Fang Mo shrugged. His backside had barely lifted from the chair before he settled right back down.
"Now that's more like it." He reached for the exquisite Zisha Pot and, ignoring all the rules of tea ceremony, poured himself another cup. "Doing business is all about making money through harmony. If Lord Li keeps using the Demon Suppression Division's name to throw his weight around, this tea won't taste any good."
"The Demon Suppression Division did go to Red Sleeve Beckons."
Li Mingyue turned back toward the bustling Long Street outside the window, her voice colder than before. "But we arrived too late. At midnight last night, Pavilion of Listening to Rain caught fire. The blaze destroyed half the upper floor. The contact we were looking for—the man surnamed Li you mentioned—was reduced to ashes."
Fang Mo raised an eyebrow.
That was fast.
The fire had barely been lit in Liuxi Village, and already the trail in Divine Capital had gone cold.
That meant the hand behind the scenes reached much farther than he had expected.
"Reduced to ashes?" Fang Mo scoffed and poured himself another cup of tea. "Lord Li, you're an expert. What are the odds of a fire breaking out at just the right time? If it were an ordinary fire, that would be one thing. But at a moment like this, someone must not want that man surnamed Li talking."
"Of course." Li Mingyue turned around. "There were traces of spellcraft at the scene, and the Fire Technique used was highly advanced. Anyone capable of silencing someone with such means is no ordinary person."
She paused, her gaze fixed firmly on Fang Mo. "That's why I need to know what's really inside the box you have. The trail at Red Sleeve Beckons has gone cold, Liuxi