After that day, Wei Xiao truly stopped blocking Xun Changqing from entering the mansion, but Wei Lingci tried to probe what the two had discussed that day from their mouths. Yet, the pair seemed to have made a pact, keeping their lips sealed.
Though Wei Lingci felt helpless, she had no extra time to waste on such matters. This was because several Lingyun Mountain disciples had been assassinated in the Imperial Capital, alarming the Ministry of Punishments, which specially dispatched people for protection.
Mu Chen stayed in the County Princess Mansion, plagued by headaches. These events had come too suddenly, and the assailant seemed to know the disciples’ residences well, striking cleanly. By the time they discovered the bodies, the killer had long fled without a trace. However, the method revealed it was the Lingyun Sword Technique.
He regretted endlessly, having left behind such a major threat. The court had mobilized large numbers of people to search outside, and he and Wei Lingci had exhausted every method—even using themselves as bait—but they still couldn’t draw out Xu Ke.
Misfortunes never came singly. Another murder case emerged in the Imperial Capital, but this time, the victim wasn’t a Lingyun disciple; it was a court official.
The Ministry of Punishments could no longer turn a blind eye. They immediately sent people to investigate, and for a time, the Imperial Capital was gripped by panic. Households shut their doors before nightfall and dared not venture out.
Ministry of Punishments officials worked day and night without rest, and Yuan Qingming’s Imperial Guards joined them, forming combined squads to hunt the killer.
Xun Changqing had set a date to leave for Ji Province, but the murder cases delayed her, forcing her to postpone the trip by a few days.
After Mu Chen and Zhou Man examined the surviving disciples in the Imperial Capital, they wandered the streets investigating. The Imperial Capital, at the feet of the Son of Heaven, was a melting pot of people from all regions—snakes and dragons mingled. In recent days, even more jianghu disciples had gathered, some foolish ones comparing skills or even fighting. Even when the Imperial Guards were dispatched, they only made hasty arrests.
Zhou Man was only twelve, but exceptionally clever and sharper than her peers. Her martial arts were lacking, but she often helped Mu Chen with ideas and cared for the other disciples.
The two walked slowly down the street. A window on the teahouse beside them cracked open halfway, and Zhao Yang poked his head out, wanting to call them over, but Xun Changqing pulled him back from behind, annoyed. “They’re handling serious business and have no time to drink tea with you.”
Xun Changqing gazed at the pair walking side by side on the street. Zhou Man was petite, a stark contrast to Mu Chen beside her. She glanced once, then quickly looked away, her eyes landing on a peddler carrying a basket several zhang behind them. Mu Chen walked and stopped; the peddler did the same.
She paid closer attention. The street bustled with people, and from their third-floor private booth, they could overlook the entire thoroughfare. Full of doubts, she watched as the peddler took a few steps forward. Mu Chen, perhaps hungry, sat at a roadside stall and ordered a bowl of noodles.
The little girl Zhou Man happily approached the peddler, gesturing and picking out some trinkets from his basket. Mu Chen glanced a few times from a few steps behind before lowering his head to eat.
The peddler wore loose, coarse hemp clothes with a slack belt at his waist. From the teahouse, his hat brim covered most of his face. Xun Changqing called Zi Jin over. “Does that person look like a martial artist to you? I feel something’s off.”
Zi Jin followed her gaze. The peddler shook a rattle drum in his hand and hawked a few times. She shook her head. “Too far to see clearly, but this subordinate can go investigate.”
Zhao Yang beside them couldn’t help glancing over. “That peddler’s probably new around here.”
Their conversation veered off track, and Xun Changqing shot him a look. “How do you know he’s new? Your attention should be on your little junior sister Zhou Man.”
Unlike Xun Changqing, who rarely ventured out, Zhao Yang loved making friends regardless of status, as long as they clicked. He enjoyed business, with many merchant friends, and his street savvy let him spot things others missed.
He pointed at the peddler’s basket. “Peddlers usually hawk in quiet alleys, rarely on main streets. Look how crowded it is here—constant foot traffic, plenty of customers. But check the shops nearby; they all sell toys and such. What Zhou Man’s holding looks like rouge. Yet that stall a few steps away sells rouge too. He won’t make money here, so I say he’s new and doesn’t know the rules.”
Xun Changqing turned sideways, a thought striking her. A dark gleam flickered in her eyes as she nodded slightly to Zi Jin, who immediately understood, turned, and left. The peddler was either new or had ulterior motives.
His stop-start pace suggested he was tailing Mu Chen—the latter, then.
Only by following could they uncover the truth.
Xun Changqing watched Zhou Man pay and the peddler shoulder his basket to move on. Zi Jin, in rough clothes, blended into the shadows.
With orders given, she only needed to wait. She casually closed the window and smiled at Zhao Yang. “Right, I haven’t congratulated your father on his promotion yet. I’ll have someone send gifts when I return.”
The tribute horse issue had been first spotted by the Honglu Temple. Now resolved, the Honglu Temple Minister had been reassigned to the Ministry of Revenue, and Zhao Yang’s father had risen to Honglu Temple Minister—a department head.
Zhao Yang sipped his tea, frowning with a sigh. “It should be good news, but my dad got drunk one day… and brought a woman home the next. My mom argued with him, and they’re still at odds.”
Getting drunk at banquets was common; many officials in the Imperial Capital had wives and concubines aplenty. But Zhao Yang’s father seemed henpecked. Xun Changqing touched her nose awkwardly. “You could mediate. What’s done is done.”
“My dad didn’t want her, but the woman seems backed by the Second Imperial Prince. He couldn’t refuse and had to bring her home.”
Throughout history, superiors sending people to subordinates’ homes wasn’t rare; some grew accustomed. But the Honglu Temple managed foreign affairs—hardly vital. Why did Xun Yiran care?
Xun Changqing caught the oddity. “So the woman was a gift from the Second Imperial Prince to your father?”
“No. Dad said they drank out, got wasted, napped in a side room for half a shichen. When he woke, she was beside him. Turns out, she was meant to entertain the North Gate commander An Qin.”
