“Why would she say that?” Feng Miaojun looked completely bewildered, her mind racing through countless thoughts. Hu Ping was someone sent by Queen An Xia to serve her, behaving no differently from ordinary people—except for providing false testimony for her at the county magistrate’s office. Could the muscular man have discovered this?

However, Peng Bai trusted Hu Ping completely, clearly indicating that her lips were sealed tight and her loyalty beyond question. The muscular man mentioning her now either meant he was bluffing Feng Miaojun, or he had tortured Hu Ping to extract the clues he wanted.

But what would Hu Ping have said? Thinking of this, Feng Miaojun’s heart pounded. Her whereabouts during those missing days had no bearing on Madam Wang’s case, and the county magistrate hadn’t even asked for details. But only she knew that if Yun Ya discovered she had been missing for several days, he would likely connect her to the Rising Dragon Pool. Because of this concern, she had specifically instructed Hu Ping to include in her false testimony that Feng Miaojun had been dining at the manor every day after the confrontation with Madam Wang. As the cook, she would know best whether meals needed to be prepared for the young mistress.

The crops in the fields had grown tall, blocking people’s vision, and farm children often played hide-and-seek there. Even if someone had seen Feng Miaojun leaving the estate, they couldn’t be certain she hadn’t returned.

Feng Miaojun quickly calmed herself and said angrily: “She’s talking nonsense! Call her here to confront me!”

The muscular man looked at her with a haunting gaze: “You’re denying everything so cleanly, it truly breaks one’s heart.”

Feng Miaojun bit her lip and said: “You can’t pin something on me that I didn’t do. Even the county magistrate requires clear facts and reasoning when judging cases. You say I went to that… whatever pool, do you have evidence?”

If he had direct physical evidence, would he still be so polite with her?

He sneered: “Hu Ping is the witness.”

Feng Miaojun stared at him and said: “Then call her out to testify. I want her to say it to my face!” No wonder Hu Ping hadn’t come to work this morning—she had been captured by this strange man. If she had doubts before, after repeatedly demanding to see Hu Ping without success, she could now be almost certain:

Hu Ping was dead.

This man had tortured her without getting the truth, then probably killed her casually before sneaking into Feng Manor, preparing to bluff Feng Miaojun. Otherwise, if he had brought Hu Ping before her, why waste so many words?

No wonder the muscular man had said earlier that her shifting blame to Hu Ping would “break one’s heart.”

Realizing this, she felt no relief. Hu Ping had died keeping her secret, serving with absolute loyalty—how could her heart not ache?

“For someone so young, you have a stubborn mouth,” the muscular man said ominously. “I wonder if it’s harder than his bones.” As soon as he finished speaking, with a “crack,” he broke Peng Bai’s other arm!

The little girl was smarter than he had imagined, and he no longer intended to reason with her.

This time Peng Bai was mentally prepared, biting his teeth without making a sound, though the pain caused his eyes to bulge. Feng Miaojun understood his gaze and rushed over to tug at the muscular man’s arm, screaming: “What use is killing him? I don’t know what you want!”

“Killing him is useless?” The muscular man nodded. “Then what about Madam Xu?” Seeing the fear appear in Feng Miaojun’s eyes, he thought to himself, “That’s more like it.” The little girl had been crying and screaming, but he hadn’t seen much fear in her eyes until now when he had found her weakness.

“If you don’t tell me what I want to hear, I’ll kill Madam Xu,” the muscular man said word by word. “She lives at the east end of the estate. It won’t take me ten breaths to get there.”

Feng Miaojun’s tears suddenly stopped flowing.

She stared at him without blinking, then wiped her face with her sleeve and said firmly: “First, I need to know who you are.”

One second she was pitifully sad, the next she was calm and composed, her voice even carrying a hint of coldness. Where was the panic from before?

Indeed, she was a good actress. The muscular man’s face darkened, and just as he was about to speak, she beat him to it: “You dare climb walls to threaten women and children, but don’t dare to state your name? If I share my knowledge with a petty person and it spreads, my mother and I would still die, suffering greatly before our deaths! Better to be killed by your palm right here.”

As she spoke, she grew more determined, her tear-washed eyes becoming clearer, making it plain this was her bottom line.

So, asking him to identify himself was her way of showing him respect? The muscular man had come in great anger today, but now found the situation’s development absurdly laughable.

He raised his thumb and gently tapped his chest twice: “Great Jin, Mo Tizhun.” Brief and to the point.

He had only reported his country and name, leaving Feng Miaojun still puzzled. Just as she was about to ask more, she heard Peng Bai, lying on the ground, draw in a long, cold breath that made her worry he might choke.

His voice was filled with shock: “You’re Mo Tizhun? You are Mo Tizhun!”

The muscular man snorted contemptuously without speaking, but everyone knew the answer.

Was this person famous? Feng Miaojun needed some background information.

Without waiting for her to ask, Peng Bai turned to her: “Young Miss, Mo Tizhun is the Imperial Tutor of Jin Kingdom!”

Imperial Tutor?

She ransacked through the original owner’s memories, and after a long while, indeed dug out an extremely vague concept—it seemed he was quite an important figure. Even before An Xia Kingdom fell, Princess Changle had glimpsed their own country’s Imperial Tutor a few times. However, the first nine years of Feng Miaojun’s life were spent in ignorant play, without any precocious wisdom, so she had no clear definition of what an Imperial Tutor was.

She was confused.

Shouldn’t someone with such a dignified and grand title be a flowing-robed, sanctimonious white-bearded old man? How could he look like a military supervisor drinking large bowls of wine and eating huge chunks of meat on Jingyang Ridge?

She hadn’t misinterpreted the shock and reverence in Peng Bai’s tone, which at least indicated that Mo Tizhun’s reputation transcended State boundaries.

She looked the muscular man up and down a few times, her tone full of doubt: “Really? You say you’re Mo Tizhun, do you have proof?”

How does one prove to a stranger the classic difficult question of “I am who I am”? This world didn’t have ID cards. The muscular man’s lips twitched as he took out a black iron token and waved it before her: “Look carefully.”

The token was oblong, with its top shaped like some strange beast head she couldn’t identify. Besides being black with gold edges, the token had no other decorations, simply inscribed with four large characters:

Heaven’s Mandate.

Each character was written with magnificent flair and a domineering presence.

She maintained a blank expression: “I don’t understand.”

Producing a token with characters on it proves he’s Mo Tizhun? Ridiculous. She could go to the kitchen, grab a mooncake mold, wave it around like this, and claim to be the ruler of Great Wei!

The muscular man paused, suppressing the urge to strangle her with his own hands: “The transportation formation on the embankment was set up by me, called the ‘Mountain-Moving Formation.’ It can transport a single person up to hundreds of miles away but can only be used once.” After a pause, he added, “In the current world, those who can draw the Mountain-Moving Formation number no more than three people in total.”