Jing Hengbo almost laughed from anger—what was this? When Prince Zhao drummed for King Qin, at least he drummed a few times. She hadn’t even agreed, yet they were already recording it as fact?

The other side knew she wouldn’t dance and had no intention of watching her dance. They were making up their own story to record in history, wanting to use this entry to humiliate her forever.

This level of shamelessness rivaled Chi Ming’s.

They wanted to record it in history? She chuckled coldly.

Over there, guards swarmed forward, protecting Ming Yan’an in three layers inside and outside, apparently also fearing she would repeat her old tricks and force Ming Yan’an to do something from a distance.

Jing Hengbo laughed mockingly, turned to glance at Master Mu. Master Mu was looking at the great hall’s crossbeam—this hall’s beam was nearly as thick as two people embracing, the dragon bone supporting the entire great hall, high above, bearing the majestic ridge of Tiantai Hall and tens of thousands of glazed tiles.

When their eyes met, each marveled at their telepathic connection.

Jing Hengbo raised her hand and smiled: “Borrowing a sword.” With a “clang,” the blade of the foremost armed guard flew from its sheath, cold light flashing, shooting straight past Ming Yan’an’s head.

The guards cried in alarm: “The Queen assassinates! Your Majesty, be careful!” They pounced forward and pressed Ming Yan’an to the ground.

But that blade had already made a flourish, swept over everyone’s heads, snow-bright as lightning, shooting straight up.

“Clang”—the blade hit the great hall’s crossbeam.

Jing Hengbo turned her head and smiled at Master Mu: “Borrowing some internal energy.”

Master Mu seemed to hesitate for a moment, then placed his hand on her back. Jing Hengbo immediately felt a gentle true qi entering her dantian—mild and continuous, not exactly surging, but seemingly endless.

Her internal true qi was immediately catalyzed and greatly strengthened. She waved her hand, and the blade on the beam flew high up, then plunged down hard, “scrape,” cutting into the crossbeam.

Cries of alarm arose below as all officials stood up, shouting: “How dare you be so impudent!”

“The main hall’s crossbeam—how can it be damaged? Stop! Stop!”

Jing Hengbo laughed heartily, her laughter lazy yet carrying three parts killing intent: “My blade tends to fly wildly. My blade is very afraid of noise.”

The hall immediately fell silent, only Ming Yan’an’s voice came from the layers of guards: “Stop! Stop!”

Jing Hengbo blew him a flirtatious glance, completely ignoring him. Borrowing the abundant internal energy Master Mu gave her, she controlled the blade from the air, “swish swish swish,” boldly striking down.

Each stroke cut three inches into the wood, each stroke sent wood shavings flying. “Scrape scrape scrape scrape” of rapid cutting, the sound of metal striking metal echoed throughout the great hall, making people’s ears ring. Vermillion and pale wood shavings fell like rain, covering the officials’ heads.

The guards in the full hall were helpless—the crossbeam was too high to fly up to, and even if they could fly up, they dared not. Standing on it would be the great crime of trampling royal authority, punishable by execution of nine generations. They could only watch helplessly as the Queen cut to her heart’s content.

After a moment, Jing Hengbo raised her hand, the sound ceased and the blade was withdrawn. On the crossbeam above appeared a row of large characters:

“On the eleventh day of the eleventh month of Gengshen year, the Hawksbill Clan Chief presents Tiantai Hall’s crossbeam for the Black Water Queen to inscribe!”

Each stroke of the characters was a knife mark half a foot deep, exposing pale wood grain, making them extremely clear.

The officials’ faces were also like that wood grain—pale, pale.

The main hall’s crossbeam was ruined.

Such deep carved marks couldn’t be covered with paint. Left here, they would be Shangyuan City’s eternal shame.

To erase this shame, they could only destroy the crossbeam, but destroying the crossbeam meant destroying the great hall—this was the royal palace’s main hall!

Never mind the human labor and money required to rebuild the great hall—just the fact that after the Black Water Queen’s visit to the great hall, the Hawksbill Clan Chief had to rebuild the great hall would equally be a laughingstock.

The officials’ faces were ashen, all knowing that today’s meeting would make the Black Water Queen’s name spread throughout the world again.

Entering the city alone, laughing at the court officials, toying with the clan chief, blade splitting the main beam!

What a brilliant drama full of wisdom and heroic spirit, worthy of being remembered for eternity.

And they were the despicable, self-humiliating clown supporting characters in that eternally remembered legend.

How unbearable.

For a moment everyone was dejected, when suddenly someone in the crowd cried out in alarm: “Your Majesty! Your Majesty, what’s wrong! Your Majesty! Quickly summon the imperial physician! Imperial physician!”

The guards frantically opened a gap, and in the crowd, Ming Yan’an’s face was also pale as wood grain—somehow he was already lying down.

The great hall immediately descended into chaos—crying, rescuing, calling for imperial physicians, calling for guards, waving hands pretending to be busy…

“Hey hey hey!” Jing Hengbo called out in dissatisfaction. “You can’t play like this! We haven’t discussed serious business yet! Think pretending to faint can delay things? You think you’re the evil female supporting character in a third-rate romance drama…”

Her shouting was drowned in everyone’s chaotic cries. Finally an old man came over, perfunctorily said a few words, had people invite her to rest in a side hall, then no one paid attention to her anymore.

As Jing Hengbo walked out, she shouted: “This act isn’t convincing enough—before fainting you should also spit blood and cry ‘I’m so angry’ to be proper…”

The court officials in the hall looked at each other, then after a moment, all spat blood in unison.

“I’m so angry!”

…

The great hall had lively back-and-forth exchanges, while Ningxue Pavilion had another kind of liveliness.

The brocade-robed man and the white-clothed man had already reached a deal.

The white-clothed man was the type who, once finished talking, would absolutely say no more and immediately get up to leave.

He flew up from the ice beam, his robes the same color as ice and snow. Without even looking at the guards fallen all over the ground below, the brocade-robed man wasn’t anxious either, not calling out to ask him to help detoxify the guards, just smiling as he ate sunflower seeds.

Above the white-clothed man’s head, a section of ice tiles silently disappeared. At the moment before he exited through the ice tiles, half the ice pillar under his feet suddenly turned into countless fragments, striking those guards.

With light “scrape scrape” sounds, the guards got up one by one—apparently the restriction was lifted.

The method the white-clothed man used made the brocade-robed man raise an eyebrow, confirming that what the guards suffered might not have been poison, but very likely a sophisticated acupoint-sealing technique. As for why sealing acupoints looked like poisoning and seemed achieved through poisoning methods, only someone familiar with that technique would know.

The brocade-robed man was just thinking of ordering the guards to chop down the upper half of that ice pillar to avoid the asymmetry being annoying to look at, when he looked up and suddenly saw Chinese’s face twisted with his mouth askew, and couldn’t help being alarmed.

Looking at German again, his usual gentle submissiveness was gone, his face fierce with burning eyes staring at him.

Latin, Italian, English… that group of guards who were usually respectful and humble with downcast eyes—each had iron-blue faces and malicious gazes, as if they had suddenly transformed into a group of malevolent ghosts harboring ill intent.

“You…” The brocade-robed man immediately realized what had happened—when that fellow detoxified the guards just now, he had played another dirty trick on him!

The guards were too close. Before he could make a move, Chinese had already knocked over the hot pot’s charcoal basin.

Though the charcoal fire was extinguished, the charcoal was still poisonous. Charcoal ash scattered everywhere, obscuring vision. The brocade-robed man immediately waved his sleeve to brush away the ash.

Just then, Chinese howled and pounced over.

“Bang”—Chinese’s huge body pressed down on him, then German made a fierce leap, jumping onto Chinese, then English, Italian, Latin… a group of strong men frantically pounced forward, pressing the brocade-robed man to the ground…

“Bang”—the brocade couch overturned, “thap thap” sounds of bodies pressing against bodies, “bang bang” sounds of who knows who hitting whom, and faintly the “rip” sound of tearing clothes…

Another loud “bang,” seven or eight human figures scattered and flew away, heavily hitting the four walls, each spitting a mouthful of blood.

The brocade-robed man sat up from the ground—his hair was disheveled, his collar torn open, with blood marks on his neck, and a bruise on his cheek…

This posture really looked like a charming young male prostitute who had been gang-raped, the torn collar still exposing a glimpse of neck and half a collarbone, skin like jade marked with several finger prints and a blood trace, like plum blossoms in snow or moon marks, with a particular kind of abused beauty…

His expression was beyond description—unclear whether it was anger or something strange…

The guards fell from the walls one after another, each spitting stagnant blood, immediately regaining clear consciousness. Wonderfully, after awakening they had no sense of guilt whatsoever. Each looked at the others in confusion, then saw the brocade-robed man’s condition and were all greatly shocked, crawling and rolling forward.

Seeing them approaching, the brocade-robed man instinctively shrank back…

But the guards were completely oblivious, tearfully pouncing forward.

“Master, what happened to you?”

“Master, you’re injured!”

“Master, did that ice man do this to you!”

“Master, let us avenge you…”

The brocade-robed man looked at the guards before him—still that loyal, bitter expression, the anxiety, concern, and confusion on their faces were all real.

They truly didn’t know what had just happened!

They had actually forgotten that moment of supreme treachery!

That fellow had played dirty trick after dirty trick even after leaving…

At this moment, the brocade-robed man really wanted to vomit blood…

Before him were the guards’ earnest gazes, innocent and anxious to know the truth. How could he say—I was just gang-pressed by you all going crazy?

Proud people would rather die than admit loss of face. He could guess the white-clothed man’s character, and naturally the other could guess his too.

The brocade-robed man ground his teeth for a long time, finally smiled, personally helping Chinese up, saying kindly: “Nothing serious. When that assassin left just now, he fought me for three hundred rounds. To save you all, I suffered a small loss. Don’t worry, I will definitely settle this account with him.”

The guards were completely confused—they clearly remembered the white-clothed man had already left, so how did he come back to fight their master for three hundred rounds?

But whatever master said was right; whatever master did was correct.

If master said he would repay, then he definitely would.

The guards were moved to grateful tears—ah! Master had gotten so disheveled to save them! This was master’s first time in so many years! One could see how earth-shaking and spectacular those three hundred rounds must have been! Too bad they weren’t blessed to witness such a battle between absolute masters…

But German was muttering in his heart—was master really fighting for three hundred rounds? Why did it look more like he’d been through three hundred rounds in bed with a group of big men…

The brocade-robed man now found this group of guards displeasing no matter how he looked at them. If he didn’t really need people to serve him, he’d want to drive them all into Black Water Marsh. In a few words he told them to get lost first while he changed clothes and combed his hair, putting on a high collar. The bruise on his face couldn’t be covered no matter what—he couldn’t punch himself again, so he had to find some powder to apply.

This kind of dishevelment was also a first for him. Therefore, he slightly restrained his usual disdainful attitude, acknowledging that in this vast world, there were still a few capable people. That Jun Ke in Da Yan was quite interesting; Taishi Lan in Nan Qi had even made him stumble slightly; now even Dahuang, supposedly a barbarous land, wasn’t barbarous at all—especially this white-clothed man. If he were in normal condition and they really fought all out, even he had to admit the outcome would be uncertain.

Therefore he also had some expectations for Jing Hengbo—could this rumored frivolous, beautiful woman who didn’t respect propriety, was light and dissolute and thus exiled as a failure, really compete with him?

The ice tiles overhead flickered with glass-like glimmers. He looked up, remembering when the white-clothed man left earlier, he shot out through the ice tiles, but after exiting, the ice tiles immediately recongealed automatically, which seemed quite magical and had stunned his guards at the time.

He curled his lips—magical? This was clearly a sign that the true qi in his body was about to become uncontrollable and was leaking out, right?

Only after everything returned to normal did he let the guards back in. Outside, the wind suddenly grew fierce, with faint sounds of clothing rustling in the wind. He listened to those sounds, raised his eyebrows and said: “A reckless one.” Listening more, he said: “Female.”

The guards weren’t surprised at all that their master could deduce a visitor’s character just from hearing movement. Never mind movement sounds—even if someone farted, master could tell what martial arts they practiced.

“Take down that palace lantern over there and place it by that window.” The brocade-robed man sat on the bed, holding his tender yellow silk quilt, eating sunflower seeds as he instructed.

The guards complied, placing a half-person-high palace lantern by the window. The lantern was octagonal, covered with pale yellow sheepskin paper with no patterns, so through the lantern, one could vaguely see the interior scene.

“Chinese, German.” The brocade-robed man continued: “You two go to that position and perform a scene of forcing yourself on a civilian girl who fights desperately to resist.”

Those named looked dejected, while those not named each got a handful of sunflower seeds to watch the show.

Chinese and German stood before the wall diagonally across from the palace lantern. From that angle, if someone looked from outside the window from afar, they could see the activity by the wall through the palace lantern.

Chinese and German began “fighting for chastity.” The brocade-robed man watched while making demands: “Move a bit toward there… Chinese, your expression isn’t fierce enough… German, bend your waist lower, or those outside can’t see…”

…

Meng Potian ran across the roof ridges.

She had already determined the location of that black shadow from earlier, because only Ningxue Pavilion had residents and lights.

She lightly landed on the wall top, planning to observe carefully before entering. Though she seemed rough in nature, she was after all the young lady of a major martial world gang—necessary caution was essential.

But as soon as she stood steady, she saw a palace lantern lit in the opposite room, and under the lantern, someone seemed to be struggling.

Meng Potian curiously widened her eyes. At first she thought it was fighting, but gradually felt something was wrong.

Of the two people struggling and fighting, the one pressed below had long hair flowing loose and a slender waist—seemed to be female?

This… could it be forced violation?

Meng Potian hadn’t eaten pork but had seen pigs run. Having collected so many erotic pictures, though she couldn’t discuss specific theory, she understood the movements and positions quite well.

She determined someone here was forcibly seizing a civilian girl, intending rape!

The martial world heroine Meng Potian most couldn’t stand this kind of despicable behavior bullying women!

Each of the Fifteen Gangs had rules against violating innocent civilian girls, but only the Wildly Blade Alliance enforced them most thoroughly, precisely because of her existence.

All the hot blood in her body seemed to burn. She drew the dagger from her calf.

At this moment she heard a “rip” sound, seemingly clothes being torn, and simultaneously the woman below gave a pitiful cry and fell down—she couldn’t see her anymore.

Meng Potian “swished” into the courtyard.

…Inside the room, the brocade-robed man “ripped” a towel apart…

German lay on the ground, kicking Chinese’s belly with his feet, glaring at him angrily…

…

Meng Potian rushed toward that room.

She was smart—didn’t foolishly shout “Miss, I’m here to save you!” nor did she enter through the window with the lit palace lantern. She charged onto the roof, preparing to crash through the roof with thunderous force, catching people off guard and dragging them away.

Just as she got on the roof, she felt her footing slip. Where she landed was extremely fragile, with countless “creak” sounds.

Before Meng Potian could think “not good,” with a “crash,” the ice tiles beneath her all shattered and she fell straight down.

Meng Potian reacted extremely quickly, reaching to grab the crossbeam, but where her hands landed was bone-chillingly cold and gave no purchase. With a “crack,” something broke and she fell further.

Falling face-down, she saw a disheveled man opening his arms toward her, smiling: “Thank you, young lady, for coming to the rescue.”

Meng Potian’s eyes rolled back.

She fainted from anger.

…

A moment later, Ningxue Pavilion had returned to normal. The palace lantern was put away, debris swept clean, even Meng Potian was gone.

The brocade-robed man listened to sounds in the darkness and suddenly smiled: “Another one comes.”

The guards were all somewhat excited, but the brocade-robed man said: “This one’s a bit troublesome.”

The guards waited for his instructions, but he said: “Put out the lights. All of you go sleep.”

His guards always acted on each command immediately. They put out the lights and went to their quarters to sleep.

Zirui was still busy in the kitchen when she suddenly saw the guards come out, each going to side halls. After a while, lights in the courtyard gradually went out—the appearance of preparing for collective sleep. She looked in confusion at the plate of pastries in her hands, not understanding why these people went to sleep just like that.

But in any case, sleeping was good—quiet night was good for escape.

The main room where the brocade-robed man stayed already had its lights out. Of course, there were still two or three guards in the kitchen watching her, also urging her to rest. Zirui put down the pastries and obediently followed them.

When she put down the pastries, her sleeve hung down, silently gathering a piece of pastry in her sleeve, breaking it into pieces as she walked.

Zirui’s lodging was arranged in the center of the side hall, in a small room surrounded by guards on all sides—a very logical arrangement.

The guards didn’t place any restrictions on her either, just pushed her through the door. But Zirui seemed unsteady, stumbling, and instinctively grabbed something for support. One hand grabbed a guard’s belt. She hastily let go in embarrassment. The guard didn’t say anything, telling her to quickly enter. He locked the door and went out. Zirui had no martial arts—anyone could see that.

The guard hung the key on his waist, placed a stool in front of the door, wrapped himself in thick fur clothes, and began dozing.

Everything quieted down. Ningxue Pavilion sank into deep darkness.

Zirui crouched behind the door, her eyes glowing faintly.

She made extremely subtle sounds. Nothing moved in the darkness—only someone with excellent eyesight could see a line moving on the ground.

Looking closer, one could see it was a long line of ants, coming from the wall corner all the way to the door, endless without end.

The ants’ antennae waved, detecting some enticing scent—for instance, lard.

The pastry pieces Zirui had crumbled were lard osmanthus cookies. This naturally wasn’t something for the brocade-robed man to eat—it was originally prepared by her for escape.

Following that scent, ants continuously burrowed into the guard’s robes.

The guards’ robes all had blue satin belts, with long strips hanging down on both sides. The key was tied to those hanging cloth strips.

And those strips had already been smeared with lard by Zirui when she pretended to stumble.

The sounds Zirui made in the darkness were only heard by ants. They worked hard secreting formic acid, gnawing at that cloth strip. Small ants were naturally hard-pressed to bite through, but there were many ants.

If the guard looked down now, he’d definitely get a huge shock—his belt was crawling with layers of dense ants, like adding a writhing black belt…

Zirui lay by the door crack, struggling to extend her hand through the gap, palm up against the ground, waiting.

The ground was bone-chillingly cold. From time to time ants crawled across her palm—at first it was ticklish, but later because it was frozen numb, she lost feeling.

She didn’t know how long passed. Her knees went numb before there was a faint “ding” sound—a brass key with half a cloth strip fell.

Zirui immediately grasped it in her palm, preventing the key from hitting the ground and making noise.

She pulled her hand back—her arm was already frozen stiff, but her heart rejoiced. She was finally no longer a burden and could completely save herself!

With the key in hand, next was unlocking, but unlocking would inevitably make noise and alarm the guard. Zirui was frowning in thought when suddenly there was a fluttering of wings outside, as if night birds were startled. This sound woke the guard, who instinctively rose to check. Zirui was overjoyed and quickly put her hand through the door crack to unlock with the key, but her hand was frozen numb and shaking—she failed to align with the keyhole twice.

The guard would return soon. Zirui was anxious as fire. On the third attempt to align with the keyhole, suddenly a hand took the key.

Zirui was greatly alarmed and instinctively wanted to cry out, but that person, while taking the key to unlock, raised a finger and pointed. Zirui could no longer make a sound and could only stare in terror as he opened the lock but didn’t open the door. Instead, he flipped inside, and before closing the door, hung the lock on the door again.

At this time the guard finished checking the birds and, seeing no problem, began walking back. The lock hung loosely—in the darkness he wouldn’t pay attention and returned to his original position to doze as usual.

Behind the door, Zirui was firmly held with mouth and nose covered by that person. A rich and pleasant masculine scent rushed over—only Pei Shu could have such strong presence. She recognized him and her body slowly relaxed.

Knowing she recognized him, Pei Shu also released her. The two looked at each other in the darkness. Pei Shu smiled at her, showing white teeth, his eyes shining with some appreciation.

He had arrived earlier but hadn’t entered rashly like Meng Potian. Instead, he circled the entire courtyard, saw where Zirui was imprisoned, then followed and watched Zirui’s self-rescue methods throughout.

He had previously never glanced at women other than Jing Hengbo. This smile now made the Su female official feel overwhelmed by the honor. She steadied her mind and used hand gestures to ask why he hadn’t simply taken her away just now.

Pei Shu indicated for her to go to the door and carefully observe the guard’s situation.

Zirui looked for a while but really couldn’t see anything unusual. She shook her head in confusion. Pei Shu pointed to the stool the guard sat on. Zirui looked carefully and suddenly felt the ground around the stool seemed somewhat different. It looked a bit whiter and brighter, and faintly seemed somewhat rough.

She still didn’t understand what this meant, but suddenly remembered that when Pei Shu had unlocked and entered just now, he hadn’t passed by this stool but had flipped in from under the eaves.

“The stool has a mechanism.” Pei Shu whispered. “Under the stool is connected a thorn mat the same color as the ground. Once you step on it, you can’t get off.”

Only then did Zirui understand. This door opened inward, and the stool’s position was extremely cunningly placed, exactly blocking the doorway at knee height. Once someone wanted to exit through the door, they couldn’t avoid the stool—they’d definitely have to lift their leg high to step over the stool first before leaping up. But as soon as their foot touched ground, they’d be caught.

Of course, kicking over the stool and stepping on it to leap was also possible, but escapees, afraid of making noise, how would they kick the stool?

This mechanism was designed with great skill disguised as clumsiness, entering from completely unexpected angles. The cleverness was chilling.

Zirui gestured, asking Pei Shu what to do. Should they go through the roof?

Pei Shu grinned and pulled her up to the roof beam, but didn’t immediately break through the roof. Instead, he first gently lifted a roof tile.

Bright moonlight leaked down—nothing seemed unusual.

Pei Shu had Zirui look up.

Through that tile gap, Zirui saw what seemed to be a tree on the roof.

If they wanted to exit through the roof, they naturally wouldn’t choose the side facing the courtyard but the back side of the courtyard. This section of roof was covered by a tree’s shade.

Pei Shu replaced the tile and said: “You can’t see from here, but earlier I discovered that tree has a paper bag of sunflower seeds hanging from it. A line pulls the branch holding the sunflower seeds, pressed under this tile. When we rush out from the roof, that line will break, the branch will spring up, the sunflower seed bag will rupture, and sunflower seeds will fly out.”

Zirui thought the roof was so large, and sunflower seeds were just a small bag—even if poisonous, they couldn’t do much to people, right?

“Don’t underestimate this person.” Pei Shu said. “This person calculated that we’d either go through the door or the roof, and designed traps on both sides. To be able to grasp human psychology so precisely and design mechanisms so extraordinarily on such short notice—there aren’t many such people in the whole world.”

Zirui deeply agreed, but felt more admiration for Pei Shu. This young marshal seemed violent and wild, caring about nothing, but was actually meticulous and cautious. No wonder he was previously invincible in battle and famous throughout the world.

She gestured asking where they should go then—this room had no windows.

Pei Shu smiled and pulled her down from the beam, walking to the door.

Still going through the door.

Under Zirui’s puzzled gaze, he drew his dagger, thrust it through the door crack, aimed at the guard dozing with his back to the room, and “swoosh”—one stab to the back.

Fast and ruthless.

The guard fell over silently, lying prone on the thorn mat, his cloak bunched up like a crouching large hedgehog.

Pei Shu laughed quietly and opened the door, making a gesture of stepping on the back to leap up.

Zirui was shocked and amused, then felt this was indeed this demon king’s style—most domineering, most straightforward, most murderously fierce. Obstacles everywhere? Then kill people.

Moonlight flowed like water on the steps, peaceful on all sides. With his many years of combat experience, Pei Shu could completely confirm there really was no one lying in ambush around.

That someone was too careless, thinking two clever mechanisms could definitely detain him?

Pei Shu silently laughed heartily, pulled Zirui’s sleeve, touched his toe down, stepping on that guard’s back. The next movement would be to spring up.

But just then, he felt pain in his foot.

Like lightning flashing by, he knew something was wrong. Ignoring the foot pain, he grabbed Zirui and threw her out, shouting loudly: “Go! Find Jing Hengbo at the front hall!”

Zirui flew off the steps and fell to the ground, her face pale from the unexpected turn.

After throwing her out, Pei Shu reached to grab the stool behind him, wanting to flip back. He couldn’t use his foot because that “guard’s” cloak was also a poisoned thorn mat!

But it was too late.

A pair of hands extended from under the cloak, lightning-fast grabbing his ankle, swinging him overhead, and heavily smashing him down toward the steps!

The steps were white marble, ice-cold and hard as stone. If this hit solidly, Pei Shu’s back would definitely break.

Pei Shu reacted incredibly quickly. Just before landing, he suddenly thrust out his hand to brace himself. After a “crack” sound that seemed like bone fracturing, his body hung suspended above the steps, one arm supporting the ground, one arm protecting his heart, glaring angrily at that “guard.”

The cloak flipped over, and that guard stepped out slowly—dressed in brocade, the previously somewhat wretched figure slowly stretched out, tall and graceful as a jade tree.

Night was deep, and the child of darkness walked through faint mist.

Pei Shu’s eyes flashed. He finally knew why he had failed. Seeming cautious step by step, he had actually been careless and underestimated the enemy. The opponent was actually the leader acting personally.

The guard keeping watch earlier was indeed a guard, but after he made noise and diverted the tiger from the mountain, the one who returned was the brocade-robed man.

He hadn’t yet figured out who the opponent was, but the opponent already understood him to the bone. Every step was calculated.

The mechanisms at the door and roof were just for show. The opponent calculated that he could see through the door and roof mechanisms, calculated that he would ultimately choose to kill someone to use as a stepping stone, and waited here without moving.

Such ruthless calculation was nearly unparalleled in the world.

How could he not be defeated?

The brocade-robed man smiled slightly, not at all avoiding Pei Shu’s murderous gaze, saying leisurely: “You just mounted me from behind earlier. Now it’s my turn to attack you.”

Pei Shu’s strength was exhausted, his arm went soft, and he crashed to the ground with a “bang.”

He fainted from anger.

The brocade-robed man picked him up and glanced at Zirui over there—Zirui hadn’t escaped alone but had consciously walked back.

The brocade-robed man showed a slight smile and praised: “As the Queen’s subordinates, you’ve made me quite impressed. Therefore, I’m finally somewhat expectant of the Queen.”

He carried Pei Shu back, playing with his jet-black silky long hair while contemplating the possibility of cutting it off for sweeping, while looking toward the front hall direction with great interest.

“Your Majesty the Queen, tell me—should I play a round of death roulette with you?”