“This is sweet food?”

In the magnificently decorated Condensing Snow Pavilion, the brocade-robed man sat upright, facing a table full of sweet pastries, his expression seemingly very surprised.

Eunuch Huang was one of Ming Yan’an’s personal attendants, sent to serve the brocade-robed man—naturally also to monitor and observe. Now this old eunuch, skilled at reading people, clearly observed the unspoken words “This is what humans eat for sweet food?” on the man’s face.

He was just celebrating inwardly, thinking this fellow, though excessively arrogant, at least knew to leave some face and didn’t voice his thoughts.

The next moment he heard the brocade-robed man say: “This is what humans eat for sweet food?”

Eunuch Huang nearly spurted old blood from his throat. He silently looked over the pastries on the table: Jade Steamed Cakes, Crimson Blood Glutinous Rice, Osmanthus Sugar Cakes, Ginkgo Pine Cakes, Red Bean Poria Rolls, Fragrant Elsholtzia Drink, Rose Pastries… green, red, white, yellow—delicate and exquisite, spread across the table like a flower garden, with rich fragrances assaulting the nose. These were masterpieces from the imperial kitchen’s specialized pastry chefs, the palace’s finest desserts. Even he, deeply trusted by Ming Yan’an, had only tasted one or two varieties, and still remembered their smooth, soft texture and lingering taste…

In this fellow’s eyes, they’d become pig feed!

More infuriating, he could tell this person wasn’t deliberately putting on airs—he genuinely found these things inedible.

Eunuch Huang silently swallowed blood, thinking that today, Daobei royal palace had been trampled into dust with such casual dismissal.

The palace servants around all looked displeased. Some seemed ready to explode, but Eunuch Huang’s hand behind his back waved slightly, indicating they mustn’t act rashly.

He was very wary of this brocade-robed man.

Escorting this person here, he’d constantly observed his words and actions, and the more he watched, the more he admired his master’s insight.

The brocade-robed man moved like flowing clouds and water, walking through the royal gardens naturally, as if entering his own back yard.

Condensing Snow Pavilion was one of the palace’s most magnificent chambers, yet when the brocade-robed man saw it, he showed no amazement—like viewing a farmhouse.

When he stepped on the soft long-hair carpet entering the room, he naturally paused briefly—not to let others go first, but leaving only a standing position on the right, clearly accustomed to servants entering to guide him, expecting Eunuch Huang to come forward and escort him.

Upon entering, he went straight to the seat of honor—Ming Yan’an’s usual position for receiving others. Even Eunuch Huang felt he belonged in that position, with nothing worth stopping.

Before he sat, his guards quickly removed the seat cushion. He’d rather sit on cold, hard wood than touch cushions others had used.

From Eunuch Huang’s experience with many nobles, this was absolutely aristocratic behavior—even more particular than typical nobles.

Across from him, the brocade-robed man frowned, looking over the table’s sweets again and again, wearing a pained expression of “I’ve waited so long, I really want to eat, but what are these things, do I really have to eat them?”

Eunuch Huang silently turned aside—he felt it better not to watch, or he’d keep spitting blood.

A guard beside the brocade-robed man urged quietly: “Master, we’ve had no sweets all this way. Please make do for now…”

The guard’s expression was sincere and earnest. He knew his master was going crazy craving sweets, even abandoning principles to personally come to someone’s palace begging for food. Though these sweets couldn’t compare to that person’s, they were still from the royal kitchen. Miss this village and there’d be no such shop.

He worried that if master kept fretting, what if he demanded they go to Imperial Song palace for sweets? What if he still disdained Imperial Song palace sweets? Dong Tang was still thousands of miles away—what if master suffered from lovesickness and took it out on them?

Sigh, why did that Miss Wen suddenly appear in this world? A disaster, a disaster indeed…

“Zhongwen,” the brocade-robed man said distressedly, “which do you think tastes better? I think none look as good or taste as good as hers.”

The guard’s chopsticks trembled—every time he heard that name, he felt uncomfortable. Sigh, all thanks to Devil King Wen’s good work. That sweet-looking little girl somehow had so many wicked ideas. Just because he and his brothers slightly offended her, she insisted their names were all ugly and lacked “recognition,” instigating master to rename them. Now they were called “Zhongwen,” “English,” “German,” “Latin,” “Russian,” “Spanish,” “French”… The brother who offended her worst was called “Japanese.”

Comparatively, he was grateful that his original offense wasn’t too severe—at least “Zhongwen” sounded normal…

“Master,” he recommended the jade cake, “this cake is pale green and fresh, somewhat like Miss Wen’s matcha pastries. Why not try this?”

“Where’s the resemblance? Color, shape, size, fragrance—where’s the resemblance?” The brocade-robed man wasn’t questioning—he was seriously observing.

“Uh…” The guard knew that once this topic got tangled up, the cake definitely wouldn’t get eaten. He could only lie against his conscience: “This subordinate feels they’re quite similar.”

The brocade-robed man stared at the cake, struggling internally for ages. Probably truly feeling he might die without sweets, he reluctantly nodded.

The guard joyfully lifted the cake, about to place it on a small plate, when the brocade-robed man suddenly said: “Stop.”

The well-trained guard stopped, the cake on the plate remaining steady.

The brocade-robed man’s gaze swept the table: “Don’t you notice a problem?”

Eunuch Huang listened with alarm—was there a problem with the pastries? Poison? Someone trying assassination? This was terrible…

The guard looked down at the table, his expression gradually serious: “There is a problem.”

Eunuch Huang was more alarmed—should he report to his master? This could be serious…

“Fix it quickly,” the brocade-robed man said.

Eunuch Huang immediately signaled the outside guards—beware of their violent reaction!

“Yes,” the guard said solemnly, straightening up.

Outside Daobei guards were about to rush in.

The guard reached out, switching positions of the red bean rolls and rose pastries, adjusting the osmanthus cakes and fragrant glutinous drink, arranging the mung bean powder fruits and jade cakes, then picked up the crimson blood glutinous rice plate and handed it to Eunuch Huang.

Eunuch Huang dumbly accepted it, wondering what this was about. Moving things around—were the plate positions significant?

Only then did the guard ask the brocade-robed man: “Does master find this acceptable now?”

The brocade-robed man surveyed with his gaze, hummed, and said: “Now it’s properly arranged.”

Eunuch Huang stared at the table. All plates had been switched, now presenting symmetrical color distribution: jade cakes and mung bean powder fruits at the ends were green; then symmetrically the osmanthus cakes and fragrant glutinous drink were yellow; then red bean rolls and rose pastries were red; the white ginkgo pine cakes in the center were white. It looked like a rainbow—orderly and neat.

Eunuch Huang blinked—what did this mean? The serious problem was rearranging pastries?

It seemed so.

He could only gesture again, sending the guards back.

This time as the guard lifted the jade cake to serve it, the brocade-robed man suddenly said: “Wait.”

The guard stopped again with practiced ease, showing no surprise.

“This cake…” the brocade-robed man pondered, “if it really tastes bad, after eating this piece, I’ll have to eat another…”

The guard had an epiphany, his face showing thoughtful regret and shame.

Yes, the pastries were symmetrical, so eating must be symmetrical too. If master ate the left green jade cake, the table’s harmony and completeness would be destroyed. Following master’s habits, he’d have to eat a mung bean powder fruit on the right to create symmetry. But if the jade cake was awful and the mung bean powder fruit was awful too, making master endure one disgusting piece was bad enough—forcing him to eat another more disgusting one would make master vomit.

The guard immediately drew a small knife, startling Eunuch Huang—was this guard about to assassinate his master?

Ah, should he intervene? Save him or not?

This brocade-robed man was so annoying—better if he died!

The guard used the small knife to carefully cut the jade cake in half while another guard helped measure with a ruler, cutting the mung bean powder fruit to the same size.

This way, even if master needed symmetry, he’d only eat half pieces—together equaling one piece, not too painful.

The brocade-robed man watched their operation and sighed: “You still need to learn more from Japanese. When he cuts these, he never uses a ruler, but guarantees identical results.”

“Yes,” the guards answered solemnly. “We subordinates are inadequate and will practice diligently.”

Eunuch Huang clutched his chest and silently left.

Couldn’t bear it—needed to go spit blood for a minute…

When he returned after spitting blood, the brocade-robed man had finished the symmetrical cakes, indeed wearing a pained expression.

Eunuch Huang also felt pained and decided to definitely request a different assignment from his master tonight.

While cursing internally, he approached to ask if the brocade-robed man wanted to bathe and rest, but this time dared not randomly recommend anything. Heaven knew what perverted demands this fellow had?

Indeed, hearing this, the man nodded and waved. Immediately a guard carrying a large chest set it down. The chest opened to reveal countless small compartments holding different clothing items, categorized by color, style, and purpose, each compartment labeled. One guard said: “Today is the third day, wear white.” Another guard put on gloves, took out a complete outfit from outer robes to undergarments to belts and socks, all white silk. They wrapped it in snow-white mulberry paper, then took out a complete bathing set, holding it while following palace servants to arrange things first.

The brocade-robed man rose, casually saying as if ordering his own servants: “I don’t like people serving during my bath. You all withdraw.”

Eunuch Huang could only comply. Just thinking how to report this man’s eccentricities to his master, the brocade-robed man suddenly stopped and said: “Your master wants my help. Fine. Depends on my mood. We’ll talk after I’ve rested well. Before then, don’t disturb me.”

Eunuch Huang’s heart leaped with joy—though this person was eccentric, he indeed had a heart like a nine-curved exquisite mirror. He immediately replied respectfully, quickly left the hall, ordered everyone to withdraw beyond a hundred zhang, and commanded that all noisy things in the imperial garden be gagged—that fellow wouldn’t tolerate noise! What if some bird chirped and he exploded?

…

Night fell early, the mighty city standing in the gray mist unique to Black Water Marsh.

Shangyuan’s city walls lit countless dense fires. According to custom, the wall facing neighboring Ningzin County had the densest fires and soldiers, with patrol calls and passwords constantly exchanged. The west gate near Black Water Marsh, since few would approach there, had relatively relaxed defenses.

But this relaxation was relative. Guard posts changed every quarter hour, with one person stationed every five crenellations. Bronze bells connected by silk threads ran along the wall—anyone trying to scale it would trigger the wire bells. Any disturbance alerting one person would alert the entire wall, alerting the entire wall would light beacon fires, and lit beacons would bring rapid reinforcement from below and nearby gates, putting all of Shangyuan City under martial law. Not to mention all towers and corner buildings would immediately activate their mechanisms.

For tight security without loopholes, if Shangyuan City claimed second place, none dared claim first. Even Imperial Song’s defenses, involving complex interference between various interest groups, weren’t as unified as this iron plate.

But the strictest systems and precautions required people to implement them, and people were the most unreliable element.

A soldier stood before a crenel, looking somewhat tired. Long shifts and rotations bred complacency, especially since this area had been undisturbed for years. Even if Shangyuan City was attacked, enemies wouldn’t choose this gate.

His gaze wandered aimlessly, his body violating regulations by leaning out over the wall.

He suddenly saw something glinting at the wall’s base.

This aroused his curiosity—he couldn’t help leaning out further.

Suddenly he saw a face!

A snow-white face just below the crenel, emerging from gray mist and dark night, almost face-to-face with him. Those eyes looked up to meet his, full of mockery and malice!

The soldier was shocked, never expecting someone clinging below the crenel. His first instinct was to pull the wire bells hidden inside the wall.

But it was too late. The person below reached up, grabbed his neck with a crack, and the soldier’s head drooped softly as he was silently dragged down the wall.

With a light swoosh, that person flipped up, grabbed the wall edge, pressed his boot heel to stop the slightly swaying wire that had been pulled at the crenel’s top.

He grinned—a slightly cruel yet brilliant smile. Pei Shu.

Hanging upside down on the wall, Pei Shu grabbed the soldier’s corpse, deftly stripping off his uniform. Then he drew a cord, tied the body, and hung it on the crenel.

In the night, the corpse hung in shadows below the wall, pressed against it. Not only couldn’t people above see it, even those below would hardly notice.

Pei Shu also hung upside down on the wall beside the corpse, unhurriedly changing into the dead man’s clothes.

This maneuver would be difficult for others but posed no problem for Pei Shu, whose body had become incredibly flexible through years of training in Tianhui Valley.

Everything finished, Pei Shu sheathed the dagger hanging at his waist. The dagger was forged from flexible iron, brilliantly gleaming.

When he sheathed it, light flashed at the wall’s base—the glint that had attracted the soldier.

There lay a mirror buried in the earth. Pei Shu had calculated the angle, burying the mirror, then climbing the wall and using his dagger to reflect light into it, attracting the soldier to lean out.

The crenel he’d chosen was at a corner, forming a blind spot with surrounding crenels, making movement here hard to detect.

Indeed, when he climbed up, the neighboring soldier was still yawning boredly.

He hauled the corpse up from below, propped it against the crenel. His poisoned dagger caused rigor mortis, so the body stood straight.

He pulled a venomous snake from his sleeve, broke its neck, and threw it at the soldier’s feet.

Then he hid in the tower’s shadow. Half an hour later, when wall patrol guards changed shifts and passed the corner tower’s shadow, he slithered out like a snake, soundlessly following at the rear, descending the wall.

Half an hour later, when crenel guards changed shifts, someone discovered a soldier had died.

The wall erupted in panic, but soon the wall commander ordered no need to alert other gates and garrisons.

Because preliminary investigation concluded this soldier seemed to have died from snake bite.

However, when Ming Yan’an’s chief general Huang Gang heard of this, he immediately pointed out suspicious elements: First, where would venomous snakes come from in winter? Climbing up the tower? Second, where were the soldier’s clothes?

Huang Gang ordered citywide martial law and massive searches—someone had infiltrated Shangyuan City!

But by then, three hours had passed since Pei Shu entered the city. He’d long since disappeared into Shangyuan’s vast population.

…

At dawn, Jing Hengbo didn’t again shoot arrows at Shangyuan City expressing her demand to bring two attendants. She directly came to Shangyuan’s gates with Master Mu and Chai Yu.

Other followers secretly lurked nearby, ready to provide support and seek opportunities to enter the city.

Regarding whether she, with her precious status, should personally risk danger, her subordinates had quite a debate afterward. Her newly recruited and newly pledged followers all believed Her Majesty’s status was precious—Zirui was merely a female official. How could a queen personally risk danger for a female official? The new advisors eagerly volunteered, clearly wanting to replace Her Majesty in personally facing danger, negotiating in enemy territory, rescuing the female official, and claiming first merit.

Representatives of this group were great sages Chang Fang, Qu Ti, and others. These old fellows, thinking movement after long quiet, had actually traveled thousands of miles from Imperial Song, saying they’d help Jing Hengbo oversee Daobei’s scholarly forces. These old gentlemen had precious character and virtue renowned throughout the land, much admired by people and scholars. Most new advisors were their disciples. Their arrival was warmly welcomed by Jing Hengbo with hands and feet raised. This was obvious civil official backing—her forces had always had military generals but no civil officials. This was finally a good start.

Though these great sages had upright character and cherished the people, being from feudal scholar-official backgrounds, they inevitably had class limitations. They always felt rulers were like heaven, ministers like stones—there was no principle of stones striking heaven. However important the female official, just send experts to rescue her. Her Majesty was precious and shouldn’t lightly enter dangerous territory for subordinates.

But Ying Bai and others who’d followed her all along didn’t view Zirui as merely a female official, and better understood Jing Hengbo’s capabilities. Though her martial arts might not amount to much, regarding self-protection and harming others, she was absolutely world-class. Ying Bai and others supported Jing Hengbo personally acting, also letting Shangyuan City see the Queen’s strength.

The two sides argued inconclusively until Master Mu’s reasoning convinced Chang Fang and others. He said Shangyuan City had fifty thousand soldiers but mostly civilians who’d long lived under Ming Yan’an’s rule. Surely Ming Yan’an was now brainwashing citizens, blackening Jing Hengbo’s reputation, making people resist her to maintain his Shangyuan City.

Reportedly Ming Yan’an had arranged storytellers in the city’s teahouses, wine shops, and gathering places to tell “The Queen’s Romantic History,” describing Jing Hengbo as a promiscuous beauty available to all, with evil intentions, using her looks to seize power, etc…

But actually Jing Hengbo was the legitimate royal authority, the court’s truly appointed Black Water Queen. How could they let others usurp her position and freely slander her?

To make Shangyuan’s people truly understand the Queen, she really needed to personally appear in Shangyuan City.

And this was exactly a good opportunity—the Queen personally risking danger alone for a mere female official. Such a ruler who cherished subordinates would surely love her people like children in the future, right?

This was a heart-winning move that could not only powerfully counter Ming Yan’an’s character assassination but also generate goodwill from Shangyuan’s people and win the hearts of people in the three counties she currently governed—truly killing three birds with one stone.

For common people, it didn’t matter who was in charge as long as they were treated well. For so many years, Shangyuan City had maintained isolation, though achieving food and clothing security, but also faced many inconveniences and difficulties in development. The people might not lack thoughts of venturing out, except that outside Shangyuan City had always been the ill-intentioned Sixteen Guilds, so none dared emerge.

Now with Jing Hengbo’s arrival, sweeping away the Sixteen Guilds and seizing three counties, this was the perfect opportunity. The attitude of Shangyuan’s people was key.

Master Mu’s eloquent discourse left even Chang Fang speechless. Everyone immediately made dense arrangements for support and formulated detailed plans.

While they discussed, Jing Hengbo was in a daze—the Master Mu speaking eloquently before her was clearly still the same Master Mu who had discussed Daobei’s situation with her in the carriage!

Now near, now far; now similar, now different; now doubting, now certain… She really had become neurotic.

“Shangyuan City is so magnificent!” Master Mu’s exclamation pulled her thoughts back. Jing Hengbo looked up, feeling her neck somewhat sore—really tall.

Shangyuan’s city walls were nearly four zhang high, arguably first among all cities. The circumference was nearly twenty li, with walls of polished brick and mortar, perfectly seamless. The city had four gates with barbicans, eight tall towers, four corner towers, and dozens of small towers with thousands of crenellations along the walls, densely packed. Together with the cold gleam of weapons held by armored soldiers on the walls, they all looked down intimidatingly at people below.

Jing Hengbo’s face lit up with praise at first sight: “Good city.” She smiled with complete satisfaction, as if the city were already hers.

Master Mu understood her and merely smiled. Chai Yu couldn’t help glancing at her. Sensing his gaze, Jing Hengbo laughed: “Think I’m too arrogant? This is called confidence. If I lack confidence, won’t my subordinates lack even more confidence?”

“Your Majesty is wise,” Chai Yu bowed.

“Don’t use such formalities with me,” Jing Hengbo waved her hand. “Too constraining.”

“Your Majesty, propriety cannot be abandoned, otherwise how will you establish authority in the future?” Chai Yu refused to compromise, answering seriously.

Jing Hengbo was startled, then laughed with understanding: “Your words align with Master Mu’s—he previously advised me the same way.” Speaking, she unconsciously glanced at Master Mu.

She saw Master Mu pause slightly before smiling: “Your Majesty has always graciously accepted advice and truly keeps it in mind.”

Jing Hengbo watched him, slowly smiling: “You seem to have forgotten?”

“As long as Your Majesty remembers, that suffices,” he answered gently.

Jing Hengbo smiled and turned to look at the city walls.

Master Mu had already looked up, calling to the city: “Her Majesty the Black Water Queen has come at the city lord’s invitation. Please open the gates within three counts, or we shall depart.”

Jing Hengbo chuckled: “Master Mu truly knows me.”

Flags fluttered on the walls as someone shouted: “Our king clearly arranged for the Queen to come alone—why does she bring two others? We need to report to the palace. Demanding we respond within three counts is too domineering!”

“Her Majesty is female, you are male; Her Majesty has few people, you have hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians; Her Majesty is the guest, you are hosts; Her Majesty has two more attendants, yet you dare not let them into the city—such cowards, Her Majesty disdains sharing a table with you. No need to report back—we’re leaving now. Surely from now on, people of the Great Wilderness will witness the courage and valor of Shangyuan’s soldiers and civilians.” After speaking, Master Mu turned his wheelchair around. Jing Hengbo smiled and accompanied him as they both turned to leave.

“Please stay, Your Majesty!” Another shout from the walls: “Your Majesty’s status is precious—bringing attendants for service is entirely appropriate. Please enter the city!”

With rumbling sounds, the gates opened rapidly. Clearly soldiers had been waiting below to open the gates, having seen Jing Hengbo’s group arrive.

In other words, they’d been psychologically prepared for Jing Hengbo bringing two people and planned to accept it, but insisted on mentioning reporting to the clan leader just to make Jing Hengbo wait below the city and cool her heels.

Unfortunately, Jing Hengbo didn’t fall for this. Master Mu turned the tables. If they really had walked away, or if Shangyuan opened gates after counting to three, Shangyuan would be in a passive position, so they had to open immediately.

The meeting between rulers hadn’t begun, yet they were already calculating every detail, scheming against each other.

Jing Hengbo strolled in with a smile: “Petty people are just pretentious.”

This was heard by a golden-armored general riding toward them. He’d been somewhat amazed while examining Jing Hengbo, surprised by her beauty and youth. Hearing this, his expression suddenly changed, he snorted coldly, and a flash of coldness passed through his eyes.

Behind him, two armies formed goose formations with neat military bearing. The general’s golden armor gleamed brilliantly, his cloak like fire. He looked down at Jing Hengbo proudly from horseback, motionless, apparently having no intention of dismounting to greet her.

Seeing that Jing Hengbo’s party hadn’t come on horseback, he laughed coldly, raised his chin, and said: “Prepare horses for Her Majesty and distinguished companions.”

Soon someone led over three horses. The horse handlers laughed strangely: “Please mount, Your Majesty.”

Jing Hengbo looked at the three horses—extremely tall with wild manes. Though held by reins, they constantly snorted, their bowl-sized hooves restlessly pawing the ground. Clearly these were untamed wild horses. Mounting them would likely bring no good, and more importantly, these horses had no saddles—impossible to sit on.

Of their three people, one in a wheelchair couldn’t ride, one too fat probably couldn’t climb up. These people appeared polite but were actually deliberately humiliating them again.

Jing Hengbo smiled: “We three won’t ride horses.”

“Then,” the general seemed to expect her response, sneering as he leaned down slightly, brazenly staring at her face, “if Your Majesty walks, we can accompany on foot. However, we are palace guard cavalry, and during city patrols, we cannot dismount without cause. Please forgive us, Your Majesty.”

Jing Hengbo smiled slightly. He and his soldiers on horseback while their three walked surrounded in the middle? How nice—an escort under guard.

“I am the Black Water Queen. All of Daobei’s soldiers and civilians are my subjects,” she smiled. “I walk while you dare ride horses? Dismount!”

She waved her hand, and a black brick shot lightning-fast from within the city, striking the general’s horse’s leg precisely. The horse, caught off guard, immediately startled, rearing and neighing, seeming stung by something as it bucked wildly. The general, though not weak, managed to flip down before being thrown, but the other horses were already frightened by this one. Unrest spread like plague—inside the gate became chaos with neighing, kicking, shouting, and people and horses tumbling everywhere.

Jing Hengbo and Chai Yu had already pushed Master Mu’s wheelchair aside. When things finally settled, not a single person or horse remained standing.

When the general stood before her disheveled and dusty, Jing Hengbo smiled slightly as if she hadn’t seen his murderous glare.

“Accompany me for a tour of Shangyuan City,” she said.

“Never!” the general spat.

“Then I’ll tour by myself,” Jing Hengbo wasn’t angry.

“A dignified queen using hidden weapons—what kind of hero is that?” the general angrily blocked her path.

“First, I’m a woman, not a hero. Second, the brick was shot from within your city—go investigate who used underhanded tactics,” Jing Hengbo said with a smile, hands clasped behind her back.

The general shuddered. His confusion and shock were precisely about this—that brick had clearly been shot from within the city. Had the Queen’s people already infiltrated the city, or were there traitors within?

This was the real issue. He couldn’t be bothered to trouble Jing Hengbo further. While ordering men to escort Jing Hengbo into the city, he hurried away, commanding full military reorganization and beginning frantic investigations.

Jing Hengbo watched him fuss with amusement. Go ahead and investigate—better if it causes widespread resentment. If this great king wanted, things could fall from the sky. Would they then fear heavenly punishment and commit collective suicide?

The squad of soldiers now leading them into the city indeed didn’t dare ride horses, honestly accompanying them on foot.

However, this walk wasn’t very pleasant.

Shangyuan City residents’ hostility was indeed everywhere. The moment Jing Hengbo appeared at the gates, nearby civilians all stepped aside.

Those buying and selling vegetables and haggling grabbed their baskets and left.

Shops seeing her approach immediately closed their doors with continuous slamming sounds.

As she penetrated deeper into the city, surrounding people gathered in increasing numbers. No one spoke or moved. They clustered along the roadside, watching the three travelers with cold, hostile gazes.

Unlike the reaction in Seven Peaks Town where Seven Killers’ arrival caused chicken-flying-dog-jumping scattered flight, here displayed coldness, hostility, silent protest—complete cold violence.

On originally bustling streets, everyone fell silent, stepped aside, and glared coldly. In the deep quiet, only the wooden wheels of Master Mu’s chair could be heard rolling over the bluestone pavement.

The massive crowd’s extreme hostility and silence naturally formed mountain-like pressure. Even the soldiers escorting Jing Hengbo into the city felt uncomfortable, unconsciously tightening their grips on their blades.

They glanced sideways at Jing Hengbo, wanting to see if this delicate queen would be intimidated pale, would cry, would demand to return home.

But Jing Hengbo was smiling, seeming oblivious to the surrounding hostility and mountain-like pressure.

Others examined her while she examined this unique mighty city of the Great Wilderness, noting the city’s depth, wide roads, neat and clean streets. Though citizens didn’t wear brocade, their clothes were tidy. She silently admired Ming Yan’an’s hidden capabilities and governing ability.

Though shops along the roadside weren’t numerous, they had basics, which surprised her slightly. Such closed, self-defending cities had to rely on agriculture and forestry for economic support, making commercial development difficult. This suggested Shangyuan’s so-called isolation was false—there must be secret passages for trade with neighboring countries.

The gazes of soldiers and civilians gradually showed surprise. They discovered the Queen wasn’t forcing herself—she was truly observing and understanding Shangyuan City carefully under such enormous pressure.

The hostile atmosphere they’d created not only failed to affect the Queen but had no impact on her two companions either. The wheelchair-bound one discussed the city’s design merits and flaws quietly with the Queen, chatting and laughing as if no one else existed. Though the fat man’s face was slightly pale, he remained composed, only his gaze somewhat melancholy.

Their thrown punches hit empty air, and everyone felt rather foolish, finding themselves quite boring.

Suddenly someone passed beside Jing Hengbo, seemingly intentionally or accidentally turning and spitting toward her dress.

Jing Hengbo seemed completely unaware.

Everyone’s gazes flashed with anticipation and excitement.

The thick spit flew through the air, only a finger’s width from Jing Hengbo’s skirt.

Everyone prepared to cheer, holding their breath.

The spit suddenly changed direction. Before everyone’s eyes, it smacked back onto the spitter’s face.

The entire street became even quieter, with dumbfounded stares in every direction.

Jing Hengbo still seemed to know nothing, smiling as she walked past.

The spitter stood dazed with his sleeve raised, watching her retreating figure, forgetting to wipe his face.

The whole street’s cheers stuck in their throats, nearly causing internal injuries.

The pent-up energy had to be withdrawn. Everyone exchanged frustrated glances and resumed their activities.

The street returned to normal. Vegetable sellers sold vegetables, hawkers hawked, shopkeepers lowered their boards.

Another round of carefully prepared challenges failed.

Jing Hengbo still seemed to feel nothing, chatting casually with Chai Yu: “Chai Yu, I just saw a shop selling mulberry leaf tea. I’ll get you a couple pounds later.”

Chai Yu was looking at the bustling street ahead with nostalgic eyes. Vaguely hearing this, he said “Ah…” then focused, suddenly turning: “Ah? Why does Your Majesty say this?”

“Frost mulberry leaf tea can treat obesity,” Jing Hengbo said. “Try it later.”

“Obesity?” Chai Yu looked incredulous. “Isn’t this the congenital edema I was born with? Doctors have seen it and used many medicines without effect. But all doctors say this is illness—edema caused by physical weakness and internal heat, not obesity. Besides, I eat very little, so I couldn’t be obese.”

“Who says eating little guarantees no weight gain?” Jing Hengbo smiled, patting his shoulder. “Obesity can be pathological, psychological, even environmental. Excessive stress, endocrine disorders, mental state disruption, irregular overeating, even skipping breakfast for late snacks, only eating snacks instead of meals—all can cause obesity. I see you’re not ill. If anything’s wrong, it’s obesity.”

“Is there a cure?” Chai Yu asked obsessively.

Jing Hengbo was delighted—she finally had a chance to show off her real knowledge. Regarding weight loss understanding, if she claimed second place, definitely no one could claim first. Back then, to control her weight, she’d thoroughly researched all obesity taboos.

From her perspective, though Chai Yu was intelligent, he was burdened with worries and poor complexion. His obesity was mostly endocrine disruption caused by mental stress, leading to obesity syndrome.

“There are many ways to treat obesity. For mild obesity, choose low-calorie, low-fat diets with exercise—take it slowly. For moderate to severe obesity, treat according to the cause. You mentioned you weren’t fat initially—what exactly caused your obesity?”

Chai Yu opened his mouth, struggling for a long time before saying with difficulty: “…Actually nothing much, just got fat like that. It’s been several years now… I’m used to it…”

Jing Hengbo narrowed her eyes, staring at him. This fellow had clearly shown urgent concern about his obesity just now, but now refused to say anything.

She didn’t press, nodding: “I have some prescriptions here—dietary formulas and exercise requirements for weight loss. I’ll copy them for you later. Follow the requirements strictly and you’ll see results. Usually eat more things like wood ear mushrooms, winter melon, Job’s tears.”

“This…” Chai Yu said dazedly, “I’m taking medicine for edema. The doctor warned that cooling blood foods conflict with my medicine’s properties and absolutely cannot be consumed, or the condition will worsen.”

Jing Hengbo frowned, feeling something was wrong: “Who told you this? What kind of doctor?”

Chai Yu remained silent for a long while, then said quietly: “Someone I trust very much…”

Jing Hengbo said nothing more. She certainly couldn’t count as someone Chai Yu trusted very much, so let him believe or not.

Master Mu had been listening with a smile without interrupting, suddenly saying: “Ahead seems quite lively.”

“Indeed,” a nearby escorting soldier immediately smiled maliciously. “Ahead is our Shangyuan City’s Central Avenue, the main road dividing Shangyuan. Our king is benevolent—on the first and fifteenth of each month, he allows good citizens to set up stalls and perform along the great road. Today there’s a good show. Would you like to watch first?”

Though phrased as a question, he’d already ordered men to clear a path.

Those soldiers, abandoning their previous coldness, suddenly smiled very humbly, their humility concealing smugness as they gestured to Jing Hengbo: “Please.”