao Yingtao followed the man leading the way ahead, with fifty more men behind them.

The whole group set off in grand procession toward Liao Mushan’s residence.

Before long, they arrived at a walled compound, its gate and plaque far more magnificent than any other residence in the area.

It wasn’t hard to imagine that whatever lay within wouldn’t disappoint.

The man who’d led the way had just dismounted, and before he could knock on the door, a carriage arrived from the other side of the road, several attendants at its side.

Feng Jiu’er waved a hand, signaling the man to hold off on knocking.

The man nodded and stopped, not advancing further.

The carriage stopped, and down from it stepped a man who looked to be in his forties, not tall, with a rather stout build.

“City Lord, you must be the City Lord, yes?”

The man walked toward Feng Jiu’er, two guards trailing behind him.

“And you are?”

Feng Jiu’er did not dismount.

She knew that even if they failed to find Liao Mushan, they wouldn’t leave empty-handed.

Lord Duan alone had governed this city, and there were bound to be parasites within it still.

Was this one of them?

“City Lord, so it really is the City Lord.”

The man stopped, gathered up his robes, and knelt.

He looked up at the woman on horseback and cupped his hands. “This lowly one is Ji Xiaobo, the head of this small town.”

“Oh?

So you’re the town head.”

Feng Jiu’er’s lips curved slightly, but she still didn’t dismount.

“I wonder what business brings the town head to find me at a time like this?”

Ji Xiaobo looked at Feng Jiu’er, and his smile stiffened for a moment.

Hadn’t he heard the City Lord was quite approachable and close to the people?

So was he expected to keep kneeling the whole time he spoke?

“City Lord.”

Ji Xiaobo quickly suppressed his discomfort. “Regardless, you are the City Lord, and now that the City Lord has come to this town, it’s only right that I pay my respects.”

“Why don’t you let me play host today—treat you and your people to a fine meal?”

Feng Jiu’er flicked her sleeve, bent forward, propping herself on her elbow, and leaned lightly against Zhuiyue’s back.

“I’ve long heard that the head of Xiyan Town is quite the wealthy man—seeing you today, it really is just as the rumors say.”

Ji Xiaobo glanced down at the deliberately plain clothes he’d dug out for the occasion, then looked up, puzzled.

“City Lord, this… where did such a rumor come from?

This unworthy Ji was never favored by the former City Lord—how could I possibly be a wealthy man?”

Today he’d even taken out his oldest carriage, and wasn’t wearing a single valuable item on his person.

Why would the City Lord say such a thing?

Had she really been asking around about him?

The Duan family had always been furthest from the western gate—as the saying went, the mountains were high and the emperor far away—and Ji Xiaobo had long assumed he’d been forgotten entirely.

Being ignored suited him fine—how much salary did a town head earn anyway?

What he cared about was certainly not the paltry sum the City Lord doled out, as if tossing scraps to a beggar.

“Oh?”

Feng Jiu’er waved a hand, her crescent brows lifting slightly. “Is that not the case, then?”

“The town head offers to treat our men to a fine meal—we have at least tens of thousands of men. If the town head isn’t wealthy, aren’t you worried we’ll eat you into poverty?”

“T-tens of thousands?”

The town head’s eyes went wide.

“Correct.”

Feng Jiu’er’s lips curved. “We’ve also got another portion of our men preparing to march west—altogether the numbers exceed a hundred thousand. Can the town head afford to treat all of them?”

“A h-hundred… thousand.”

The town head was so startled he toppled backward and sat down on the ground.

Realizing his lapse in etiquette, he immediately scrambled up and knelt again.

“City Lord, look, I’m just a common commoner—where would I find that much silver?”

“Hosting the City Lord alone would still be manageable, but for the soldiers, I… I’m very sorry!”

Ji Xiaobo’s face had grown considerably paler—whether from worry that his hidden wealth might be exposed, or from sheer terror at Feng Jiu’er’s hundred-thousand-strong army, it was hard to say.

“That won’t do.”

Feng Jiu’er waved a hand and straightened her back.

“I don’t like eating alone. Among our brothers, we’ve always shared our fortune and our hardships together.”

“Xiao Hu.”

Feng Jiu’er turned back to look at the man standing before the gate. “Knock on the door.”

From beginning to end, she never once gave any indication that Ji Xiaobo could rise.

Feng Jiu’er was testing the waters—newly arrived here, she knew neither Liao Mushan nor anything about this town.

If this really was an honest, upright town head, then a little extra kneeling wouldn’t matter.

But was this man really honest?

In any case, Feng Jiu’er didn’t quite believe it.

Seeing the man go to knock on the door, Ji Xiaobo immediately stood and moved closer to Feng Jiu’er again.

A man standing atop the wall, robes fluttering, carrying an ethereal air about him, leapt down and landed before Ji Xiaobo, sword in hand, blocking his path.

Startled badly by the sudden killing intent, Ji Xiaobo immediately stumbled back at least three steps.

“City Lord.”

he spoke again.

At the gate, the man knocked on the residence door, and a tall, gaunt figure came out from within.

“What is it?”

The man’s face showed clear impatience, as though he’d already been disturbed once too often.

Suddenly seeing so many people, the tall, gaunt man snapped to attention.

“W-what’s the matter?”

His manner suddenly turned polite.

With this many people showing up, how could he not be afraid?

“City Lord, I wonder when you might have some free time?

As town head, whatever happens, I cannot afford to neglect the City Lord.”

Ji Xiaobo deliberately raised his voice, seemingly trying to draw Feng Jiu’er’s attention.

“We’ll talk later.”

Feng Jiu’er waved a hand without turning back.

“I still have matters to attend to here. Go back for now—I’ll be sure to visit in person.”

Being this anxious about it—wasn’t that itself suspicious?

Once she’d dealt with Liao Mushan, she’d pay this Ji Xiaobo a visit too.

“Is your master in?”

the man who’d knocked asked.

The tall, gaunt man came back to his senses and shook his head hastily. “Not in, not in—come back once my master returns.”

Before he even finished speaking, he tried to shut the door.

A sword, still sheathed, shot out and jammed the door in place.

“City Lord, there’s a rather fine spot in this town—City Lord, why don’t I take you there to have a look right now?”

Ji Xiaobo spoke up again.

Having taken someone’s money, he couldn’t very well do nothing for it.

“Open the door!”

Feng Jiu’er stared at the gate, her cold voice carrying through it.

“I am Feng Jiu’er, City Lord of Yongshan City. I’ve come today to call on Liao Mushan. If this door doesn’t open, don’t blame me for what follows!”

She simply ignored Ji Xiaobo entirely—hadn’t they agreed to deal with one thing at a time? Had this man gone deaf?

The gate was shoved open, and the tall, gaunt man immediately stumbled back, bent over and trembling, not daring to say another word.

The new City Lord had actually come—when had this happened?

Did his master even know?