[Meixiang Tower]
The setting sun was like an orange lantern slowed down by someone pressing a slow-motion key, slowly climbing across the carved window lattice, casting crisscrossing light and shadow on the blue brick floor, looking like someone had spilled inkstone water and never wiped it clean.
As the “top-tier tea art building” of Lingqu Town, Meixiang Tower was so lively it felt like the roof could be lifted off—
The waiters’ welcoming calls were brighter than opera lines, the clinking of teacups formed a kind of symphony, and the whole place was filled with tea fragrance mixed with pastry sweetness, even the air carrying a “rich fools, come quickly” worldly vibe.
Only the private room by the window was a completely different scene. The thick wooden door was like it was welded shut, blocking out all the noise outside. Inside, only bitter tea fragrance and heavy sandalwood incense lingered, pressing down like water that could be wrung out—like a “calm on the surface, but actually swords drawn” big production set.
Zhao Chengyuan was dressed in a black brocade robe, leaning lazily on the main seat couch, fingertips casually rubbing the jade pendant at his waist. His posture was relaxed like a tiger basking in the sun, yet his eyelids were lowered, hiding a sharpness that could pierce through people.
The tea house waiter guarding outside looked calm, but his back was already soaked in cold sweat—
This waiter appeared to be a simple servant, but in truth he was a dark agent planted by the Wan Jin Alliance. Unfortunately, he was holding an “undercover script,” yet he did not know the man in front of him had already seen through his identity—truly “brandishing a sword in front of Guan Yu.”
Zhao Chengyuan glanced at the ink painting hanging on the wall. The painting was elegant, but he clearly understood in his heart:
“Chu Wanyan, that old fox, really knows how to pick a place for a base, putting the Wan Jin Alliance nest inside the busiest tea house in Lingqu Town, using a false front to hide the truth. Only our Guang Prince’s estate intelligence network could peel off this tea house’s ‘true face’.”
Footsteps light as a cat on snow. Li Yunpeng entered in a green robe.
His tightly pressed lips could hang an oil pot, shoulders stiff like tightened strings, clearly writing “I am pretending to be calm” on his face.
He came alone without attendants, clearly fulfilling the agreement, but his aura looked like he was walking into a death banquet—like he had “Zhao Chengyuan, just you wait” written on his forehead.
“Prince Zhao.”
Li Yunpeng cupped his hands in greeting. His tone was not respectful, carrying suppressed anger, like greeting a workplace enemy.
Zhao Chengyuan slowly raised his eyes. A trace of ridicule flashed quickly through them.
“Young Master Li is quite punctual, more disciplined than morning court attendance. Choosing the most popular tea house in Lingqu Town, Young Master Li really knows how to pick a place.”
He asked knowingly, while his gaze swept lightly over Li Yunpeng’s clenched fists—
Fists tight enough to squeeze water out of the air.
Zhao Chengyuan thought inwardly: “That Chu fox is definitely watching somewhere.”
Li Yunpeng took a deep breath and went straight to the point.
“Prince Zhao, no need for ambiguity. Three days ago, two of my subordinates were taken by your people. Don’t tell me it was coincidence. I’m afraid it was your scheme. Please release them, I will be grateful. Of course, if you refuse, you understand the consequences.”
“My subordinates?”
Zhao Chengyuan feigned surprise, raising his brows theatrically.
“The main duty of the Fulong Camp is to slay demons and suppress evil, not handle missing persons.”
“This land has people coming and going every day. Losing a few people is like losing a few copper coins—common enough. On what basis does Young Master Li conclude that my people took them?”
“Besides you, who has such ability?”
Li Yunpeng’s eyes were sharp like knives.
Zhao Chengyuan suddenly laughed lightly, stepping forward.
His tall figure pressed down from above, the pressure suffocating.
“If Young Master Li already knows, why ask?”
Then his tone shifted abruptly.
“I want to ask you—White Mist Mountain, a place so barren even birds refuse to poop there, why did you send people to search it extensively? Didn’t your father claim White Raven died for the nation and was buried there?”
Li Yunpeng’s heart tightened.
As expected.
Cold sweat soaked his back.
He clenched his fists harder.
“He cannot be told. Absolutely cannot.”
White Raven must not be found by others.
Zhao Chengyuan continued pressing.
“Tell me, what are you searching for?”
Li Yunpeng forced calm.
“Just retrieving relics.”
“Relics?” Zhao Chengyuan sneered. “Twenty-plus armed men, conducting a full-scale search for six days—is that also called relic collection?”
Li Yunpeng stiffened.
He continued forcing explanation.
“Mountains have beasts, and bandits…”
But Zhao Chengyuan interrupted again.
“Enough. Tell the truth.”
He pressed down on Li Yunpeng’s shoulder. The force made him almost crack.
“Or your two subordinates—Fulong Camp torture instruments are not kind.”
Li Yunpeng’s expression changed slightly.
He could not speak.
Because White Raven was his.
Only his.
Even if dead, the corpse must belong to him alone.
Zhao Chengyuan saw his silence and ordered coldly:
“Bring one subordinate in.”
A battered man was dragged in.
“Take him,” Zhao Chengyuan said lightly.
“And the other?”
“Wait until you leave my territory.”
Li Yunpeng left with rage suppressed.
Zhao Chengyuan watched him go, eyes deep.
“White Raven… probably not dead.”
—
[Fu’an Inn]
Night deepened.
Li Yunpeng treated wounds, eyes cold and obsessive.
He issued orders:
“Search White Mist Mountain again.”
“Investigate Fulong Camp personnel.”
“Kidnap Zhao Chengyuan’s trusted subordinate.”
“All within three days.”
He whispered:
“White Raven… you belong only to me.”
—
[Shenqian Secret Report]
“Bad news! Zhao Chengyuan forcibly acted, situation unknown, Young Master Li danger imminent!”