The way Long Wu was carrying on, it didn’t look like a joke at all.

“Sister,” he called out affectionately, and made a move that shocked everyone.

Long Wu actually reached up and pulled the black cloth off his own face.

“Sister, take a look — do you like what you see?”

“If there’s anything about me you don’t like, I’ll change it. I quite like women like you, sister — skilled, strong in martial arts, and still so alluring.”

Long Wu tilted his body slightly, his eyes fixed unwaveringly on Song Shiniang.

The corner of his mouth curled into a gentle smile as he asked, “Sister, are you satisfied with what you see?”

Feng Jiu’er pinched at her own cheek hard, genuinely worried she might burst out laughing.

She had never expected that Long Wu, who was normally so cold, would make such a huge sacrifice today.

Was he really this good at sweet talk? Did his parents know?

No — she should say, did his master know? After all, Long Wu had no parents; he was an orphan.

They had looked into some details about Mao Linye that day, including his three most trusted aides.

One of Mao Linye’s three most capable aides was none other than Song Shiniang.

Song Shiniang was the same age as Mao Linye and had a daughter whose father was unknown, which meant Song Shiniang had never had a husband.

Still, this woman never seemed to lack young, handsome men at her side — she had no need of a husband at all.

Even the men on Mao Linye’s side were caught off guard by what Long Wu had said.

Song Shiniang had been about to fly into a rage — as one of Mao Linye’s most favored subordinates, she certainly wasn’t one to tolerate provocation from these young upstarts.

But just as she was about to explode with anger, Long Wu revealed his handsome face fully.

It had long been said that not a single one of the Feilong Twelve Riders was anything less than good-looking.

Little brother Long Wu ranked fairly high among them in looks — more than enough to outshine the men usually kept at Song Shiniang’s side.

The instant Long Wu pulled off the cloth covering his face, the anger in Song Shiniang’s heart was instantly replaced with delight.

“Ahem.” Du Ling coughed loudly.

Only then did Song Shiniang realize she had let her composure slip, and she snapped back to attention.

“You little brat! What exactly are you? How dare you act so brazen in front of me!”

“Say it now — whose people are you, or don’t blame us when the arrows fly without mercy!”

Long Wu frowned, hurriedly pulling the black cloth back up over his face.

“Sister Shiniang, I never expected you were this kind of person! Aren’t you supposed to be someone who cherishes and pities delicate beauty?”

Even now, Long Wu still didn’t seem ready to give up.

“Not talking? Then just kill me. If it weren’t for my admiration for you, I wouldn’t have traveled all this way from— no, never mind, I didn’t say anything.”

“Whatever, kill me if you’re going to kill me. Once I go back, I’ll just—”

Boom, boom… Suddenly, an explosion sounded from within.

“Go!” Long Shiyi shouted, and the five of them leapt together, clearing the high wall and landing back in the courtyard.

“You all go first.” Once Feng Jiu’er landed steadily, she looked at the others beside her.

“Long Wu, Long Shiyi — leave Qiaomu’s protection to you two inside. Get out of here quickly, the brothers should have arrived by now.”

“Got it!” Long Shiyi nodded. “Be careful, all of you!”

On top of the high wall, shadows appeared one after another, dropping down.

Inside the courtyard walls, the sound of fighting soon rang out.

Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi had no intention of dragging this out either; they fought as they retreated in another direction.

Mao Linye’s skills were formidable — Jian Yi took the initiative to engage him directly, while Song Shiniang and Du Ling both went after Feng Jiu’er.

But the enemy’s numbers were clearly far greater than what they’d first seen.

Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi gradually retreated, until they were finally forced into a corner against the wall.

Thousands of men surged toward them in a dense wave, more than the two of them could easily handle.

Boom, boom… the drug factory exploded again — who knew for the how many-eth time.

By now, the whole factory was ablaze, and the courtyard around it was as bright as daylight.

At some point, Mao Linye had already closed in on Feng Jiu’er.

“Just who are you people?” he said, eyes cold as he fixed his gaze on her, thrusting his sword forward.

Feng Jiu’er dodged in time; countless swords converged, and in the end her own sword met Mao Linye’s blade.

“Mao Linye, the worst thing you’ve ever done was produce a drug that should never have existed!” Feng Jiu’er said, deliberately lowering her voice, her eyes sharp as she stared him down.

Brothels, hired killers — those things she could tolerate. But this secret drug was something she could never accept.

Feng Jiu’er deliberately kept her voice muffled, so no one could recognize its true tone.

She had no intention of exchanging any more words with Mao Linye. A cold, sharp sweep of her sword forced back everyone in front of her, sending even Mao Linye stumbling back several steps.

If it weren’t for the fact that they were cornered against a wall, unable to use her full strength, her sword’s edge would have gone much further than that.

At the same moment, not far away, Jian Yi also unleashed a sweeping strike, forcing back those closing in on him.

The two exchanged a glance, then both sprang up onto their toes and leapt into the air.

“Chase them! Do not let them escape!”

Just as Mao Linye steadied his sword and leapt into the air, a far more powerful gust of force suddenly swept in.

A great wind swept through, and everyone who had jumped into the air was blown far off course — Mao Linye included.

Those who hadn’t managed to leap up simply collapsed on the spot, rolling across the courtyard ground.

On top of the wall stood a tall, imposing figure.

Near the drug factory, dazzling flames cast their light on the man’s silhouette, illuminating half of the silver-flashing mask on his face.

“Who are you?” Mao Linye demanded, pulling himself up off one of his own men.

That palm strike had been fierce — he hadn’t even noticed it coming before he was sent flying a good several zhang.

Feng Jiu’er and Jian Yi stood to either side of the tall figure, who looked as imposing as a deity.

Feng Jiu’er gazed at the man’s profile, her eyes and brows lighting up with joy.

Ninth Imperial Uncle had come as well — when had he arrived?

“You’re the Third Prince? Impossible! Since when did the Third Prince’s martial skill become this formidable?” Mao Linye gripped his long sword, looking up at Di Wu Ya.

He could tell this man was no ordinary person, but he didn’t like having to look up at anyone.

“This is my territory. Once you’re here, don’t think you can leave!” Mao Linye snorted coldly and waved a hand.

But before his men could even react —

Suddenly, a burning object came flying in from outside.

“Boss, it’s explosives!” Song Shiniang lunged forward and shoved Mao Linye aside.

It wasn’t just one — several burning bundles of explosives were thrown in one after another.

Inside the courtyard walls, explosions rang out — boom, boom, boom — one after the other.

By then, Feng Jiu’er had already followed her man, mounted on Zhuifeng, and left the forest behind.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle, when did you get here?” Nestled in the man’s arms, Feng Jiu’er looked lazy as a little cat.

Di Wu Ya lowered his gaze at her, and the large hand he’d freed instinctively curled around her small waist, holding her tight.

“If I hadn’t come in, how much longer were you planning to keep playing?”

There was reproach in his voice — but far more than that, there was tender indulgence.