Ximen Qing

The Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord's five fingers curled into claws, a ghostly blue chill gathering at their tips as he lunged straight for Chen Lin's face with bone-piercing cold—

"From now on, I am you."

Yet, just as his fingertips were a mere half-inch from Chen Lin's skin—

"Ssshh!"

A crimson figure appeared like a specter, silent and unseen, behind the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord. The golden-threaded python robe gleamed with an icy sheen under the moonlight.

Internal Affairs Directorate—Ximen Qing!

"Who would have thought a little rat would dare sneak into the Imperial Palace." Ximen Qing's voice was like silk steeped in frozen water, soft and pleasant to the ear, yet carrying a bone-chilling cold.

He had appeared behind the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord without a sound, his long fingers resting casually on the other's shoulder.

"Crack!"

A crisp snap—the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord's right shoulder bone shattered!

"Ah—!"

A shrill scream was just about to escape when a crimson lock chain shot out from Ximen Qing's wide sleeve. It seemed to burn with an undying ghostly flame, darting like a venomous snake from its lair, lightning-fast, coiling around the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord's neck, limbs, and even instantly locking his Spiritual Sense!

"'Crimson Soul Lock'... You... you are..." The muscles on the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord's face twitched violently from agony and terror. His pupils shrank sharply, and his entire body trembled as if plunged into an ice cellar.

He recognized that chain—it was a secret technique of the imperial family, specifically designed to counter illusions and infiltrators. Once bound, even a Divine Treasury Realm expert would struggle to break free!

A cold curve tugged at the corner of Ximen Qing's lips. With a flick of his fingertip, the carefully altered face of the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord peeled away like a painted mask, slowly lifting to reveal the true face beneath, twisted and deformed by pain.

"Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord, of the Nine Nether Sect, skilled in disguise and infiltration." Ximen Qing's voice was flat, as if reciting an irrelevant fact, slow and deliberate, like reading from a prepared list.

"Pity you chose the wrong time. Tomorrow is the competition for first place between the two sects, and you still dare to come. You don't know how to write the word 'death.'"

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on Chen Lin, who was still sitting in the rocking chair, eyes wide with a startled expression. The smile in his eyes deepened.

"Lord Lin, you've been frightened."

Chen Lin nodded shakily, his face full of lingering terror.

Heh, Chen Lin sneered inwardly.

If he hadn't sensed someone spying from the shadows earlier, he would have almost struck out himself.

When he had passed the technique to Little Anzi earlier, he had confirmed no one was around.

But the moment the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord appeared, he sensed again and found an additional hidden observer.

That meant the other party had come prepared, testing him.

This red-robed eunuch was the Grand Eunuch of the Internal Affairs Directorate.

Within the palace, there were five major eunuch agencies: the Directorate of Ceremonial, the Imperial Horse Directorate, the Internal Affairs Directorate, the Imperial Kitchen Directorate, and the Imperial Shrine Directorate.

The head Grand Eunuch of each agency possessed extraordinary strength.

Chen Lin observed covertly—this Grand Eunuch of the Internal Affairs Directorate, Ximen Qing, was at least at the first level of the Dharma Aspect Realm!

Not to mention the Grand Eunuchs in charge by the Emperor's side, the Seal-Holding Eunuchs, and the Imperial Bodyguard Eunuchs. They were all death warriors trained by the imperial family, every one of them at the Dharma Aspect Realm. Released into the world, they could become the Ancestors of a major Force.

The Great Emasculation Technique they cultivated allowed rapid advancement but at the cost of shortened lifespans.

The Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord was merely a ninth-level Divine Treasury Realm Cultivator. Facing Ximen Qing, he naturally had no chance to resist.

If This Humble One had rashly struck out earlier and exposed himself, his life might have been forfeit. After all, the Imperial Lord sat in the Imperial Palace—and that was a Cave Perfection Expert!

And Ximen Qing had chosen to appear only when the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord was about to succeed. That in itself was a test.

Thus, their lifespans were shorter than those of the same realm, but even if they attained such cultivation, so what?

Was this the intention of That One?—A flicker of thought crossed Chen Lin's mind.

That One naturally referred to the master behind these eunuchs.

Chen Lin hunched his back, trembling as he cupped his hands, his murky old eyes filled with the panic of a "narrow escape from death."

His voice carried a perfectly timed quiver: "I must thank you, sir, for your timely intervention. Otherwise... this old life of mine would have been forfeit, and the Imperial Scripture Repository would have fallen victim to this villain. I would truly have become a sinner for all ages!"

"This old man nearly caused a catastrophe!"

He fumbled a few Gold Notes from his sleeve, his fingertips "inadvertently" trembling.

A flicker of surprise passed through Ximen Qing's eyes, but his face remained smiling. With an Orchid Finger flick, the Gold Notes drifted into his sleeve like feathers.

Gold and silver, though not as universally used as spirit stones, still had their uses in mundane transactions or certain occasions.

"Lord Lin, to possess such a sense of duty toward the Imperial Dynasty and its people is truly a blessing for our Great Yan." Ximen Qing's voice was soft but carried a power that pierced the heart.

"I only hope that Lord Lin will always hold this heart, applying this 'concern' to daily affairs, ever thinking of the Dynasty's burdens and the people's welfare. That would be even better."

His tone seemed gentle and reflective, but the words hid a sharp edge, like a cold blade reminding Chen Lin—your life, your peace, are all bound to the great ship of the Imperial Dynasty. State affairs will always come first.

The words had barely faded.

Ximen Qing's crimson python robe gleamed with a blood-like luster under the moonlight. His slender fingers suddenly tightened, the Crimson Soul Lock coiling like a venomous snake more tightly around the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord's throat, yanking him upward! As he dragged him away, a winding, glaring trail of blood was left on the ground.

"If everyone in the world were as loyal as Lord Lin..." His soft, feminine voice seemed steeped in poison, every word carrying a chill. "Those traitors and rebels wouldn't have to suffer the 'death by a thousand cuts.'"

Chen Lin immediately understood. He hunched his back, his murky eyes welling with a timely surge of terror.

He trembled as he retreated half a step, as if the bloody scene before him was too much to bear.

"This Servant should go report back to His Majesty." Ximen Qing suddenly let out a soft laugh, the gold-embroidered tip of his boot casually grinding against the Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord's fingers. The crisp sound of Bone Shattering was especially jarring in the silent night.

"My apologies for disturbing Elder Lin." Ximen Qing said as he dragged the nearly unrecognizable Thousand-Faced Illusion Lord backward, melting into the deepening shadows.

Only the grating sound of dragging and dull thuds remained on the stone steps, echoing through the quiet night.

Yet, just as his figure was about to vanish completely into the darkness, like the most keen-eyed leopard making a final confirmation before the kill, his pupils abruptly contracted. He cast an imperceptible glance toward the interior of the house.

Inside, Little Anzi was watching from the window, his face full of terror.

A faint, almost undetectable curve tugged at the corner of Ximen Qing's mouth. It vanished in an instant, so fast it might have been an illusion.

Still here. Good.

The moment Ximen Qing's final syllable faded completely, Chen Lin's legs gave way at the "perfect" moment, and he collapsed into the Rocking Chair. The look of lingering terror on his face froze instantly, as if someone had pressed pause—fear, dread, all perfectly in place.