Wang Beiwang turned around and saw a man with silver hair at the temples, dressed in simple cloth garments. Upon closer inspection, however, it became clear that the man’s appearance had been subtly altered—his eyebrows drawn thick with charcoal, a light gray wash applied to his face, and the scar on his left cheek seemed staged, not natural. Could this be a fugitive wanted by the court? With years of experience, Wang Beiwang suspected something was amiss—either that the man was indeed a wanted criminal, or perhaps a spy from the Northern Dynasty. During wartime, it was common practice for the Northern Dynasty to send spies to the capital to gather intelligence and stir up trouble. When he was younger, Xu, the elder, had served in the military, and Wang Beiwang had studied swordsmanship under him, occasionally hearing stories from Xu about his military days. "Master Yuan Shishen?" the man asked again. By nature, Wang Beiwang would have wanted to probe further into the man’s identity. Yet now, though he himself was not a fugitive, he felt more alert and sensitive than any wanted suspect. Better to do less than more, so Wang Beiwang turned and walked away, then remembered the king's instructions, and turned back to say, "Yes, I am Yuan Shi Tian Zun." Then both of them stared at each other, silent. Wang Beiwang waited for the other to ask, "Where is Yuan Shi Tian Zun?" but the other said nothing. In the quiet stillness, the man with white hair at his temples murmured, "You look so foolish—how could you possibly be Yuan Shi Tian Zun? Who taught you those words?" Wang Beiwang chuckled, "You look nervous, with your twitchy eyes and awkward posture—how could you possibly be connected to Yuan Shi Tian Zun?" After replying, he studied the other man for a few seconds and said, "Follow me." Now he understood—the lines of words the king had given him were merely a code, understood only by the king's own agents. The man with white hair at his temples stepped forward and followed. Wang Beiwang led him back the same way, and after two hours, they returned to the Hong Xiu Pavilion. The turtle statue at the entrance blocked the two, eyeing Wang Beiwang with disdain. "Go on, go find food elsewhere," he said. Wang Beiwang remained humble. "You go in," he said, "and take the left turn to the deepest part." He gestured for the middle-aged man to enter, then stood at the doorway, looking inside. He saw the middle-aged man with slightly grayed hair enter the hall, ignoring the hostess's welcome, and proceed directly to the table where the昏king sat. He faintly heard the young girl, Jingwei, exclaim excitedly, "Red Chicken Brother!" "Red Chicken Brother ate while speaking: 'The pair of worn-out shoes you gave me nearly cost me my life. After I escaped the palace, that shoe kept following me, insisting I dance with it—me, who absolutely couldn't dance, especially not tap dance. I danced all night, but kept stumbling, getting kicked all night long. My bones broke—seven or eight of them—until I could take it no more. I ran, and it chased me. I was literally flightless. By the way, do you have steamed rice with soup? Let the kitchen serve me a bowl.' 'No, go on,' Jiang Jingwei listened intently. 'The chicken is a day-old, not fresh at all, and not even a white-braised chicken,' Red Chicken Brother struggled to swallow a piece of chicken before continuing: 'At night, there's a curfew, and the city's garrison troops are everywhere. During the day, I simply couldn't draw attention. I had no choice but to face the cost head-on. So I made my way into a household, knocked out the homeowner, and then had to undergo military-style drills in the courtyard—by that pair of worn-out shoes.' "The blanket— it trained me for two full days. I used three or four tubes of life source fluid, and only yesterday did I finally manage to finish a tap dance, passing out completely. When I woke up, I was here." I had expected this opening, but never imagined this ending. Zhang Yuanqing remarked, "Your dancing talent is truly terrible." Hong Ji-gong protested, "Is that even the point?" Jiang Jing-wei asked, "Did the family also feel dizzy for two days?" ... Hong Ji-gong was furious, "You don't even grasp the point! The point is that I've been trained by a pair of worn-out shoes for two days, and I'm on the verge of dying!" He gulped down his white rice in a single gulp and said, "I gave them a dose of life source fluid—they're not going to die." "Return my red dance shoes," Zhang Yuanqing insisted, "this prop is a miracle. Hold on to it, young man." Hong Ji-gong hurriedly opened his inventory, tossing the red dance shoes aside like a hot potato. Zhang Yuanqing picked up the red ballet shoe, solemnly placed it in the inventory: "If it had stayed by my side these past few days, I wouldn't have had to endure so much suffering. Hurry up and eat; once you've finished, we'll go do something together." On the way to the Hong Xiu Hall, Wang Beiwang had already learned that three hundred young boys and girls had been gathered in the Ministry of Justice's prison. Only the Ministry of Justice's prison could hold so many people. This wasn't a secret—any city garrison officer or city guard could easily find out, and even ordinary citizens were aware of it, since nearly every household had at least one family member serving in the court. Hong Jīgē devoured his meal with gusto, hesitating to ask: "Won't we wait for the Princess and Xiao Yuan? We haven't found the bedding, Sun Miaomiao, or Guan Ya, and the Queen has vanished—people are getting fewer and fewer..." Zhang Yuanqing pondered, then said: "We can ask Wang Beiwang to go out and check around a bit more—perhaps Princess Yuan and the Princess are also searching for us." Hong Jiguo hummed, scanning the corridor on the second floor with a steady gaze, and chuckled, "What a great spot! If we don't rush, I think I can enjoy a musical performance right here." Zhang Yuanqing sighed, "The teahouse isn't open during the day." Hong Jiguo also looked somewhat disappointed. Wang Beiwang crouched on the ground, fiddling with a broken bowl, occasionally glancing at the passersby, waiting for the king's orders. Hmm, how have I become a subordinate of the king? I should have killed him already—well, all for Xiuyu, I've been patient these few days... Wang Beiwang stroked his short, stiff beard and thought this was as it should be. At that moment, he noticed three sturdy middle-aged men approaching from afar, walking with clear purpose toward Hongxiu Pavilion. One had a lean face and bright, sharp eyes; another was broad-shouldered and appeared earnest and straightforward; the third was bearded all over, with eyes like copper bells, displaying clear restlessness in his expression. They carried their weapons wrapped in cloth strips, walking with steady, strong steps. As a relatively well-known swordsman in the martial circles, Wang Beiwang's eyes narrowed slightly, instinctively raising his guard and sensing a sense of alertness and hostility. He observed that all three of the middle-aged men were martial artists, with solid skills. Among them, the lean-faced man seemed to sense something, glanced at Wang Beiwang who was crouched by the door, then withdrew his gaze and stopped paying attention. As he watched the three enter the Hongxue Hall, Wang Beiwang stood up. "Gentlemen," the turtle elder approached warmly, posing his standardized question, "are you visiting the Hongxue Hall for the first time, or do you have any acquaintances among the ladies here?" The three middle-aged men paid no attention, their eyes sweeping across the hall, glancing briefly at the few guests present, before settling on Hongji Brother and Zhang Yuanqing. When their eyes met, Zhang Yuanqing's face changed. Suddenly, the lean middle-aged man extended his index and middle fingers like a sword, launching a swift, thunderous attack. "Whoosh!" A sharp, slender blade of energy struck directly at Zhang Yuanqing's face. Swordsman? Zhang Yuanqing swiftly sidestepped. The middle-aged man with a lean face swiftly removed his weapon from his back, shook off the cloth strips, and drew a long sword gleaming with cold brilliance. Taking swift steps, he swept across Zhang Yuanqing and the other two in a single motion. A whistling arc of moon-shaped sword energy surged forth. Before the man could deliver his sword attack, Zhang Yuanqing already held in his hands a short knife nearly half a meter long, its handle carved with a fierce ghost face and set with two red rubies. Standing on his bow stance, he vertically slashed with the knife. The sword energy shattered upon impact, dispersing into fine, hair-thin streams that splashed in crisp bursts in all directions, creating dense clusters of fine craters on the ground and the table. The less experienced Jiang Jingwei couldn't evade, his chest, shoulders, and face struck by the splinters, instantly turning him into a bloodied figure. Zhang Yuanqing's hands cracked, blood flowing freely, his heart filled with alarm. A fifth-level swordmaster?! Wang Beiwang, who had just entered the hall, saw the scene and then quietly stepped back without offering assistance. A senior-level powerhouse! Inside, the solid-built man with a reserved demeanor drew his weapon from the cloth—a black iron mace. With a deep, resonant roar, he charged forward in steady, rhythmic steps, causing the entire floor of the hall to vibrate beneath his footsteps. This was a terrestrial monster, no—perhaps the mountain deity himself. Zhang Yuanqing caught the shoulders of Jingwei and pushed him aside, sending him several meters away. Before the black iron mace could strike, Zhang Yuanqing dissolved into a shimmering stream of starlight. "Crack!" The round table and the serving dishes shattered under the force of the mace's impact. Zhang Yuanqing appeared on the second floor, overlooking the hall. He saw Red Chicken Brother and the broad man whose brows were aglow with restless energy, each wielding a flaming sword, their blades exploding into countless streams of red fire that scattered and ignited the surrounding tables, chairs, and window frames. "Who dares attack me?" Zhang Yuanqing shouted. At the same time, he subtly influenced the emotional state of the fire master. The fire master suddenly lifted his head, fixing his gaze on Zhang Yuancheng on the second floor, and roared, "O blind king! When the regent killed General Wu and the soldiers of the Divine Sharp Army, that debt is yours to repay!" As he spoke, flames coalesced in his palm, shaped into a long, crimson spear, which he hurled toward him. The swordmaster and the mountain deity leapt into the air, landing on the second floor. "Take Jingwei with you," Zhang Yuancheng shouted, stepping aside to evade the spear's flight. Then, as if anticipating it, he struck with a single blade just as the fire expanded. Seeing this, the fire demon forcibly interrupted his fire-based technique. At that moment, the swordmaster lightly landed on the railing, drawing his sword to attack Zhang Yuancheng, aiming to draw him into close-quarters combat. Meanwhile, the mountain deity shattered the railing and charged forward like an armored vehicle. Zhang Yuancheng once again dissolved into starlight, reappearing several meters away, sheathing his short blade, donning the Wind-Walker gloves, and launching two gusts of wind blades. The swordmaster deftly dodged, while the Mountain God charged straight through the wind-blades, completely ignoring the translucent, jade-cutting "blades" that shimmered like glass. Zhang Yuanqing abandoned the Star-Dashing Technique and instead moved silently through the night, then glided along the wind-blades in an arc, positioning himself behind the fifth-rank swordmaster. He summoned his short sword and swiftly drove it toward the opponent's back. Wang Beiwang seized the opportunity to rush into the main hall, lifting Jiang Jingwei over his shoulder and heading for the exit. As soon as they stepped out of the Red Sash Pavilion's gate, they spotted a swift column of city defense troops approaching—armored and resounding with the clink of metal, each bearing swords and bows, fully equipped. At the forefront, a group of ten or so riders displayed a cold, commanding presence, clearly seasoned veterans. The blazing flame blade, infused with high heat, failed to cut through or incinerate the silver net—Red Chicken Brother had to retreat, being enveloped within it. Five or six sturdy soldiers advanced with their swords, delivering a flurry of blows. The impact of the flames surged upward, shattering the silver net and sending soldiers and troops flying; Red Chicken Brother immediately activated his rage mode. A thunderous roar echoed from the roof of Hong Xiao Guan, as the fire demons and swordmasters of Shen Rui Army burst through, following closely behind. The mountain deity sprinted wildly across the streets, chasing after them, while the city's defenders trailed behind. The common citizens scattered in panic, fleeing in disarray. Didn't he say he was stronger than Taobo in strength and wiser than the national master of strategy? How could the emperor still speak such grandiose words! Wang murmured under his breath, holding onto Jiang Jingwei, and quietly slipped into the crowd, vanishing into the chaos. I should have collected a few night-wanderer's supplies earlier... Zhang Yuanqing's thoughts raced. He had no problem escaping—after all, whether it was a sorcerer or a night-wanderer deity, they were all like eels. Whatever couldn't kill me would only make me move faster. But Red Chicken Brother was in serious trouble. He was being relentlessly pursued by the city garrison and the Saint-Generals of the Divine Sharp Army. The battle had come out of nowhere, and it was clear the Divine Sharp Army had specifically targeted him and knew his identity. The Zheng family didn't even know where he had hidden. How could they have known? Not necessarily—the Zheng family might have. Because the city garrison's arrival was also unusual. Over the past two days, Zhang Yuanqing had been constantly evading them, familiar with their routines, troop distributions, and operational efficiency. Their arrival had been too sudden. If this was a trap, there might be several garrison units surrounding him, and even with ten lives, Red Chicken Brother would likely fall within the encirclement. A thought struck him. "Come with me to the Ministry of Justice," he said.