Jing Hengbo nearly cried out in shock.

Sang Tong!

She never expected that she had actually escaped from the palace, never expected she hadn’t left yet, never expected she was here!

Jing Hengbo’s heart began pounding. She never imagined this carriage was heading to rendezvous with Sang Tong. Judging from the number of people, all the Sang family subordinates still in the city might be gathered here. What was worse, since Sang Tong was here, security would definitely be especially strict, and these people were clustered around the carriages. She worried that once she rushed out of the carriage, she might be trapped before she could teleport.

No need to guess—if Sang Tong saw her and didn’t want to skin her alive, she’d take Sang Tong’s surname!

Charging out was impossible. It seemed Sang Tong planned to gather her subordinates here for discussions before breaking out. She could only wait until Sang Tong left again or got in a carriage, when everyone returned to their positions and the carriages started moving again.

Fortunately, with so many people around, no one paid attention to one carriage not having people get out. Everyone was preoccupied, their faces solemn.

Jing Hengbo gripped her dagger in her palm, waiting.

But Sang Tong seemed in no hurry at all. At this critical life-and-death moment, she was still slowly pacing, apparently thinking, circling right around Jing Hengbo’s carriage. Several times she came close to the carriage door and even bumped into it, making Jing Hengbo’s heart skip beats. She was so annoyed she wanted to grab her and give her a good slapping.

It seemed several more carriages entered vaguely, and finally everyone was assembled. Then came a thunderous sound—some large door was being closed.

Jing Hengbo’s heart jumped.

The carriage moved slightly—Sang Tong seemed to be leaning against the carriage, right by the window. Jing Hengbo very carefully lifted a corner of the curtain, considering the possibility of sticking a needle into the top of her head.

Thinking the angle was inconvenient and too risky, she gave up.

Below the carriage, Sang Tong was full of concerns, surrounded by subordinates, naturally not thinking that just one board’s width away was someone who had contemplated killing her countless times.

“Is everyone here?” she slowly began.

Immediately various voices came forward to report.

“Heaven Group Sang Yi leads his disciples to greet the family head.”

“Earth Group Wang Jing leads his disciples to greet the family head.”

“Mystic Group Ouyang Wufei leads his disciples to greet the family head.”

“Yellow Group Shan Yilong leads his disciples to greet the family head.”

…

Sang family subordinates reported one by one. Jing Hengbo secretly counted—quite a few people. Just these small groups were divided into sixteen groups: Heaven, Earth, Mystic, Yellow, Wind, Cloud, Thunder, Rain, Flood, Wilderness, Thick Earth, and so on. And there were disciples within each group too? This was just the Sang family’s power in Dige—what about nationwide?

What was strange was that all these people reporting had aged voices—clearly they were all old.

“Very good, thank you all for your trouble,” Sang Tong sighed after listening. “Now, I only have you all by my side.”

“Family head,” a man said, “why do you still remain here? Why gather in this deep part of the city? You should leave the city now—we’ll protect you, there’s still time!”

Sang Tong smiled, her voice light and distant.

“I won’t leave the city.”

Some were shocked, some understood, some sighed.

“Sang Yi, has the young master left the city?” Sang Tong asked.

An elder answered: “He’s near the city gates, but inspections are especially strict. Although Old Xuanyuan and others are helping, he still hasn’t been able to leave the city. Everyone is trying to think of ways.”

“No need to think anymore,” Sang Tong said. “I will get him out of the city.”

Everyone fell silent, all thinking this statement absurd. The true elites of the Xuanyuan and Sang families were currently near the city gates, and they found it difficult to get the young master out. The family head was still in the northern slums, beyond reach—how could she send him out?

“Are you going to rendezvous with the young master?” someone asked tentatively.

“No…” Sang Tong sighed long, her voice infinitely desolate. “I will never see him again.”

Everyone bowed their heads in silence.

“The Sang family is already ruined. I, Sang Tong, am already ruined. Failing to protect the Priest Tower and letting a hundred-year noble family decline in my hands is a sin for which ten thousand deaths cannot atone. Even if I return to the tribe, the elders won’t spare me. So why should I go through countless hardships to escape back there, only to be shamefully executed or imprisoned in underground dungeons to suffer for life?”

“Family head!” someone passionately objected. “You cannot admit defeat first! Though the tribal elders have great power, you have us, you have the disciples of Dige. We swear to escort you back unto death and will protect you from the elders’ judgment!”

Sang Tong smiled softly.

“By the time we escape Gong Yin’s pursuit and return thousands of li to the tribe, tell me—how many of you will still be by my side? How many of you will still be alive?”

A deadly silence fell.

“I cannot return. The one who should return is Sang Tianxi.” Sang Tong finally regained the dignity and composure of a high priestess, saying calmly, “Tianxi—washed by the vast heavens, his sinews cut and marrow changed to become our Sang family’s once-in-a-century genius. He is our Sang family’s hope in desperate straits, the only foundation for revival in the next hundred years. He rarely appears before the world, hasn’t been involved in Dige’s circles of right and wrong, and bears no responsibility for the Priest Tower’s destruction. And he is the only direct heir carrying our Sang ancestors’ blood. If he returns, the elders cannot touch him, and the Sang family will still belong to our branch.”

“But…” someone still tried to persuade.

“There are no buts. I am already useless. Since I’m useless, I must be prepared for sacrifice. Rather than sacrificing in a sunless dungeon, better to do so openly and vigorously, finally sacrificing in this city of Dige!”

With the last sentence, Sang Tong’s tone suddenly turned fierce. Jing Hengbo immediately felt something was wrong—this woman was full of grief and anger, her tone resolute. What did she want to do?

She didn’t want to live anymore?

Jing Hengbo had always believed that people who didn’t want to live were the most powerful. Not even fearing death, what in this world would they not dare or be unable to do?

“Family head!” The Sang family subordinates also heard Sang Tong’s meaning, their cries heartbroken.

“Family head! If you truly won’t leave, we won’t leave either!”

“Yes, we’ll accompany you!”

“We’re all old anyway. We might not survive many on the escape route—better to accompany the family head and thoroughly turn Dige upside down!”

“Family head, if sacrifice is truly necessary to send the young master away, we’re willing!”

…

Jing Hengbo sneered coldly inside the carriage.

A bunch of simple-minded fools, easily swayed by agitation.

Why were all those staying behind old, weak, sick, and disabled? It was obvious Sang Tong had planned to use them as pawns—what need was there for them to show loyalty? Whether willing or not, they all had to die.

However… she propped her chin, thinking that the manipulative power belonging to those in high positions was also a skill worth learning.

…

Sang Tong seemed moved by her subordinates’ righteousness. She waved for everyone to be quiet, and when she spoke again, her eyes contained tears, her voice choked.

“Thank you, old brothers…” She raised her sleeve to wipe her tears. “For the Sang family to have you all is our blessing. Years ago, you old brothers worked hand in hand with me to build up our Sang family enterprise. I never expected that in the end, the Sang family would be harmed by that despicable queen. I cannot protect you old brothers, couldn’t give you honored and comfortable twilight years, yet still ask you to accompany me to death… Rest assured, though we may die today, Tianxi will remember us forever. Someday he will avenge us and restore the Sang family. Your wives, children, and elderly will receive the best care. Your memorial tablets will surely be placed in our Sang family Hall of Heroes, accompanying our Sang ancestors for generations, forever enjoying the blood offerings of Sang descendants!”

A group of Sang family elders wept freely, their voices solemn.

“Willing to die for the Sang family! Willing to die for the family head!”

In the murderous atmosphere, someone broke down crying.

Jing Hengbo leaned against the carriage wall, lost in thought.

She wasn’t moved by this scene of master and servants resolutely going to their deaths. Many things, once you see through their essence, only leave cold reality. She just suddenly thought of her own future. To change the status quo, she’d first have to seize power. In the process of seizing power and afterward, she probably couldn’t avoid doing things like buying people’s hearts, verbal manipulation, benefit temptation, and moral coercion, right?

In the future, would she also have to put on false fronts while scheming within, manipulating situations and playing complex games?

And Gong Yin—having been in such circumstances for years, he should actually be quite familiar with these complex, gloomy matters, right? Before, she only knew his supremely aloof cuteness. Now thinking about how those in power have their own considerations, perhaps there were many things where one had no choice but to do disgusting things while enduring the revulsion?

Thinking this made her slightly irritated. Dahuang’s situation was so complex, with everyone unclear about who was friend or foe. Such days really weren’t to her liking. She only wished she could cut through the mess quickly and throw all these scheming fellows into the garbage dump.

Outside, the cries were suppressed yet tragic. The atmosphere had been stirred to its peak. Sang Tong also seemed finally ignited with passion, gritting her teeth and saying fiercely: “Now! The young master is trapped at the city gates and cannot get out. Forcing through won’t work. To help the young master quickly escape Dige, we must create chaos in Dige city, making Gong Yin too busy to trouble the young master—only then will he have a chance!”

“Family head, give your orders! We follow you!”

“One blade to pierce the sky, let Dige sing funeral songs for me—hahaha, satisfying!”

Jing Hengbo gasped.

Indeed, the most venomous heart belongs to a woman!

“I’m already prepared.” Sang Tong said ominously. “You all know that black fire devices and fire bullets are contraband in Dige. Gong Yin strictly forbids anyone except Yuzhao Palace from possessing them privately, but he cannot control carriages. All our carriages here have interlayers stuffed full of sky fire oil beads refined from Sky Fire Swamp, with surfaces coated three times with sky fire mud—they ignite instantly upon contact with the smallest spark. This was originally Tianxi’s suggestion for necessary use. Now it comes in handy. We’ll drive these carriages in three groups along Nine Palace Street, Liuli Workshop, Cangjing, and Imperial City Square, starting fires in the most crowded Liuli Workshop! Finally, at Yuzhao Palace gates, we’ll crash into mutual destruction!”

“Mutual destruction!” The response was like a tide.

Jing Hengbo’s palms broke out in sweat—what a vicious plan. If she hadn’t been greedy for money and gotten on the carriage, Dige would surely face disaster today.

But now, alone, stopping this calamity would still be difficult. Charging carriages exploding with fire all along the route, passing through Dige’s most prosperous areas with the highest foot traffic—how could she stop them?

“There’s no time to waste,” Sang Tong said coldly. “Let’s go now.”

“Yes.” The death-laden responses were resolute.

“Before leaving, let’s give Dige a gift.” Sang Tong’s lips curved in a grim smile. “The grain Dige recently purchased from Western Long Kingdom just arrived and happens to be stored in the granary here…”

Only then did Jing Hengbo realize this was actually a granary—no wonder it felt so spacious. Sang Tong had cleverly thought to gather people and carriages in an empty granary.

Then she heard hissing sounds and felt something was wrong. Secretly looking, she saw a fuse line had appeared on the ground, lit and sparking as it traveled along a pre-dug groove by the wall toward the next room.

No need to ask—next door must be a granary full of grain. Sang Tong’s actions were vicious and sinister. With Dige about to descend into chaos and countless casualties, burning the granary at this moment was adding disaster upon disaster. Not to mention Dige would immediately fall into great panic, likely triggering incidents or political upheaval—just the lack of grain after people were injured would immediately cause many deaths!

“Good.” Sang Tong clapped her hands. “Everyone get in your carriages.”

Everyone responded and mounted their respective carriages. Many sought out old friends before boarding, wordlessly patting shoulders in final farewell. They boarded decisively without looking back.

No one spoke, no one cried anymore. When death became a collective action, death’s own fear and pressure fell into silence, leaving only that path—close your eyes, walk to the end, open your eyes again, and perhaps it would be another life.

“My carriage seems too new,” Sang Tong still seemed to be choosing a carriage. “I hope to reach Yuzhao Palace and crash a hole in Gong Yin and that wretch’s belly, so the carriage shouldn’t be too conspicuous.”

Jing Hengbo’s heart jumped again.

Oh no!

Sure enough, the next moment, Sang Tong naturally turned to look at the shabby, inconspicuous carriage behind her. “This one will do.”

At this point, Jing Hengbo wasn’t nervous anymore. She gritted her teeth and gripped her dagger firmly.

By now everyone had mounted their carriages, heading separately to their deaths according to predetermined routes. Since they were prepared to die, there was no talk of guards or protection. Some of Sang Tong’s guards had squeezed into other carriages, others sat on this carriage’s shaft. Everyone carefully gathered their open flames, cautiously tying them within reach on the carriage shaft.

Jing Hengbo was burning with anxiety. She hadn’t expected these people to leave so quickly and decisively. She was alone—how could she stop these several routes of death carriages?

Thinking of these carriages driving into crowds, exploding all along the way, with flesh and blood flying, seas of fire filling the sky, screams piercing the clouds… she couldn’t help trembling—a great disaster for Dige, and this would be the evil she had caused!

The curtain lifted, and Sang Tong got in the carriage.

Jing Hengbo immediately stabbed out with her blade!

“Ah!” came a miserable scream. Sang Tong’s voice was full of despair and shock—she never imagined she’d take a blade to the chest at this moment! Before she could see who the attacker was, Jing Hengbo had already stepped on her face and leaped out.

As soon as she exited the carriage, she slashed backward, cutting the bag full of flint tied to the carriage shaft. The bag fell, and she charged forward. Behind her someone shouted fiercely: “Stop!” Then came a bang as a heavy fist landed on her back.

Jing Hengbo felt as if a huge stone had struck her back. Her internal organs seemed to shift instantly. She opened her mouth and coughed up blood with an “ah,” but her body didn’t pause. She grabbed the falling flint bag and flashed to appear three zhang away.

Before she could steady herself, she waved her hand and a broken basin flew up, smashing hard on the fuse that had nearly burned to the next room.

Sparks flashed several times but didn’t immediately extinguish. The fuse was thick. Jing Hengbo didn’t even look—her hands flew rapidly, and the basin crashed continuously on the fuse line with bang after bang. Under the continuous explosions of sparks, it finally went out.

Behind her came a shrill, hateful shriek: “The Queen! It’s the Queen! Kill her! Kill her!”

Rumbling sounds rang out urgently like collapsing mountains and overturning seas—a carriage crashed toward her back.

Jing Hengbo turned to see Sang Tong lying on the carriage shaft with blood splattered across her chest, staring at her with poisonous hatred. Her extended hands were stained with blood, fierce as a female demon emerging from hell.

Jing Hengbo could still chuckle at this moment.

“Old hag, you look really ugly now.” The instant before the carriage would hit her, she flashed and disappeared.

Only her voice’s tail note remained, dissipating in the air.

“…Thinking of you going to hell with that ugly face makes me so happy, hahaha.”

…

Sang Tong’s eyes widened, staring at the suddenly empty space before her, falling powerlessly onto the carriage shaft.

The guards stared wide-eyed, murmuring: “Monster… monster…”

“Never mind the granary… go… go…” Sang Tong struggled to prop herself up, her palm scraping against the carriage shaft, leaving a bloody handprint. “I’m going to Yuzhao Palace to burn them immediately! I want her to know this is her sin… her sin!”

…

This was the official granary in the north of the city. There were three fork roads leading to the city center. When Jing Hengbo flashed onto the dirt road, she simultaneously saw carriages galloping away on all three roads—at least three or more carriages on each road.

“Oh no.” Jing Hengbo nearly tore her precious long hair. “So many roads—how can I chase them?”

There were people on the roads—vendors and pedestrians going about their business. No one paid extra attention to the galloping carriages. There was a granary nearby—what day didn’t see several convoys on the road?

Jing Hengbo thought for a moment and yelled at the top of her lungs: “Someone’s robbing the granary!”

No one paid attention.

Jing Hengbo was puzzled. Nobody cared about granary robbery? Wasn’t grain supposed to be the people’s lifeline?

An old man shuffled past, looking at her disheveled state with pity, shaking his head and sighing: “Pretty enough, but not right in the head.”

“Hey old fellow, explain yourself,” Jing Hengbo grabbed him. “Why is it crazy to say someone’s robbing the granary? Someone really is robbing the granary!”

“Look clearly—these three buildings here are all empty granaries. The truly full granaries are over there.” The old man pointed ahead where tall wooden fencing surrounded sprawling buildings, and towering grain stores could be vaguely seen.

“If someone really robbed the granary, they wouldn’t be shouting here. Besides, that place has heavy guard—if anything happened, there’d be commotion already. Could it be this peaceful?” The old man glared at her, pulled his sleeve free, and left.

Jing Hengbo looked at that location. So Sang Tong had gathered her subordinates in an abandoned granary at some distance from the new granary, but looking carefully, some parts were quite close. So Sang Tong had people dig secret trenches under the old granary, bury combustibles, then use fuses through the trenches to burn the granary over there.

This required a prerequisite—there must be inside help at the new granary!

But Jing Hengbo had no time to investigate the granary’s problems now. The carriages had already driven out of sight. At most a quarter hour of driving would reach Dige’s center, and then would come the bloody tragedy. She had no time left.

Jing Hengbo thought for a moment, looked up—this place wasn’t far from North Wild Gate. North Wild Gate was near North Wild Mountain. Many princes, young masters, and wealthy young men went hunting through this gate and should be returning now. These people had some martial arts and transportation—they were the best candidates to prevent this catastrophe.

Thanks to Gong Yin’s teaching, she—a queen who rarely had opportunities to leave—knew Dige’s terrain and customs like the back of her hand.

She wiped her face. The movement pulled at her chest, causing heart pain and throat sweetness. She silently swallowed some liquid, muttered “big loss,” and swayed to the roadside, striking an alluring S-shaped pose.

With such beautiful features and seductive figure, she should be able to make those lustful idiots stop, right?

Dusk was falling, evening crows sang. Foot traffic near North Wild Gate increased—the hunters were returning.

A team of horses and carriages appeared on the horizon, galloping toward her.

Jing Hengbo was delighted, gracefully raising her hand: “Hi—”

A large cloud of dust hit her face, spraying back her graceful pose and seductive “hi.” Those high horses swept past her like wind, the riders looking straight ahead without even glancing at her.

“What the hell, are they blind!” Jing Hengbo angrily spat out dirt and struck another pose, waiting for the next wave to call for help.

Another large group of horses came.

Another large group of horses passed.

Another large group of horses came.

Another large group of horses passed.

…

“Ahhhhh why won’t they stop!” Jing Hengbo went crazy.

“I heard some important person went missing. There’s early curfew tonight—hurry back or we’ll run into inspections and more trouble…” voices drifted from the distance.

“Ah? What damn important person went missing that requires citywide early curfew?” Jing Hengbo cursed irritably. “I hope he gets his period every day!”

After cursing, she felt something wasn’t right?

…

“Won’t stop, none will stop…” After three waves passed without stopping, Jing Hengbo looked at the sky and prepared her trump card.

Another team of horses approached, the lead rider charging very fast.

“If charming smiles don’t work, rocks will!” Jing Hengbo waved her hand, and a stone rose from the ground, flying toward the lead rider’s horse’s legs.

“Amitabha, female benefactor, this is wrong,” suddenly a voice rang out unexpectedly beside her ear, gentle and calm yet rambling: “Are you going to hit the horse’s legs with a rock? From your current angle, going straight up will hit one leg, three degrees off will hit the second leg, another three degrees off will hit the third leg. In other words, however you throw, this horse’s legs will be broken by you. Don’t you think that’s too cruel…”

“Keep babbling and I’ll break your third leg!” Jing Hengbo didn’t even look, slapping away that rambling mouth and waving her hand.

The stone flew out, about to hit the horse’s legs.

The fellow beside her suddenly sighed and beckoned with his hand.

Jing Hengbo watched helplessly as the stone suddenly turned ninety degrees when it was only 0.01 centimeters from the horse’s leg, flying into the roadside grass.

She turned to stare at the fellow beside her.

She had thought he was a monk, but he wasn’t actually a monk.

Before her stood a clean, handsome young man with an honest demeanor and innocent smile. At first glance he seemed a bit like Yi Qi, but on closer inspection he wasn’t as beautiful as Yi Qi, though more pleasant to look at. Especially his clear eyes and the gentle light on his face made him appear peaceful and sacred.

If he wasn’t a monk, why was he constantly saying “Amitabha”? Jing Hengbo really wanted to grab his transparent ears and yell at him.

However, her gaze then fell on that weapon-stone. The stone was still floating. The fake monk beckoned with his finger, as if holding a lover’s hand, carefully and gently placing the stone on the ground. Only after placing it perfectly stable did he turn to ask Jing Hengbo kindly: “Amitabha, what do you mean by my third leg? I clearly don’t have…”

“Master!” Jing Hengbo grabbed his hand. “You care about the world, right? You save all beings, right? You actively do everything you can in the face of danger, right?”

The fake monk seemed frightened by her, nodding blankly, then lowering his eyes and saying shyly: “Female benefactor, you’ve touched this monk’s skin…”

Jing Hengbo felt this statement was somewhat incongruous. The fake monk’s word choice was quite seductive, but she couldn’t worry about that now. She pulled his hand toward her chest: “You’re touching my skin! You’re going to touch my chest! You lecherous monk! If you don’t do what I say, I’ll report you to the authorities and make you lose face and die without burial!”

The fake monk seemed startled, lowering his head even more shyly, stammering: “Female benefactor, please don’t do this. This monk doesn’t dare take liberties with you. Just give your orders…”

He blushed purely and shyly, yet never pulled his hand back. His fingers even tentatively moved a little.

“Good,” Jing Hengbo immediately pushed his hand away. “You take the middle road and chase three carriages—they’re all old carriages, grayish-black with strange smells. After catching up, first destroy all the flint in the bags on the carriage shafts—remember, destroy all of it—then preferably destroy the carriages too. As for the people in the carriages, capture them alive if possible, forget it if not. Remember not to waste too much time on one carriage—you must stop all three carriages! Don’t forget! This concerns the lives of all Dige’s people!”

“Oh, oh.” The fake monk nodded repeatedly, his gaze lingering somewhat reluctantly on his pushed-away hand.

“Please!” Jing Hengbo was quite worried about this fellow who seemed reliable but felt unreliable, so she added more incentive: “If you handle this matter well, I’ll agree to one request of yours!”

“Good!” The fake monk’s eyes lit up—this time he agreed readily.

He turned and left, his sleeves fluttering. In a blink he had swept several zhang away. Jing Hengbo felt slightly relieved and let out a long breath. This fellow seemed unreliable, but his martial arts were real. There was hope for catching those three carriages!

The fake monk floated several zhang away, scratched his head, looked back toward Jing Hengbo’s direction, squinted his eyes, and rubbed his fingers.

Ah, so smooth, so moist, so full…

“Senior Brother said she was fun, but I see she’s clearly just big. Ah, really big…”

At this moment, the fake monk’s sacred face radiated a sacred lecherous smile…

…

“Not even a monk yet pretending to be pure-hearted—bah!” Jing Hengbo spat only after the monk left. Seeing another cavalry charging toward her, she waved her hand and the stone from before rose again.

“Go!”

The stone whistled toward the lead rider’s horse.

“Whinny—” came a long neigh as the stallion reared up, raising bowl-sized hooves in midair. The yellow-clad rider on horseback made a beautiful leap, flipping down gracefully through the air. With one hand he caught the stone while patting and comforting his beloved horse with the other, then turned to shout angrily: “Who dares attack randomly!”

“Me!” Jing Hengbo was even more righteous than him.

The man landed with elegant bearing. Once steady, his spine was perfectly straight—such masculine, spirited posture that Jing Hengbo couldn’t help silently cheering in her heart.

When he turned, his face was full of anger, but taking a closer look at Jing Hengbo’s face, he couldn’t help freezing.

Jing Hengbo was still pondering how to explain things to get this fellow to help without question, but unexpectedly he spoke first: “Miss, so it’s you!”

“Eh, you know me?” Jing Hengbo was surprised.

The man smiled: “A few days ago, wasn’t the miss wearing a peculiar colorful dress, appearing on Nine Palace Street?”

Jing Hengbo was truly astonished: “You could recognize me from that?”

He was talking about when she wore a Bohemian long dress for her fashion show on Nine Palace Street, right? But that time she was wearing a wide-brimmed hat—how did this person recognize her?

“That day the miss’s attire was superb, your bearing wonderful and captivating—unforgettable at first sight.” The man’s smile was sincere. “Seeing you today, I recognized you immediately. Please forgive my presumption, miss.”

Jing Hengbo had a very good impression of this person.

She had always been beautiful and was accustomed to others’ amazed gazes. Previously, those gazes often carried several degrees of lewd meaning in their amazement, or at minimum were full of possessiveness—stealing glances, daring to look but not acknowledge. But this person before her looked directly at her, honestly praising her, completely open about his appreciation. His gaze was frank and clean.

Combined with his appearance—though not extremely handsome, still dignified and very masculine—it was easy to develop good feelings toward him.

“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly. “Then could you help me with something?”

“Please speak.”

“Help me chase some carriages.” Jing Hengbo pointed to the right road and repeated to him what she had requested of the fake monk, adding emphatically at the end: “This is a matter of life and death. I don’t have time to explain now—in any case, please!”

“Alright.” The man nodded extremely readily, asking not a single question before immediately mounting his horse.

“Oh!” Jing Hengbo had been hesitating whether to ask him to help relay a message, but seeing how readily he agreed, she simply added: “Please also send a subordinate to Yuzhao Palace to request an audience with the Right State Preceptor. Say that Da Bo went to fight fires, and to beware of black carriages on the three roads of Nine Palace, Liuli Workshop, and Cangjing!”

“Good.” The man still didn’t ask questions. He waved to summon a subordinate, threw him a token, and said: “Go handle this!” Then he cupped his hands toward Jing Hengbo, called out: “Let’s go!” and departed like an angry dragon with his followers.

Jing Hengbo saw that his mount was a fine horse and breathed easier. With good luck, he should make it in time.

She touched her face and suddenly remembered something. Requesting an audience with Gong Yin at Yuzhao Palace wasn’t something ordinary people could do—Gong Yin wouldn’t see just anyone. Why had this person shown no sign of difficulty and simply agreed?

Looking at his simple, understated clothing, she really couldn’t tell what kind of prince or young master he was.

Now only one road remained. She turned to look toward the city gate direction. With dusk falling, the city gates should already be closed and foot traffic was decreasing—no one else would be coming.

It seemed she would have to take action herself.

Only now did Jing Hengbo feel the stuffiness and pain in her chest. Covering her chest and coughing twice, she muttered: “Damn, being this queen is too exhausting—I should get a labor medal…”

The sky slowly darkened. Just as the colorful sunset was about to fade, her figure disappeared with a whoosh.

On the ground, a few drops of blood spittle.

…

The black carriage traveled through the gradually yellowing night.

The elders in the carriage had murderous eyes and iron faces.

Though the carriage emitted a strange smell, because it traveled quickly, people it passed didn’t smell it before it had already scattered.

Though the carriage looked worn, it was actually especially sturdy and stable, traveling faster than ordinary carriages with very responsive steering. However, Sang family members all knew this was merely a casual creation by their brilliantly talented young master Sang Tianxi.

Sang Tianxi only needed to casually tinker with something, and afterward that thing would definitely be extraordinary—this was something all Sang family members knew.

The Sang family members had particular confidence in their young master. Though he was male and couldn’t inherit the Sang family’s high priest position, he could completely shine with light others couldn’t match on other paths. They just didn’t understand why family head Sang Tong had kept the young master hidden in the inner courtyard all these years, making him live reclusively without announcing him to outsiders, so that many Dige people knew the Sang family had such a son but didn’t know who this son actually was or what his talents were like.

Sang family members all felt their young master was buried talent—he should have been a phoenix in the sky, yet had to silently hibernate in corners. If the family head hadn’t hidden the young master so tightly, perhaps today’s disaster for the Sang family wouldn’t have come.

Several old servants tightened their clothes and raised their heads. Ahead, Cangjing Night Market wasn’t far.

Their hearts began pounding—whether from nervousness or sorrow, they couldn’t tell.

“Thud.”

Suddenly came a light sound from overhead.

Several elders looked up alertly to see a corner of blue cloth fluttering on the carriage roof.

“Who?”

A face peered down from above with an honest smile: “Amitabha, this monk is begging for alms.”

“Get lost!” Several people about to die had no good expressions for a young fellow clearly dressed as a layman yet insisting on calling himself “this monk.”

Someone was more alert—one person reached for the bag containing flint.

The bag suddenly flew up. Everyone watched helplessly as it flew into the fake monk’s hands.

“Amitabha, is this silver? This monk needs alms.” The fake monk talked to himself as he opened the bag, looked at the flint inside, glanced at the carriage surface, sniffed the smell, and suddenly revealed a mysterious smile.

“So…” he said, “I didn’t expect this girl to be so…”

He didn’t finish either sentence. Then he smiled honestly and thickly. Under the elders’ astonished gazes, he flicked his finger and gently, lightly flicked the bag away.

“You crazy monk!” One elder was both shocked and angry. He stopped the carriage and got up to retrieve the flint. The other two had already pounced to grab the fake monk’s feet: “Come down!”

Smack, smack—two stinking straw sandals fell down, one on each side, landing precisely on the two elders’ heads. Though they were just light straw sandals, the two elders fell as if struck by giant hammers, their eyes rolling back before going still.

The fake monk floated down from the carriage, very compassionately pressing his palms together: “Amitabha, how did they faint?”

The person who had jumped down to find the flint bag found it and turned back to see his companions had fallen. His face changed greatly. Gritting his teeth, he simply lit the flint and threw it at the carriage.

The fake monk sighed: “Humans, you are all foolish.”

Then he gently pushed the carriage.

With a thunderous crash, the heavy carriage toppled. The lit firebrand brushed past the carriage, leaving a line of bright yellow and deep red fire that disappeared in the distance, flickering out in a flash.

The fire-thrower was dumbstruck.

He’d never seen such a refined yet violently fierce fake monk.

He clearly could have caught the firebrand with his hands, but insisted on toppling the carriage. His movement was as gentle as petting a cat, yet the thousand-jin carriage fell over like a delicate cat at a touch.

The man was stunned for a while, then suddenly shouted and turned to flee.

Human courage for death often lasts only a moment. Once that surge of hot blood passes, what remains is fear of death and attachment to life.

The fake monk didn’t pursue. He turned to push the carriage off the road, put his shoes back on, squatted down, and pulled out all the silver from the two men knocked unconscious by his sandals, stuffing it into his bag. Then he pinched both fellows’ noses.

With their breathing blocked, the two slowly awakened.

“Are the two benefactors awake?” The fake monk said honestly to the two unfortunate souls with staring eyes: “This monk just received alms from you and specially woke you to inform you. Thank you for your generous gifts. Benefactors who do good deeds and accumulate virtue will surely ascend to paradise early. Amitabha.”

After speaking, he casually patted them and knocked them unconscious again, tossing them into the roadside ditch.

He shouldered his bag and flew swiftly to catch up with the second carriage, using the same method to “successfully beg for alms” with gentle kindness.

Near the center of Liuli Well, he caught up with the third carriage but suddenly frowned.

…

The yellow-clad knight led his subordinates charging forward.

All their mounts were fine horses. They soon caught sight of a line of carriages traveling end-to-end ahead. The yellow-clad knight didn’t immediately attack but took the bow and arrows from his shoulder, drew the bow, nocked an arrow. The bow formed a full moon with the arrowhead steadily pointing at the front carriage. Though his stallion beneath galloped fiercely, his shoulders were level and waist straight, his posture like iron.

His subordinates all showed sincere admiration—anyone could draw a bow and shoot arrows, but maintaining such stability while galloping required arm strength that could make one proud among heroes.

After chasing for a stretch, there was a big turn ahead. The carriages naturally tilted, the third carriage slanting toward the roadside while the second carriage became exposed to view.

“Whoosh!”

The heavy arrow shot out like a heavy fist punching air. In an instant, black light pounced like violent thunder. With a “crack,” a hole appeared in the back of the second carriage. Cries of alarm arose as the arrow’s momentum continued unabated, piercing through the carriage, passing the shaft, shooting through the bag containing flint. Still not stopping, the arrow’s tail flicked up and stabbed hard into the rear of the carriage horse. The horse gave a long neigh and charged forward. The entire carriage crashed down thunderously.

Just as the second carriage fell, the third carriage arrived. Unable to rein in the horses on the curved road, it crashed straight into the second carriage. With a thunderous sound, the third carriage also overturned, its occupants tumbling in a heap.

Pursuing carriages, shooting arrows, removing flint, destroying two carriages in succession—all with just one arrow, in an instant!

A king’s arrow!

The timing was impeccable.

The yellow-clad knight leaped up, riding his horse away, landing on the third carriage. Just as he was about to shoot at the first carriage, suddenly a spark flew from ahead. His expression tightened and he quickly reached out to catch the potentially deadly torch.

But this pause allowed the first carriage to gallop away. The people in the carriage were determined—they didn’t even look back to check on the other two carriages, heading straight toward their path of death.

“Young master…” His followers caught up and hesitated slightly seeing the situation.

The yellow-clad man stood on the carriage roof, lowering his head slightly to look at the carriage body. Those blackened swamp muds gleamed dimly in the darkness, like the deep, profound light that flashed momentarily in his eyes.

Then he raised his head, his expression calm.

“Can’t catch up.” He squinted his eyes. At this moment, his heroically handsome face suddenly had a strange change, yet the feeling was hard to describe, making everyone respectfully lower their heads.

“Heaven’s will,” he said.

…

“Your Majesty is missing?” In Yuzhao Palace, Gong Yin set down the documents in his hands.

Yu Chun lowered his head full of shame: “Yes, Your Majesty was nearby at the time, but we couldn’t find her. She quickly disappeared without a trace. The men are still searching nearby while this subordinate came to confess his crime to master…”

“Where did she disappear?” Gong Yin interrupted him.

“Nine Palace Street’s West Song Workshop.”

Gong Yin thought for a moment and asked: “Was anything special happening on that street at the time?”

“Doesn’t seem like anything…” Yu Chun thought for a while and said uncertainly: “There was a shop closing down, but Your Majesty didn’t seem to approach that shop…”

Gong Yin turned to look at the map behind him showing the distribution of various great clans’ shops and estates in Dige. West Song Workshop was particularly dense, but there was no Sang family marking.

“She went to steal money.” Soon, Gong Yin said.

Yu Chun didn’t know how master had deduced this, but firmly believed in master’s deduction.

It looked exactly like something the Queen would do.

“She should have been on a moving object at the time… horse… no… carriage.”

Gong Yin looked at that route, his expression gradually becoming grave: “Pass the order—martial law throughout the city, seal the nine gates, allow entry but not exit. Inspect all carriages that have passed through or left via Nine Palace Street routes.”

“Yes.”

Yu Chun took the order and turned to leave. Gong Yin suddenly said: “Wait.”

Yu Chun turned back.

“I’ll go with you.”

“State Preceptor.” Yu Chun was shocked—the State Preceptor would rashly go to a place like Nine Palace Street?

When the master of Yuzhao Palace went on tour, except for welcoming the Queen, all other times required special security arrangements, especially in crowded, mixed places like Nine Palace Street—at minimum half a day’s advance notice to the garrison was needed.

Gong Yin had always been self-respecting—a gentleman doesn’t sit under a dangerous wall. Years ago when the former Queen had seemingly gone missing, he had stubbornly spent the afternoon reading in his study without stepping out of Jingting once to search.

Yu Chun watched master’s figure already floating out the door and shook his head slightly.

Different now… so different…

…

Not long after Gong Yin and Yu Chun left leading Dragon Cavalry guards, a rider on a black horse charged straight to Yuzhao Palace gates.

The rider held up a token from far away, shouting: “Shen Tie Tribe heir requests audience with Right State Preceptor! Urgent matter to report!”

“Halt!” Guards on the walls shouted: “The State Preceptor is not in Yuzhao Palace! Please request audience another day!”

The rider looked up with some disappointment and silently turned his horse around.

…

A procession of carriages was about to enter the depths of West Song Workshop toward the Left State Preceptor’s residence.

A lazy voice suddenly came from inside a carriage: “Stop.”

The driver stopped. Guards beside the carriage approached the curtain.

The curtain lifted, revealing Yelu Qi’s slightly smiling face. His fingertips lightly stroked the curtain tassels as he said thoughtfully: “I seemed to see Queen Your Majesty in West Song Workshop earlier? Hmm, it’s been a long time since I’ve browsed the night market—shall we go take a look too?”