The four commanders were escorted into the residence by Mao Linye’s men.

In the main hall of Mao’s residence, Mao Linye sat in the seat of honor, dressed in an ornate black robe.

He held a teacup, appearing utterly at ease, as though nothing outside had anything to do with him.

Feng Jiu’er moved quickly — before the commanders had even entered, she was already perched on one of the hidden rafters of the main hall.

Only once the four commanders had walked in did Mao Linye gently set down his cup and rise to his feet.

“Brother Cheng, Brother Jia, Brother Yuan, Brother Liang — please.” Mao Linye stepped down from the dais, gesturing.

The place was vast, and the decor extravagant — to say Mao Linye had money and power to spare would hardly be an exaggeration.

The four were: Cheng Wenzhi of Liuchuan City, Jia Jinhe of Wing City, Yuan Xiao of Yicheng, and one last commander said to have come from Xiangcheng.

The commander who’d brought troops from Xiangcheng was, by name, Liang, called Liang Datong — though by now, someone else had already taken his place.

Personally escorted by Mao Linye, the four took their seats.

Feng Jiu’er studied “Liang Datong” for quite a while and could more or less confirm he was one of the Feilong Shi’er Qi — though which one specifically, she couldn’t yet tell.

No helping it — the way Ninth Imperial Uncle had chosen the Feilong Shi’er Qi seemed based on martial skill, but it looked more like he’d been picking for looks.

It had to be said, every single one of the Feilong Shi’er Qi was tall, striking, and outstanding in appearance.

Mao Linye returned to his own seat, cupped his hands respectfully toward the four, and sat down.

“I imagine everyone can already guess why I’ve invited you all here.”

“No idea,” Jia Jinhe said coldly.

In an instant, everyone’s gaze — even Mao Linye’s — turned to this rather rough-looking man.

Jia Jinhe’s thick, dark brows knit together as he asked bluntly, “Did you kill Mao Zhongcai? Are you also planning to kill General Cai?”

If Mao Zhongcai had been anyone else, it wouldn’t have been out of the question for Mao Linye to kill for the position of City Lord.

But regardless of how you looked at it, Mao Linye and Mao Zhongcai were brothers — for Mao Linye to have murdered his own brother was, frankly, disgraceful.

“My younger brother’s death has nothing to do with me,” Mao Linye replied, expressionless, to Jia Jinhe.

“Yet he died on your territory,” Yuan Xiao said, his tone equally indifferent.

Yuan Xiao was the leader from Yicheng, and given the relationship between Yicheng and Wing City, he and Jia Jinhe could be said to stand on the same side.

Not just the two of them — this time, the troops sent to reinforce Pingyuan City from Yicheng, Wing City, Liuchuan City, and even Xiangcheng all shared the same purpose.

That mysterious force had allied with Yue City, first wiping out Li City, then taking control of Yongshan City, and now Pingyuan City.

No one much cared who ended up governing Pingyuan City, but no one knew just how far that force’s ambitions extended either — it was time to rein it in.

“I’ll say it again — I didn’t kill him,” Mao Linye said, his tone deepening.

“If it wasn’t you who killed Mao Zhongcai, then what about the imperial men?” The one asking was Cheng Wenzhi of Liuchuan City.

Liuchuan City bordered Pingyuan City directly, and this town even had a gate shared by both cities — Liuchuan City was bound to be more anxious than the others.

If Pingyuan City couldn’t even hold this last town, there was no telling whether that mysterious force might soon turn its attack on Liuchuan City itself.

“The imperial men — my people killed over a dozen of them.” Mao Linye’s gaze shifted to Cheng Wenzhi, seated on his left.

“General Cai is currently imprisoned by me.”

“Why?” Cheng Wenzhi frowned. “Are the imperial men something we can just move against as we please?”

Mao Linye tapped the table and let out a light sigh.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard — among that mysterious force allied with Yue City, there’s someone from the imperial household.”

Liang Datong raised an eyebrow slightly but said nothing.

The others also looked at Mao Linye, not uttering a word.

“It’s the Third Prince,” Mao Linye said, waving a hand. “I have a letter here that the Third Prince wrote to General Cai. You can all take a look.”

The steward beside Mao Linye produced a letter and walked straight out with it.

The first to receive the letter was Jia Jinhe.

Jia Jinhe unfolded it and immediately frowned.

“What is this?” He widened his eyes and looked again and again. “A blank sheet of paper — what am I supposed to see here?”

The moment the steward heard the word “blank,” he was struck dumb with shock.

“How could it be blank?” The steward, who had already backed away several steps, immediately strode forward again.

At this point, even the composed Mao Linye couldn’t help but frown.

“Take a look yourself!” Jia Jinhe shoved the letter back into the steward’s hands.

The steward took the letter, glanced at it, then flipped it over and looked again, his expression turning to one of terror, his mouth opening wide enough to fit two eggs.

“What exactly is going on?” Mao Linye stood, his voice cold.

His icy, bloodthirsty tone snapped the steward back to his senses. The steward abruptly reacted and turned around.

He glanced up, then hurried toward the dais with the letter in hand.

He rushed up the steps and dropped straight to his knees before Mao Linye, both hands lifting the letter, light as a feather.

“Boss, I don’t know how this happened either. The letter is blank.”

“But I… ever since you entrusted the letter to my keeping, it’s stayed on my person the whole time. I never gave it to anyone.”

“Boss, believe me, I haven’t done anything. Really, boss, I truly haven’t done anything.”

If members of the imperial household had died and General Cai had been imprisoned besides, without a solid excuse, this was a grave crime indeed.

And this letter had been Mao Linye’s best piece of evidence for having moved against the imperial men.

Now, the evidence was gone.

Mao Linye took the letter, glanced at it, and his palm tightened — he crushed it into a ball.

“Boss, this really has nothing to do with me. I’ve kept that letter on me the whole—”

Before the steward could finish, two soldiers, having received their orders, dragged him out.

“Boss, you have to believe me, I won’t betray you, boss…”

“Boss, I didn’t do it. After all these years, you still don’t trust me? Boss, save me!”

The steward’s voice grew fainter and fainter, and soon faded away entirely.

Feng Jiu’er watched the direction the steward had disappeared in, feeling a small pang of guilt.

The letter hadn’t been tampered with by the steward — it had been her third brother’s doing. Poor steward, made into a scapegoat for nothing.

Then again, thinking about it, the steward’s life of luxury had all been built on the oppression of the common people — so Feng Jiu’er didn’t feel too bad about it after all.

Mao Linye stared toward the direction of the door, brow furrowed the whole while.

After a long moment, he picked up the blank paper in his hand and held it up to his nose to smell it.

The man’s ink-dark eyes grew even more shadowed, and killing intent flickered between his brows.

He had, it seemed, guessed the truth.