**Chapter: The Hidden Treasure Map**
As long as the treasure map remained unsolved, the spies outside the inn refused to leave.
Some martial artists, unaffiliated with any faction and purely there for the spectacle, gathered together, murmuring among themselves.
“It’s been days since the clues were leaked, and still no one’s cracked it?”
“If it were that easy, White Crane Manor would’ve claimed the treasure long ago. Why wait till now?”
“True. Who knows when this’ll end?”
“I’d rather it stays unsolved. Otherwise, who knows how many more will die over it?”
“I just don’t get it. Those major factions are already rolling in wealth—they can casually toss out a hundred thousand taels for ransoms. Why bother with some treasure?”
“Who ever thinks they have enough money? And who knows how many fortunes this treasure might hold?”
“Aren’t you curious how Song Xian got his hands on the map in the first place?”
“The Mystic Mirror Bureau issued a notice—said he was instructed by a mastermind through a letter.”
“Who sent the letter?”
“Still unknown.”
“Typical of the Mystic Mirror Bureau—utterly useless.”
“I’m more interested in how Lü Cao found out. Rumor has it they were the ones who first spread the news.”
“They’ve already been arrested by the bureau. Claimed they overheard it by chance, tracked Young Master Yue’s movements, and tried to seize the map—only to be thrown out by Manager Lu.”
“Anyway, that treasure’s either meant for Thousand Miles Tower or Black Wind Fort. No use dreaming about it. Better focus on other matters—refugees from Yongzhou have arrived, just outside Moonview City.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
“They’re camped north of the city. If the authorities don’t step in, they might head south—and the inn’s on the southern side.”
“Hiss… The inn’s walls aren’t exactly city fortifications.”
“What’re you worried about? The inn survived an explosion—what’s a bunch of refugees?”
“Fair point.”
Inside the inn, news of the refugees had also spread.
Having experienced displacement himself, Yue Shu sympathized. “Maybe I should withdraw some funds from the bank and buy food for them.”
“The authorities won’t ignore this,” Xue Guanhe reassured him. “Even if they do, my father will set up soup kitchens. They won’t starve.”
A'Nai pushed Wen Zhuzhi forward in his wheelchair.
“Manager Lu, I have a request,” Wen Zhuzhi said.
Lu Jianwei wasn’t afraid of requests—she was more concerned if he had none.
“Please, go ahead.”
“A'Nai and I plan to go to Moonview City to purchase grain and distribute porridge to the refugees.”
Lu Jianwei raised an eyebrow. “Now? Aren’t you worried about being ambushed?”
With the treasure map’s clues in his possession, countless eyes were fixed on him.
“With Brother Yan’s protection, no one would dare,” Wen Zhuzhi said plainly. “So I’d like to ask Yan Feicang to accompany me. I’ll pay a commission and compensate for the lost firewood-chopping labor.”
Lu Jianwei had no reason to refuse. She adored straightforward financial transactions.
Now that the inn’s defenses surpassed Yan Feicang’s skills, there was no need to keep him tethered here. A side job as a bodyguard was perfect.
“Brother Wen’s kindness is a blessing for those refugees,” Jin Poxiao remarked as he approached.
“Kindness?” Wen Zhuzhi chuckled wryly. “I’m just hoping good deeds bring good fortune—perhaps it’ll help me find the antidote sooner.”
His honesty didn’t strike anyone as insincere. Actions spoke louder than intentions.
Lu Jianwei smiled. “You’ll surely be rewarded, Master Wen. Though, why not send A'Nai alone? Why go yourself?”
“A'Nai’s young,” Wen Zhuzhi replied. “I worry he might overlook details.”
Xue Guanhe interjected, “That’s easy—I’ll write to my father. He can help A'Nai purchase grain and organize the porridge distribution. The rice shops in town will give him face and keep prices reasonable. Master Wen, you should stay here.”
“Well…”
“Xue makes sense,” Jin Poxiao agreed. “Let Yan escort A'Nai and enlist Xue’s father’s help. You shouldn’t risk it.”
After a moment’s thought, Wen Zhuzhi clasped his hands. “Thank you, Brother Xue.”
“Don’t call me ‘Brother Xue’!” Xue Guanhe waved sheepishly. “Just ‘Guanhe’ is fine. I’ll write the letter now.”
Yan Feicang: “…”
Did anyone care about his opinion?
Soon, A'Nai and Yan Feicang set off for Moonview City in the inn’s donkey cart—Wen Zhuzhi’s luxurious carriage was ill-suited for transporting grain.
The spies outside watched them leave but dismissed it upon learning it was just Wen Zhuzhi’s servant buying provisions for refugees.
Wen Zhuzhi, the famed Jiangnan tycoon, was known not just for his quest for rare medicines but also for his philanthropy. Whenever disaster struck, he donated generously, even establishing orphanages for homeless children.
To commoners, he was a saint. To martial artists, he was just a man with too much money to burn.
Had he not been preoccupied with the treasure hunt, he’d have already aided Yongzhou’s earthquake victims. Now, with refugees at Moonview City’s gates, his actions raised no suspicion.
Even those eyeing A'Nai hesitated under Yan Feicang’s intimidating presence.
Five days passed uneventfully.
Then, on the sixth morning after breakfast, Wen Zhuzhi suddenly announced he’d join the trip—and invited Jin Poxiao.
Lan Ling and Chai Kun immediately sensed something amiss and intercepted the four at the courtyard gate.
“Master Wen,” Lan Ling twirled the bells on her wrist, smiling coyly, “have you deciphered the map? Why not take me along?”
Chai Kun added, “Brother Wen, with your vast wealth, you surely care little for mere treasure. You seek only the rare medicine within. Let us accompany you—the medicine is yours, and we’ll split the rest.”
“Shameless!” A'Nai snapped. “Who’s your ‘brother’? We’re not friends! Look at your age—disgraceful!”
Yan Feicang stepped forward, blade in hand, shielding Wen Zhuzhi.
“Elder Chai, Miss Lan,” Jin Poxiao sighed, “we’re just helping with the porridge. The refugee numbers have grown.”
“Young Master Jin, I’ll lend a hand too,” Chai Kun stroked his beard. “They say charity brings blessings. I’d like to test that.”
“Charity? Did you buy the grain? Cook the porridge? Keep order?” A'Nai retorted. “Black Wind Fort should rename itself Shameless Fort!”
Chai Kun: “…”
“Master Wen,” Lan Ling batted her lashes, “I’m sticking with you.”
Wen Zhuzhi lowered his gaze, considering. Then, calmly, he said, “Very well. Let’s make a deal.”
“You’ve truly solved it?” Chai Kun’s eyes widened. “What are your terms?”
Lan Ling suppressed a smile. "Wen Zhuzhi, even if you’ve discovered the treasure’s location, what can you and the Golden Blade Trading House actually obtain? You’d likely be assassinated halfway there. Since you can’t hold onto the treasure anyway, why not just reveal it? For the sake of your handsome face, I might even sell you the miraculous medicine if I find it."
Wen Zhuzhi turned his wheelchair and slowly moved toward the hall’s entrance, lifting his gaze to the woman watching the commotion behind the counter.
"Shopkeeper Lu, care to make a deal?"
Lu Jianwei raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Do tell."
"I’ll reveal the treasure’s exact location and provide a map of its internal traps. If you retrieve the miraculous medicine, it’s mine. The rest of the riches are yours. How does that sound?"
The offer was too tempting—Lan Ling and Chai Kun would have agreed without hesitation. Why wasn’t he making this deal with them instead?
Lu Jianwei rested her chin on one hand, the dangling hairpin at her temple swaying slightly, casting a golden glow against her fair, flawless cheek. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Wen Gongzi, I have no interest in treasure."
She loved wealth, but she knew her limits.
To outsiders, she appeared peerlessly skilled, backed by a powerful faction, making Wen Zhuzhi’s choice to negotiate with her seem wise.
But she knew the truth—she had no sect, no allies. Even if she learned the treasure’s location, she wouldn’t dare retrieve it. With wolves circling all around, accepting this deal would only invite endless assassinations.
Wen Zhuzhi didn’t seem surprised. "Then let’s strike another bargain. I plan to stay long-term at the inn. You’ll ensure my safety—ten thousand taels per month, as before."
His initial one-month agreement had expired; it was time to renew.
Lu Jianwei smiled faintly. "Easily arranged."
"Wen Zhuzhi, what’s the meaning of this?" Chai Kun frowned. "Do you plan to hide in this inn forever and never speak? Don’t you want the miraculous medicine anymore?"
Lan Ling added with a sneer, "You think you can outlast us? You’re so sure we can’t crack the code? Ridiculous."
Wen Zhuzhi ignored them and instructed A'Nai, "Return to our room."
He left without another word, leaving Lan Ling and Chai Kun no time to issue threats—only the sight of the firmly shut door remained.
The ultimate victor was Lu Jianwei—once again pocketing ten thousand taels.
Five more days passed. Wen Zhuzhi spent his time leisurely reading, drinking tea, and playing chess, as if his urgency for the medicine had faded. A'Nai and Yan Feicang continued their daily routine of distributing porridge outside the city.
But Lan Ling and Chai Kun were running out of patience.
They had received word—their respective factions’ experts had made no progress deciphering the copied manuscript of *The Artisan’s Annotations*.
"Do you truly believe Wen Zhuzhi cracked the treasure map?" Chai Kun sought out Lan Ling.
Though competitors, immense profit could make them temporary allies.
Lan Ling twirled the silk sash at her waist, smirking. "He’s a master of esoteric arts. He might have actually figured it out. But a cripple like him—if not for the protection of Eight Directions Inn, would we really be so helpless?"
"Shall we test him, then?"
"Agreed."
In the courtyard, Wen Zhuzhi was patiently instructing Yue Shu when the two intruders approached.
"Wen Gongzi, since Shopkeeper Lu has no interest in the treasure, why not make this deal with us instead?"
Wen Zhuzhi didn’t look up. "You lack sincerity. I won’t entertain it."
"It’s not that we’re insincere," Chai Kun explained, his tone placating. "No one has cracked the riddle yet, so your sudden claim of solving it naturally raises doubts."
Wen Zhuzhi replied mildly, "If you don’t trust me, why bother negotiating?"
"Wen Gongzi, your earlier proposal to Shopkeeper Lu mentioned both the treasure’s location and some trap diagram. That suggests the traps are just as crucial. Perhaps we could start with the first deal—build trust before discussing the second. What do you say?" Chai Kun offered earnestly.
Wen Zhuzhi lifted his gaze, meeting his eyes with a faint smile. Without hesitation, he stated, "One hundred thousand taels each. I’ll disclose the treasure’s location."
The two men: "…"
This guy was as ruthless as Shopkeeper Lu!
"You think that’s too much?" Yue Shu scoffed from the sidelines. "The treasure holds countless riches—how many hundred thousands could it be worth? Are the Silent Moon Pavilion and Black Wind Fort really so impoverished they can’t spare a mere hundred thousand?"
Lan Ling laughed, her voice like silver chimes. "Young Master Yue jokes. It’s not the cost I mind—it’s the uncertainty. What if there’s no treasure? I’d be at a loss. And with Wen Gongzi under Shopkeeper Lu’s protection, what could I possibly do to him afterward?"
"Exactly," Chai Kun agreed.
Wen Zhuzhi asked, "What do you propose?"
"Tell us the location. If we find the treasure, the medicine is yours. The remaining wealth? You’ll get ten percent—no effort required on your part. Just wait here."
"…"
Silence descended.
Behind the counter, Lu Jianwei flipped a page of her book, whispering to her system, "Xiao Ke, look at these people—each one greedier than the last. They claim he doesn’t need to lift a finger, but who’s to say how much treasure they’d actually declare? If they claim it’s only worth ten thousand taels and give him a thousand, who’d dare refute them?"
"Perhaps it’s the influence of their surroundings," Xiao Ke mused.
Lu Jianwei narrowed her eyes. "Are you implying something about me?"
Xiao Ke: "You drew the connection, not me."
The trio in the courtyard parted ways once more, unsatisfied.
Not long after, A'Nai and Yan Feicang returned from their porridge distribution, gulping down a bowl of water before seeking out Xue Guanhe.
"We saw your father today. He seemed troubled. When I asked, he said the city’s been restless—several people have died recently, all poisoned. The authorities confirmed it wasn’t ordinary poison and have reported it to the Mystic Mirror Bureau."
Xue Guanhe paled. "Who died? Is my family safe?"
"Your family’s fine. The victims weren’t notable figures—I didn’t catch their names."
Xue Guanhe’s heart pounded. "I hope the Mystic Mirror Bureau solves the case soon."
"Do you remember Niu Xiaoxi?" Yue Shu suddenly interjected. "He and his father went to the market and were poisoned too."
Everyone: "…"
"Who’s Niu Xiaoxi?" Yan Feicang asked.
A'Nai explained, "You were in seclusion then. A child poisoned with ‘Beauty’s Envy.’ His father begged Shopkeeper Lu for help, and she saved him."
Yan Feicang was stunned. What else had happened while he was secluded?
"Didn’t Lin Congyue die long ago? How could ‘Beauty’s Envy’ still be around?"
Lin Congyue was the creator of "Beauty’s Envy," a poison she used to kill faithless men, inciting the martial world’s wrath. Hunted and cornered, she took her own life.
"Beauty’s Envy" vanished from the jianghu.
Of course, in the year or two after her death, sporadic cases emerged—all resolved by the Divine Physician Valley.
The consensus was that some had purchased the poison from Lin Congyue while she lived.
But eventually, "Beauty’s Envy" disappeared entirely.
Yan Feicang knew this well—a cousin of his had once been poisoned, surviving only after the Divine Physician Valley’s costly intervention.
"The victim this time isn’t a martial artist, just an ordinary commoner. I doubt anyone will care much—it all depends on whether the Mystic Mirror Bureau can solve the case," A'Nai remarked casually.
Xue Guanhe frowned with worry. "I still can’t shake this unease. With a poisoner lurking in the city, I’m concerned about my family."
"You can’t neutralize poisons, and your martial skills aren’t high enough. Going back wouldn’t help," A'Nai said bluntly. "The one who injured Niu Xiaoxi was a fifth-rank martial artist."
"Fifth rank?" Yan Feicang’s brows furrowed. "If an ordinary child takes a full strike from a fifth-rank martial artist, how could they survive?"
Lu Jianwei interjected, "They didn’t use their full strength—or rather, the strike was interrupted before it landed."
She had absorbed that burst of internal energy; its level was indeed fifth-rank, but the force was incomplete. Otherwise, Niu Xiaoxi wouldn’t have survived long enough for treatment.
"I see," Yan Feicang murmured.
Lu Jianwei turned to Xue Guanhe. "If you’re worried your family might suffer unjustly, I can prepare some antidotes for 'Beauty’s Envy.' Tomorrow, Yan Feicang can deliver them. However, we can’t be certain the victim was poisoned by 'Beauty’s Envy'."
Xue Guanhe brightened immediately.
"Thank you, innkeeper! How much for the antidotes? I’ll buy enough for everyone."
"Ten taels per dose," Lu Jianwei stated without hesitation. "How many are in your household?"
Xue Guanhe counted. "Twenty family members, plus another ten—the tavern owner, staff, and cooks. Thirty in total. I’ll write to my father and have him prepare three hundred taels. Master Yan, could you bring it back?"
Yan Feicang suddenly realized something.
"Innkeeper Lu, why do you even have the antidote? And selling it for just ten taels?"
Rumors claimed only the Divine Physician Valley held the formula. And ten taels per dose? His cousin had spent a fortune to obtain it!
His face betrayed his confusion—he was never skilled at hiding his thoughts.
Lu Jianwei’s heart sank. Had she priced it too low?
But the antidote’s ingredients weren’t overly expensive, and ten taels was already a significant sum for ordinary farmers.
"How much does Divine Physician Valley charge?" she asked.
Yan Feicang hesitated, unconsciously stepping back.
"A thousand gold."
Lu Jianwei: "..."
A thousand gold—not a thousand taels!
Was being a physician this lucrative? Or were martial artists just that easy to fleece?
Then again, if money wasn’t flowing freely, how could places like Black Wind Fort casually produce over a hundred thousand taels?
She’d been too naive.
Forcing calm into her voice, though her eyes glinted frostily, she said, "Divine Physician Valley truly has no shame."
Wen Zhuzhi chuckled. "Places like the Eight Directions Inn, where quality meets affordability, are rare in the martial world."
The others: ???
Divine Physician Valley might be extortionate, but the Eight Directions Inn wasn’t exactly "affordable" either.
Lu Jianwei found his words pleasing. The tightness in her chest eased slightly, and she resolved to price her services more boldly in the future.
She’d been too soft-hearted. Time to learn from Divine Physician Valley’s example.
"You’re a perceptive man, Young Master Wen," she smiled. "If you ever need to do business in the future, come to me. As long as I can deliver, I’ll give you a fair price."
Wen Zhuzhi’s smile deepened. "Certainly."
Night fell. After dinner, everyone retired to their rooms.
A'Nai lit calming incense, muttering, "Young Master, with them trapping us here, our search for medicine is delayed. You’ll have to endure a few more days of suffering."
Due to his affliction, Wen Zhuzhi often struggled to sleep.
"It’s fine," he said, loosening his robe and shifting onto the bed with effort. "Even if we left the inn, finding medicine wouldn’t be straightforward."
A'Nai scowled. "They’re shameless!"
"It’s late. Go wash up and rest," Wen Zhuzhi murmured, closing his eyes. "Leave one lamp burning."
A'Nai obeyed and left.
Faint candlelight seeped through the bed curtains. Wen Zhuzhi opened his eyes and retrieved two slips of paper from his sleeve.
Different handwriting, yet identical in content:
*100,000 taels for the location and trap schematics. Two-tenths of the treasures and spiritual herbs are yours. If you agree, keep a lamp lit tonight.*
Lan Ling and Chai Kun had publicly allied to corner him, yet each had secretly sent notes, both vying to be the first to unearth the treasure.
Internal energy surged in his palm, reducing the slips to dust.
The lamp burned through the night, its oil spent before dawn.
After breakfast, Lan Ling and Chai Kun returned to their rooms as usual, meditating and training.
A'Nai and Yan Feicang set off again for Moonview City.
Upon arrival, A'Nai said, "Master Yan, we’re running low on funds for provisions. I’ll withdraw more from the bank."
Yan Feicang nodded. "I’ll deliver the letter and medicine to the Xue household."
They parted ways at the crossroads.
At the bank, A'Nai presented two tokens to the manager.
"Two hundred thousand taels—all deposited under Nanzhou’s Wen Clan."
One token represented the Thousand Miles Pavilion, the other Black Wind Fort—both seals only high-ranking elders could produce.
The manager hastily transferred the sum into Wen Zhuzhi’s account.
By noon, Xue Guanhe finished preparing lunch and asked Yue Shu to summon the others.
Yue Shu headed upstairs but was stopped by Lu Jianwei.
"Don’t bother. They’ve already left."
After breakfast, Lan and Chai had slipped away unnoticed. Their private dealings with Wen Zhuzhi hadn’t escaped the inn’s surveillance.
Yue Shu blinked. "Ping Wu is gone too?"
Lu Jianwei nodded.
Lan Ling, a sixth-rank martial artist with unique skills, had departed first, evading detection—except from the inn’s watchful systems. Chai Kun and Ping Wu followed shortly after.
Neither knew the other had also obtained the map, each believing they’d outmaneuvered the rest.
"Did they decipher the treasure map already?" Yue Shu wondered.
Lu Jianwei arched a brow. "Perhaps."
She couldn’t yet fathom Wen Zhuzhi’s plans, but one thing was certain: that treasure wouldn’t be easily claimed.
Jin Poxiao strode in, scowling. "Did they really get ahead of us? What about Brother Wen’s medicine?"
"Brother Jin," Wen Zhuzhi entered the hall, feigning remorse, "to be honest, they privately offered to buy the map yesterday. I had no choice but to sell it. They promised to share the spiritual herbs and two-tenths of the treasure. All things considered, it wasn’t a loss. My apologies for dragging you into this. If the treasure is real, that portion is yours."
Jin Poxiao waved it off. "What’s there to apologize for? I understand your predicament. With those two strong-arming you, refusal wasn’t an option. If you’d resisted, they’d have hounded you the moment you left the inn. You can’t hide here forever. You made the right call."
"Having you as a friend is my fortune."
Jin Poxiao laughed, slapping his shoulder. "Then tell me—how much did you squeeze out of them? Let me enjoy the irony."
Wen Zhuzhi smiled. "A hundred thousand each."
"That’s daylight robbery!" Jin Poxiao grumbled. "Those two are utterly shameless."
Lu Jianwei: "..."
Was a hundred thousand considered small change?
Never mind. One was the heir to a merchant empire, the other the scion of a wealthy southern clan. To them, a hundred thousand likely meant little.
News of Lan Ling and Chai Kun’s departure spread swiftly. Within two days, everyone knew: the treasure lay in Liangzhou—the burial trove of the late Prince Liang!
Yue Shu turned to Wen Zhuzhi, curiosity alight.
"Young Master Wen, is the treasure truly in Prince Liang’s tomb?"
"The treasure mentioned in the book is indeed the tomb of Prince Liang," Wen Zhuzhi nodded. "The treasure map contains additional information related to your ancestor, which I did not disclose to them."
Yue Shu understood and exclaimed in surprise, "You're willing to tell me?"
"I'd like to know as well," Xue Guanhe chimed in, leaning closer. "May I?"
Yan Feicang decisively set down the firewood, abandoning his chopping.
The others gathered around, curious about the story behind Yue Shu's ancestor.
Lu Jianwei remained unmoved, still seated behind the counter.
As long as she was inside the inn, no matter the distance, she could hear everything clearly.
"*The Treatise on Constructions* was written by your ancestor," Wen Zhuzhi explained in a voice as gentle and clear as the whisper of pine forests, calm and lingering. "He used intricate codes to conceal details about Prince Liang's tomb within the text. The Yue clan was once the most elite family of architects and craftsmen during the previous dynasty, renowned for their mastery of mechanical traps. Prince Liang, indulging in extravagance, plundered vast treasures before the fall of his kingdom and secretly ordered craftsmen to construct an impenetrable tomb. Your ancestor was unfortunately chosen for this task."
"How have I never heard of this?" Yue Shu was stunned. "There's no mention in our family records."
Wen Zhuzhi continued, "Once the tomb was completed, Prince Liang, fearing leaks of its secrets, ordered all the craftsmen buried alive. Your ancestor's entire clan perished in the tomb, with only him managing to escape. From then on, he lived under a false identity."
"If he wanted to hide, why didn’t he change his surname?" Xue Guanhe asked, puzzled.
"After his escape, the empire fell into chaos, and the previous dynasty collapsed. Those who knew the truth died in the war. Unable to bear abandoning his family name, he traveled to Jiangzhou, concealing his skills and living as an idle wanderer."
"So, the family records were rewritten by him? And the clan rule forbidding the study of construction arts—was that also his decree?" Yue Shu was deeply shaken.
Apart from his ancestor, the entire Yue clan had been buried alive in the tomb. The tragedy was unimaginable.
Xue Guanhe cursed, "That Prince Liang was downright insane! With royals like him, no wonder the previous dynasty fell!"
Yan Feicang asked, "If this secret was lost to history, how did the forces behind Leisurely Cloud Manor uncover it?"
"Prince Liang was a member of the previous dynasty’s imperial family. His life would have been recorded in royal archives," Jin Poxiao interjected, his family’s merchant networks spanning the realm and privy to many secrets. "Those with access to such records would either be current imperial relatives or officials in charge of historical annals."
The group fell silent.
Who would have thought the massacre of White Crane Manor would unravel such a convoluted tale?
Yue Shu was overwhelmed with grief and anger.
His ancestors had been slaughtered by Prince Liang of the fallen dynasty, yet the treasure map’s exposure and the destruction of White Crane Manor might trace back to current officials or even imperial relatives.
White Crane Manor had never meddled in court affairs, yet they suffered such a calamity for no reason.
Uncle Zhang reached out and patted his shoulder.
"At least we’ve uncovered the truth. The Mystic Mirror Bureau will handle the rest."
"Yeah." Yue Shu hung his head, sniffling softly.
Once news of the treasure spread, all the spies outside the inn vanished, racing toward Liangzhou.
Peace finally returned to the Eight Directions Inn.
Yue Shu was at last permitted to leave and went to Moonview City’s bank, withdrawing twenty thousand taels to hand over to Lu Jianwei.
The inn’s shared funds now totaled one hundred and thirty thousand taels, including ten thousand contributed by Wen Zhuzhi as a "life-saving fee."
Another half-month passed, the weather growing ever colder.
Lu Jianwei draped a crane-feather cloak over her shoulders as she sat in her room practicing acupuncture. The human model displayed symptoms of a headache, and she carefully inserted needles to alleviate the pain.
Her hands were steady, the fine tips piercing the scalp as her fingers twisted gently. The "patient’s" pained expression gradually eased—just a little longer and—
**THUD!**
A heavy crash echoed through the courtyard.
Someone tumbled into the front yard, shouting hoarsely—
"Wen Zhuzhi, you’ve betrayed me!"
