The sun was already high in the sky. Wang Xian and Uncle Fu, who had risen early, had been gone for nearly two hours.
Humming a little tune, Uncle Fu was in high spirits.
This time, he had seen something new. So it turned out you could make your enemies wish they were dead without killing them.
The instant he pushed open the courtyard gate and saw the people sprawled all over the ground, he thought his young master had flown into a rage and slaughtered countless prodigies.
But when he took a closer look, there was no blood on the ground, and the fellows were still snoring. Only then did he understand.
By the time he drove the carriage away, neither the innkeeper nor the staff—or even the guests—had woken up.
When Donghuang Shuyu opened her eyes and let out a shriek, she rushed into the small courtyard, only to find it completely empty. There wasn't another soul in sight.
Naturally, she had no idea where her spirit sword had flown off to, either.
Furious, she woke the sleeping Dantai Xiaoxue and the others, pointed at the half-eaten plate of pastries on the table, and shouted, "Junior Sister, that wretch slipped away!"
Dantai Xiaoxue was naturally unwilling to let it go, so she searched every room.
But the entire courtyard was spotless. There wasn't a single trace of a fight.
Even the half-burned candle on the table had been taken by Wang Xian.
Remembering the sweet fragrance from the night before, and the faint strains of the zither,
Dantai Xiaoxue murmured, "Senior Sister, we were drugged with incense. And there was something strange about that zither music. The moment I heard it, I couldn't help wanting to close my eyes."
"How infuriating!"
Donghuang Shuyu looked at Li Mengbai and