The man leaped out of the window and quickly melted into the night.

Qiao Zhao came to the window and silently gazed outside.

The nation and its people were more important than romantic feelings. As the wife of a military general, she was prepared for this.

She only hoped that this man would be safe and successful, returning soon to marry her.

Seeing Qiao Zhao in such a state, Chen Guang tactfully refrained from disturbing her.

After a long while, Qiao Zhao silently turned around and walked to the unconscious man.

“Chen Guang, wake him up.”

“Right away.”

A moment later, the man slowly regained consciousness. Seeing Chen Guang, his eyes contracted, and he tried to jump up, only to discover his entire body was powerless.

“Don’t waste your energy. You can’t even commit suicide now. Honestly confess who your master is behind the scenes, and I can let you die more quickly!” Chen Guang toyed with his dagger, smiling cheerfully.

The man lowered his eyelids and remained silent.

“Not talking?” Chen Guang half-crouched down, pressing the cold, gleaming dagger against the man’s face.

The man showed no reaction.

“Third Miss, please step aside. I need to interrogate him properly!”

“Go ahead and question him. If I can’t handle it, I’ll step away.”

“Alright then.” Chen Guang turned the dagger, staring intently at the man. “Being stubborn, are you?”

He applied force with his hand, and the dagger immediately sliced across the man’s mouth.

Blood immediately flowed down from the man’s mouth, spilling everywhere, yet the man didn’t make a sound.

Qiao Zhao twitched the corner of her mouth: “Chen Guang, remember to mop the floor later.”

This was her boudoir, not a torture chamber, yet blood was already being spilled so quickly.

Chen Guang smiled embarrassedly and turned to address Binglu, who had appeared at the study doorway: “Binglu, do you have any salt granules?”

“Salt granules? Yes!” Binglu quickly ran out and soon returned carrying a wooden bowl. “Here.”

Chen Guang pinched up a handful of salt granules, pressed down the man’s face with one hand, and ground the salt into powder before sprinkling it on his wound.

“Ugh, ugh, ugh—” The man made beast-like howling sounds from his throat, rolling continuously on the ground.

Binglu covered her face, not daring to look anymore.

Although Qiao Zhao didn’t look away, she felt uncomfortable inside.

Their opposing sides were a matter of stance. Seeing a living person being tortured, as an ordinary girl, she couldn’t possibly feel pleased.

“You, you might as well kill me,” the man said through gritted teeth.

“Kill you? Where’s the fun in that!” Chen Guang wiped his dagger and sneered. “Forget it, I can’t let your blood dirty Third Miss’s place.”

He lifted the man with one hand and turned to ask Binglu: “Is there a large pot in the small kitchen?”

“How large?”

“Large enough to fit this person.”

Binglu shook her head: “Miss only has a small stove here for boiling water and steaming pastries. Where would there be such a large pot?”

Chen Guang looked regretful: “Looks like we’ll have to go to the main kitchen.”

Binglu glanced at the unlucky fellow Chen Guang was holding and covered her mouth in shock: “Chen Guang, you want to boil him? How can that work? How will we eat our meals afterward?”

Chen Guang touched his nose.

Why was this girl’s focus so strange? He was about to stew a living person, and now was the time to worry about eating?

“We can change pots!” Chen Guang said helplessly.

“That’s true.” Binglu patted her chest in relief, then suddenly realized: “Chen Guang, you want to make clear-stewed human meat? Ugh, you’re so disgusting!”

At this moment, Qiao Zhao’s calm voice came: “The kitchen pot can’t fit such a large person either.”

Chen Guang was startled, then laughed: “No problem. I can first chop off his hands and feet, then throw his head and body in. Slow-cook it bit by bit—anyway, I can’t let him die easily.”

“Chen Guang—” After Binglu finished dry heaving, she pointed at the man: “Why isn’t he moving anymore?”

Chen Guang looked down and pushed the man: “Playing dead?”

The man’s head lolled to one side, completely silent.

Chen Guang reached out to check the man’s breathing and stared wide-eyed in amazement: “No way, I just scared him a couple of times and he died? This death warrior is too pathetic. Was he a freebie when buying poison?”

Qiao Zhao walked over: “Put him on the ground first.”

Chen Guang hurriedly laid the man flat. The more he looked, the angrier he became, fuming: “What kind of cowardly death warrior is this? This is just a scam!”

Qiao Zhao reached out to lift the man’s eyelids and looked, then took out a silver needle to pierce his philtrum, saying indifferently: “The person isn’t dead—he fainted from fear.”

“So he was scared unconscious.” Chen Guang breathed a sigh of relief.

The last death warrior had committed suicide. If this death warrior was also scared to death, all his efforts would be wasted.

Qiao Zhao stared at the man for a moment, then spoke: “How about this—Binglu stays, Chen Guang goes out first, and I’ll try a different method.”

Chen Guang immediately refused: “Third Miss, how can this work? What if he hurts you?”

“He doesn’t even have the strength to commit suicide now. How could he hurt me? Besides, Binglu is here to help.”

Seeing Chen Guang still hesitating, Qiao Zhao asked: “What if your methods scare him to death?”

Chen Guang was rendered speechless: “Alright then, I’ll guard outside. If there’s any situation, just call me.”

The night deepened. The candles in the study had been extinguished, leaving only moonlight pouring through the window, casting silver frost on the ground and bringing dim light to the pitch-black room.

From somewhere came the sound of dripping water.

The man slowly opened his eyes.

“You’re awake.” A woman’s voice came, her tone gentle yet carrying a coolness, as if soaked through by moonlight.

The man looked around but could see nothing, only the sound of dripping water becoming increasingly clear.

“What’s that sound?” he asked. “Where am I?”

“Have you forgotten?”

“I—” The man slowly remembered and asked in surprise: “Am I dead?”

The room was completely silent, with no one answering his question.

“Am I, am I dead?” The man raised his hand to touch his face. His hand was covered in blood. “Yes, I must be dead. Otherwise, why wouldn’t I feel any pain?”

Hidden in the darkness, Qiao Zhao curved the corners of her lips.

She had used silver needles to temporarily block his pain receptors throughout his body—of course, he couldn’t feel pain.

“Is it raining outside?”

The woman’s voice sounded again: “How could it rain in the underworld? That’s the sound of your blood dripping. Because you’re dead, you can hear it so clearly.”

“This is the underworld?”

“Yes, you can walk around and see what the underworld looks like. That’s right, just like that—walk forward slowly, and then you encounter someone…”

“I encounter someone?”

“Look carefully. You should recognize each other. He’s the person who went to Zhang’s noodle shop before you…”

“I recognize him—it’s Little Six!”

“And you? Who are you?”

“Me? I’m Little Nine.”

“Little Nine, where do you and Little Six come from?”

“We—” The man’s eyes showed obvious struggle.

“Is it Lingnan?”

“Yes, we come from Lingnan.”

“Are you working for Prince Su’s lineage?”

“Yes…”

“Then, who is the master you serve now?”

“Our master is—”

“Tell me his name.”