Midnight. No moon. Howling winds. Snores rose from every corner.
Creak. The wooden door opened a crack.
A slender figure in black gently stepped out of Zhi Nuan Palace, a long whip in hand, a black bag on her back, silent footfalls beneath her feet. Her movements were elegant and swift, like a Persian cat walking through the night.
Outside the veil, a pair of ink-dark eyes shrewdly surveyed the surroundings, alert to the slightest rustle of grass in the wind.
Walking out the main gate was impossible. Based on her daytime observation, Mo Bei selected a corner where the guard presence was thinnest.
She coiled the long whip around her waist, fished out tools from her backpack, and secured them onto her hands and feet.
"On a night like this, staying in instead of going out to steal something would be letting myself down." Mo Bei smiled with a devil-may-care air. Her beautiful eyes narrowed; with a dashing flourish, she scaled the white wall, walking vertically up its surface as if it were level ground.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh. In two or three moves, she vanished into the night, entirely failing to notice the gaze trailing closely behind her.
Evading the guards and circling the old corridors, in less than a quarter of an hour Mo Bei found her first target—Ao Feng Palace!
She had purchased this intelligence from Eunuch Deng using Hua Rong's money pouch, prettily calling it filial piety toward the old man while conveniently establishing a useful connection.
It was Mo Bei's first time being so generous in her spending, because it wasn't her own silver—spend it while you can!
Looking up at the palace of carved wood and gilded accents, her willow brows knitted tightly. She hadn't expected the little tyrant's bedchamber to be this luxurious.
Compared to this fellow, that foolish Highness she served lived in a literal doghouse!
With a sigh, Mo Bei lamented the cold ways of the world. Her fair hand flicked out an iron grapple; the other end lodged firmly onto a tree trunk. With a tug of her whip, her body zipped up to anchor atop the wall.
She slowly curved her bloodthirsty lips into a wicked, enchanting smile and muttered, "Dear Fourth Prince, your Mo Bei has come to collect interest!" With that, her waist arched slightly. Using the rebound force, she flew horizontally onto the roof, fast as a ghost.
After she left, a figure emerged from the darkness. His expression was lazy, impossibly wicked and enchanting. Profound blue eyes were dark and deep. A pair of thick brows slanted straight into his hairline; a straight nose; thin lips. He exuded a mystery and danger that made women's hearts pound. Gazing at the little eunuch who had vanished into the distance, it was as though he had already marked him as the most important prey...
"Qinglong, do you recognize the hidden weapon he used?" The man's lips pressed together lightly, dissolute and untamed. The howling wind rushed past, sending his blue robes fluttering sharply.
A figure landed, dropping to one knee and cupping his hands in a salute. "This subordinate does not know."
"What school or sect does his martial art come from?"
Qinglong pressed his head lower and lower, his face flushing a deep red. Hesitating for a long moment, he stammered, "This subordinate... this subordinate does not know!"
"Qinglong, has Killing Wind Hall grown too leisurely of late?" Yelü Qianxiao smiled faintly, but the smile did not reach his eyes.
Hearing this, Qinglong began to sweat at the forehead. "Not leisurely, not leisurely. This subordinate will investigate at once!"
"In three days, bring this king word." Yelü Qianxiao flicked his sleeve and swept a sharp glance toward Ao Feng Palace, sneering coldly. "There is also another eunuch behaving oddly—surname Hua, given name Rong. Investigate his origins."
"Yes! But the poison in Your Highness's body... I fear it is difficult to cure." Qinglong furrowed his thick brows worriedly. No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't understand how that literary top scholar could be impervious to both force and persuasion—truly a stubborn old mule!
Yelü Qianxiao halted, toying with a plum blossom needle. Crescent scars covered his palm. He furrowed his thick brows and asked coldly, "Is it Ning Caichen?"
"Yes! We've starved him for three days and three nights, yet he refuses to talk."
"Release him first." Yelü Qianxiao tugged at his lips, his mood utterly inscrutable.
Qinglong raised his head in disbelief, his instinct telling him his ears were failing him. Yet he dared not question his master; his handsome face flushed red.
Yelü Qianxiao paced with elegant steps, like a smiling tiger waiting to strike. Kindly tossing him the words, "This king has his own methods for dealing with such a person," he then followed Mo Bei's trail and vanished into Ao Feng Palace...