Prince An's cheeks were flushed, his eyes dazed, and his steps unsteady—he appeared seven-tenths drunk.
"Prince Chen risked life and limb to reclaim the southern borders—hic—this prince toasts to you!"
Qi Yanzhou knew Prince An's alcohol tolerance well.
Though Prince An had drunk heavily, he was at most three-tenths intoxicated—his mind was absolutely clear.
Raising his cup, Qi Yanzhou replied, "One fulfills their duty in their position. The Emperor trusts this prince, and naturally, this prince will not disappoint him."
"Drink! Hic!"
Prince An downed his wine in one gulp between hiccups.
Qi Yanzhou, as before, used his inner energy to evaporate the alcohol.
Prince An plopped down beside Qi Yanzhou, nudging him inward.
"Prince Chen, scoot over—hic—about the disaster relief funds raised by the officials, this prince wishes to discuss the details with you."
Qi Yanzhou knew Prince An was stalling for time.
Once he finished scheming against Ye Chutang, it would be his turn!
But he dared not act rashly, fearing it would arouse Prince An's suspicion and worsen Ye Chutang's predicament.
"Prince An, please proceed."
As he spoke, he subtly signaled Qin Muyun.
Qin Muyun understood. Once Prince An and Qi Yanzhou were deep in conversation, he addressed a servant, "This young master has had too much to drink—I need to relieve myself."
"Young Master Qin, this way."
Prince An's estate had four privies—two in the inner courtyard and two in the outer.
The outer courtyard's privies were located in the rear garden and the guest quarters.
The servants had already been ordered: once the banquet began, no one was permitted near the guest quarters without the prince or his consort's approval.
Noticing the servant leading him toward the rear garden, Qin Muyun pointed to the guest quarters. "Isn't that closer?"
"Young Master Qin, the eastern wind blows today, so the privy in the guest quarters is out of use."
Due to the poor odor control of ancient privies, their usage was determined by wind direction.
The guest quarters lay east of the outer courtyard, and to prevent foul smells from drifting over, the privy there couldn't be used.
Qin Muyun couldn't argue. He followed the servant to the rear garden, planning to "accidentally" soil his robes and use that excuse to change clothes in the guest quarters.
Meanwhile, Ye Chutang had already entered the guest quarters.
A towering apricot tree stood in the courtyard's center, its lush branches heavy with unripe fruit.
The dense foliage blocked the sun, casting the courtyard in an unnatural gloom.
And it was eerily silent.
Miss Fang, humiliated beyond measure, might stay quiet—but Madam Liu, whose left foot had been shattered, should have been wailing in pain.
Ye Chutang remained on high alert, retrieving a miniature bomb from her spatial storage and gripping it tightly.
If she faced a threat she couldn't handle, she'd unleash the bomb, then retreat into her space for safety.
As long as witnesses were eliminated, her secret would remain hidden—afterward, she could pin the blame on the "Phantom Thief."
This was the confidence that allowed her to step willingly into the trap.
A maid led Ye Chutang to the innermost guest chamber.
"Young Miss Ye, please wait inside. This servant will fetch your change of clothes."
"No rush. Bring me tea first."
"There is cooled tea inside. Would Young Miss prefer hot or cold?"
"Cold is fine. Open all the windows."
Ye Chutang wasn't thirsty—she wanted to check for poisonous gases.
"As you wish."
The maid showed no reaction as she pushed open the door, poured tea at the round table, then unlatched the windows, brightening the room.
Once done, she left to retrieve the clothes.
Ye Chutang didn't enter. She leaned against the apricot tree in the courtyard's center.
Using her earth-based abilities, she sensed a mechanism beneath the chamber and crushed it with compressed soil.
A thunderous boom echoed from inside.
A wrist-thick iron cage dropped from the ceiling, smashing onto the floor behind the folding screen—right where one would change clothes.
Ye Chutang knew this was only Prince An's first move. More would follow.
Whoosh!
The sharp whistle of a blade cut through the air as a black-clad man lunged from the chamber, sword aimed straight for Ye Chutang's face.
She raised her right hand, firing a volley of poisoned darts from her sleeve.
The assassin, highly skilled, twisted midair to evade some and deflected the rest with his sword.
His steps never faltered—channeling his qinggong to its limits, he closed the distance in an instant.
Ye Chutang didn't retreat. Her lips, tinted with rouge, curled into a smile.
The bomb in her hand had been swapped for a silenced pistol. She pulled the trigger repeatedly, riddling the man's chest with bullets.
Staggering, the assassin stared at her in disbelief. With his last breath, he hurled his sword with all his remaining strength.
As he collapsed, he saw Ye Chutang—who should have been struck in the shoulder—teleport a foot away, unharmed.
The blade, infused with inner energy, pierced straight through the thick trunk.
Simultaneously, hidden arrows shot from the chamber embedded into the tree's base.
Had Ye Chutang not teleported, both her shoulder and leg would have been wounded.
The shadow guard hiding inside paled.
Sent by the Emperor to capture a mere noblewoman, he'd thought it beneath him—yet now, he faced a formidable foe!
Ye Chutang glared at the chamber. "Come out. Let's finish this quickly."
As long as her feet touched the ground, she was invincible.
She wouldn't foolishly charge inside and surrender her advantage.
The Emperor's shadow guard eyed the hidden weapon in her sleeve warily.
But failure meant death either way.
He drew throwing daggers tipped with knockout poison, targeting her pressure points, and flung them with inner energy.
At the same time, he darted around with preternatural speed, launching other projectiles.
"Now!"
On cue, Prince An's hidden experts ambushed Ye Chutang.
She teleported past the daggers, yanking a pendant from her waist.
It should have been a bell—but after entering Prince An's estate, she'd swapped it for a miniature "Storm of Pear Blossoms" needle launcher.
Before the shadow guard could process her impossible "qinggong," instinct screamed danger.
"Fall back—all of you!"
Too late.
Silver needles finer than hair erupted in a deadly bloom.
The courtyard was small. A dozen men scrambled to evade or deflect the needles, leaving no room to aid each other.
Two less-skilled fighters were nicked—enough. The instant-acting venom had them foaming at the mouth, collapsing within steps.
Ye Chutang barely caught her breath when murderous intent bore down from above.
An expert lurked in the apricot tree.
Her body tensed—she vanished, reappearing behind the trunk.
A clawed grapple hammered into the ground with enough force to crater three inches deep.
Grass and dirt sprayed outward.
The shadow guard gaped as Ye Chutang disappeared midair.
What kind of qinggong allows teleportation?!
Shaking off his shock, he yanked the chain to retrieve the grapple—but it didn't budge.
Something held it fast, locked in a tug-of-war.
He poured inner energy into his pull.
Instead of reclaiming the weapon, an immense force yanked him from the tree.
Only by releasing the chain did he avoid a face-first landing.
As Ye Chutang moved to counterattack, Qin Muyun burst into the courtyard, cursing loudly.
