A Traitor's Den, Yet a Man of Honor? A Treacherous Plot Foiled as Its Master Spat Blood

"I planned it all myself! No one else had anything to do with it!"

Yu Xun lay sprawled on the ground, blood still marking his neck where he'd been dragged, yet his voice carried the stubborn bravado of a man who'd decided he had nothing left to lose.

His eyes lowered. He didn't dare look at Zhao Cheng, staring instead at the mud-caked toes of his boots.

Anyway, he was going to die. If he could shoulder all the blame alone, perhaps Lord Changping could still find a way to protect his family.

Lord Changping would also take care of everything that came afterward.

Zhao Cheng sat astride the mighty Wuzhui, his dark cloak snapping in the night wind. Its hem swept through the grass by the horse's hooves, stirring up scraps of greenery.

Moonlight streamed over his shoulders, casting his towering figure onto the ground like a black mountain crushing the breath from anyone beneath it.

The Killing Intent radiating from him mingled with the stench of blood, seeming to freeze the air around them. Yu Xun felt his chest tighten; even breathing took an effort.

"Oh?"

Zhao Cheng raised an eyebrow. His voice betrayed no emotion, only a chill like shards of ice. "I never thought a den of treacherous scoundrels could produce a man of true honor."

He leaned down and lightly tapped the copper ring on his saddle with one fingertip. "A pity you've put that grit to the wrong use."

"No matter." He turned slightly, his gaze shifting to the two Secret Agents from the Black Ice Terrace standing nearby.

"I hear the Black Ice Terrace has some fine ways of interrogating people."

"Take him. That way, if anything comes out of him, no one can claim I framed him!"

"Yes, sir!"

The Black Ice