Under the cover of night, the Red Sleeve House buzzed with voices.
In a private room on the top floor, Yang Fuqi wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, walked to the zither stand, and picked up a jug of Nine-Brew Wine. He poured it down his throat, the fierce liquor washing away his fear.
Regaining his composure, he rasped:
"As Minister of Justice, I know of no law in Great Qian that forbids officials from listening to music in a brothel!"
Jia Huan stared straight at him, his voice chilling:
"Stand by the window!"
Yang Fuqi's expression darkened. He returned to the window, and the sight of his two sons hanging from the railing nearly made his eyes burst with rage.
Yet.
Another figure emerged from the teahouse opposite. Her white dress fluttered softly, her figure tall and slender, her bearing lofty and otherworldly. It was Madam Jiuli.
Yang Fuqi's pupils contracted sharply. His last defenses crumbled, and he slowly collapsed to the floor.
Jia Huan looked coldly down at him, every word forceful:
"Keep struggling, Minister Yang, and you may find death preferable to life."
"Tell me the truth, and I'll spare your family!"
"As the chief judicial official of the Three Judicial Offices, you've read more than enough closed case files to know how I, Jia Huan, rose to become a Pacification Commissioner!"
Terror filled Yang Fuqi's eyes before giving way to desolation. After a long silence, he returned to the cushioned couch.
Jia Huan demanded:
"Who commissioned you to purchase a demonic cultivation art?"
His face ashen, Yang Fuqi murmured:
"Prince Zhongshun."
Emotion surged through Jia Huan as he silently gazed at the multicolored lamp beside him.
He had finally rooted out the White Lotus Cult's secret financier!
Prince of Zhongshun!
*The emperor's own