Outside, the Yi Kingdom people began competing in face-changing, having gone through variations and techniques, now seeing who could change faces fastest in different poses. Some changed faces while doing handstands, some while dancing, some while eating. One man stood up, hiccupping drunkenly as he swayed outward. The others pulled him back laughing: “Where are you going? Haven’t competed yet—show us your move.”

The man shook his pants leg laughing: “Taking a leak. Wait for me to come back and I’ll give you a grand face change.”

The others released him, laughing: “Don’t tell me you’re going to change faces while pissing?” They paid no attention, letting him sway away.

The man also laughed heartily: “Indeed… excellent.” He walked over ten steps, turned behind a tree, and the sound of urination followed.

He hummed low songs while relieving himself, the singing masking the crisp sound of breaking leaves.

The water flow spread out in a shadow, and at the shadow’s edge seemed to be another shadow—behind the tree, the vague outline of a person.

The man finished relieving himself and fastened his pants.

A pair of hands suddenly seized his throat!

The man was greatly alarmed, both hands still at his waist, only able to grasp futilely behind him. That person’s fingers applied force—crack—the man rolled his eyes white and softly collapsed.

The person behind caught him, casually wiping his face to remove the mask.

That person first removed his own facial mask, put on the man’s mask, then put on his own mask again. He then cleared his throat and laughed heartily, kicked the tree in front of him, and somersaulted out.

He laughed in mid-air: “Look at my pissing face-change!”

Everyone around the fire looked up to see a person somersault out, wipe his face, and land with a strange, bearded face full of twisted whiskers.

Everyone laughed heartily, cursing: “Careful not to splash your leftover piss on our faces,” then returned to eating meat and drinking wine.

At this moment everyone’s faces had been changing back and forth—they were used to various strange faces, and all carried some drunkenness. No one would think much of it.

The face-changing person sat among the group, toasting and drinking, hooking shoulders—after a bout of heavy drinking and skillful probing, he had basically learned this group’s approximate identities, where they came from, and where they were going.

However, Yi Kingdom’s search for the imperial uncle was also classified. No one would speak of it openly—when mentioned, they habitually used coded language that they mutually understood. So this face-changing person, after questioning back and forth, only confirmed these people came from Yi Kingdom, had an important mission, and that mission was almost complete—they would soon return home.

Seeing he couldn’t learn more, this person thought for a moment, raised his wine bowl, pointed at the nearby cart, and asked drunkenly: “Those inside, why so precious? Uh… won’t even come out to drink together. Uh, I don’t accept their status. You tell me, who are they? Uh, putting on such airs…”

…

Inside the cart, Gong Yin’s and Jing Hengbo’s attention wasn’t on that group of drinking people.

Having traveled together for several days, departing so secretly, there was really no need for further vigilance.

Gong Yin didn’t want to wake Jing Hengbo, but she seemed unable to sleep deeply. Soon her breathing quickened slightly, as if about to wake.

Gong Yin wanted to put away those two twisted hairs, but reaching for his waist pouch, he remembered it had been stolen, making him frown.

Most of his clothes had been changed—nowhere to store them. He thought for a moment, lit a candle, and burned those knotted two hairs.

The flame danced, the hair strands hissed on the fire, turning to green smoke and vanishing.

He lowered his eyes slightly, as if making a wish, or thinking of nothing.

Many feelings became this moment’s curling light smoke, passing through cart gaps, rushing toward the sky.

At heaven’s end, who would hear the grand visions in his heart and the most delicate feelings within?

He softly exhaled.

Whether wishes were heard, whether they could be realized, whether someday they would each hold a strand of hair and bind them as husband and wife—actually wasn’t so important.

Having loved was enough.

Her happiness was enough.

Jing Hengbo opened her eyes to see dim orange-yellow light halos in the cart, with his elegant and noble profile in the glow.

A wisp of smoke seemed to pass before her eyes, curling like a dream.

She felt both dazed and weathered, sensing the air was heavy.

But his silhouette was warm, and the faint scent of something burning was both stirring and comforting.

She couldn’t help wanting to hug his waist, tell him she’d slept so well just now and had a beautiful dream.

In the dream, light and shadow were hazy with floating red tints. Someone combed her hair, their black hair flowing and intertwining like water, tied into a wonderful butterfly knot.

Thinking of that butterfly knot shape in the dream made her want to laugh, but seeing his unmovable back, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. The dream’s implications were too obvious—she didn’t want him to know her innermost secret thoughts.

“What are you burning?” she asked lazily, not wanting to move, her voice thick with sleep.

“Burning the love letter you gave me,” he answered.

She heard it as “the love letter I gave you,” snorting with amusement and disdain: “Nonsense, as if you’d write love letters…” Suddenly realizing this guy was teasing her again, she kicked his back: “Playing with me? Punishment: write me love letters. After you finish a hundred, I’ll consider whether to forgive you.”

“You might as well kick me to death,” he answered.

“Very tempting!” Jing Hengbo cursed angrily, but where would she dare really kick him to death? She didn’t even dare kick hard—if he collapsed, she’d still have to care for him.

She saw the pile of cut hair on Gong Yin’s knees, casually gathered it up, rolled it into a ball: “Why not throw it away? If it blows around and gets all over us, won’t that be annoying?” Having said this, she opened the window to throw out the hair.

Gong Yin couldn’t stop her in time, so let her be. His gaze unconsciously followed the window she’d opened, sweeping outside to see the Yi Kingdom people sitting in circles playing face-changing games. Before the firelight, faces changed back and forth—interesting, yet somewhat eerie.

His gaze casually swept over, just about to lower the curtain, when his hand suddenly paused.

…

By the fire, the infiltrator was asking questions. One drunk fellow, his gaze bleary, said: “Those two… they’re a pair of cut-sleeves… uh… a pair with extremely good feelings… cut-sleeves!”

“Such people…” another person continued, “haha, actually cut-sleeves!”

“Very special indeed… no wonder our ruler toward him…” another also joined in, but his thigh was slapped by someone beside him. Realizing his slip, he laughed and raised his bowl: “Drink! Drink!”

“Drink! Drink!” The infiltrator clinked bowls with him—crack—wine splashed up, each falling into the other’s bowl.

He wasn’t hurried to drink, hooking the shoulder of someone beside him, smiling: “Bottoms up! Bottoms up!” He forcefully clinked bowls with everyone.

Porcelain bowls clashed, wine spilled outside the bowls, falling into everyone’s wine bowls.

…

Gong Yin’s hand paused while lifting the curtain. Jing Hengbo noticed and leaned over: “What’s wrong?”

Gong Yin pushed her head down with one hand. Jing Hengbo’s neck retracted, immediately understanding something was wrong.

“What is it?”

This time her tone was different from before, carrying three parts tension.

She silently prayed—there couldn’t be problems now, with Gong Yin just awakened and both their conditions poor!

“Something’s not right…” Gong Yin leaned by the window, lowering the curtain but leaving a small gap, saying softly: “There’s one person whose posture and movements seem strange.”

The wine bowl clinking motion was too forceful—this could be explained by wine going to his head, but sitting posture was also an art. All masters would unconsciously choose positions most favorable for striking and escaping when standing or sitting, regardless of current circumstances—this was purely habitual reaction from long training.

A master like Gong Yin could naturally see at a glance which position by that fire was most advantageous. Now, sitting in that position was the person forcefully clinking wine bowls.

Yi Kingdom people’s faces couldn’t be distinguished—only clothing could identify them. This bowl-clinking fellow wasn’t the group’s leader. Since even the leader didn’t know how to choose the most advantageous terrain, how could a subordinate know?

Perhaps it was coincidence, but Gong Yin, who had walked through years of life-and-death experiences, knew there weren’t that many coincidences in this world. Explaining everything away as coincidence might cost his own life.

“That one.” He pointed out to Jing Hengbo. “There’s a problem.”

Jing Hengbo didn’t question Gong Yin’s judgment at all. She immediately began worrying about how to resolve the approaching crisis.

The visitor meant no good and must be a master. How to escape?

The terrain here was similar to when Namuer surrounded them, but here was still distant from mountains, and the surrounding plains had almost no hiding places. Villages were also far away. Her teleportation, due to cold air repeatedly penetrating, couldn’t move far now.

And Gong Yin’s condition was even worse than when he’d accompanied her in escape as Mr. Mu.

The person by the fire suddenly turned to glance at the cart. This glance made her heart tighten, and Gong Yin had already quickly lowered the curtain.

The two faced each other silently in darkness.

Instinct told them that although only one person came, he was definitely much more difficult than Namuer’s entire group.

“Can’t fight directly…” both almost spoke simultaneously.

Gong Yin suddenly reached out to pat Jing Hengbo’s shoulder, but she reacted extremely quickly, leaning back to avoid it.

As she fell back, her bright eyes cut like scissors, fiercely stabbing Gong Yin with a glance.

He wanted to knock her out again—didn’t he think about whether he could manage now? Didn’t he think about what would happen to her if he pushed himself and something went wrong?

Her waist was flexible—falling back in an iron bridge, she hit the cart wall with a bang, then naturally cried “Ouch” and cursed loudly: “Chrysanthemum! You’re getting more and more spoiled! Watch me discipline you!” She grabbed a wine jug fixed to the cart wall.

The wine was for cooling Gong Yin’s fever and wiping his body—half a jug remained. She grabbed the wine jug and was about to tumble out of the cart.

Having made noise, the people by the fire had already turned back. Now she couldn’t not exit the cart. Gong Yin could only helplessly give up, but just as she was about to lift the curtain, his scissors flashed, cutting his wrist pulse. A small stream of fresh blood shot into the wine jug in Jing Hengbo’s hand.

Jing Hengbo tumbled out of the cart, naturally shaking the wine jug to disperse the blood.

She had witnessed the power of Gong Yin’s blood—when it entered Yelu Qi’s wound, it caused him considerable trouble. If someone drank it, the effect would naturally be more shocking.

Against this type of enemy, ordinary poison couldn’t be concealed.

The people by the fire heard her cursing loudly in the cart, but in the blink of an eye, she herself had fallen out, making them all burst into laughter and tease her.

“Hey, weren’t you going to severely discipline Chrysanthemum?”

“Hey, how did you fall out first? Can’t bear to?”

“Looks like you were kicked out, haha…”

This group had gotten along well with her these days, no longer speaking formally to each other. Jing Hengbo laughed heartily, squinting her eyes, dutifully playing “a qualified cut-sleeve who dotes on his male favorite,” shaking the wine jug: “Why bother with that little wretch? After I drink myself happy, there are plenty of ways to deal with him! Now drink! Drink!”

Her gaze turned, suddenly noticing there were no extra wine bowls. Right now she suspected all wine bowls were already poisoned and unusable. Using the wine jug to clink with the opponent would make it hard for wine to splash into the other’s bowl. What to do?

At this moment everyone was watching with burning gazes, and that person also turned with a smile—she couldn’t hesitate at all. Just as she steeled herself, deciding to forcefully clink the wine jug with the opponent, suddenly the cart curtain lifted and a bowl was thrown out, nearly hitting her head.

She reached out to catch it. From inside the cart, Gong Yin’s voice-controlled voice came out: “You drink! Must drink more! Use this bowl—this bowl is big. I’m waiting for you to drink heartily so I can discipline you later!”

Jing Hengbo nearly spurted out, her throat choking, coughing repeatedly.

Gong Chrysanthemum could actually act!

Gong Chrysanthemum actually performed a petulant, coquettish little uke so vividly!

When did the aloof emperor change genders?

Was he really Gong Yin? Hm?

Everyone roared with laughter, all squeezing eyebrows and winking with glee: “Haha, what a doting Chrysanthemum.”

“Haha, this bowl’s big enough—one equals two. You better handle it.”

“If you can’t handle this, you’ll probably handle even less when you go back.”

“A roaring lioness at home, hahaha…”

That bowl was the one used for porridge earlier—being for two people, it was like a basin. Jing Hengbo resentfully thought today she’d probably drink herself down, or else win the title of “Three-Jin Emperor,” while glugging wine into the bowl and cursing: “Wretch is just pretentious!”

Everyone watching this pair of flirting cut-sleeves found it amusing, laughing freely. That infiltrating fellow, seeing everyone’s relaxed expressions without pretense, gradually lost his suspicion, his body posture relaxing slightly.

Jing Hengbo looked at everyone—though speaking and laughing as usual, their gazes were bleary and bodies swaying. They were clearly poisoned but didn’t know it themselves.

Such skillful methods—she became more vigilant.

Jing Hengbo grabbed the wine bowl and began clinking with everyone. Of course she couldn’t target that suspicious fellow first—she started with those beside her, heavily clinking the bowl out: “Bottoms up!”

Wine splashed—she didn’t mind that those people’s bowls got dosed, since these fellows were already poisoned.

Just about to sip from the wine bowl when suddenly a fellow beside her pulled her over, laughing: “Where’s the delicate drinking? Big gulps! Refreshing!”

Jing Hengbo was nearly pulled into his embrace by this sudden pull, a male’s turbid breath rushing over. She instinctively frowned, also sensing burning gazes from the cart behind her. Turning again, she saw the suspicious fellow diagonally across, laughing and competing in drinking with others, but his gaze seemed to sweep over casually.

Her propped arm immediately retracted, naturally hooking around that fellow’s neck, half her body leaning on him. She “gulped” down a mouthful, laughing: “What do you understand? Uh… I already drank half a jug in the cart just now… My little Chrysanthemum isn’t feverish anymore… I’m so happy… Come, drink! Drink until drunk!”

“Drink until drunk!” The person beside her laughed and clinked bowls with her. The person diagonally across withdrew his gaze.

Since putting on a hearty drinking display, she couldn’t drink daintily. Jing Hengbo could only drink in big gulps, silently crying bitterly while drinking. Why was the timing always wrong when drinking? Recently exhausted to death, physical strength declined—she’d get drunk easily.

One person, one big gulp—after four or five people, half the bowl was gone. Now the wine had reached that suspicious fellow. She looked bleary-eyed, not stopping, extending the wine bowl: “Come!”

That fellow was even more bold than her, extending his wine bowl early, heavily colliding: “Bottoms up!”

Two people with hidden agendas both used force in their hands. “Bang”—the two bowls nearly cracked, wine in both bowls splashing up half a foot high, crashing down into each other’s cups.

The two looked at each other and smiled, each raising their bowls to drink.

Jing Hengbo had been drinking quickly throughout. After clinking, she drank first. This time her movements were also quick—tilting her head back.

That person also didn’t hesitate. Though Jing Hengbo’s wine had splashed into his bowl, he could still tell whether a bowl of wine was poisoned.

The two gazed at each other over their wine bowls. Jing Hengbo saw him tilt his head to drink and immediately flipped her bowl.

She had already pulled her collar to her chin, preparing to use the opportunity to pour wine into her collar, when suddenly the fellow across quickly drained his wine, tossed the bowl aside, and patted her shoulder, laughing: “What, can’t drink anymore?”

This pat made her hand tremble, and the remaining bit of wine in the bowl poured into her mouth.

At this point she couldn’t spit it out or hold it, because the fellow across was still staring at her with burning eyes.

As if by telepathy, she seemed to see Gong Yin suddenly raise his head at this moment, about to exit the cart.

She immediately bit down and swallowed the wine, laughing: “Uh… how could that be… bring three more bowls!”

While shouting loudly, she drunkenly tossed the bowl aside. The bowl shattered against stones as she called out laughing: “Uh… smashed it… smashed it!”

She repeatedly waved toward the cart, signaling Gong Yin that things had reached this point—don’t come out and sacrifice yourself uselessly. But her hand was somewhat stiff, struggling before waving out.

At this time, the other drinking people were still sitting, still saying they wanted to drink, but laughing and talking without much movement. When they tried to pat others’ shoulders, their raised hands were very stiff. Strangely, they themselves still felt nothing.

The scene by the fire thus appeared somewhat eerie—a group of people talking and laughing, half-raising wine bowls but not moving. Firelight leaped and shot, but those true and false faces remained motionless, like a group of frozen demons.

The person sitting by the fire raised his face to look around in a circle, smiling.

Then he calmly drank the remaining wine in his bowl and stood up.

This group had nothing abnormal—all were poisoned and down, including the one in the cart, breathing very weakly with no martial arts at all.

He was somewhat disappointed, wondering where Gong Yin and Jing Hengbo had actually gone. He lazily walked outward. Jing Hengbo blocked his path, so he casually kicked. Jing Hengbo fell like a wooden stake, rolling several times.

He walked a few steps, stopped, hesitated, thinking whether to check the person in the cart—he’d need to see personally to be assured.

Before he could decide, the cart door creaked open. A thin man walked down, wearing a large fur coat, coughing. Without looking at him, he walked straight to Jing Hengbo, glanced at the shattered wine bowl, muttered “Drunk again!” very unhappily lifting Jing Hengbo to drag her toward the cart. His expression was very displeased, but his feet didn’t forget to kick away porcelain shards to avoid injuring Jing Hengbo.

That person watched coldly, suddenly laughing: “Can you manage? Let me help you.” He reached out to support Jing Hengbo.

Gong Yin didn’t look at him, blocking with his hand, saying unhappily: “You all got him drunk, now you want to play the good guy? No need!” He dragged Jing Hengbo toward the cart.

Turning around, his entire back was exposed to the opponent.

That person’s gaze flashed, killing intent appearing for an instant.

Acting habits made him instinctively want to kill. Finishing the person now would be most convenient. Even the Great Golden Immortal couldn’t escape this blow from behind.

But his naturally cautious nature made him think of many things in an instant.

He thought of this Yi Kingdom group’s sudden appearance—they must have some important mission related to Yi Kingdom’s ruler.

And these two people were obviously whom Yi Kingdom’s ruler sought.

As long as these two had nothing to do with Gong Yin and Jing Hengbo, he didn’t want to act. Because once acting, he’d have to kill everyone, and this place was already near Yi Kingdom’s border. These people should have already sent news of their imminent return home. If they were wiped out here, Yi Kingdom’s ruler would definitely investigate.

His own affairs weren’t finished—he didn’t want to make more powerful enemies and complicate matters.

And at this moment, that wide-open back also made him more firmly believe this person wasn’t who he sought, wasn’t even someone from the martial world.

Because no one from the martial world would dare expose their weak points so openly.

Troubles were always better fewer.

Thinking this, he gave up.

The cart door banged open. That Chrysanthemum dragged that fellow into the cart. Though his expression was resentful, his movements were gentle. He smiled, thinking they really were a pair of deeply affectionate cut-sleeves. They had eyes only for each other.

He rose and walked toward darkness. The paralysis poison he’d used on these people wasn’t severe—it would resolve in half a day without leaving memories. This was his special drug for testing others.

He walked while removing the borrowed clothing, his silhouette tall in the dark night.

…

Inside the cart, Jing Hengbo lay on the ground. After Gong Yin dragged her into the cart, he also directly collapsed beside her. The two lay spread-eagle facing each other.

Jing Hengbo sighed with relief—finally passed. Though she was slightly poisoned, the opponent was greatly poisoned. Who in the world could handle Gong Yin’s blood?

After a while, Jing Hengbo blinked, wanting to speak but only producing “ah ah” sounds.

She was alarmed, thinking she was done for—poisoned mute. She desperately blinked. But Gong Yin seemed not to notice her abnormality, asking: “How are you? Why did you drink that mouthful of wine?”

Jing Hengbo thought: If I didn’t drink, you would have jumped down—could I not drink? She opened her mouth, still “ah ah” twice. Gong Yin gazed at her: “Hm? Thirsty?”

Jing Hengbo was anxious—usually frighteningly clever, how did he suddenly become stupid? But now only her mouth could barely open. She could only desperately open her mouth. Gong Yin suddenly realized: “Oh, you’re asking for a kiss?”

Jing Hengbo felt like lightning struck her, immediately freezing with mouth agape, thinking this guy isn’t Gong Yin, this guy isn’t Gong Yin… But he had already said seriously: “Then as you wish.”

He leaned down, his clear elegant breath approaching. Jing Hengbo’s brain still wouldn’t turn, stupidly gaping like a goldfish, not knowing to close her mouth. Watching his lips grow larger and larger before her, then gently pressed down. On lips and between teeth, suddenly filled with cool, refreshing light fragrance.

Her tongue involuntarily trembled slightly, meeting his tongue’s gentle flick. Instantly entwined, she was just feeling her breathing tighten when she heard him take a deep breath. A penetratingly cool, sharp breath stabbed down like a sword. Her chest and abdomen hurt as she felt a spicy breath rush up her throat. Fearing she’d vomit something again, his lips pressed on hers then separated. He casually stroked her back.

She coughed violently, feeling her mouth suddenly tasted of wine. Simultaneously her abdomen churned. He turned his head, spitting out white breath: “Vomit! Try to vomit out as much as possible!”

She leaned against the cart window vomiting, the previously drunk wine gushing out in a mess. She vomited until heaven and earth spun while he gently patted her back.

After vomiting, the stiff numb feeling improved greatly. She turned over, lying like a dead dog, asking with thick tongue: “My poison all came out?”

Rarely, he could actually understand, saying lightly: “If your tongue hadn’t entangled and wouldn’t let go, perhaps I could have forced out more toxins.”

“Shameless!” she angrily accused. “Obviously you were shameless and wouldn’t let go…”

While gently massaging her still somewhat stiff muscles, he nodded: “So this is called shameless.”

Looking at his eyes, she automatically filled in the second half: “Or I could be even more shameless.”

Breath caught in her throat—she nearly rolled her eyes. Where was the aloof emperor? Who was this shameless guy maintaining his aloofness?

Anger and residual wine fumes rushed up. She “burped” and turned to heavily press on him, rolling her eyes: “So stiff… can’t get up.”

He let her press on him without speaking.

Jing Hengbo pressed on him, feeling the human cushion was so comfortable, the slight wine buzz was so comfortable, the enemy leaving was so comfortable, escaping danger was so comfortable… She couldn’t help closing her eyes, drowsily about to sleep, when she heard him say from below: “Hengbo.”

Being pressed on, his voice was muffled. She thought his nasal tone sounded really nice while lazily responding “Mm?”

“Don’t get up,” he said. “So soft.”

A moment of silence.

“Gong Yin!” Jing Hengbo’s exasperated voice came from the carriage. “Do the Great Wilderness people know you’re this shameless in your bones!”

…

That person put on his cloak again, walking across the wilderness.

The last route was also confirmed negative, leaving him puzzled and displeased, his brow slightly furrowed.

Suddenly he stopped.

In an instant he heard what seemed like cracking sounds in his blood, as if suddenly frozen, congealed, exploding!

The expression on his face also seemed to explode with amazement!

But in this amazement was no fear of being poisoned. Instead, there seemed to be incredulous wild joy!

He took a deep breath, inner energy rolling within—also a stream of ice and snow-like energy. When meeting that sinister, fierce, cold true energy, it seemed to return to the same source. After a slight pause, it merged into one stream.

This stream had slight resistance but wasn’t enough to harm him. Soon the congealing and surging gradually stopped, his true energy returning to normal.

His complexion also changed from deathly pale to normal color, amazement and sinister intent alternately flashing in his eyes.

So they were at…

He suddenly turned and ran frantically!

…

On another side of the wilderness, the person carrying things was also running frantically.

Behind him was still a large group of pursuers, maintaining the same not-too-close, not-too-far distance as before.

For this fellow, controlling everything within his preferred parameters was essential.

The person on his back was still struggling, struggling enough to annoy him. He raised his hand and patted—smack—that fellow stopped moving.

Moonlight slanted across his angled eyebrows. Brocade Robes’ face remained so brilliantly beautiful, not at all like his detestable personality.

Of course, the one he carried and the large group pursuing behind didn’t think so.

They felt: how could there be such a perverted person in the world? How could a pervert deserve such a good face?

Three days ago they were properly in Emerald Palace, serving the young master cooking. The young master most loved brewing wine and cooking. That day he suddenly had a whim to make a particularly sweet pastry. The recipe was reportedly from Dong Tang. The young master spent enormous effort and money to obtain that recipe. Making it for the first time, a pile of people were helping. Just beating eggs reportedly took three people continuously stirring for two hours, nearly breaking their wrists.

Busy the entire day, by evening it was finally almost ready. The young master carefully placed that precious basin into a specially made oven, saying afterward everyone could taste this cake.

This cake was truly fragrant—the aroma was extremely penetrating, directly shooting into people’s nostrils, stimulating taste buds then dispersing outward, crossing the palace’s towering walls, drifting with the wind toward… the pervert’s nose.

No one knew where the pervert came from or how he could smell cake-making aromas from outside the palace. They only knew this fellow suddenly appeared, perfectly timed when the cake was just right. As soon as he appeared, he flipped the pot lid and stole the cake. After one taste, he threw away everyone’s long efforts, saying with dissatisfaction: “Too much saccharin! Insufficient rising!”

The young master fainted from anger then—this cake used many unheard-of materials and methods. Even existing kitchen tools couldn’t accomplish it. The young master had studied that recipe for a month, consulting master chefs, half-guessing half-supposing, personally designing many unique utensils, searching everywhere for various materials. Finally feeling basically prepared, he specially chose an auspicious day to start cooking, planning if the experiment succeeded, he’d make another to present to his mother for the Queen’s birthday.

The result: this pervert charging out from some unknown corner overturned kitchen tools, stole the cake—stealing was stealing, but after one bite he trampled it underfoot. Never mind the young master fainting—they all wanted to vomit blood. A group’s month of effort!

But worldly affairs never had “most terrible,” only “more terrible.” After trampling the cake, this fellow thought for a moment and said: “But your ability to achieve this is already quite good. Come, follow me. I’ll guide you—let’s make a real cake to eat.” He reached out and grabbed the young master.

The remaining people could only crawl up from the dust, crying for their parents while chasing. This alarmed the palace, the imperial guards, the royal city garrison. Hearing the news, the Queen urgently ordered troops to pursue, but this fellow was ghostly elusive, actually dragging everyone nearly out of Emerald territory.