“Mr. Mu, how did you get here?” Jing Hengbo looked in astonishment at the man sitting cross-legged on the ground.

Wasn’t Mr. Mu supposed to stay in the hall to help her create a diversion? How did he come here? How did he even get ahead of her?

Underground, the man in the silver mask and blue robes looked up at her, his lips curving slightly.

“I accidentally found some clues and followed them here, never expecting to run into you,” he said. “However, we’re both too late. Female Official Zirui isn’t here.”

“Then where is she?” Jing Hengbo asked disappointedly, the question slipping out instinctively before she realized how absurd it was—Mr. Mu had only just arrived, how would he know?

But strangely, when she met his eyes that were like a starlit ocean, it felt natural to voice her questions, just like… just like during their journey together in the carriage when she would ask him for advice on various matters.

Her heart skipped a beat as she suddenly remembered that earlier in the hall, she hadn’t felt this same “ask without thinking” sensation with Mr. Mu.

Yet now, this familiar feeling had returned.

The tunnel’s flickering flames cast wavering shadows, creating an unreal atmosphere.

Mr. Mu lived up to her intuition once again, providing an immediate answer: “I made inquiries and learned that Ming Yan’an has had a guest recently, someone who seems quite capable. Most likely, Ming Yan’an handed over Female Official Xia to this guest to deal with you.”

Jing Hengbo had a strong feeling—he had been waiting here to give her this answer. Because while she could eventually find Zirui on her own, any further delay would bring dawn.

She wanted to ask: How could you have made such inquiries? Who in this palace would know about the Grand Prince’s secret guest, and how did you happen to encounter them so conveniently?

She hesitated whether to ask, but his moist, clear eyes made her heart race erratically with an inexplicable tension.

“You…”

“You…”

Both spoke simultaneously. He smiled and gestured for her to go first, but suddenly she didn’t know what to ask anymore, her mind going blank. She felt that ever since she’d come underground and seen him, everything had felt wrong.

He was about to speak when he suddenly paused, his expression changing as he leaped up and lunged toward her.

Startled, she didn’t know whether to retreat or block him when she heard a tremendous crash overhead.

The sound was like thunder exploding above their heads, or perhaps like gods shattering heaven and earth with immense force, creating an incomparably terrifying noise. Her ears rang with buzzing sounds, instantly rendering her deaf. Simultaneously, the ground shook violently, and a blast of air struck from behind, knocking her forward into his embrace. She vaguely felt the chest she touched was ice-cold, while in the darkness, a pair of warm, soft lips pressed down firmly upon hers.

…

Ningxue Pavilion.

The man in brocade robes was cracking melon seeds on his couch.

Suddenly, a tremendous crash came from outside, practically earth-shaking. Even the magnificent and sturdy Ningxue Pavilion swayed, dust falling from the beams.

“Pop.” Zhongwen opened an umbrella, positioning it timely over the brocade-robed man’s head—heaven knows how he produced that umbrella like magic.

But this was one of the essential skills for the brocade-robed man’s guards—carrying a treasure chest and being ready to serve their master’s needs at any moment.

Their master was too intelligent and powerful; most of the time, these guards felt useless, so they focused on such small matters, striving to be of some use.

The brocade-robed man’s expression didn’t change at all. He listened to the commotion and nodded.

Across from him sat Pei Shu, Zirui, and Meng Potian. Except for Meng Potian, who glared at him furiously, the other two ignored him, busy examining their surroundings. When Pei Shu and Zirui heard the explosion coming from the direction of the abandoned palace, they exchanged worried glances but remained silent.

The brocade-robed man therefore thought the female sovereign would indeed be worth meeting.

He waved his hand, and guards brought over a cylindrical object. The cylinder was divided into three sections, each perfectly sized for one person to stand in. The cylinder had restraining devices that could bind people firmly. Below the cylinder was a circular platform that could rotate, with chains on the platform to control the rotation speed.

“You’ll try my new toy in a moment.” The brocade-robed man watched with satisfaction as his subordinates skillfully assembled his toy. He waved again, and several more guards unwrapped a bundle, beginning another assembly.

The brocade-robed man loved all novel and interesting things, but such novelties were rare. He often made them himself, creating them as he traveled when he had time, discarding them when he grew bored. So his guards’ large bundles usually contained tools or his experimental prototypes.

The guards’ bundles were normally kept in their own rooms, but now they’d all been brought here because some components, for convenience in packing, were stored in different bundles.

As the guards assembled, the brocade-robed man’s gaze casually swept over the bundles. His brow suddenly furrowed. “Count the bundles—the number seems wrong.”

A guard counted and then stared wide-eyed: “Indeed, one is missing!”

Someone immediately identified the problem: “The bundle Latin carried is gone.”

Latin said: “All the bundles were piled in Zhongwen’s room.”

Everyone said in unison: “Earlier, there was a period when no one was in the room.”

Without the brocade-robed man needing to ask question by question, the guards had already reached the logical conclusion: “During that time, someone stole a bundle. That was when the man in white was here—he must have had accomplices. They snuck in and stole a bundle. That bundle contained the Thousand-Gold Umbrella you recently developed.”

The brocade-robed man nodded, pleased that these slow-witted guards had saved him the trouble of explanation.

This was a skill the guards had developed through experience. Since this master disliked explanations, while others would deduce step by step from A through H, he would jump directly from A to H in his thinking. Over time, the guards had learned to straighten out the logical threads themselves.

“What does he want the Thousand-Gold Umbrella for?” Zhongwen asked. “It’s still experimental, not completely successful. Currently, it’s only suitable for blocking heavy objects and drilling holes underground.”

The brocade-robed man thought for a moment, glanced toward the abandoned palace, considering the location of that master mechanism, and curled his lips.

Most likely stealing his item to drill someone else’s holes.

What excellent taste in selection—that Thousand-Gold Umbrella contained his little Cake Girl’s treasures, and he absolutely had to get it back…

He waved his hand, indicating to ignore this matter for now. The guards also set it aside and continued assembling the death wheel and a… coffin.

The coffin was detachable and currently being assembled from very thin boards shaped like a human form that could close in half. As for why it was human-shaped, that was naturally because of little Cake Girl’s suggestions.

In little Cake Girl’s mummy stories, mummies were properly human-shaped. In the brocade-robed man’s hands, this coffin could no longer be called a coffin—it had actually become a pair of dancing human forms with four arms and four legs, each limb in motion. Four of the limbs required extremely high body flexibility, with hands and feet bent backward, almost touching each other.

The joints of these limbs were also detachable, meaning the positions could be changed.

This was actually a torture device. After forcing these dangerous positions, merely changing the posture slightly—if it violated human anatomical limits—would cause any limbs stuck inside to snap with a crack.

Using this device, one could effortlessly break every joint in a person’s body. This also fit the brocade-robed man’s aesthetic of killing—he disliked bloody messes, preferring elegant violence and beautiful torture.

He considered this efficient. He could easily break every bone in someone’s body, never considering that the effort required to create such an “elegant torture device” was enough to break a thousand people’s bones one by one.

He looked with satisfaction at his “toy,” then at the three people before him, smiling without words.

The two women curiously examined the contraption, not yet understanding its purpose, but Pei Shu’s face had already changed.

He glanced at the brocade-robed man across from him, genuinely curious about what kind of deviant had produced such a creature. The Great Wilderness seemed to lack such specimens, and his accent was also strange—was he from outside the Great Wilderness?

“Everyone, let’s first play a game,” the brocade-robed man said while cracking seeds. “Of course, you can refuse. However, after refusing, you might not receive the respect you currently enjoy. Consider yourselves warned.”

Zirui blinked—were they receiving respect even now? His respect was truly stingy.

“I have a little toy here.” The brocade-robed man pointed to the “coffin.” “This coffin is called the ‘Passionate Lovers’ Duet Dance.’ It’s specifically designed to train body flexibility and cultivate feelings. I only need two people to fill this coffin. If these two can perform the positions this coffin requires, the third person will be safe. Otherwise…” He smiled somewhat embarrassedly. “I don’t much like making threats. You understand.”

“Understand my ass,” Meng Potian cursed. “Pretty boy sissy, if you want to kill or torture, make it quick. Don’t play these disgusting games with this old lady.”

The brocade-robed man acted as if he hadn’t heard her cursing. He’d always considered cursing something only lower-class people excelled at; upper-class people didn’t use their mouths, only their brains.

He just smiled at the three of them. “So, which two will go?”

Before Zirui and Meng Potian could speak, Pei Shu immediately interjected: “Count me as one.”

The two women looked at him with strange expressions, not understanding his eagerness. Zirui was relatively kind, showing only subtle confusion, but Meng Potian directly muttered: “Lecher!”

Anyone could see that this coffin would require the two people entering it to have intimate bodily contact. A man and woman together would be inappropriate. Meng Potian and Zirui had already reached an understanding—the two women would go together. They hadn’t expected Pei Shu to jump in first. Both flushed red, looking at Pei Shu with decidedly unfriendly gazes.

Pei Shu sniffled and flushed, words almost bursting out, but he held back again and again, ultimately keeping silent.

He could see the terrible dangers of this “toy,” and facing such a deviant, he could imagine that those entering would face the greatest peril. But he couldn’t voice this—if he did, Xia Zirui would definitely insist on going. She was one of Jing Hengbo’s most valued female friends, and for that reason alone, he couldn’t let her be harmed.

Otherwise, how heartbroken little Bo would be.

Pei Shu thought tragically that if he came here in a fit of anger to save Xia Zirui only to die in this torture device, little Bo would surely feel guilty and heartbroken upon learning of it, perhaps remembering him for life. That would make it worthwhile.

Imagining that long, long afterward, little Bo with white hair would come to sweep his grave, telling her grandchildren beside her… ah, no, what grandchildren? She would remain unmarried for life because of him!… White-haired little Bo, sitting before his grassy grave, sadly watching the sunset, would tell Gong Yin, who had pursued her for life without winning her: “This is the man I cared about most—he died for me…”

The young commander was moved to tears by his own imagination—what a beautiful scene, such a life and death would not be in vain!

Though it would be better not to die. If he was already buried in yellow earth while Gong Yin or Yelu Qi could still accompany little Bo, no matter how he calculated it, he’d be at a loss…

The brocade-robed man stared at him curiously—this fellow was clearly intelligent and should see the danger of this “toy,” so why did his expression look so strange? Sometimes excited, sometimes melancholy, sometimes grinding his teeth—was this toy truly so marvelous that it captivated him so?

This sparked his interest in Pei Shu, and he decided to have some real fun with him. Two-legged beasts were everywhere, but oddballs were rare. Alas, finding like-minded oddballs was truly too difficult!

He turned to the two women. Meng Potian flushed and shouted: “No! We can’t let this shameless scoundrel succeed! Don’t let him go. Zirui and I will go together!”

The brocade-robed man tilted his head and smiled at the furious but restrained Pei Shu: “How does it feel to be misunderstood?”

“I only need to know you’re a madman,” Pei Shu replied coldly.

The brocade-robed man was delighted rather than angry: “You’re absolutely right. So-called geniuses appear as madmen to fools. Because there are too many idiots in this world, they consider the few different ones mad.”

Pei Shu decided not to converse with this madman whose brain was constructed differently from normal people, or he’d surely be angered to death someday.

But the brocade-robed man decided to understand him better—not only an oddball, but a kindred spirit!

“A man’s decision cannot be overturned by women,” he told Meng Potian. “One of you two, come out.”

“Don’t let them choose for themselves,” Pei Shu said immediately. “Meng Potian, you come.”

“Why me?” Meng Potian flew into a rage. “You lecher! I don’t want to be close to you!”

“Because I like you,” Pei Shu said fiercely. “I want to be close to you. Is that acceptable?”

Meng Potian was suddenly speechless, staring wide-eyed at Pei Shu. Her flushed face gradually paled, then instantly reddened again.

The female heir of Kuangdao Alliance had always been the one to abduct, rob, and tease others—no one had ever dared confess to her face. Upon hearing this, her first reaction was anger, but after that moment of fury, her heart began pounding, and a strange feeling welled up—seemingly joyful, sweet, yet wistful. She stood dazed, momentarily entranced.

Seeing her suddenly grow bashful, Pei Shu quickly averted his gaze guiltily.

The brocade-robed man clapped his hands and laughed: “Wonderful! You’re all so entertaining!”

Meng Potian spat at him in shame and anger, but her eyes kept glancing toward Pei Shu.

Pei Shu only looked at the sky.

The brocade-robed man laughed even more meaningfully: “I think you’ll soon learn that in this world, what appears to be malice might be kindness, while what appears to be kindness may not harbor good intentions. Remember to thank me for teaching you such a profound lesson.”

Meng Potian couldn’t listen now, turning her head away with a cold snort, loudly declaring: “Even if you like me, Pei Shu, it’s useless! I won’t be with a lecher like you who just wants to take advantage of women!”

“Are you finished?” Pei Shu roared. “A man has spoken—women shouldn’t overturn it. Fine, it’ll be her and me!”

“Please, please,” the brocade-robed man laughed heartily, releasing their pressure points while applying paralysis points, having guards put them into the device.

As Pei Shu entered, he turned to tell the brocade-robed man calmly: “Someday, you’ll taste this yourself.”

“If someone in this world could really put me in such a thing,” the brocade-robed man laughed happily, “I would thank them.”

“They will,” Pei Shu answered with certainty, then entered the coffin himself.

Evil people who do evil will have their day of reckoning. He firmly believed this.

Though Meng Potian had protested loudly, she wasn’t cursing now, her face red, but when she actually entered the coffin, she cried out again.

“This, this… how do you do this…”

Her arms were lifted and inserted into arm-shaped tubes, each joint locked in place, her legs also lifted and folded. Opposite her was Pei Shu, his arms positioned in an embracing pose, the back panel tilted backward, his body bent slightly back.

Pei Shu’s position was much more difficult, but he had trained for years in Tianhui Valley’s marshes, his flexibility beyond ordinary imagination. Though being confined by the thin panels outside affected his movement, bending into position wasn’t easy. He simply endured it silently, his face slightly flushed.

Meng Potian screamed again as guards pushed her toward Pei Shu.

From their positions, one could imagine her arms would drape over Pei Shu’s shoulders while her legs would wrap around his waist…

Miss Meng had never eaten pork but had seen pigs run—her collection of erotic pictures wasn’t just for show. Wasn’t this an upgraded version of… that?

More terrifyingly, she suddenly realized this thing could close, and then she’d be locked together with Pei Shu in this compromising position… Help, no, please…

Opposite her, Pei Shu’s backward-tilted posture made his physique more prominent. Meng Potian’s eyes didn’t know where to look, unsure whether to curse the toy’s perversity, cry about the coffin’s shamelessness, or be grateful that at least this coffin could close so they wouldn’t have to maintain such a pose under everyone’s gaze…

“No, no, no, no…” Before Meng Potian could adjust her emotions, snap—the “coffin” closed.

She and Pei Shu were plunged into darkness, but now they had to face not the darkness, but each other’s bodies.

This contraption was designed with shameless precision. Despite its bizarre design, it fit together seamlessly, each panel adjustable, even accommodating different heights. So now Meng Potian’s lips pressed against Pei Shu’s, her chest against his, her arms around his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist…

The contact was so intimate, his pleasant masculine scent filling her nostrils. She could feel the firmness and elasticity of his muscles. She dared not even breathe, and in the darkness with heightened senses, she clearly heard the brocade-robed man’s voice outside.

“To play with something properly, one must play until satisfied, don’t you think?” he said leisurely. “I hear someone will come to rescue you soon, but I’m too lazy to wait, especially for fools. So, every half hour, I’ll adjust these limb joints—for instance, turning one person’s arm in the opposite direction… Well, like that. You’d better pray someone arrives quickly.”

Zirui’s face instantly drained of color. “No!”

In the coffin, Meng Potian froze for a moment, then began crying with muffled sobs.

Pei Shu immediately felt tears flowing on his face but couldn’t speak or ask—opening his mouth would mean forcibly kissing her.

But Meng Potian was someone who’d suffocate if she didn’t speak her mind, sobbing: “Woo woo woo, I misunderstood you earlier… so you were being kind…”

Pei Shu took a breath—Miss, could you please not talk? I’d rather you misunderstand, okay? Don’t you know that when you speak, your lips rub against mine? I’m a man, ah ah ah, I’m a man! Though my heart belongs elsewhere, I’m still a man who gets a morning salute every day, ah ah ah, a man!

“But I hate you even more now…” Meng Potian, immersed in her emotions, cried even harder: “So you don’t actually like me… you just brought me along to die together…”

Pei Shu immediately stopped feeling aroused—he did feel somewhat guilty about this…

He didn’t mind killing or arson but disliked deceiving innocents, especially a young girl in the throes of first love. He’d pulled Meng Potian into this death coffin to protect Zirui. While this didn’t shame him before Jing Hengbo, it did shame him before the girl in his arms.

Meng Potian cried for a while then stopped—crying in here was too difficult, and she realized she was taking too much advantage of Pei Shu…

Taking too much advantage…

When they both quieted down, each became aware of their impropriety. Pei Shu felt the young woman’s budding development, felt her youthful tenderness, her skin seemingly capable of emanating floral fragrance, felt the martial artist’s long, powerful legs wrapped so enticingly around his waist, felt himself having the most embarrassing reaction of his life, about to lose the greatest face he’d ever lost…

He hated himself for this but understood it was inevitable. He was a young man in his prime practicing pure yang internal arts—this was a normal reaction beyond his control, unrelated to emotion…

Meng Potian felt it even more clearly. She was surrounded entirely by his masculine scent, those naturally attractive pheromones that called to women—a biological summons that was torture for a girl her age. She could feel his firm chest muscles, tight abdominal muscles, his whole body seeming to radiate vitality and elasticity that made her heart pound. Most mortifying was his position pushing his body forward—she felt certain changes very clearly, even sensing every inch of pulsation…

She felt ready to cry again, and her tears would surely be dried by her burning cheeks.

Her lips still pressed tightly against his. The slightest movement would draw her into his mouth. At one moment, when he was most aroused, she felt him unconsciously suck and draw in her lips. For an instant, fragrant softness penetrated each other, but only for an instant before he pushed her lips away. This left her unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed, and she couldn’t help shedding more tears, each drop flowing across his face before slowly trickling to his lips…

She didn’t understand herself—she didn’t usually cry. When her mother died and her father immediately took a concubine, she hadn’t cried. Why was she so fragile and sensitive today, like those delicate young ladies she usually despised?

He sighed inwardly as the moisture repeatedly washed his face, stirring strange emotions in this man of steel and fire. Because of his guilt toward her, he rarely found women’s tears annoying, silently letting her tears wash his face. His heart grew warm and damp, and he couldn’t help thinking how wonderful it would be if the person opposite him were Jing Hengbo—then truly nothing would be lost. Thinking this, he couldn’t resist licking the tears at his lips—they were bitter. He was somewhat dazed, thinking tears were indeed bitter. Yes, if they weren’t bitter, why would there be tears? He hadn’t expected that this lick was actually on Meng Potian’s lips. She softly whimpered, and hearing the girl’s tender voice in the darkness was nearly soul-stirring. He reacted again, and she couldn’t avoid it, shyly shifting just slightly. This movement was even more devastating—he couldn’t suppress a moan either. She immediately stopped moving but seemed intentionally or unintentionally to bring her lips closer, licking the tears from her own… or his lips… He immediately felt he couldn’t take it anymore…

This cycle continued, back and forth, testing and retreating, moans occasionally escaping uncontrollably. In the darkness, pressed together, fitting perfectly, inevitable contact and collision…

This pair of young people, who couldn’t be called perfectly matched hearts, didn’t know in this moment whether they felt joy or torment…

In the end, both floated between painful endurance and illusory pleasure, lost and confused about where they were, unaware of time passing…

Until the brocade-robed man’s voice came, shocking both sweating profusely back to awareness.

Outside, the brocade-robed man was laughing.

“A quarter hour is almost up! Should I turn an arm or a leg? And whose should I turn?”

Meng Potian and Pei Shu cried out in unison.

“Me!”

…

Rewinding half an hour to when that tremendous crash sounded.

The explosion caused the soil reserved above the mechanism to collapse, the impact force knocking Jing Hengbo forward into his chest. Just as Meng Potian had pressed against Pei Shu, she pressed him against the wall, her lips tightly blocking his.

In this split second, she actually wondered: Why didn’t she feel the impact pain? Didn’t he have a silver mask on his face? Where did the silver mask go? Could he have thought to remove the mask at this moment?

Her wandering thoughts weren’t finished when she felt something stuck in her chest, a sweet metallic taste rising to her throat. She wanted to vomit, but the force from behind struck again, immediately blocking that clot of blood in her throat. Stars burst before her eyes, consciousness became confused, and she felt like a large stone pressed on her chest or a piece of wood was lodged there, unable to swallow or spit out, on the verge of suffocation.

Suddenly she felt herself embraced tightly, a hand pressing on her chest, forcefully pushing downward while a pair of warm, soft lips came up and sucked hard outward.

Her throat made a “gurgle” sound as a mouthful of stagnant blood rushed out, pouring into his mouth.

She sighed softly, feeling instant relief from throat to chest, as if brought back to life. When her wits returned, she was shocked—Mr. Mu had personally sucked out the blood clot blocking her throat? This, this, this…

Her heart was in chaos and embarrassment, yet she felt moved. Sometimes even family members wouldn’t do such a thing…

He tilted his head slightly, spitting out that mouthful of bloody phlegm. The slightly sweet metallic taste lingered between his lips and teeth, but this person with extreme cleanliness obsession didn’t find it disgusting. He only felt his heart ache slightly for the suffering she endured in all her struggles.

Had she once silently swallowed such a mouthful of backed-up blood? When swallowing it, it must have been heart-piercingly painful. He wanted to know that feeling, as if accompanying her in suffering.

He didn’t know if this was guilt, compensation, or just wanting to experience over and over what she had gone through.

Jing Hengbo felt very embarrassed, instinctively taking a breath, but he immediately brought his lips close. His lips were warm and soft while his teeth were slightly cool, bringing to mind magnolia leaves washed by moonlight, jade-like and lustrous, with a faint fragrance.

Her heart was confused and nervous. When she tried to push away, she discovered he didn’t seem to be kissing her—a clear, pure stream of air was flowing from his body into her dantian. She could feel that air flow was clear, vigorous, and strong, like a snow-white wisp of lonely smoke in the great desert, coming straight toward her.

Soil was still rolling behind them. Only now did she understand why he blocked her free breathing—the air was full of dirt that would choke her if inhaled.

She suddenly felt something was wrong. The air flow from Mr. Mu within her body seemed different from before…

With another rumbling crash, apparently more soil had fallen. The person beneath her suddenly held her tight, rolled over, and with a snap opened something. Faintly overhead came creaking sounds as something seemed to block the soil behind her. That soil flowed like a tide down both sides of her, whooshing like two earthen waterfalls.

As she wondered what this thing was that could withstand the impact force of collapsing soil, she felt it suddenly retract with a puff. Dirt struck her back again, though with much less force. Still, she was knocked forward again, pressing tightly against him once more.

He hadn’t stopped channeling air to her, but this air transfer had unknowingly become passionate sucking, lips and lips entwined, teeth and teeth colliding, fragrance and fragrance exchanging, body and body clinging… In this underground chamber, dark room, with soil pressed tight on all sides, he held her close while blocking the soil’s flow, also using his embrace to trap her.