Gray clouds like battle formations slowly pushed across half the sky, shrouding the courtyard of Zhaoming Office in a heavy, condensed gray.

This specialized facility for detaining high officials under investigation, which made Dahuang court ministers pale at its mention, was now quiet. Only one window in the side room of a courtyard near the palace road remained open.

Yelu Qi stood by the window, raising his finger toward the dark clouds on the horizon, gesturing a square frame. He looked like he was calculating the distance for the clouds to reach the window.

Suddenly a bird call came from overhead. He looked up as dust scattered from the beam above, but the particles seemed rather large.

Yelu Qi opened his palm, catching a “dust particle.” The dust cracked, revealing a small strip of paper.

“Gong Yin absent, Queen presiding.”

The note reported what had happened at Quiet Court today.

Yelu Qi’s eyebrows rose with three parts surprise.

Then he closed his eyes, thought for a moment, and suddenly opened them.

His first glance went toward Gong Yin’s bedchamber in Quiet Court.

He walked a few steps in that direction, seemingly calculating, then tapped the door with his finger—one long, two short.

Soon, a figure appeared ghost-like behind the door. From his attire, he was a Zhaoming Office official, but he hunched over with his face hidden.

He handed over an extremely thin small knife with both hands.

Yelu Qi accepted it, his smile somewhat apologetic as he said softly, “Bear with it.”

The man seemed moved, nodding as he turned around, silently lifting his clothing to expose his lower back.

Yelu Qi’s smile was pained, but his hand showed no hesitation as the small knife touched skin, carving bloody characters.

During periods when officials were under investigation at Zhaoming Office, they were absolutely forbidden from going out. If anyone had urgent business requiring departure, they would be subjected to body searches.

Gong Yin’s rules had always been strict. Even the Office Director would be searched when leaving, and completely stripped.

It was just that over time, everyone became familiar, so some regulations weren’t executed too thoroughly. Though they didn’t dare violate them, they generally gave colleagues some face—like leaving on underwear.

The characters on his lower back gradually became clear.

“Gong Yin may have problems. Tonight we can probe.”

There was also a small mark.

After finishing the carving and wiping away the blood, the man took out medicinal powder and sprinkled it. The bloodstains faded, and even the carved marks became unclear. This ensured no blood traces would seep through to be discovered.

“Must convey this. Seize the opportunity. If anything unusual is discovered, act decisively,” Yelu Qi said.

The man nodded and left silently.

Yelu Qi’s secret forces all operated through single-line contact. Verbal reports from a Zhaoming Office insider couldn’t gain trust—only skin carving with Yelu Qi’s mark could mobilize his elite forces.

After sending away the insider, Yelu Qi looked up at the clouds. Gray twilight had spread across most of the horizon.

“Tonight,” he said.

…

Jing Hengbo hurried back to her own bedchamber, shut the door, and allowed no one to enter.

She sat on the bed as Feifei jumped onto her lap.

“My Fei,” Jing Hengbo hugged it, pointing to the distant high tower. “Tonight, go there and destroy something for me.”

She made a destructive gesture, picked up a brush, and drew a long cylindrical object on paper.

“About like this—length is hard to say, but it shouldn’t be short. Made of metal. Or it might be a different shape, but it must be metal. Just look for iron wire or steel wire—that’ll be about right. This thing should be placed at the tower’s peak, the place that’s supposedly guarded day and night without rest.”

“This is a lightning rod, an important device ensuring the Priest High Tower isn’t struck by lightning. I don’t know if their family learned some secret technique or if an ancestor was a transmigrator, but nine times out of ten, the so-called divine miracle is this thing.” Jing Hengbo murmured in Feifei’s ear. “She’ll definitely send many people to guard tonight. I can’t send anyone to their death—only you can go. Do you need me to send Er Gouzi to help?”

Feifei shook her head vigorously—forget it! With Er Gouzi around, disaster was inevitable.

“Then, my cunning, crafty, adorable little monster!” Jing Hengbo patted its big head. “After the thunderstorm comes, go! Go pull down that sky-supporting thing!”

…

Feifei wagged her big tail and leaped out gracefully.

Then Jing Hengbo went to bed to prepare for sleep.

However many people Sang Dong wanted to arrange against her, it was all wasted scheming. She was the Queen—who had ever seen a Queen personally take the field?

She lay comfortably, thinking about how when the instructress nannies came to see Jing Jun, Zirui had questioned them until they were sweating profusely and hurried back to consult the Palace Code and Ceremonial Code. This made her laugh even more happily.

After waiting a while longer, confirming no one else would come to Quiet Court for audiences, she got up and headed to Quiet Court, wanting to see how Gong Yin was doing.

Passing the side door, she saw that the door leading to the palace road and Zhaoming Office was ajar. Her heart stirred, and she couldn’t help pushing it open a bit.

The door opened a crack, just as she saw Zhaoming Office’s main gate open and someone emerge. She initially thought it was Yelu Qi, but looking carefully, it was just an official. After emerging, seeing no one on the palace road, he turned to close the door. After closing it, his hands unconsciously covered his lower back, his face showing slight pain.

Jing Hengbo found this movement strange, then thought perhaps it was back pain?

Since it wasn’t Yelu Qi, she felt relieved, closed the door, and went to Quiet Court through another side door.

This time she knew the way, heading straight for Gong Yin’s bedchamber. At first glance, the great hall appeared normal, and Gong Yin seemed not to have changed even his lying position, making her purse her lips in boredom.

Moving closer, she discovered Gong Yin wasn’t sleeping. He had his eyes slightly closed, face peaceful, but at the center of his brow, a trace of icy crystal snow color faintly showed, rising in a wisp of pale white vapor. Similarly, at the hollow where his collarbones met, above his chest, white vapor also rose. Within the white vapor, a faint hint of blue-green was barely visible. Three streams of vapor slowly rose, ultimately floating into that massive irregular white stone in the ceiling. The white stone seemed to have air currents descending—this time pure white breath that entered Gong Yin’s brow, throat, and chest. The upward and downward exchange continued without rest.

Jing Hengbo found this interesting. Gong Yin seemed to be expelling poison—or rather, poison wasn’t accurate. Heaven’s Silk Powder wasn’t poison and had no antidote. Gong Yin was perhaps expelling all impurities harmful to his body, transforming them into that faint blue-green vapor, while the white stone functioned as an exchanger, absorbing the dirty substances, purifying them, then transforming them into clean, beneficial true energy for Gong Yin to reabsorb.

Jing Hengbo’s gaze fell on his nearly transparent silk robe, finally understanding why this abstinent guy would wear something so flirtatious and seductive in his own bedchamber. His method of cultivating true energy required direct exchange between his body and the white stone’s breath. If clothes were too thick, how could the vapor completely escape? Logically, being completely naked would be most effective—he probably wouldn’t do that, so he wore this practically nonexistent garment.

Jing Hengbo silently called it a pity. Ah, sleeping naked is sleeping naked—letting people see doesn’t lose any flesh. So pretentious!

But the Great God’s method of cultivating martial arts was so peculiar. Jing Hengbo always had a strange feeling about those three characters “Prajna Snow,” feeling that if a martial art had such a special name, it must have extraordinary aspects. She just didn’t know where this martial art’s taboos lay.

While she was staring at his chest lost in wild thoughts, Gong Yin slowly opened his eyes. His ink-jade pupils were like deep abyss still water, tranquil pools without waves, making Jing Hengbo’s heart shake.

Then she became pleased, gracefully sitting beside him. “Today I…”

“Congratulations,” he said.

Jing Hengbo was stunned. So he already knew—had he been closely monitoring the movements in Quiet Court’s study?

“Do you feel anything unusual?” She stared into his eyes. “Aren’t you afraid my ambition will explode and I’ll eventually seize your position?”

“If you have that ability, feel free to try.”

“Be careful that excessive pride leads to capsizing in the gutter.” Jing Hengbo lifted her chin.

Gong Yin sat up cross-legged, beckoning with his finger. A snow-white cloak from a nearby rack floated down gracefully as he closed his eyes to regulate his breathing.

Jing Hengbo looked at that thick cloak with some regret, then became happy. “You’re better? It hasn’t been twelve hours yet.”

“Only simple movements are possible. To fully recover will probably take until midnight.”

“I clearly remember you drank the soup yesterday evening.” Jing Hengbo calculated the timing was wrong.

“There was a complication that delayed recovery.” He glanced at Jing Hengbo.

Jing Hengbo felt no guilt, thinking it was probably because she’d broken in last night and caused a fuss.

“Sang Dong will definitely guard the high tower strictly these nights. The Sang family’s hermits are renowned throughout Imperial Song—their combat power shouldn’t be underestimated,” Gong Yin suddenly said.

“Are you reminding me? So kind?” Jing Hengbo looked at him with a half-smile.

“But I think you won’t go personally at all,” Gong Yin didn’t engage with her topic.

Jing Hengbo never had anything to say about Great God Gong’s intelligence. She gave a heh-heh laugh and lazily lay down by his pillow. “How could such a beautiful blade as myself be used to kill chickens? Feifei is enough.”

“Let me test you.” She reached out to tug Gong Yin’s cloak. “Guess what I’ll do? Guess why the Sang family’s high tower can avoid lightning strikes?”

Gong Yin first reached out to retrieve his garment corner from her hand—if he didn’t intervene, he’d be exposed. He casually said, “The tower’s peak should have something buried that can prevent lightning.”

“Excellent!” Jing Hengbo applauded. “You really do know.”

“When I was in Da Yan, I once passed a traveling palace and saw dragon heads facing upward on both sides of the eaves, with copper tongues extending from the dragon mouths, curving toward the sky. I guessed these were probably things to receive lightning. Below the dragon tongue roots, there must also be copper or iron wire going underground to guide the lightning away.”

“Excellent indeed!” Jing Hengbo clapped again. She had to admit Gong Yin’s intelligence was solid. She had never noticed that Da Yan had already begun using primitive lightning rods early on.

“Actually, a wizard once suggested to the Founding Emperor that fish-tail copper tiles could be placed atop palace buildings to prevent sky fires caused by lightning. Unfortunately, that wizard was unlucky enough to be struck by lightning while placing the copper tiles. His suggestion became an inauspicious curse, and no one dared try it again. This later benefited the Sang family.”

“It should end too.” Jing Hengbo smiled charmingly.

“As the priestly family, the Sang family has the right to mobilize over three hundred guards to protect the high tower during critical moments. So within these three days, the Sang family has many people in the palace. If the high tower really gets struck…” Gong Yin glanced at her. “Be careful that Sang Dong becomes desperate.”

“Are you concerned about me?” Jing Hengbo curled one leg, elbow propped on her knee, showing no anxiety on her face as she smiled at him.

The great hall’s lighting was dim, yet she glowed in the hazy depths, brilliant from her eyes to her fingertips. Her smile held half the ease of treating life as a game, half the fearlessness of standing ready with sword drawn.

Gong Yin’s gaze fell on her unconsciously slightly pouted red lips. His heart trembled, and he couldn’t help but turn away his eyes.

For an instant, a faint bitter emotion rose, drowning out precise thinking.

This woman—she was unintentional, calculating the intentional.

She was vivid, unrestrained, intense, and generous in approaching everyone, actively displaying her vividness and intensity. When everyone was attracted by her charm, involuntarily following her with their gazes, she had perhaps already casually turned away again.

She was always so intimate that he couldn’t distinguish what kind of attitude from her represented true affection. Those gentle smiles, raised eyebrows, flirtatious glances, intimate gestures—she seemed able to give them to everyone she found agreeable. It seemed like intimacy, like fondness, yet seemed to stop there—just fondness, not yet love.

Those easily moved to emotion were coldest in love; those seemingly cold feared being moved.

Suddenly remembering their first meeting—if he had treated her kindly then, what would things be like now?

His heart ached slightly, gnawing pain.

Yet his expression remained indifferent as he said, “If Sang Dong becomes desperate and acts wildly in the palace, it will also cause me trouble.”

“I want to know why you’d allow such an adversarial person to hold a freedom in the palace that even you can’t interfere with. This isn’t your style.”

Gong Yin remained silent.

He made concessions because of past agreements. During a palace coup, at the critical moment, it was Sang Dong who reached an agreement with him, leading to the previous Queen’s sudden death and his rise to power.

Those who manipulate power must be controlled by power. When the Sang family’s influence expanded, consecutively controlling several generations of royal power transitions, they naturally wouldn’t be content under others, wanting to replace them. Moreover, the Sang family considered themselves benefactors to him—benefactors always became more presumptuous.

The Sang family had become restless after he left Da Yan. Presumably, Yelu Qi had a hand in this, though Yelu Qi couldn’t completely control the Sang family. The Sang family sought alliance with the Xuanyuan family separately, probably wanting the Left or Right State Preceptor position.

As for targeting the Queen, it was because though the Queen had limited power, she could dismiss priests. So for any Queen not supported by the Sang family, they hoped she wouldn’t exist.

However, the Sang family’s arrogance should also be restrained.

If they acted, they would cross his tolerance line.

Of course, he couldn’t explain these things to her. He changed the topic: “Is Yelu Qi behaving?”

“Nothing unusual.” Jing Hengbo was about to tell Gong Yin about the strange official she’d seen at Zhaoming Office’s gate when she suddenly heard a series of fine bell sounds from behind the bed.

Gong Yin reached out, pulling a gold thread from behind the bed with a bell attached. He held the bell, carefully listening to the vibrations of thread and bell.

This must be a communication method unique to him and his subordinates.

After a while he said, “Yu Chun requests an audience, saying there’s urgent business.”

Jing Hengbo said, “Can’t you move? I’ll go listen to what’s happening.”

Gong Yin hesitated slightly, nodded, then said, “Don’t go too far from the great hall.”

“Can’t bear to part with me, little Yin Yin?” Jing Hengbo giggled and got up to leave.

She ran too quickly to see that behind her, Gong Yin pressed his lips together and lowered his eyelashes.

The great hall had door-opening mechanisms that Gong Yin had already told Jing Hengbo about. She opened the door and went out, seeing the portly Yu Chun standing under the corridor.

Jing Hengbo leaned against that landscape stone door, saying, “Gong Yin told me to come listen to what’s happening.”

Yu Chun showed a troubled expression, lowering his voice: “I need to report directly to the State Preceptor…”

Jing Hengbo wasn’t angry.

“Then go tell him yourself.”

“Ah! Reporting to Your Majesty.” Yu Chun immediately said, “It’s like this. Grand Priest Sang has stationed three hundred guards in the palace, saying they need to strengthen protection of the Priest High Tower. The Imperial Guards noticed those people seem spirited and vigorous, unlike ordinary guards. They’re worried this might affect palace defenses and came to request instructions. Additionally, Grand Priest Sang said someone recently infiltrated the high tower. Worried about thieves lurking in the palace endangering the State Preceptor and Queen’s safety, she’s specifically expanded the guard perimeter to near Quiet Court. This isn’t allowed. Our people are negotiating with the priests. The priests insist on guarding Quiet Court and won’t leave. We need the State Preceptor’s orders to expel the priests.”

Jing Hengbo immediately knew this was aimed at her. Perhaps by tonight’s thunderstorm, in the dark windy night when visibility was poor, “thieves” would appear near Quiet Court. Then the priest guards would pursue and kill them all the way. In the arduous battle, Your Majesty would unfortunately be assassinated by thieves, while the heroic priest tower guards, after bloody fighting, would also kill the thieves, avenging Your Majesty. From then on, singing and dancing would rise peacefully, everyone would be happy, each in their proper place, and the high tower would remain safe.

“What’s there to request instructions about? Don’t you know that gate-crashing dogs should be immediately beaten out?” Jing Hengbo waved her hand. “Go tell them that the safety of me and the State Preceptor is handled by the Imperial Guards and Kang Long Guards—we don’t need outsiders meddling. The Priest High Tower people just need to guard their Priest High Tower well. Tell them to remember—if something happens here, they don’t need to be responsible. If something happens to the Priest High Tower, then they’ll lose their heads. Get their priorities straight.”

“This… if they insist…” Yu Chun secretly praised that the seemingly lazy Queen actually had the State Preceptor’s forceful style, while also feeling somewhat hesitant.

Jing Hengbo truly felt Gong Yin’s rules were too rigid, unwilling to delegate authority, causing these guard leaders to be bound hand and foot, not daring to do anything, lacking any dominance.

“Go.” She casually pointed to a craftsman painting columns in the distance. “Take his paint bucket out, draw a line around Quiet Court and my bedchamber, set up bows and crossbows inside the line. No other personnel allowed to step inside the line. I heard the palace is restless again—this is us strengthening defenses at Quiet Court. It’s about to rain, and thunderstorm weather has poor visibility. If anyone breaks in and we kill them as thieves, don’t blame us for not giving advance warning.”

“Yes!” Yu Chun looked excited, rubbing his hands as he ran over, grabbed the paint bucket, and ran off.

Jing Hengbo heard the commotion outside growing more intense, with faint sounds of shock and anger. She smiled with satisfaction—having clearly stated they didn’t need help with guarding and would bear their own life and death, and having drawn boundary lines, if Sang Dong dared send people in, she’d kill one by one, kill pairs by pairs! She didn’t believe people didn’t value their lives!

Jing Hengbo was confident Sang Dong wouldn’t dare force entry. After all, the high tower hadn’t collapsed yet—she didn’t need to completely break relations. She was probably just seeing Gong Yin wasn’t around and thinking the Queen was weak, coming to squeeze a soft persimmon.

This thought had just flashed when suddenly there was a loud crash ahead, followed by a bang as the palace gate resounded loudly and someone crashed through the door.

His speed was extraordinarily fast, followed by a long string of people. Jing Hengbo heard Yu Chun shouting, “Stop him!” Then heard Yu Chun cursing loudly, “Bastards! Has the Grand Priest gone mad? Have you all gone mad? We’ve drawn lines—you really dare force entry? Men, shoot arrows at all of them!”

Then someone loudly wailed, “No! No! Please don’t misunderstand! We don’t know this person! This isn’t someone from our priestly family! We don’t know where he came from!”

The guards in the palace courtyard had already rushed over urgently, swords unsheathed in a clanging cacophony, but the disputes and explanations nearby were still clearly audible. A chaotic mess like a pot of porridge.

Jing Hengbo frowned slightly. What was happening? Listening to the anxious, surprised tone of the priests confronting the guards, it seemed the intruder really wasn’t one of Sang Dong’s people? Then who had suddenly mixed in? What was their purpose?

She instinctively stepped forward two paces, wanting to see the other party clearly. That person flashed past several intercepting guards like lightning, suddenly looking up at her.

Jing Hengbo felt as if struck by lightning.

Those eyes were so bright, so sharp, as if hiding two blades, and as if burying two extremely penetrating searchlights. For an instant, Jing Hengbo had the illusion that his eyes were X-rays! Penetrating through her, looking toward somewhere!

Where was that somewhere?

Jing Hengbo turned around and saw the landscape stone wall behind her—the most strictly guarded entrance to Gong Yin’s bedchamber, the door whose password no one knew.

She saw the other party’s gaze staring straight at the door. Feeling instinctively uneasy, she stepped back two paces, blocking the stone wall.

That person glanced at her, and Jing Hengbo again felt as if swept by a searchlight.

This guy’s eyes must be very special.

But seeing guards flooding in layer upon layer, she felt reassured. With such an iron wall of defense, he couldn’t break through.

But that person didn’t force his way in. After glancing at her, he began retreating. Jing Hengbo heard him give a long whistle, already breaking through the people pursuing from behind, retreating all the way in a rain of blood.

This move stunned everyone, not understanding why this guy had risked his life to charge into the inner courtyard only to suddenly retreat.

Jing Hengbo found it even stranger. Had this guy only come to look at the stone wall?

Just looking without pushing wouldn’t work either.

…

The infiltrating assassin retreated bleeding, with Yu Chun and others in hot pursuit. They watched as the guy surprisingly didn’t flee toward the palace exterior but seemed to panic and choose his path poorly, crossing the palace road and actually running toward Zhaoming Office.

Meng Hu, who had rushed over, saw something was wrong and shouted sternly, “Shoot arrows!”

With a humming sound, blue arrow shafts covered the sky, tearing through the low clouds and striking toward that person’s back.

That person surprisingly neither dodged nor avoided, only desperately lunging forward, crossing over Zhaoming Office’s courtyard wall.

A large cluster of arrows flew up from within Zhaoming Office. That person, struck by arrows front and back, like a hedgehog bleeding, lunged forward and fell into the courtyard.

Inside the courtyard, by the window, Yelu Qi, who had been standing and waiting, pushed open the window.

The death warrior lay not far from his window, covered in arrows, struggling to lift his head.

Yelu Qi’s gaze passed over his miserable body without any emotion, making a gesture.

The death warrior seemed relieved, lifting his head to quickly spit out a string of words.

Yelu Qi pondered slightly, then suddenly said, “Queen embedded name poem!”

He made no sound, only lip movements. The man read them, suddenly throwing back his head and roaring loudly.

“Poem embedded female name queen!”

Then he lowered his head and died.

Yelu Qi casually glanced at his corpse, flicked his finger, and the window creaked shut.

Shutting out the heavy bloody stench and the rain-threatening sky.

Then he turned around, sitting in the room’s darkness. After a long time, a faint smile bloomed at the corners of his lips.

Like a black lotus blooming quietly in a midnight wildfire swamp.

Light and knowing words gently echoed in the room.

“So you’ve already planted such deep roots of love…”

…

The people outside were all confused.

They didn’t understand how this person had mixed into the priest guard troops, why he’d risked his life to break into Quiet Court, then risked his life to retreat, then risked his life to break into Zhaoming Office, finally shouting such a bewildering sentence.

It seemed he’d performed so many incomprehensible actions, going to meet a hopeless death, all for one sentence no one understood.

Since the person was already dead, Yu Chun and Meng Hu felt relieved, ordering people to drag out the corpse. The priest guards, after this incident, didn’t dare make trouble anymore and all retreated behind the paint line Yu Chun had drawn.

But during the cleanup and retreat, the crowd inevitably became somewhat chaotic.

A black figure silently slipped out from the priest guard troops, then silently pressed close, reaching behind one of Yu Chun’s Imperial Guards.

His form was slender, his movements secretive and soundless. In the dark, flickering light of the sky, he had a natural fading quality. People around were busy, and no one noticed this person’s presence or changes.

Before long, those who should retreat had retreated, everything was tidied up. Yu Chun left some people to guard that line and led the remaining guards back to Quiet Court. That person quietly followed behind the last guard, step by step, until entering the courtyard.

After this person entered the courtyard, remarkably, none of the courtyard full of guards ever discovered him.

If someone had been watching him closely, they would have discovered he was actually constantly making minute movements, continuously changing his body angle. Each movement was adjusted according to the angle of others’ scanning gazes, entering their visual blind spots, making people’s eyes clearly sweep over his area yet not see him.

This ability sounded mysterious, but was actually just research into light refraction—in Dahuang, it belonged to a type of legendary secret martial art.

Jing Hengbo watched everyone return to their positions, with everything inside and outside returning to quiet, and also felt relieved, retreating into Gong Yin’s chambers.

She didn’t rush into the great hall, leaning against the stone wall and smiling at Gong Yin’s questioning gaze, “The people have been driven away, the assassin is also dead, but I find it a bit strange.”

She told Gong Yin about her doubts. Gong Yin frowned, “Zhaoming Office?”

“Yes.” Jing Hengbo guarded at the bedchamber entrance, hadn’t followed to the palace road side’s Zhaoming Office, and didn’t know about the assassin’s final shout when breaking into the office. She just found it instinctively strange, saying, “I saw him go in that direction. Speaking of which, Zhaoming Office is so close to Quiet Court, and they’re still holding Yelu Qi—is it reliable?”

“Zhaoming Office’s defenses are no less than Quiet Court’s, and during investigation of any official, people inside Zhaoming Office aren’t allowed to enter or exit. Supposedly there should be no problem.”

“That’s not right.” Jing Hengbo, who was preparing to walk forward, stopped. “I clearly saw officials entering and exiting.”

“What?” Gong Yin’s eyes narrowed.

“That person was so strange,” Jing Hengbo laughed. “Walking with both hands supporting his lower back, like he’d just been beaten with boards…”

Gong Yin’s eyebrows suddenly shot up.

“Certain it was a Zhaoming Office official?”

“Mm, came out of the office, wearing office official robes.”

“Coming out at this time?”

“Mm.”

“Injured?”

“Mm.”

Gong Yin’s expression slowly changed.

“The assassin just now went toward Zhaoming Office?”

“Should be.”

“Hengbo!” Gong Yin suddenly gave a great shout, startling Jing Hengbo—she’d never heard Gong Yin make such a loud sound, and had never heard him call her name.

“Get away quickly!” Another great shout reached her eardrums. Without thinking, Jing Hengbo immediately threw herself to the ground.

As she fell, she prayed there wouldn’t be any broken stones on the ground—such force…

Before the thought finished flashing, her body had just touched the ground when there was a soft “cha” sound from behind her.

Like a venomous snake’s forked tongue, like lightning through a crack, a thread-thin beam of light flashed slightly, penetrating this space behind the door.

Hearing this sound and feeling the cool breeze behind her, Jing Hengbo’s hair stood on end.

The door had opened!

Someone had thrust a sword in the instant of opening the door!

She’d just been leaning against the door—if she hadn’t thrown herself down, that sword would have pierced straight into her back!

The newcomer couldn’t be certain if anyone was behind the door, yet immediately struck with a sword the moment of opening it, showing ruthless cunning, careful quick hands—definitely a first-class assassin expert!

Jing Hengbo looked up to see the snow-white great hall floor reflecting smoke-like floating shadows, with a cold gleam flashing—that was the opponent’s weapon.

The skylight brightened then dimmed as the door closed, shutting out the guards who’d heard the commotion and rushed over.

Jing Hengbo’s heart was greatly alarmed—once the door closed, no one could open it. Only she and the immobilized Gong Yin were left in the great hall to deal with this vicious assassin!

How did this person know the password?

Wind sounds above her head!

The assassin’s sword missing its target, seeing someone on the ground, immediately thrust down viciously!

When Jing Hengbo saw the sword light, she’d already rolled away.

“Cha”—a section of her garment corner was severed by the sword light, crumbling silently.

She rolled once, “Cha”—another sound as a sword beam struck viciously beside her, not an inch from her nose tip.

Jing Hengbo broke out in cold sweat, rolling away again. Just as she tried to struggle up, sword light rained down from above. She could only roll around, struggling desperately in the sword rain.

While rolling all over the ground, she cursed silently—this damned assassin wasn’t going for the target Gong Yin but kept staring at her! Thinking and rolling like this, she suddenly felt something was wrong—why had the dense wind sounds above stopped?

Looking up, the sword light above her head suddenly scattered. The earlier sword light hadn’t been real but illusion!

Looking up again, the assassin had already pressed close to Gong Yin’s bed!

Jing Hengbo leaped up abruptly. Before she could act, she saw the assassin in mid-air, a black line in his hand flashing toward Gong Yin’s chest like lightning.

Too fast to catch.

Jing Hengbo wanted to scream, to curse, to close her eyes, not daring to see the next moment’s blood spattering. But her hands moved involuntarily.

“Go!”

Clang—a brass candlestick fell, striking right on the sword blade. The sword deflected, and simultaneously Gong Yin tilted his head back, shifting half a foot. The sword light grazed his throat, striking the layers of bed curtains behind.

The smoke-like assassin made a “hm” sound, beckoning with his hand. The black thread-like strange sword retreated like a snake, trailing some fine white silk from the curtains. Just shaking lightly in mid-air, it suddenly cut horizontally toward Gong Yin’s neck.

This move was so skillful without any trace of earthiness—remarkably, it was supreme aerial sword control!

But Jing Hengbo’s follow-up had also arrived. She couldn’t get up in time, lying on the ground with both hands waving continuously, silently striking: smash smash smash smash smash smash smash!

A series of clashing sounds as candlesticks from all four walls fell in succession, randomly crashing around the assassin. Though they didn’t necessarily all hit the assassin and his sword, they caused him considerable interference. One lamp base rolled several times on the ground, its flame not extinguished, sparks splashing onto the assassin’s garment corner, immediately creating a bright extending line of fire.

The sword-controlling assassin pressed his sleeve downward, fierce wind swept over, all sparks extinguished, and the sword’s trajectory immediately deflected. Gong Yin slightly raised his sleeve, the sword tip missing by mere millimeters as it swept past his chest, piercing the curtains on both sides, again bringing up wisps of fine white silk.

The assassin waved his sleeve, the sword blade gracefully and eerily turned, breaking through curtains to appear ghost-like above Gong Yin’s head, thrusting down like lightning.

Jing Hengbo lay there, swinging one hand desperately. A candlestick kicked away by the assassin retreated in mid-air, hitting the sword hilt. The sword tip grazed Gong Yin’s hair, scattering several black strands in mid-air, with more wisps of fine white silk hanging gracefully on the sword blade.

All this happened in lightning speed. In an instant, three sword strikes failed. The assassin, furious beyond measure, laughed instead, his body swaying to rise like light smoke, bypassing all the fallen lamp trajectories, flashing once then again, personally pressing close to Gong Yin.

Simultaneously, Gong Yin urgently said, “Hengbo, get out!”

Jing Hengbo had just climbed up, leaning against the door gasping for breath, silently cursing that Gong Yin’s bedchamber decoration was too simple—nothing available, and once the candlesticks were thrown, there was nothing left.

Hearing Gong Yin’s words, she smiled, saying, “Alright,” immediately turning to open the door.

The next instant she appeared behind the assassin, thrusting a knife toward his back, “Die!”

But the assassin’s body swayed at exactly this moment, transforming into a substantial yet insubstantial black smoke, pouncing toward Gong Yin. Jing Hengbo watched her knife pierce empty space.

She reacted quickly too, releasing the knife and throwing it, spreading her arms wide to pounce onto the bed, hugging Gong Yin’s waist squarely.

In this instant she felt as if she’d entered a dark cloud. Above her head was a heavy, fishy-sweet breath, damp, cold, and sinister, like a wild beast about to lower its icy nose tip, the next moment delivering her to death’s sharp teeth.

Jing Hengbo had no time to think anything, using all her strength to pull Gong Yin, then turning, “Go!”

Her body shook, feet touched solid ground, her nose bumping into something cool. She opened her eyes to see white everywhere, with cool breath.

Jing Hengbo was momentarily confused—where had she teleported this time? Shouldn’t it be dark outside?

Then she seemed to hear Gong Yin laugh almost inaudibly.

Jing Hengbo looked down to see the familiar white stone floor, glowing faintly.

At the edge of her vision were also a pair of black boots.

Her mind exploded with a roar.

Damn it, she’d only moved to the doorway! Caught by the assassin lying in wait!

Teleporting with someone really didn’t work! Especially not in this somewhat eerie great hall—the distance was even shorter than when she’d teleported with Cui Jie, not even making it out the door.

Jing Hengbo, still clutching Gong Yin, wanted to run again. At worst, they’d just circle around this great hall! Gong Yin should have already notified his subordinates.

The black thread-like sword coldly approached her nose tip.

Jing Hengbo looked up at that sword. Even without knowing martial arts, she could see the sword was too close—if she moved at all, it would be enough to pierce both her and Gong Yin clean through.

All the candlesticks had been extinguished. Only the white stone’s natural glow remained in the hall. She vaguely felt something wrong with that sword but couldn’t make it out.

She still maintained her posture of tightly hugging Gong Yin’s waist. In her tension, she forgot to let go. Of course, the person being hugged didn’t remind her to let go either, and even had one hand covering her hand somewhat intentionally.

Jing Hengbo was only calculating time in her mind. Gong Yin had said he could return to normal at midnight, but now there was at least more than an hour until midnight. Could she contend with this particularly ghostly and powerful assassin for an hour?

She looked outside somewhat anxiously. Why weren’t Meng Hu and the others trying to get in?

“They can’t get in,” the assassin suddenly spoke. Black smoke emanated from his entire body, his voice also drifting like smoke. “I’ve already severed your signal gold thread.” He seemed to laugh somewhat mockingly. “Of course, I must also thank Lord Right State Preceptor for being particularly cautious—the door can be opened from inside but cannot be violently entered from outside. So don’t count on guard rescue.”

Jing Hengbo’s eyes flashed, silently cursing the Great God’s excessive caution for harming herself, when she suddenly felt her palm itching. Sensing carefully… was Gong Yin writing characters?

Oh my goodness, writing characters.

She could recognize characters, but having used computers for so long, she was only used to computer fonts. When it came to writing herself, she’d forget characters when picking up a pen, let alone trying to decipher what others wrote in her palm.

She only felt very itchy and wanted to laugh. What characters was this scoundrel writing? Giving such a prodigy like her palm-writing hints? So sophisticated—was this really appropriate?

Oh my goodness, what characters exactly?