He stared at Jing Hengbo’s lips, thinking about how those pomegranate flower-like delicate lips would feel if wrapped between his own lips and teeth—how fragrant and soft they would be… Instantly, his whole body grew feverish, his gaze becoming even more scorching and intense.

“Huh?” Jing Hengbo was stunned—why did the topic suddenly turn to R-rated territory?

Also, “mua mua” meant kissing. How did he know that? It seemed she had only said it once in front of Er Gouzi…

“You often say this to me. Don’t tell me you want me to kiss you?” Pei Shu stared intensely at her lips. “Are you also one of those women who says one thing but means another, playing hard-to-get games?” He suddenly reached out and wrapped his arm around her waist, applying force to pull her toward him. “Then I’ll fulfill your wish, how about that?”

…

Behind the stage, Meng Potian was asking the “Li Hanyu” who had changed out of his white clothes, “What do we do next? The officers are coming to arrest us. Do we fight or run?”

He unhurriedly straightened his sleeves. “If they want to arrest us, let them. Criminals like us would mostly be sent to the royal prison anyway. I happen to want to see the Hawksbill Royal Palace.”

“Good idea!” Meng Potian loudly praised, but suddenly saw his gaze flash outward, sharp as a sword in an instant. Meng Potian glanced from the corner of her eye and saw exactly the moment when Pei Shu reached out to embrace Jing Hengbo.

In that instant, she suddenly felt a chill in front of her, as if there was killing intent. Startled, she quickly moved her feet and blocked in front of “Li Hanyu.” “Um… the officers are coming. Should we pretend to fight first…”

She babbled nonsense, and he had no mind to answer. He changed direction to step around her, seemingly wanting to see clearly, but Meng Potian swiftly darted over again.

“Hey, hey, hey, you haven’t been to the royal palace, right? Perfect, I’ll show you the way…”

He tried to step aside again, and she blocked again. Finally he stopped, and the two faced each other.

His gaze was clear and penetrating. Under such eyes that seemed able to see through one’s heart, Meng Potian’s face actually turned slightly red, yet she stubbornly refused to look away.

“You’re not afraid I’ll kill him, are you?” he asked slowly.

Meng Potian had no answer and simply stiffened her neck defiantly.

At this moment, a group of officers rushed in, shouting to arrest the two. The white-clothed man glanced once at the street, stepped back, and together with Meng Potian, offered no resistance as the soldiers took them away.

“Your lyrics just now were really good,” Meng Potian felt she had overreacted and was a bit embarrassed, making small talk. “I was listening backstage and almost wanted to cry…”

He didn’t answer, but the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

Some words, if he wanted to say them to her, then he would say them.

Some things, if he wanted to do them for her, then he would go and do them.

In life, to be able to meet, to have loved, to see her growth, to have the chance to speak his heart, to send her safely on her forward path.

That would be enough.

…

“Pei Shu!” On the street, Jing Hengbo, still being blocked, could bear it no longer and viciously stomped on his boot. “Are you done yet? Get out of the way!”

As she stomped, she unconsciously glanced toward the stage and saw officers surging over there amid the commotion. Not knowing what was happening, she became even more anxious.

Pei Shu didn’t move at all, as if his foot were made of stone with no feeling. The light in his eyes didn’t dim but instead became even more intensely sharp as a sword.

“Good, good!” He laughed coldly and suddenly let go.

Jing Hengbo had been pushing backward with force. Unprepared for his sudden release, her body swayed backward and she nearly fell, but Master Mu quickly caught her.

Before she could get angry, Pei Shu had already lifted his face with a cold laugh, as if speaking to the heavens: “Am I done yet? Do I annoy you? Whatever I do, you either grin and bear it or brush it off casually. You led me on at first, then abandoned me without care. Jing Hengbo, you also put on quite a performance, trampling hearts all over the ground. Has anyone told you that some people seem kind and approachable on the surface, but are actually the most cold-hearted? He pointed at her. “Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t narcissistically think I’m talking about you. I’m talking about myself. Now I’m in a bad mood and don’t want to see you. You don’t need to find me tiresome anymore. Let’s part ways here and go our separate ways. Don’t regret it later if you have the guts. Alright, that’s it. Farewell!”

After his rapid-fire speech, he turned and walked away. Jing Hengbo’s muddled brain hadn’t had time to sort through his words when her instincts told her something was wrong. She hurriedly called out “Hey!” and reached to grab him. “Pei Shu, don’t make a scene…”

As soon as these words left her mouth, she nearly bit off her own tongue—how could she say that! The more urgent, the more she messed up!

Sure enough, she originally still had hope and could reach Pei Shu’s hand behind his back, but with those words, Pei Shu paused, then vanished from before her eyes in a flash.

Leaving her standing by the street, desolate and wretched…

…

Shangyuan Royal Palace.

Ming Yan’an listened to his subordinate’s report, his face dark as water.

It was one thing for Jing Hengbo to pass three trials, but the key issue was that while passing the trials, she had also turned the people’s hearts away from him. This was truly unbearable.

“Your Majesty.” His chief advisor Cen Lin stroked his goatee and advised again, “Looking at the Queen’s actions, she’s clearly in a fight to the death with Your Majesty. Your Majesty must not be soft-hearted. While the Queen is now in Shangyuan City with only a few people, it’s now or never…” He made a cutting gesture with his hand.

Ming Yan’an’s expression shifted, pondering without answering. Cen Lin thought he had concerns and whispered: “You needn’t worry about public opinion. As they say, the victor writes history. Once she’s dead, she’s dead. With the dragon headless, won’t the rest be left for you to clean up? Who would dare say anything then? If you let her come and go freely in your own city, you’ll become the laughingstock, scorned by the world for weakness and incompetence!”

Ming Yan’an stood up and paced the hall with his hands behind his back. Cen Lin continued: “If Your Majesty finds it difficult, this minister is willing to act personally and take responsibility for Your Majesty. Afterward, Your Majesty can simply claim ignorance. I’ll bear all the blame! This way, Your Majesty’s reputation remains intact while eliminating this grave threat. What does Your Majesty think?”

Ming Yan’an walked to the wall and looked up at the Hawksbill map. After a long moment, he said in a low voice: “Advisor Cen, your loyalty touches me deeply. But do you know,” he traced a line on the map with his finger, “south of Qiyu Pass, heavy troops are currently lying in ambush. With just one forced march, they could break through Hawksbill’s southern pass, cross the Mingshui region and three counties, and strike directly at Shangyuan!”

Cen Lin’s eyes contracted in shock, and he lost his voice: “How is that possible!”

“I just learned this myself,” Ming Yan’an studied the map slowly. “This is a cavalry unit, extremely fast. They were originally stationed near Qifeng Mountain, then broke into smaller units and secretly assembled along the Qiyu Pass line. If not for my scouts recently extending their intelligence gathering, those busy bandits redistributing territories wouldn’t have discovered this in a year or two.” He sighed softly. “Royal lands governed by bandits simply won’t work…”

Cen Lin opened his mouth, wanting to say that if bandit rule wouldn’t work, why not let the Queen gather the bandits and restore proper Hawksbill royal authority? Logically speaking, the Queen held imperial appointment and was the legitimate Hawksbill ruler; the clan chief should hand over power, and opposing the Queen lacked righteousness. But he also understood that Ming Yan’an had occupied Shangyuan and half the Heishui region for years, forming his own kingdom where his word was law. Using the excuse of being trapped by bandit forces, he didn’t even accept imperial edicts. While appearing constrained, he actually enjoyed absolute authority and freedom. How could he adapt to life under another’s rule now? Asking him to surrender power and vacate the palace would be harder than killing him.

As an advisor, he should serve his lord’s will, so he said nothing and stared at the map, his expression growing grave.

“You see it?” Ming Yan’an said. “The enemy deliberately let us discover them. If I’m not mistaken, Baotian Ridge, which forms a pincer with Qiyu Pass, should also have an equal number of light cavalry stationed there. Once there’s movement here, both cavalry units will immediately break through the passes and advance directly on Shangyuan!”

Cen Lin drew in a sharp breath and murmured: “Yes… and once the three counties are opened up, Shangyuan has no cover! We deliberately ceded the three counties to the Fifteen Gangs, hoping they’d block imperial edicts for us. But now the three counties belong to Jing Hengbo. If she allies with the court, Shangyuan will be hard to defend… No, wait. Jing Hengbo couldn’t possibly ally with the court. This cavalry can’t be hers. If she had such cavalry, why would she go to such trouble to fight for Hawksbill?”

“Regardless of whether they are or not,” Ming Yan’an said coldly, “this cavalry is definitely not mine! And they have ill intentions!”

Cen Lin fell silent. Even a blind person could see that. He thought of a possibility and couldn’t help trembling slightly.

“You understand?” Ming Yan’an said coldly. “This cavalry isn’t an enemy force, but very likely a threat. Stationing troops at the border isn’t to attack Shangyuan, but to warn me not to act rashly!”

“They want you to compete fairly with the Queen, each using their own abilities, without any assassination tactics?” Cen Lin found it somewhat incredible. “What does this mean? Isn’t the court supposed to be enemies with the Queen? Who’s helping her? And if they’re helping, why not help completely? If the cavalry attacked, wouldn’t the Queen save a lot of trouble? It’s like they’re watching over territory without caring about victory or defeat, letting both sides fight it out.”

“All I know is,” Ming Yan’an said indifferently, “if I move against Jing Hengbo in Shangyuan City, tomorrow someone might break through the mountain passes to move against me.”

“No wonder Your Majesty is so cautious…” Cen Lin pondered. “But what if we don’t use assassination, or don’t act within Shangyuan…”

“What they want is fair competition using wisdom and methods.” Ming Yan’an laughed coldly. “But who says I can only kill her in Shangyuan?”

He suddenly asked: “How is our guest doing?”

Hearing this, Cen Lin’s face immediately showed a tortured bitter smile.

“Don’t even mention it. That lord…” He sighed. “I’ve never seen anyone so particular, so difficult, so strange, so hard to serve! He’s not exactly picky about food—doesn’t demand delicacies—but the dishes must be the same color, same style, same arrangement, even numbers of bowls and plates, white spoons, black chopsticks. No onions, ginger, or garlic. Steamed fish can’t have soy sauce. Fish must weigh exactly one catty. Meat must be square… Just eating rules alone number a hundred. Then sleeping, sitting, bathing, clothing—everything has piles of rules. The servants attending him have been changed three times. This isn’t a guest—it’s an ancestor!” Realizing his slip at the end, he quickly shut his mouth.

Ming Yan’an didn’t mind and actually looked invigorated. “Good thing. Those who demand the most usually have the greatest abilities—it shows confidence. But he can’t just enjoy my hospitality for nothing. Come, accompany me to meet him!”

…

A quarter-hour later, in Ningxue Pavilion, the brocade-robed man received the palace master Ming Yan’an as if he were the host.

Ming Yan’an sat in a chair whose cushion had been changed three times, finding that all furnishings in the chamber had been completely replaced. The original bright yellow had all been changed to tender yellow—the kind of powder-soft yellow that young girls liked. This made Ming Yan’an look at the brocade-robed man strangely—did this guy have some special preference?

The tender yellow that made people uncomfortable was one thing, but what made Ming Yan’an want to die was that his beloved famous landscape painting that had hung on the wall was now taken down, rolled up, and currently serving as a footrest under the brocade-robed man’s soft boots.

The brocade-robed man lay on the couch, rolling the painting scroll back and forth under his boots, seemingly quite enjoying this activity. He even enthusiastically suggested: “This can exercise your legs without getting up. Your Majesty should try it too.” With a wave of his hand, his guard brought another painting scroll. Ming Yan’an saw the yellow rosewood mounting with heavy brocade—his whole handsome face twisted—this was his most beloved work by painting master Zhong Tianji, the “Snow Waves Landscape”! One scroll was hard to find, worth ten thousand gold!

He had clearly hidden it in the underground inner chamber with mechanisms set up. How did this guy find it and use it as a footrest!

“It’s not that I want to criticize you,” the brocade-robed man said with some disappointment, “but your mechanism technique is crude and simple. Fine. But don’t you know to oil the mechanisms regularly? Your underground mechanisms creak and rattle at night, keeping me awake, you know? I had to personally dismantle and rebuild them for you. They should work better than your originals. No need to thank me.”

“This…” Ming Yan’an felt his throat tighten. What rust on the mechanisms? They were oiled every month! Just a few days ago he had gone to see the painting. Far from hearing sounds through a layer of ground, even when he entered the underground chamber and operated the mechanism, there was no sound. Did this guy have supernatural hearing? Could he hear this too?

But he thought of a more pressing problem: “Um… I have someone specifically assigned to oil the mechanism wheels from outside. Did you notify them when you changed the mechanism?”

“Oh.” The brocade-robed man said carelessly, “I didn’t know you had someone oiling them. When he went to oil them, he ran into my modified mechanism and died.”

Ming Yan’an swallowed dryly again. He wanted to get angry but ultimately said helplessly: “…If he’s dead, he’s dead. Can’t really blame you, sir…”

“Of course you can’t blame me.” The brocade-robed man said righteously. “He died near the mechanism, and his blood affected the mechanism wheels. It started making noise again at night, forcing me to get up and reassemble it again. I didn’t drag him out for post-mortem punishment—that’s generous enough.”

Ming Yan’an felt he had no more saliva to swallow. He said hoarsely: “Um… Your Majesty wonders where that palace servant’s body is?”

Someone died and he hadn’t even heard a report. Were all the guards useless?

“Within ten li of where I live, I don’t like having corpses around. Just thinking about someone quietly rotting somewhere near me makes me lose my appetite.” The brocade-robed man said even more carelessly. “So I had people throw him ten li away. You’d better not look for him. My subordinates handle people very thoroughly.”

Ming Yan’an blinked—you can’t stand rotting but you can stand killing?

Should he tell him there were actually many dead bodies buried under the palace grounds?

Better not. He might immediately have the entire palace grounds dug up.

Ming Yan’an calmed himself for a while and stopped trying to inquire about anything, lest this oddball stimulate him further. Seeing the other party showing impatience after just a few words, he quickly got to the point, hinting humbly and respectfully: “Recently the small king’s palace has been somewhat unpeaceful. If this has disturbed you, sir, please forgive me. If you could lend a hand, this small king would certainly repay you handsomely.”

“You came here just for this line, didn’t you?” The brocade-robed man rubbed the scroll under his feet and pointed at him. “Look at your worried face—the trouble must be considerable.”

“Exactly.” Ming Yan’an smiled bitterly outwardly while rejoicing inwardly.

“However, I don’t care.” The brocade-robed man’s next sentence successfully floored him again. “I didn’t come to stay at your place to be your hired muscle. Also,” he glanced sideways at Ming Yan’an with a smile, “don’t try to lure people here to me. Playing mind games is fine, but take me for a fool and you’ll be the fool for life.”

Ming Yan’an was dazzled by his smile and nearly lost focus, but was also chilled by his words—this man was transparent as a mirror, hard as diamond, cunning as a fox, and fierce as a hawk. Truly difficult to deal with.

He could only say: “If sir has any requests…”

“Nothing worth my asking for.” The brocade-robed man kicked away the scroll and lazily lay down, staring boredly at the ceiling. “Only cake and worthy opponents!”

Ming Yan’an didn’t know what cake was, but he understood the words “worthy opponents.”

His eyes lit up immediately: “If sir wants opponents, this is perfect!”

“Oh?” The brocade-robed man didn’t look at him, burying his face in his elbow and saying lazily, “Where are there so many opponents? Is there a second Taishi Lan in this world…”

His voice was low and his face buried, so Ming Yan’an didn’t hear clearly. He smiled: “Whether they’re opponents or not, sir will soon be able to judge.”

“Seeing is believing.” The brocade-robed man didn’t lift his head, pointing at him. “If they have the ability to startle me and arouse my interest, naturally I’ll act. Ah, I’m tired. Didn’t sleep well last night—changed the mechanism twice, and the blanket was too heavy. I only use silk blankets weighing three catties… ah, the blanket’s here!” He suddenly looked up. Outside the door, a guard was carrying a wrapped blanket. Ming Yan’an looked at the knife-sharp creases of the folded blanket and felt dizzy—was it necessary to fold a blanket like that? Did he use a ruler to measure it too?

The brocade-robed man reached for the tender yellow blanket and, ignoring Ming Yan’an’s presence, immediately rolled around with it. Seeing him rolling around embracing the blanket in passionate entanglement, Ming Yan’an’s vision went dark again and he quickly rose to take his leave.

That fellow was busy catching up on sleep and had no time to pay attention to him. Now he remembered that Ming Yan’an was the host and waved his hand: “You’re the host, do as you please. I won’t see you out.”

Ming Yan’an had no need for him to see him out and had already fled like an escape…

…

The northwest corner of the royal palace had originally been the residence of concubines, but after several concubines died one after another, the chambers became empty with no one to maintain them. Over time, the chambers gathered dust, weeds grew wild, bells hung broken from damaged eaves, and stone surfaces became mottled—a scene of complete abandonment.

This place was only loved by birds, insects, rats and beasts. Ordinary people passing by would pull up their collars and hurry away. The wind that blew out from the broken palace gates, sticky with spider webs, always made people feel eerily sinister.

So very few people noticed that the spider web on the gate, after hanging there through a great windstorm, was still hanging there intact.

If anyone came close for a careful look, they would discover that the spider web wasn’t real—it was woven from fine gold wire and painted with ash.

If they pushed open the door further, they would find that the rotted door hinges made no sound, and while the courtyard was covered in dust with footprints everywhere, close inspection would reveal that the dust was stuck to the ground and those seemingly chaotic footprints actually followed a pattern.

The crooked swing could shoot arrows at any moment, the withered leaves were thin gray steel sheets, and the blackened tree trunk was carved with array patterns. The broken steps hid mechanisms, and the golden bells under the eaves were truly broken because thin wires were tied inside the bells. If anyone touched them, they would make sounds, alerting all mechanisms and triggering gunpowder buried underground, resulting in building destruction and death, leaving both would-be escapees and rescuers hopeless.

Very few knew that this ruined palace chamber was Hawksbill’s true heavenly prison, where countless talented heroes of Hawksbill had died of disease and starvation. The most recent to die was Ming Yan’an’s own younger brother who had colluded with the Fifteen Gangs in an attempted rebellion.

So this place didn’t need many guards—guards would easily trigger the mechanisms. The guards were stationed in nearby palace chambers and key passages.

The sky gradually darkened. Someone approached the palace chamber, lifted the fake spider web on the gate, and pushed a food box inside. After a moment, the stone slab behind the door automatically lowered, and when it returned, the food was gone.

In the dim yellow light underground, Zirui’s eyes burned bright as she looked up. With a “plop,” the food box dropped down.

She caught it, opened the food box, pursed her lips, and made several strange, low sounds.

After a moment, there was rustling movement, surging like a tide. Zirui suppressed her nausea and smiled into the darkness, opening the food and placing it on the ground in front of her, saying softly: “Come… come…”

A mass of black writhing things surged out from the shadows beyond the lamplight—countless tiny green eyes blinking, glowing eerily.

Zirui’s scalp prickled. She hadn’t expected this uninhabited place to have so many rats. The rats before her, when spread out, covered a full zhang in area, black and dense as a carpet.

Women were naturally afraid of rats and snakes. Seeing so many rats at once was a nightmare for Zirui too. For an instant she thought she might faint, yet she smiled at those disgusting creatures and pushed the food toward them.

No matter how afraid, she had to continue. She had said she wouldn’t become a burden to Her Majesty.

Didn’t Her Majesty also have times of fear and difficulty? Hadn’t she always endured and gotten through them? Thinking of Jing Hengbo, Zirui encouraged herself as she listened to those rats frantically fighting over her food. The sound of the beasts eating was unexpectedly creepy too—she gritted her teeth and resisted covering her ears.

She waited for the rats to finish eating, not looking at those rolling, writhing, fighting masses, and issued several low commands.

Receiving the commands, the rats surged out from the darkness like a tide again.

They bit through all the hidden wires, used stones to block the axles, gnawed at the wooden joints, and overturned poison stored in dark corners.

These rats had lived here long and, through the deaths and injuries of countless companions, had gained understanding and experience of the mechanisms. Normally they tried to avoid those mechanisms because they knew that if they damaged them, people would come to repair them and exterminate rats. So these highly intelligent little creatures chose to avoid them.

Now given commands, they destroyed frantically. In less than half a quarter-hour, this carefully designed courtyard was nearly paralyzed.

Though the speed was fast, Zirui was anxious as fire. She had to escape before Jing Hengbo arrived here.

She suddenly heard the sound of flapping wings overhead. This underground chamber had ventilation shafts leading directly to the surface. She looked up and identified what should be a large bird passing by.

She immediately let out another sharp whistle for controlling birds.

Beast control arts were actually very complex—just the vocal sounds were divided into hundreds of types. Even Shan Wu, who taught Zirui this skill, hadn’t learned them all. But Zirui, this palace female official who had received professional training, had tenacity and comprehension, surpassing her teacher.

Above the rooftop, that night owl’s body suddenly paused, fluttered about, and plummeted straight down.

In Ningxue Pavilion, several li away from this place.

The brocade-robed man suddenly opened his eyes.

…

Zirui ultimately couldn’t hold onto that bird.

After all, separated by the ground, some methods couldn’t be used. The bird struggled for a moment and still spread its wings to fly away. Zirui sighed helplessly, thinking she still needed to cultivate more.

The rats outside had already cleared most of the mechanism hidden wires, leaving only the master control—the golden bell under the eaves. A large rat was quickly climbing up along the eave corner, two sharp large teeth showing beneath its whiskers.

Beasts were just beasts—it wouldn’t know this couldn’t be touched. If Zirui were on the surface, she should have been more cautious, but unfortunately she was underground.

The rat climbed quickly without touching that trembling wire at all. It aimed at the position, opened its mouth, and “crack.”

The wire snapped.

The fine golden wire whizzed backward, and in the next instant would trigger the warning bell and gunpowder.

The rats blinked their eyes, completely unaware that earth-shattering disaster was imminent.

The retreating wire suddenly stopped.

The rats saw a pair of soft boots suddenly appear before them. Following the boots upward, a human figure stood on the wall top, slender fingers pinching that deadly wire.

Beasts always had instincts for danger. The rats scattered like a tide, retreating to the wall top and hiding in holes.

The brocade-robed man’s brocade clothes fluttered in the night wind.

He casually held that deadly wire and muttered: “Stupid humans.”

Then he reconnected the wire to the golden bell, looked down along the bell’s position, and found the mechanism spring marking on the right protective wall. Breaking open the green bricks, he found a wire inside.

This was the truly critical wire.

“All the mechanisms are destroyed—when people come later there’ll be nothing happening. How can this work?” He surveyed the surroundings, muttered, pulled out that wire, connected it to the fake spider web at the entrance, then calculated directions and arranged several more wires around the spider web.

“Idiots. Why go to such trouble with this spider web? Anyone who really wants to approach this place will understand everything upon seeing this spider web.” He shook his head, looking down on the Dahuang people’s intelligence even more.

With the wire connected to the spider web, people coming to rescue would generally first notice the spider web’s abnormality. With just a light touch…

Hehe.

Don’t ask why the brocade-robed man did this thankless task—he enjoyed it.

After arranging the wires properly and preserving the most deadly mechanism, he slowly walked back. Without even looking at the palace chamber building, he directly stomped on the steps behind the door, opened the mechanism, and went down to the cellar.

Zirui looked up in alarm—she heard footsteps in the darkness.

Someone walked from the shadows with hands behind his back, elegant in bearing. For a moment, she thought the Two Great State Preceptors had come.

Except for the Two Great State Preceptors, she had never seen any man with such noble grace. However, the face that subsequently appeared was completely unfamiliar.

That person didn’t continue forward. The moonlight from above bathed him in cold white, his features half-bright and half-dark, precise as a painting and emotionless as a painting.

He pointed at Zirui with his finger and asked: “Live as my bait, or die as food for rats—which do you choose?”

…

Though the palace’s true heavenly prison was this palace chamber, the palace also had a nominal prison used to hold some who had violated royal authority—those inconvenient for public trial, secondary important criminals.

Today this prison had new guests, a man and woman whose crime was reportedly performing on the street and publicly insulting the king.

The guards here couldn’t be called lax, but after the afternoon shift change, no one noticed that the man and woman who should have been in the prison were already gone.

Meng Potian and the white-clothed man raced across the continuous palace rooftiles.

Meng Potian was very excited—she had long wanted to come to Shangyuan Palace to search for treasures but never had the chance. Unexpectedly, being with this “Li Hanyu,” this nighttime palace tour had become effortless.

As for how they got out, anyway she saw that fellow casually exit the prison and incidentally fish her out too.

“Do you know where there are good things?” She eagerly rubbed her hands together while regretting that her basket had been lost earlier—what if they encountered too many good things to fit?

The white-clothed man’s eyes, however, stared toward the northwest corner of the royal palace. Meng Potian followed his gaze and vaguely saw a black shadow flash by.

That black shadow was somewhat strange, but she hadn’t seen clearly. She looked at the white-clothed man with some surprise—this guy’s eyesight was really remarkable.

“What did you see?” she asked.

The white-clothed man turned his gaze back and said calmly: “I know where there are good things.” He pointed in a direction. “Go search in that direction. Whichever palace chamber looks strangest will most likely have what you want.”

Meng Potian looked in that direction—it seemed to be exactly the direction that black shadow had come from.

She thought this made great sense. Anyone mixing around on palace rooftops at night was either a traitor or thief. That fellow might have just made a haul from there—if she timed it right, she might still pick up some good stuff.

“But since it’s the royal palace, naturally it won’t be simple. Don’t be hasty—watch for mechanisms and hidden weapons.” He added another reminder.

“Good, I’m going.” She shot out a good distance in a flash, then realized the white-clothed man hadn’t followed. She turned back in surprise and gestured from afar: “You’re not going?”

The white-clothed man waved at her and made some random gesture that only a ghost could understand.

Meng Potian was helpless. She saw a patrol of city guards coming below—tonight the palace guards were very tight, and she couldn’t linger in one place.

This fellow was clearly trying to get rid of her.

Go then, go—who wanted to follow him anyway! Meng Potian snorted and twisted her bottom to go their separate ways.

She headed straight for that direction. That direction didn’t have many buildings to begin with—after passing an artificial lake, there was a row of abandoned palace chambers. Several of them looked especially ruined from a distance, making Meng Potian greatly disappointed—how could such a place have treasures?

But then she remembered her new companion’s words about “the royal palace isn’t that simple.” She calmed down and observed carefully, immediately feeling something was wrong.

That area of palace chambers wasn’t too remote—how could they be so dilapidated and desolate? Even for the palace’s face, they couldn’t be neglected like this.

She rushed toward those palace chambers, aimed at the most dilapidated entrance, and taking advantage of guards just passing by in the wrong direction, suddenly swept into that palace pathway.

By coincidence, at the corner of an opposite palace wall, another figure was also shooting toward this entrance like a cannonball.

“Bang.” A sound of bodies colliding.

“Ugh…” Two muffled groans of pain.

The figures touched and separated instantly, cold light flashing from each. Meng Potian’s blade pointed at the other’s abdomen. The other’s spear pointed at Meng Potian’s chest.

Tears were spinning in Meng Potian’s eyes—it hurt! That damned person on the other side had rammed head-first into her chest!

That damned person on the other side, with his spear pointed at Meng Potian’s chest and one hand covering his nose, also looked fierce and malevolent—Meng Potian had rammed head-first into his nose, and now blood was flowing freely.

Under the moonlight they could see each other clearly face to face. Both opened their mouths in the same shape: “You?”

Having performed on the same stage, they counted as meeting an acquaintance. Pei Shu snorted coldly and withdrew his spear. Meng Potian also put away her blade and grabbed him, pulling him into the corner of the palace entrance to avoid being discovered by guards just passing by.

The two squeezed against the inner wall of the palace entrance. Meng Potian’s hair was somewhat disheveled, the soft fine hair tickling the skin of Pei Shu’s neck and releasing a faint maiden’s fragrance. Pei Shu shifted his body somewhat uncomfortably, feeling his nosebleed flowing even more fiercely.

Meng Potian was also somewhat uncomfortable. Behind her was the man’s strong, full chest, and the rich masculine scent kept wafting into her nose—quite special and quite pleasant-smelling. She felt a bit dizzy, and a light blush appeared on her face.

The seventeen-year-old Sixth Young Master of the Wildly Blade Alliance, whose mother had died early and who had no one to teach her the three obediences and four virtues of feminine propriety, had been raised for years as the gang leader’s heir with plans to marry into the family. Most of her contact was with crude martial artists, mostly uncles and elders. She had never been this close to a young man before and was momentarily stunned.

After Pei Shu felt slightly uncomfortable, he recovered, pushed her away, and extended his long spear toward the spider web on the door—he had already discovered this spider web was problematic.

The thin wire connected behind the fake spider web gleamed, and the trap left by the brocade-robed man was about to be triggered a second time.