Su Ningyue, in her light blue jacket and skirt, bent to pour tea for the Heir. Her dark hair was simply pinned, a few strands falling, framing her fair, swan-like neck. Her dewy apricot eyes sparkled with clarity, tinged with a hint of girlish shyness.
Though her skirt was loose, it couldn’t hide her curvaceous figure. The ribbon at her chest strained slightly—sometimes, abundance brought its own troubles.
Ji Yanqing took the teacup, smiling. “Miss Su, you’ve blossomed into such grace, a true lady of refinement. In my humble opinion, you’d more than suit the role of an Heir’s consort.”
“This lowly girl, frail as a willow, from humble roots, could never aspire to a vassal king’s mansion,” Su Ningyue replied, her ears echoing his earlier teasing words, a charming blush spreading across her cheeks. “Master Qi, please don’t jest. Just call me Ningyue.”
The Heir nodded slightly, passing her the rouge box gently. “I heard from the agency’s servant that today’s your birthday, Ningyue. A small gift—hope you don’t mind.”
Mesmerized by his captivating peach-blossom eyes, Su Ningyue accepted the gift in a daze, forgetting to refuse.
She shouldn’t have taken it.
“Thank you, Master,” she said softly.
Ji Yanqing smiled, his gaze lingering on her majestic “snow peaks”—a grand sight. But a sudden chill ran down his neck, as if an icy blade pressed against it.
After sipping his tea, he cautiously glanced at the sulking heroine. Noticing his shift, Ji Qingyan’s brows curved like a new moon, her eyes brimming with resentment.
Slowly, her jade-like hands gripped her sword hilt. She shot him a fierce glare—not the look of a martial heroine at a rogue heir, but more like a scorn for a heartless lover.
Ji Yanqing swallowed hard, keeping his smile, turning to the red-clad girl softly. “Heroine, standing must be tiring. Why not sit and have some tea?”
“No need, Master,” Ji Qingyan said icily. “Suit yourself.”
Though unsure of the cause, Su Ningyue sensed the hostility in her words, subtly aimed at Master Qi.
“Since you’re at Weiyuan’s House, please let me show you some hospitality,” Su Ningyue said, linking arms with Ji Qingyan and guiding her to an empty wooden chair.
At first, Ji Qingyan resisted, but with Su Ningyue’s insistence, she relented, sitting half-willingly.
Her grudge with the Wei King’s Heir wouldn’t spill onto others. She wasn’t petty enough to throw tantrums.
Taking a deep breath, Su Ningyue stepped behind the two remaining veteran escorts, her long, slender legs visible beneath her skirt.
“Since Master Qi has identified the Ma family as the culprit, do you have a plan? If Weiyuan can assist, we’ll spare no effort, even our lives,” she said.
An escort with graying temples clasped his fists. “If not for Master Su’s kindness, we’d have starved on the streets. Now, it’s time to repay that debt with my life.”
Ji Yanqing sipped his tea, unhurried. “The Ma family bribed Zhechong to frame Weiyuan. The key lies in the missing black iron. Recover it, and all issues resolve.”
The veterans exchanged wry smiles. The logic was obvious, but easier said than done.
The Ma family, bold enough to steal the iron, would hide it flawlessly. With their deep roots in Ye City, even if they displayed it openly, who’d dare search their estate?
Worse, their ally, Xuanjie Captain Zhang Hongyuan, was General Guide Zhang Ji’s son. Even if Weiyuan escaped this trap, they wouldn’t be let off.
They didn’t fear death, but a meaningless one.
Sensing their worries, Ji Yanqing smiled faintly. “Seniors, don’t fret over the Ma family’s backers. General Guide may be protective, but he despises bullies. If he learns the truth, he’d likely break Zhang Hongyuan’s legs himself.”
As Wei King Ji Yang’s most trusted general, Zhang Ji visited the mansion for holidays, and Ji Yanqing knew his character well.
Roughly Steward Mo’s age, unlike Mo’s cunning, Zhang Ji was a blunt, rugged farmer at heart, with a simple sense of justice—much like the Wei King before he fell for the runaway Xiao clan heiress.
“Though my influence is modest, I have a friend in Ji Province’s Zhechong Prefecture. Suppressing Zhang Hongyuan? No issue,” Ji Yanqing said calmly, exuding ease.
The veterans, seeing his composure, thought him either fearless like a newborn calf or naively ignorant.
Zhang Hongyuan, a mere eighth-rank captain, wielded his father’s clout. Few in Zhechong dared cross him—only the Prefecture Commander or the favored Guoyi Lieutenant Zhang Zhaoyuan.
If Master Qi truly knew such powerful figures, why bother with Weiyuan?
Even Su Ningyue grew skeptical, regretting involving Qi Shu in this mess.
“It’s understandable you doubt Qi Shu. But I’m not one to boast falsely. Tonight, Ningyue and the seniors can see for yourselves,” Ji Yanqing said, leading Ji Qingyan out.
Dealing with the Ma family and Zhang Hongyuan was incidental. If the Heir truly acted, a few words could make them pay dearly.
In the hall, Ji Yanqing had run the Soul-Coagulating Nether Art, secretly probing everyone’s cultivation.
Now, the Qian Yuan Realm Xiao clan assassin’s identity was clear.
Mounting the horse, Ji Yanqing glanced at the still-pouting girl in front of him, saying softly, “Jealous, Heroine Ji?”
“No way!” Ji Qingyan huffed, her face flushed, recalling her embarrassment at Weiyuan. The more she dwelled, the more humiliating it felt—hardly the demeanor of a martial heroine.
Naturally, she blamed the Wei King’s Heir.
“Whether you are or not, you know in your heart,” Ji Yanqing said before she could retort. “Tonight, I’m probing the Ma family for the missing iron. Coming?”
“Of course,” she answered without hesitation, telling herself it was for justice, not concern for the Heir.