The dead man was Chu Gong—the C.E.O. of Broken Sword Smithy, one of Jade Province's rising companies. Once a failed blacksmith, he had been backed by a powerful noble, rising in fame for forging high-quality spirit weapons.
His guards should have been master stage, perhaps even chosen stage. For an assassin to bypass them and strike so cleanly... this meant their cultivation was higher.
Feng Roulan was just the decoy. Mengxuan realized he had fallen for the distraction.
A birthday party… the last place anyone would expect danger. The assassin must've used a technique to block perception of his killing intent.
Roulan's life had never been the target—it had all been to fool someone like Mengxuan, someone sensitive enough to sense danger. By lunging at Roulan, the assassin had disguised his true aim.
The real assassin must have been the lady the man with the hardened face was dancing with. But no matter how hard Meng Xuan tried to recall her features, it was in vain. He hadn't studied her closely enough.
"A devious scheme… even a legendary soul like me didn't notice," Fiend Monk muttered deprecatingly.
By now, Feng manor's security had already surrounded their mistress.
Feng Roulan stood up, her gaze lingering on Mengxuan. She opened her mouth several times, but no words came. What had just happened still felt like a dream.
"Just count it as my birthday gift to you," Mengxuan said perfunctorily.
He turned, intending to return to Xiao Long, but was halted by a guard.
"You might have to wait until the matter is cleared," the guard said stiffly.
I save your mistress, and now you suspect me of being the assassin? Mengxuan thought, his expression unreadable.
"Alright," he replied calmly. It would have been abnormal if they hadn't stopped him.
After Count Feng Zhaoxi mobilized his guards to secure the manor, he strode quickly to his daughter's side.
"Feng Roulan, are you okay?" His voice carried deep concern, though his eyes soon shifted toward Meng Xuan, sharp and unyielding.
"I'm fine, Father." Roulan's soft reply came, but her gaze also lingered on Meng Xuan, conflicted.
Count Feng gave a brief nod, but his stern expression didn't soften. His piercing eyes remained locked on Meng Xuan as though the boy were the mastermind of the attack.
Before the tension could ease, a guard rushed forward and bowed. "Sir, we discovered a formation hidden in the hall. It suppresses one's perception against danger."
Meng Xuan, restrained by two guards, clenched his fists. Just as I thought…
Hearing the report, Count Feng's face darkened, his voice like a cold blade. "Someone dares to harm my guests under my roof?" He harrumphed, fury surging in his aura, then barked his command.
"Take the boy back and investigate him! The culprit must be found at all costs." His finger stabbed in Meng Xuan's direction like a judgment.
"Yes, sir!" The guards immediately dragged Meng Xuan a step back.
"Father, but—" Feng Roulan tried to intervene, her voice urgent.
"There is no but!" Count Feng's tone cut her off. "Until the assassin is found, he remains our prime suspect."
Meng Xuan lowered his head slightly, his eyes calm but cold. So this is how it is… Even after saving her, I'm still the one in chains.
He then left hurriedly without looking back. Feng Roulan, who no longer had a say in the matter, followed her father briskly.
Jiao San explained to the guards that he was about to have a dance with Feng Roulan when the bastard Meng Xuan attacked.
Standing close to Meng Xuan, Jiao San snorted. A cruel smile tugged at his lips as he whispered,
"Hero one moment, criminal the next. Poetic, isn't it? Let's see how long before you beg."
The guards didn't voice a word. They knew Jiao San was from the Jiao Clan, a clan whose influence dwarfed theirs.
"Actually, the hunt has just begun." A grin broke across Meng Xuan's face before he was led away under the watchful gaze of the visitors.
.....
Inside a chamber of Feng Manor.
Meng Xuan sat before a man seemingly in his late thirties. He had short black hair and wore a light green shirt with loose black trousers, smooth and perfectly ironed. His aura was cold, his demeanor sharp.
Under the empire, there were four kingdoms. The Evergreen Kingdom, Meng Xuan's birthplace, held fast to tradition. The Ironblade Kingdom thrived on discipline and martial strength. The Azure Flame Kingdom burned with bold ambition. Only the White Lotus Kingdom stood apart, its people known for their foreign elegance. Unlike the flowing robes of the empire, their nobles favored shirts, trousers, and tailored gowns. Strange at first, yet over time, this style coaxed even the proudest clans to adopt it as a mark of refinement.
The man stared at Meng Xuan coldly before he spoke.
"I want you to cooperate with me."
The instant he spoke, Meng Xuan felt as if tons of stone pressed down on him. His chest tightened. His heart raced.
My king does not bow to anyone. The calm voice of the Fiend Monk echoed in his mind. The crushing weight that could force anyone to kneel began to fade.
I still have to act as if I'm being suppressed, or they'll know something is wrong, Meng Xuan thought.
"That's fine, master. Since you're doing it intentionally," Fiend Monk replied.
Meng Xuan bowed his head, not daring to meet the man's eyes, though his mind was clear. His fingers dug into the table as though gripped by fear. His act was flawless. He could not risk alerting a peak Master Stage cultivator using such an art. If it had been a realm higher, even Fiend Monk might not have shaken off the pressure.
"Tell me everything you know about the assassin attack today," the man demanded.
Meng Xuan hesitated, keeping his act believable, then began. He explained how he once had a crush on Feng Roulan. At the party, he saw Jiao San trying to bully her into a dance, so he stepped forward to defend her. That was when the assassin struck, and he pulled her away just in time. Before the interrogator could even ask if he had seen the assassin, Meng Xuan described the figure in detail, even repeating the assassin's last words: "The deed has been done."
His quick, precise answer made it look as if he was fully under the man's control.
"Is that everything?" the man asked coldly.
Meng Xuan nodded, his head still lowered.
.....
Inside Count Feng Zhaoxi's main chamber.
He stood beside the curtain, watching the half-crescent moon.
Soon, a fair-skinned lady walked toward him. Though in her late thirties, she appeared younger, dressed in a soft nightgown.
"Honey, let's be thankful our daughter is still alive. We should thank that student who saved her," she said gently.
"Lady, go and rest. What do you understand about politics? What just happened has dented my image. No one may dare accept my invites after this." Count Feng Zhaoxi's voice turned sharp.
The woman lowered her head solemnly. "I'll prepare warm water for your bath," she murmured before leaving briskly.
Moments later, the interrogator entered.
"Have you found any evidence tying the boy to the assassin?" Count Feng Zhaoxi asked.
"Not exactly, sir. Only descriptions of the perpetrator. Investigations are still being carried out."
"Good. And the boy?"
"Sir, the boy has no holy force. That hinders some of my capabilities. Heaven-essence arts only work on those with holy energy. We also discovered he may be affiliated with the cursed Meng Clan."
"Meng Clan…" A memory stirred in Feng Zhaoxi's mind.
"Release the boy at once!" he ordered sharply.
"Yes, sir." The interrogator didn't dare question him and left quickly.
Count Feng Zhaoxi stared at the moon in silence. Softly, almost to himself, he muttered,
"If you ever cross paths with the Meng Clan… just avoid them."
Those were his father's words. Though the Meng Clan was cursed and seemed powerless, he still trusted that warning.