Meng Potian suddenly reached out and pressed down Pei Shu’s spear tip.

Pei Shu glared at her angrily. Meng Potian glared back fearlessly and made a gesture indicating “possible danger.”

When Pei Shu’s spear tip moved forward just now, reflecting the moonlight, Meng Potian saw what seemed to be a wire connected to the hole behind the spider web, and remembered the white-clothed man’s warning to “watch for mechanisms and hidden weapons.”

Her rare moment of careful observation inadvertently saved both their lives.

From Pei Shu’s previous position, he couldn’t see this wire. After Meng Potian pointed it out, he discovered it too. The wire was pulled very tight, indicating it relied on pulling force to trigger the mechanism. Just pushing the door would cause problems.

Meng Potian patted him and pointed upward, indicating they didn’t need to push the door—they could climb the wall. For martial arts practitioners, climbing walls was more normal anyway.

Pei Shu seemed to be thinking and slowly shook his head.

The problem was here—the other party couldn’t possibly be unaware of martial artists’ habits. So if pushing the door would trigger mechanisms, climbing the wall definitely would too.

Pei Shu closed his eyes, calculated the directions, reached out to take Meng Potian’s blade, and with a soft “swish,” split open half the palace gate.

He naturally split the half without the fake spider web, exactly the right position for one person to enter and exit.

He removed the split half door panel. Sure enough, there was no movement. He first squeezed through, walked a few steps against the wall, then gestured for Meng Potian to come in.

Meng Potian complied, secretly admiring him—thinking this guy looked like a hothead, but when encountering problems he was actually so careful. And his method was both easy and clever. Whether the mechanisms were behind the door or in the courtyard, they couldn’t possibly be on the inner perimeter wall. Entering through the half door without mechanisms and walking against the wall was indeed safe and secure.

After entering the door, the two discovered that behind the door and in the courtyard, there were indeed several fine golden wires crisscrossing dangerously. Meng Potian looked at Pei Shu with admiration, but Pei Shu looked at those wires with some admiration—there weren’t many wires, just two or three, but their positions were cunningly clever. No matter which wall top one dropped from, they would definitely touch them. The person who designed these mechanisms had casually arranged just a few wires, yet they were both vicious and precise—truly a remarkable expert.

After Meng Potian entered the door, she wanted to rush toward the inner courtyard but was stopped by Pei Shu’s glare. Pei Shu kept his eyes fixed on the ground, watching the direction of those wires, then suddenly walked to near the steps behind the door and stomped his feet.

The ground made a slight creaking sound, the steps collapsed, revealing an underground chamber.

Meng Potian was secretly alarmed—the mechanism design of this palace chamber was indeed special. Everything went against people’s thinking. The palace chamber’s dilapidation made people not want to approach. Normal people coming in would rush straight to the inner rooms, but the real key was actually under their feet at the entrance—ordinary people really wouldn’t think of it.

It was just that the mechanisms in this courtyard seemed still somewhat few—that one spider web alone would be enough to give people trouble.

Of course, the two didn’t know that the mechanisms in the courtyard had already been destroyed, and the remaining spider web was still the brocade-robed man’s prank.

The underground chamber wasn’t large, and they could see clearly at a glance that no one was there. Pei Shu frowned, thinking this place was so heavily guarded, it must be where Su Zirui was imprisoned, but where had she gone now?

Meng Potian was disappointed that although this place was strange, there were no treasures.

“What exactly are you looking for?” she finally remembered to ask Pei Shu.

Pei Shu was feeling irritated at this moment. He had originally wanted to rescue Su Zirui and show off properly in front of Jing Hengbo, incidentally making her angry—what use was bringing along a cripple? Didn’t she still need Young Marshal Pei to take action? Who knew that having found the place, the person was nowhere to be seen.

He said bad-temperedly: “What business is it of yours? Get lost!”

Meng Potian choked, her face suddenly flushing red. She had always been pampered and loved in the alliance—where had she ever received such treatment? She wanted to get angry but feared attracting guards. She wanted to attack but knew she was no match for Pei Shu.

More importantly, the young girl had secret, subtle feelings for the man before her, so this rebuke seemed even more unacceptable.

In extreme anger, she pointed at Pei Shu’s nose tip and said fiercely: “Who cares to follow you! This lady is going to do her own business now. If you have the guts, don’t follow me!”

Pei Shu was concentrating on studying footprints on the ground, not even lifting his head: “I’d follow a sow before following you!”

“Dead boar!” Meng Potian cursed under her breath and turned to leave. After taking two steps, she quietly looked back—Pei Shu was still crouched in the same place studying footprints, not even glancing this way.

The rare girlish heart of the female warrior Meng Potian cracked with a “snap.”

She was dazed for a while, thinking forget it, she’d better go like that Li Hanyu instead. He was more capable than Pei Shu, gentler than Pei Shu, more considerate than Pei Shu, more careful than Pei Shu…

She knew the direction he had gone—she’d just feel her way there to find him.

She flashed away, heading toward Ningxue Pavilion.

A moment later, Pei Shu’s figure flashed, mounting the eave corner where the brocade-robed man had stayed earlier. After searching below for a while, he determined the general possible direction the brocade-robed man might have gone, and also flashed away.

…

Jing Hengbo, Master Mu, and Chai Yu—the three entered the palace when night had just fallen.

Shangyuan City being large was one reason, but Jing Hengbo choosing to walk the whole way deliberately going slowly was another reason.

She wanted to use this opportunity to get a good look at Shangyuan City. A city’s layout and atmosphere could reveal the ruler’s breadth of mind and wisdom.

Along the way, Chai Yu pointed out which areas were commercial districts, residential districts, official living and office areas. Shangyuan’s layout wasn’t much different from other royal capitals. The only difference was the military camps—the entire outer perimeter of the royal city was military camps, tightly wrapping the people and royal palace inside. The advantage of this layout was that externally it could resist enemies, internally it could protect the sovereign. Once something happened at the royal palace, troops could converge from all directions, immediately controlling all street and passage key points, avoiding the situation of clustering in one location where they might be blocked during mobilization. The disadvantage was that it seemed somewhat scattered, and surrounding the royal palace was very easy.

This indicated that Ming Yan’an must firmly hold military power and be very confident—otherwise he would never dare set up such a situation that could trap himself to death.

A ruler who could continuously hold military and political power wouldn’t be weak.

After several attempts at making things difficult, Ming Yan’an seemed to have given up further self-humiliation and didn’t obstruct her observation of Shangyuan along the way. When Jing Hengbo arrived, even the palace gates weren’t open, naturally with no one to receive her. The guards before the palace gates stood guard as usual, looking completely bewildered at Jing Hengbo’s arrival, as if they had no idea the Queen was coming.

Jing Hengbo knew Ming Yan’an’s problem had flared up again, but just smiled without waiting. She turned and walked away, saying loudly: “Tonight’s perfect for staying another night in the city. I’ll also take a look at Shangyuan’s night scenery.”

Sure enough, immediately the palace gates opened. A palace eunuch came out to receive Jing Hengbo, leading the three all the way into the main hall of the royal palace. The main hall was brightly lit with officials lined up like wild geese. Ming Yan’an wore a golden crown and ceremonial robes, sitting upright and dignified—clearly the posture of receiving ministers.

Jing Hengbo had originally thought Ming Yan’an would arrange a private meeting, not expecting him to display full ceremonial formation. The advantage of doing this was that he put things in the open, showing a kind of forthright attitude, so the possibility of assassination or openly detaining her in Shangyuan was reduced—after all, anyone wanting to kill would instinctively avoid crowded occasions. The disadvantage was amplifying the unfavorable situation—as soon as she entered the hall, this group of people would immediately bow to Ming Yan’an like county yamen clerks shouting “Mighty!” to highlight her position of paying respects.

So-called negotiations between two countries were actually quite similar to business negotiations—competing in eloquence, scheming, and wisdom, fighting for momentum, initiative, and advantage, caring about every detail, fighting for every inch of ground.

With her person being held hostage and her coming to negotiate, she was actually already at a disadvantage. From the start, someone was bound to try intimidating her.

She stopped at the hall entrance. The eyes of everyone in the hall turned toward her in unison. Amazement was inevitable, but more was surprise, doubt, scrutiny, hostility, unease… And Ming Yan’an’s voice came from the distance, perhaps amplified by the transmission through the spacious hall, sounding deep and majestic: “Is the visitor the Queen? Why do you linger without entering? Unwilling? Or afraid?”

The court officials showed knowing smiles, secretly looking at her, trying to use their gazes to force her into embarrassment.

Jing Hengbo also smiled knowingly—Ming Yan’an was still feeling guilty. He had said too much.

She looked at Master Mu’s wheelchair and suddenly beckoned.

In the great hall, on the ceremonial platform, two bronze cranes suddenly flew up, passing over the shocked gazes of the crowd, and landed with a “plop” before Jing Hengbo at the hall entrance.

Jing Hengbo smiled and said to Master Mu: “Trouble you, sir, to also make me a chair.”

Master Mu smiled gently: “Delighted to serve Your Majesty.” He reached out and gently bent down the long necks of the two bronze cranes level with their backs, twisting them together so the backs of the two bronze cranes formed a flat surface suitable for sitting.

The entire hall was silent. The civil officials’ eyeballs nearly popped out—they had never seen bronze cranes weighing hundreds of jin flying in the sky, much less seen heavy, hard bronze cranes being manipulated in human hands like soft clay that could be rounded or flattened.

The military officials looked even worse. They practiced martial arts and understood better what these two moves represented.

Master Mu shaped the bronze cranes into a chair in just a few moves and gestured: “Your Majesty, please.”

Jing Hengbo waved her hand, and a section of curtain fell, flying over everyone’s heads like a rainbow and landing exactly on the bronze crane chair.

Then she sat down, smiling as she crossed her legs, sitting on the bronze cranes representing imperial dignity, cushioned by the embroidered dragon curtains of the imperial hall, outside the high threshold of the great hall, facing Ming Yan’an at the other end from afar.

The bronze cranes were high, and the threshold was also high. Her background was the broad plaza and tall palace gates—belonging to natural grand atmosphere. Looking over, the court officials had the illusion that this was true royal bearing.

Ming Yan’an on the great hall platform suddenly seemed shorter.

The people in the full hall hadn’t yet recovered from their shock when Ming Yan’an at the other end of the hall was about to explode in anger, but Jing Hengbo pointed at him with a smile.

“I once heard an extremely pretentious and disgusting line,” she said with a smile. “Now, I’m giving this disgusting line to an equally disgusting person.”

“Whoever breaks my girlfriend’s wings, I will destroy his entire heaven.”

The hall had been very quiet before, but now it was even quieter—even breathing seemed to be suddenly forced back into throats by this pretentious line.

The court officials looked at the Queen sitting on the bronze cranes, facing Ming Yan’an from afar with charming posture but eyes bright as stars. No matter how much they had previously dismissed her in their hearts, they had to secretly admit that at least in terms of presence, she hadn’t diminished the Queen’s dignity.

Not everyone could maintain dignity in such deliberately oppressive circumstances and quickly turn the situation around.

After a good while, Ming Yan’an’s voice finally came from the other end of the hall, already carrying anger: “Jing Hengbo, don’t be too arrogant!”

“Ming Yan’an, don’t push your luck!” Jing Hengbo didn’t give an inch. “I am the legitimate royal authority, the rightful Black Water Queen. When I come, you should welcome me out of Shangyuan, hand over the imperial seal, welcome me into this Tiantai Hall, and lead the hundred officials to pay respects to me. I haven’t yet held you accountable for not respecting legitimate authority, having no minister’s proper conduct, and daring to kidnap my female official, yet you’re putting on airs with me first. Are you so arrogant you’ve forgotten who you are?”

“Jing Hengbo!” Ming Yan’an roared angrily. “Stop showing off your sharp tongue. Hawksbill royal authority is a national treasure—how can it be stolen at will by an outsider woman like you? You openly destroy my bronze cranes in my great hall, break my rules, insult me and my Hawksbill officials—did you ask my consent? Ask the consent of all officials? Ask the consent of my Shangyuan’s three hundred thousand soldiers and people?”

“Oh?” Jing Hengbo laughed heartily. “Then when you seized the magpie’s nest, occupying royal authority and refusing to release it, openly challenging the new king, did you ask my consent, the consent of my generals, the consent of the ten million people of Dahuang?”

“Stop using ten million people to pressure this king! Do you really think the ten million people of Dahuang count as your subjects?”

“Stop using three hundred thousand soldiers and people to pressure me! Do you really think all three hundred thousand soldiers and people of Shangyuan count as yours?”

“This king can detain you right now—at least the fifty thousand troops inside and outside my hall are this king’s! Is that enough to detain you?”

“Scrape.” With one sound, the imperial guards in the hall drew their swords halfway out in unison, sword qi and gazes cold as light, directly threatening Jing Hengbo.

Jing Hengbo laughed heartily and raised her hand. The fan in the hands of the fan-bearing eunuch beside Ming Yan’an suddenly broke free, flew to below the ceremonial platform, scraped against a guard’s blade with a “scrape,” cutting a sharp break, then swished to before Ming Yan’an, the sharp tip directly threatening his throat!

This move came completely unexpectedly. Ming Yan’an was caught off guard, suddenly finding a sharp fan handle before his throat. Shocked into crying “Ah!” loudly, he instinctively struggled backward, but behind him were the throne backrest and screen—he couldn’t escape.

Cries of alarm rose from the court officials, unable to believe their eyes as they looked at that peacock feather fan—how could a fan move by itself, suspended in air? What kind of divine skill was this?

Amid the cries of alarm, Jing Hengbo’s laughter was clear.

“I can kill you right now—at least this fan is under my control. Is that enough to kill you?”

Amid the loud laughter, the fan thrust forward.

Ming Yan’an leaped up regardless of everything. At the same time, a general frantically lunged forward, desperately grabbing the fan and pulling it backward.

“Swish.” With one sound, the sharp break of that fan handle tore a long rip in the chest of Ming Yan’an’s royal robe, exposing the white undergarment inside—almost baring his chest.

Jing Hengbo smiled seductively from the other end of the hall: “Oh my, you even have pectoral muscles!”

Ming Yan’an stood embarrassedly on the throne, reaching to cover his torn garment front. His face showed a moment of embarrassment and rage, then slowly calmed down.

Jing Hengbo had been observing him throughout. Seeing him calm down so quickly, she couldn’t help frowning and exchanged a glance with Master Mu.

It seemed he wasn’t a simple character.

The fan fell to the ground with a “plop.” A flash of regret passed through Jing Hengbo’s eyes.

In that instant just now, she had wanted to go all the way and simply kill Ming Yan’an.

But she wasn’t confident. She couldn’t be certain whether the ministers here would immediately pledge loyalty to her after Ming Yan’an’s death. The old ministers who had followed Ming Yan’an for years might not be able to accept her as such an unconventional outsider master.

There was also the army—the army was Ming Yan’an’s die-hard direct line. Once she killed Ming Yan’an, nine times out of ten the army would seek revenge. With just the three of them—her, Master Mu—in this Shangyuan where every step held enemies, it would be very difficult to get out. Even if they got out, winning Shangyuan’s hearts would become difficult. They might kill one Ming Yan’an only to have another Hei Yan’an appear, still occupying Shangyuan and confronting her.

She still wanted peaceful transition and reduced killing.

So in the final moment she gave up. This giving up meant completely abandoning the chance to kill Ming Yan’an, because such a surprise attack could only happen once. In the future when Ming Yan’an faced her, he would be on guard from head to toe.

On the throne, Ming Yan’an straightened his garments, climbed down from the royal seat and sat properly. When he spoke again, there was no trace of embarrassment, nor the aggressive momentum from earlier. He said in a detached manner: “The Queen has good methods.”

“You flatter me.” Jing Hengbo immediately relaxed her attitude too, saying with a grin: “Merely able to protect myself. Of course, only when provoked to anger would I kill.”

The two looked at each other, each seeing veiled hostility and amusement in the other’s eyes, each reading four words in the other’s eyes: “This one’s a fox.”

The martial drama of testing abilities was over. Next came the grinding literary drama. This was the real main event of negotiations.

Of course, if one fell behind in the initial momentum confrontation, there would be no “next.”

Ming Yan’an smiled calmly and warmly: “I was rude just now. Please forgive me, Your Majesty. Your Majesty has come from afar, and this small king failed to greet you outside the city—I am truly sorry. Therefore I have specially prepared light wine and song and dance as apology. Would Your Majesty honor us with your presence?”

“Of course, of course.” Jing Hengbo said. “But watching performances and dining in this kind of setting? Too solemn, isn’t it? You and I hit it off immediately—friendly neighbors. Talks should proceed in a warm and friendly atmosphere, right?”

The court officials looked at the Queen smiling warmly while spouting complete nonsense about “hitting it off immediately” and “friendly neighbors,” thinking of how she had glared fiercely and tried to kill with a fan just moments ago, then looking at their own master now also smiling like spring breeze—suddenly understanding why they couldn’t become kings and emperors: not thick-skinned enough!

“Naturally, naturally.” Ming Yan’an readily agreed and immediately ordered: “Remove the sword guards, rearrange everything!” He also stopped sitting rigidly and personally came down from the hall.

The eunuchs and palace servants all moved together, rearranging seats and setting up the venue. Ming Yan’an and his officials’ seats were placed on the left, while Jing Hengbo’s three seats were placed on the right. This time it seemed equal, only the numbers were still extremely oppressive—dozens of dark seats on the left, only three lonely seats on the right. By comparison, the right side seemed quite pitiful.

Jing Hengbo was also unmoved by this silent oppression. There was nothing to find fault with here—who told you to bring few people?

“Your Majesty, please.” Ming Yan’an gestured hospitably with a warm smile. His attendants draped a cloak over him, covering the drafty royal robe.

He didn’t ask to change clothes, fearing that while changing, Jing Hengbo might also pull a move like lifting the screen, and he’d really be exposed.

Jing Hengbo also smiled: “Please, please.”

The two took their seats facing each other. String music began, song and dance started, and a new round of confrontation began amid cunning gazes, soft smiles, and words hiding needles in silk.

…

While the great hall had both thunderous confrontation and string music and dance coexisting, Ningxue Pavilion had chestnuts and sunflower seeds flying together.

The brocade-robed man had a basket of chestnuts on his left and a bag of sunflower seeds on his right. A guard on each side used strange little tools to shell the chestnuts and sunflower seeds.

No help for it—this master loved snacks but didn’t like shelling them himself (too dirty), nor did he like others shelling them (also dirty). Finally he had to personally design tools for shelling these nuts—let tools do the shelling.

Actually there was one person in this world whose shelled chestnuts and sunflower seeds he would eat, but that person wasn’t here.

Moreover, every time that person shelled sunflower seeds and chestnuts, they had demands. So this master had gradually given up the habit of eating sunflower seeds at home—no help for it, that fellow demanded one thing per sunflower seed, black-hearted as could be.

Fortunately when abroad he could indulge properly. The brocade-robed man squinted his eyes, picking sunflower seed kernels from the jade plate intermittently, thinking somehow the sunflower seeds shelled by Little Cake seemed more fragrant? Sigh, actually her demands weren’t that many—just one thing per sunflower seed…

The hall was very quiet, only the tap-tap sound of shelling nuts.

Sitting across from him was Su Zirui. Having followed the Queen long and seen many storms, the female official was somewhat uneasy but maintained dignity, sitting there without speaking, carefully observing the brocade-robed man across from her.

The brocade-robed man didn’t look at her at all. This female official had some bearing, so he didn’t mistreat her, but wanting him to give more attention—no way.

Bringing her here was only because her beast control arts had aroused his interest.

Su Zirui therefore dared not act rashly. She had met many remarkable people, and this person’s grace could still rank in the top three among the remarkable people she knew.

Cultivation changes the body, residence changes temperament—noble status naturally comes with matching bearing. The eyes of a court female official wouldn’t be wrong.

Seeing the other party so casual, Zirui simply spoke frankly: “Thank you for saving me just now, sir. Could you be a good person to the end and release this humble woman? Afterward my master will surely repay you.”

“Sure.” The brocade-robed man answered languidly. Zirui’s heart had just lifted when she heard him say: “Have your master come shell sunflower seeds for me. If I’m satisfied with the shelling, then fine.”

“Sir, please do not insult my master!” Zirui was indignantly displeased.

The brocade-robed man ate sunflower seeds: “Ordinary people—I’m too lazy to even insult them. Like you.”

Zirui stared at his facial expression. This person wasn’t deliberately being rude or humiliating, nor deliberately showing off or posturing. He genuinely didn’t care—the type who viewed all people as cattle and horses.

No needs, no people or things he cared about, no weaknesses. Such people were very difficult to deal with.

Zirui simply stopped talking. She couldn’t humiliate herself, much less bring insult to her master.

She waited for the brocade-robed man to go to sleep so she could figure out how to escape. But the brocade-robed man didn’t sleep. Though clearly yawning continuously, he still curled up eating sunflower seeds, as if waiting for something.

She didn’t speak, but the brocade-robed man spoke to her: “You can control beasts?”

Su Zirui answered warily: “Only a little superficial knowledge, like controlling rats.”

“Help me drive all the birds, beasts, and insects out of this courtyard.” He said. “Then I’ll…”

Zirui’s heart had just lifted when she heard him continue: “…allow you to eat some sunflower seeds and pastries.”

He beckoned, and a guard brought a plate of pastries. He sighed, looking left and right at the plate with a bitter face.

Such unpalatable pastries—let this girl eat them. If she enjoyed them, maybe he’d have some appetite too?

Sigh, the most painful thing about being away from home was not having a single meal one could eat…

Missing Little Cake…

Zirui nearly spat blood on his sunflower seeds. She controlled herself and said with an iron-blue face: “This humble woman doesn’t want to eat. Thank you.” After thinking, she ultimately couldn’t resist saying: “Such unpalatable things, and you treasure them like precious gifts for people.”

She was deliberately mocking him. Unexpectedly, the brocade-robed man’s eyes lit up upon hearing this: “You also think they’re unpalatable?”

Zirui saw his expression of meeting a kindred spirit and felt only a headache. This deep sense of powerlessness—she had only felt it when first meeting Jing Hengbo.

She could only say: “Yes, this isn’t fit for human consumption at all.”

“Right! This isn’t fit for human consumption at all!” The brocade-robed man’s attitude changed completely, saying enthusiastically: “A kindred spirit! A kindred spirit!”

Zirui wanted to vomit blood again.

“You must have good cooking skills.” The brocade-robed man said. “Can you make cake?”

Zirui was stunned. She had heard the word “cake” before. Not long ago was her birthday, and Jing Hengbo had mentioned that if they weren’t busy seizing territory, she should make her a cake. She had even described what a cake looked like—it sounded very tempting.

“That kind… fragrant and soft…” She tried hard to recall the description. “Yellow on the bottom, with cream and fruit on top…”

“Exactly!” The brocade-robed man suddenly sat up, his dragon-like laziness completely gone, his eyes full of burning light. “You really know what cake is! Then how about this—you go make one, and I’ll…”

Zirui also stared at him intensely, waiting for him to say “release you,” then she’d deceive him first and slip him some sleeping drugs or something.

Who knew he said: “…allow you to eat half.”

Zirui wanted to vomit blood again and could only say helplessly: “I don’t know how to make it.”

The brocade-robed man’s eyes swept over slantwise, suddenly smiling: “You saved your own life.”

Zirui was stunned, thinking was it really that serious? Even if she had deceived him, would it really cost her life?

But looking at this person’s behavior, most likely—yes, it was that serious.

“You’ve made me a bit unhappy.” The brocade-robed man lay back down, arranging the sunflower seed shells on the small table. “From your tone, you have some cooking skills. I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself—immediately make food I can accept. Otherwise…”

He didn’t continue. For someone like him, threats didn’t need to be spoken—smart people could feel it themselves.

Zirui instinctively felt he had a strange obsession with food, especially his interest in cake. This thing called cake didn’t exist in Dahuang—only the Queen had mentioned it. Could this person come from the same place as the Queen?

She tried hard to recall foods the Queen had mentioned, then followed a guard to the kitchen in the courtyard.

If she cooked well, maybe this person would have a change of heart and let her go?

As soon as Zirui left, the brocade-robed man pointed with his finger. The guards immediately stopped shelling. He listened intently to the wind outside, frowned, but then pointed again, indicating to continue.

After a while, the attendants brought a bowl of white fungus and bird’s nest soup, the broth milky white with wisps of steam.

A guard beside the brocade-robed man went to receive it, tested it with a silver needle for poison, and was about to present it.

But the brocade-robed man frowned: “Hot.”

This bird’s nest soup actually wasn’t very hot. The guard had certainly calculated the timing when bringing it, presenting it when it was neither too hot nor too cold. But if the master said it was hot, then it was definitely hot. The guard said nothing and placed the porcelain bowl by the window, opening the window sash a crack—just right for cooling.

When placing the porcelain bowl, the guard suddenly noticed that the wisps of white steam from before were gone. Now not only was it not hot, but the surface of the bird’s nest soup in the bowl looked cold at first glance.

But the rim of the porcelain bowl was still hot to the touch, giving the feeling that the upper half had been rapidly frozen while the lower half maintained its original temperature.

The guard felt strange and instinctively drew the silver needle to test again. As soon as the silver needle entered the porcelain bowl, it turned black.

The guard was shocked—it had clearly tested non-poisonous just now!

Same bowl of bird’s nest soup, same silver needle, same person, never left his hands, no one else appeared—where did this poison come from?

Behind him, the brocade-robed man suddenly said: “Headache. German, come massage.”

That guard German had to put aside his questions and also put down the porcelain bowl, turning to serve the brocade-robed man.

He wasn’t too worried—anyway, the master could handle everything.

The brocade-robed man slowly ate chestnuts while German covered his forehead with white cloth and gently massaged his head.

The porcelain bowl on the windowsill emitted wisps of steam.

The steam hadn’t been there before but was there now.

Even stranger, the wind was blowing inward, so the steam should also drift indoors. But at this moment, that pale white steam formed a thin line, slowly threading outward through the window.

After a while, the brocade-robed man casually said: “About ready, right?”

German went to bring the bird’s nest soup. The soup was now cold. The brocade-robed man didn’t seem to plan on drinking it. He glanced at the soup, then glanced outside the window, the corners of his mouth curving up.

“First round, draw.” He said.

The guards didn’t understand, but they didn’t need to. What the master did didn’t require mortals to understand. Of course, even less should they ask—what the master did didn’t require explanation to mortals.

After another while, fragrant aromas came from the kitchen. The brocade-robed man sniffed and asked with interest: “This aroma is somewhat familiar. What is that woman making?”

German went to ask and returned saying she was making hot pot.

Hot pot didn’t exist in Dahuang yet, but it had become popular in their country these past two years. Of course, since coming out, the master hadn’t eaten hot pot. The guards were all excited, hoping this long-missed hot pot could temporarily cure the master’s manic depression.

Zirui was indeed making hot pot. She originally couldn’t think of what to make, but saw a small hot pot in the kitchen and remembered Jing Hengbo mentioning this thing, even saying that when things weren’t so busy everyone could have hot pot together. While marveling that the other party even had this, she used the kitchen’s existing ingredients to make something like a one-pot dish similar to hot pot. Her cooking skills had originally been ordinary, but after coming out she had learned from the expert Yong Xue and was now quite good.

The cook brought out the small hot pot, still burning with red charcoal underneath. German used a snow-white cotton cloth as padding and carried it toward the hall.

German learned from the lesson of the bird’s nest soup mysteriously becoming poisoned earlier and covered the hot pot lid tightly.

But the hot pot grew hotter and hotter. German looked down and saw the charcoal in the bottom chamber burning very vigorously, as if someone were blowing on the fire.

Heat passed through the stove bottom and padded cotton cloth to his palms, burning painfully. German had to set the hot pot aside, soak the cotton cloth in nearby lake water, then pad it on his hands to hold the hot pot.

There was a water vat right beside the kitchen—the cook had just used water from the vat with no problems. But he didn’t dare use it, preferring to walk to the scenic lake to soak the cotton cloth in lake water.

Such a large lake couldn’t be poisoned, right?

While wetting the cloth, he felt ice fragments in the water and shivered, thinking Dahuang was really cold—Dong Tang probably hadn’t even had frost yet.

Throughout the entire water-fetching process, his eyes stayed fixed on the hot pot, confirming no movement whatsoever.

The cotton cloth soaked in ice water padded in his hands indeed was no longer hot.

The charcoal fire burned slowly, and the water vapor on the cloth gradually dried.

When German entered the door, the hot pot was perfectly heated, and the fragrant aroma of silver thread charcoal drifted faintly.

The brocade-robed man indeed looked very interested, sitting up. Chinese arranged the small table, and German brought the hot pot to place on it.

Just as he was about to set out bowls and chopsticks, the brocade-robed man’s gaze suddenly fell on the cotton cloth in his hands.

The cotton cloth had dried, with only the edges slightly damp.

The pot lid opened, releasing rich aromas that suppressed the charcoal scent.

The brocade-robed man held silver bowl and silver chopsticks, gazing at the magnolia slices, squid slices, mutton slices, beef slices, and various red, green, purple, and brown seasonings rolling in the boiling clear broth. He suddenly smiled: “Hard work.”

Chinese, German, Italian and the others were all stunned, never expecting such words to come from their master’s mouth. Overwhelmed with favor and moved to tears, they said: “Thank you for master’s care, we are not hard…”

“Keeping this hot pot burning wasn’t easy—sometimes hot, sometimes cold.” The brocade-robed man scooped up a spoonful of clear broth and seriously poured it on the charcoal blocks below, saying to those charcoal pieces: “You’ve worked hard. Come, have some soup.”

Chinese, German, Italian: “…”

Ah ah ah, people aren’t as good as charcoal!

German was fairly perceptive. After his grief and indignation, his heart jumped in alarm—was this hot pot still poisoned? Poison in the charcoal? Poison in the soup? Poison in the charcoal was impossible—burning would eliminate any toxicity. Then it must be poison in the soup?

One spoonful of soup completely extinguished the charcoal fire. The guards looked tense while the brocade-robed man acted as if nothing happened, pointing at the pot and saying impatiently: “Ladle it!”

The guards hurriedly ladled soup, their faces even more tense—wasn’t this poisoned? Why did the master still want them to ladle it? Could he want to poison back whoever was secretly poisoning?

Chinese and the others couldn’t help being tense. From Dong Tang to Da Yan to Nan Qi to Dahuang, they’d toured this whole circuit and never seen an assassin whose attacks were so traceless. Although each country had its experts—like that brilliant Taishi Lan in Nan Qi—that person excelled in power and didn’t seem to have such strange methods.

Inside and outside this Ningxue Pavilion were all elite guards who’d trained long beside the master, having dealt with countless storms at home. Ordinary experts couldn’t even approach within ten zhang. Now not only had someone infiltrated, they’d also struck—not only struck, but struck twice. In both times, these experts versed in all assassination methods hadn’t detected once, hadn’t even understood how the person attacked. German had already signaled all hidden guards when he went out earlier, but there was still no response, indicating no one had found where that person was.

This was simply incredible.

This was the first great enemy they’d encountered from home to abroad!

The soup was ladled. The brocade-robed man pointed to himself, and Chinese brought the soup before him. The brocade-robed man picked it up to drink.

“Master!” Chinese and the others cried in alarm, falling to their knees and hugging his legs. “You mustn’t!”