Feng Jiu’er’s cheeks were thoroughly flushed, and her heart was still leaping about at a startling pace.

A beautiful face capable of causing ruin — and no less devastating than the famed beauties of history.

Ninth Imperial Uncle, that great menace, wielded a kind of power that was genuinely extraordinary. Even someone like her — well-acquainted with handsome men, having spent her days surrounded by the likes of Mu Mu and Zhan Yuheng — could not withstand even a fraction of that dark, bewitching pull.

Her heart was still flipping about with a will of its own, nearly launching itself clean out of her chest.

Jiu’er could only pretend to be absorbed in observing the air around them, striving to calm herself, making sure no one could see that anything was amiss.

It was just a brush of Ninth Imperial Uncle’s lips — an accident, nothing more — and yet she was this thoroughly flustered and undone. It was really quite humiliating.

She waited a little longer, until she was reasonably certain the poison in the air had dissipated, before pulling her hand free from Zhan Qingcheng’s grip and walking toward the black-clad leader’s body.

“Miss Jiu’er, allow me.” Yu Jingfeng stepped forward. With a flick of his long sword, he lifted the face covering from the black-clad leader in a single motion.

Because the man’s body was saturated in poison, Yu Jingfeng had been careful not to touch anything directly.

When the covering came away, all three of them furrowed their brows at once.

“Not a local.” Feng Jiu’er turned to Zhan Qingcheng. “He looks like someone from a foreign tribe.”

The man’s appearance had a quality that was neither quite one thing nor another — clearly not someone from Bei Mu.

A foreign spy, brazenly infiltrating the imperial city, even daring to attempt the assassination of the Ninth Prince — revered by the people of Bei Mu throughout the realm.

But then again — with a face like that, how had he been moving about in public?

The imperial city occasionally received visitors from neighboring nations, but it was a political center, not a merchant hub — foreign visitors were few. And outsiders with such markedly foreign features were rarer still. One appearing in the city would have drawn attention immediately.

Unless someone had been providing cover. Otherwise, how would he have dared?

Yu Jingfeng glanced at Zhan Qingcheng, then turned back and, with his long sword, lifted the face coverings from the remaining black-clad figures one by one.

As it turned out — aside from the leader — all the others had features indistinguishable from local people. They were from this nation, or from one of the nearby neighboring nations. They were not foreign tribespeople.

After all, Bei Mu was a country neither particularly large nor particularly small, and people from neighboring nations didn’t necessarily look entirely different.

Several of those neighboring nations shared the same ancestral lineage — separated only when territorial boundaries were drawn, fracturing what had once been unified peoples.

But certain smaller ethnic groups were another matter. Their features were distinctly different — like this black-clad leader.

Yu Jingfeng returned to the leader’s body and, sword in hand, began lifting the man’s garments one by one.

When only the innermost layer remained, Yu Jingfeng did not stop.

Jiu’er didn’t particularly mind catching a glimpse of someone’s body. Things like a bare chest, arms, or legs — she had seen plenty of those before.

But just as Yu Jingfeng was about to lift the man’s waistband, a sudden chill struck from behind.

Before Jiu’er could see clearly, she was pulled back, her face buried entirely in Zhan Qingcheng’s chest.

“Staring so fixedly — what exactly were you hoping to see?” Zhan Qingcheng’s tone was not pleasant. This girl had actually been watching openly while Yu Jingfeng undressed the man.

Even a dead man was still a man. And she’d really been looking.

“Ninth Imperial Uncle! I was only checking whether he had any identifying marks — or whether there might be any clues left on him. It’s not what you’re thinking!”

Feng Jiu’er was full of grievance. Clearly he was the one being unreasonable — yet somehow she was the one being accused of indecency.

“This black-clad man is so unattractive anyway — if I were going to look at anyone, it would be you, Ninth Imperial Uncle. What would I want with someone like that?”

Truly — she knew how to distinguish between attractive and unattractive, thank you very much. She’d pass on Ninth Imperial Uncle’s to go ogle someone like that? Ridiculous.

She really had only been looking to see if the man’s body held any evidence linking him to collaborators. There were almost certainly accomplices somewhere in the imperial city — because without inside help, a foreigner with such distinctive features could never have remained hidden in the capital for this long without being noticed.

But then, from somewhere above her head, came the man’s voice — low, slightly rough at the edges: “If you wish to look — tonight, this Prince shall let you look your fill.”

What? Was Ninth Imperial Uncle speaking to her? Tonight, letting her look her fill?

Feng Jiu’er’s face turned even redder, now matching a ripe tomato. She shook her head rapidly: “No — I won’t look!”

“Didn’t you just say you wanted to?” Zhan Qingcheng’s expression cooled slightly, displeasure evident. “Going back on your word. That deserves a punishment.”

“I—” Was that really going back on her word? She had only been speaking in a hypothetical — she had no actual intention of looking at his body.

Alas! How had this spiraled so thoroughly out of control?

Yu Jingfeng sat to one side, working very hard to suppress a laugh. If not for Miss Jiu’er, he would never have had the chance to see this side of Ninth Prince.

Saying the most outrageously pointed things with a completely earnest face — that, apparently, was who the Prince was.

Completely sincere, completely guileless — and yet could anyone dare say it was intentional? That combination of seriousness and innocence was enough to torment any young woman’s heart to pieces.

To prevent himself from breaking into audible laughter, Yu Jingfeng forced his attention back to the black-clad leader’s body.

Suddenly, his expression shifted. His brow furrowed: “Your Highness — it’s a Muhe person!”

A Muhe person? The words snuffed out what remained of Jiu’er’s restraint. She shoved Zhan Qingcheng aside, turned around, and looked at the body on the ground.

They had been talking about the Muhe tribe over their meal just moments ago. And now, here was one in front of her to see in person.

Going by appearance alone, it was nearly impossible to identify someone’s specific ethnic origin. To most eyes, foreign tribespeople — unless they had striking features like yellow hair or blue eyes — all looked much the same.

The reason Yu Jingfeng could confirm this was a Muhe warrior was the mark branded onto the man’s arm — the sacred emblem of the Muhe: a soaring eagle.

The eagle’s wings were spread wide, its eyes fierce, its whole posture that of a predator perpetually on the verge of seizing prey.

Even their sacred symbol was this savage. No wonder Yu Jingfeng had said the Muhe warriors were formidable.

“What is that at his waist?” Zhan Qingcheng narrowed his eyes.

With a flick of his sword, Yu Jingfeng pulled the Muhe man’s outer garment open.

Feng Jiu’er was watching with wide eyes — a fact that gave Zhan Qingcheng a distinct sense of annoyance.

But the object Yu Jingfeng lifted with his sword immediately seized all their attention.

“An Imperial Guard token!” Yu Jingfeng examined the token in his hands, his expression darkening. “Your Highness — it appears there truly is an informant within the Imperial Guards.”

No wonder a Muhe person had been able to move freely in and out of the imperial city, concealed all this time. There was a traitor inside, helping him.

And there was no telling how many more Muhe people were lurking in the capital’s shadows, waiting for their chance to strike at Bei Mu’s most powerful ministers and commanders.

The two nations had not yet come to open conflict. The Muhe were still beyond the border — their incursion had not yet begun. The Ninth Prince’s army was still being assembled, not yet having reached Phoenix City.

Yet the imperial city itself was already beginning to fracture from within.