Faced with the crimson spray and tofu-like white pulp hurtling toward him.
As an Eighth-rank Martial Artist with the strength of the seventh rank, Zeng Anmin could have dodged.
Yet to avoid exposing himself, he forcibly restrained his body's instinctive reaction and let it splash all over him.
"What happened...?"
Ignoring the filth on himself, Zeng Anmin stepped forward to inspect the old man's corpse.
Blood gushed from his neck.
He lay motionless on the floor.
Brain matter, blood, and hair had splattered into a mess.
"Spy-block Seal."
Father slowly came to Zeng Anmin's side. Squinting at the corpse on the ground, he said gravely:
"A Sixth Grade Confucian Path practitioner uses Righteous Qi to lock the Purple Mansion. If suppressed by Divine Soul Power, the Purple Mansion explodes. The purpose is to prevent others from conducting a Heart Inquiry."
"But by doing so, they also lose the ability to perform Confucian Path Heart Scrutiny."
The tiny room had become a classroom where Father lectured his son.
Zeng Anmin seemed to understand and slowly nodded. Then his gaze shifted toward the bookshelf in the room.
"He said three words just now: move the book..."
"If I'm not mistaken, he meant move the bookshelf?"
The moment he spoke.
Everyone turned toward the tall, slender bookshelf, which was not even as wide as a person's waist.
The bookshelf was narrow. Viewed from the side, it was less than half a foot wide.
At that width, even if there were a hidden passage beneath it, an adult man could never crawl through.
Thus, everyone who entered had only roughly searched the bookshelf and had not given it any deeper thought.
Father looked at the short bookshelf with a face as dark as still water, then expressionlessly turned to Lin Rong.
"Move it."
He