"Brother, are you all right?" Fan Ruoruo looked at him worriedly.
Fan Xian waved a hand and took several deep breaths, sobering up considerably.
He strode to the wardrobe, took out the night clothes he had prepared, and slipped them on in a few quick movements.
"Ruoruo, stay in the room and pretend I'm still here. If anyone comes, tell them I'm dead drunk and won't see anyone."
Fan Ruoruo nodded without asking a single question. "Brother, be careful."
Fan Xian patted her shoulder, turned, and climbed out the rear window. A few bounds later, he vanished into the night.
Outside the back gate, a dark figure leaned against the wall, the moonlight tracing the outline of the mask on his face.
Fan Xian let out a long breath of relief, hurried over, and lowered his voice.
"Great Sage, you saw the lantern, so couldn't you have sent word ahead? I thought you weren't coming!"
Zhou Cheng gave him a sidelong glance, not bothering to speak.
Rebuffed, Fan Xian curled his lip and wasted no more words. One behind the other, they sped down the alley toward the Imperial Palace.
Outside the palace walls, a figure had already been waiting for some time.
Dressed in black robes with black cloth covering his eyes, he leaned in the shadows at the corner of a wall. Unless someone deliberately looked, they would never notice anyone there.
Fan Xian hurried forward and was just about to speak when Wu Zhu turned his head, his "gaze" settling on Zhou Cheng.
"The day you killed Lin Gong," Wu Zhu said tonelessly, his hand resting on the Iron Rod behind his back, "why did you leave Fan Xian's name?"
Zhou Cheng paused and looked at Wu Zhu.
Under the moonlight, the two black-robed men faced