Zhao Wuxu's pupils contracted.
As the formation advanced, Zhao Wuxu realized he had made a fatal mistake.
He only brought twelve men with him.
There are thirty on the other side.
And what those people on the other side were holding.
That's not a stick.
It's practically a battering ram!
"Stop them!" Zhao Wuxu took two steps back, his voice half an octave higher than before.
Twelve guards stood in front, swords drawn, in a defensive stance.
These people worked in the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner's Office year-round, and were more than capable of bullying ordinary people and escorting prisoners.
Have they ever actually fought a real battle? Not a single one.
Chen Qing pointed his sword forward.
"Grind."
Just one word.
The ten round iron shields in the front row advanced in unison, their footsteps extremely steady, the shield surfaces forming a moving iron wall.
One of the guards swung his sword and slashed at the shield.
"When--"
The blade struck the wooden shield of Mont Iron, sending sparks flying.
The sword was deflected, and his hand went numb. Before he could switch hands, a long iron rod emerged from the gap in the shield and lashed at his wrist.
The guard screamed in pain as his sword flew out of his hand, bouncing twice on the ground.
This scene repeated twelve times within ten breaths.
The weight of the long stick far exceeds what most people imagine.
Each strike of the stick was accompanied by a dull, whistling sound as it cut through the air.
The guards' swords were no different from bamboo skewers in front of the iron bars; they were either knocked away or bent under the weight.
Zhang Dachui stood at the very front of the formation. The stick he used was thicker than everyone else's, and it made a whooshing sound when he swung it.
With a sweeping motion, two bodyguards were simultaneously knocked to the ground.
"Aww--"
All twelve guards knelt down.
Some people still held their swords in their hands, but they could no longer lift their arms.
Someone was pushed backward by the shield, and the back of their head hit the bluestone slab.
Someone was poked in the back of the knee with a long stick and was unable to get up from his knees.
From the moment the formation pressed forward until all twelve were wiped out, it took no more than twenty breaths.
Zhao Wuxu stood behind, his whole body ice-cold.
He learned techniques like bloodletting, acupressure, and concealing weapons in sleeves—all shady and clandestine tasks.
A head-on confrontation? He didn't even know where he was standing.
But he could not beg for mercy.
Otherwise, the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner's Office would lose face.
The waist tag that Lady Wang gave him was now useless. All the effort he had put into climbing that big tree had been for nothing.
Zhao Wuxu gritted his teeth and raised the waist token again.
"I am from the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner's Office..."
A long iron rod swept in from the side.
He dodged to the side, his right sleeve torn by the force of the stick.
The force of the gust of wind made his chest feel tight.
Another stick came crashing down from the front.
Zhao Wuxu ducked to avoid it, but his foot slipped.
The third stick was aimed at his lower back.
He didn't dodge it.
"Bang--"
A dull thud.
Zhao Wuxu was sent flying half a step, his knees hitting the ground, and his hands were buried in the mud.
A metallic sweetness welled up in his mouth, which he swallowed back forcefully.
The bamboo-green brocade robe was covered in mud.
The broken jade pendants at her waist fell from her bosom and scattered in the sewage.
Zhao Wuxu lay on the ground, his ears ringing.
His mask of gentle elegance shattered.
It's completely shattered.
That humble smile that had lasted for over a decade was now twisted into a grimace.
The corners of his mouth were stained with mud and blood, and his eyes were filled with a murderous hatred.
Chen Qing sheathed his sword and looked down at Zhao Wuxu, who was lying on the ground.
"I'll say it again." His voice wasn't loud, but every word was enunciated clearly. "You're not qualified to wreck this place, Shopkeeper Ba."
Zhao Wuxu raised his head, his face covered in mud.
"You... you all wait..."
"What are you waiting for?" Chen Qing squatted down and patted Zhao Wuxu on the shoulder.
"Anytime. Our shop is open every day."
He stood up and turned to look at Batuer.
Batuer had already sat back down on the bench.
Another plate of peanuts appeared in front of me.
She picked one up, popped it into her mouth, chewed it twice, and glanced at Chen Qing indifferently.
"Good."
Two words.
Chen Qing's knees buckled slightly.
Brother Ba... Brother Ba praised him?
Brother Ba said, "It's alright!"
His ears were so red they looked like they could drip blood. His hand gripping the dagger was trembling.
" Brother Ba! What do you think of my formation! A thirty-man tortoise shell formation! Front row with shields, back row with long staffs!"
"Want some peanuts?" Batuer interrupted him.
Chen Qing nodded vigorously. "Yes!"
Batuer picked one out of the dish and tossed it to him.
Chen Qing reached out and caught it.
Hold it in the palm of your hand.
Like holding a luminous pearl.
He didn't eat.
He plans to keep it.
I'll frame it when I get back.
On the Mixue Ice City, the window was pushed open halfway.
Gu Moran leaned back on the soft couch, her right hand resting on the windowsill, watching the good show downstairs come to an end.
The whole process took less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.
Gu Moran didn't move a single finger.
He even felt that coming to the shop today was unnecessary.
With Chen Qing present, Mixue Ice City is just as safe as the Prince's Mansion.
"My lord, honeydew melon."
Shen Ling'er's voice came from the right.
A piece of chilled honeydew melon, skewered with a jade stick, was offered to his lips.
The flesh of the melon was emerald green with a translucent white hue, and a layer of fine water droplets clung to its surface.
Shen Ling'er's fingers pinched the end of the jade skewer; her fingertips were as white and cool as the flesh of the melon.
Gu Moran turned her head and bit off the piece.
They moved to the left side again.
Su Yao was sitting in front of a low table checking the accounts. The shop had only been open for half a month, but the accounts for income and expenses had already piled up thickly.
She lowered her head, her pen moving rapidly across the paper, revealing a section of her snow-white nape.
A few strands of hair were blown up by the wind and fell into the crook of her neck.
Gu Moran closer, his lips almost touching her earlobe.
" Madam Su."
The warm breath hit behind Su Yao's ear.
Her pen trembled. The ink left a long trail on the paper.
"... What are you doing?" He didn't look up, but his voice was tense.
"Look at that formation downstairs." Gu Moran's voice was low, with a lazy smile on it.
"When the front shield formation advanced, the third man on the left flank was a beat too slow. If the enemy wasn't incompetent, they could have stabbed through that gap and scattered the entire line."
Su Yao jabbed her elbow backward, hitting him squarely in the ribs.
"You're talking to me about formations?" She finally turned her head, her gaze falling on Gu Moran's face, which was so close that she could count his eyelashes.
"If you're going to talk about formations, just say it properly. Why are you exaggerating?"
Gu Moran did not retreat.
He took the opportunity to grasp Su Yao's wrist, which was holding the pen.
Her wrists were so thin that one hand could easily encircle them; the knuckles were distinct, and there were a few ink stains on them.
"We'll talk about the formation when we get back." He rubbed his thumb against her wrist. "You have ink on this."
Su Yao tried to pull her hand away, but couldn't.
"Release."
"Wipe it clean before loosening."
Shen Ling'er watched for three seconds.
She stuffed the honeydew melon from the jade stick directly into Gu Moran's mouth.
"Just enjoy your own life."
Gu Moran, with a melon in his mouth, mumbled something indistinctly.
Shen Ling'er narrowed her eyes.
"What did you say?"
Gu Moran swallowed the melon.
"I said, Madam Shen looks beautiful in light blue today."
Shen Ling'er was indeed wearing a light blue, narrow-sleeved short-sleeved shirt today, with a belt around her waist, looking neat and capable.
But the neckline was half an inch lower than usual, and the line below the collarbone looked exceptionally white against the blue cloth.
When Gu Moran glanced at her, she subconsciously pressed her hand against her collar.
"What are you looking at?"
"Look at the formation." Gu Moran had already turned her gaze away and looked downstairs again.
Su Yao took the opportunity to pull her wrist back and continued writing with her head down.
But the tips of her ears were red.
On the other side of the window, Lin Qingdai leaned against a pillar, clutching a knife.
She remained silent.
His gaze was fixed straight ahead, his face expressionless.
But the knuckles of the hand holding the knife were two shades whiter than usual.
Gu Moran caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of his eye.
With his free right hand, he casually hooked the tassel of the knife hanging from Lin Qingdai's belt as he pulled back from the windowsill.
With a gentle tug.
Lin Qingdai's body was pulled half a step towards him.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was as flat as a sheet of paper.
"You're standing so far away, it's windy."
"I'm not cold."
"I'm cold." Gu Moran twirled the tassel of her knife around her fingertip. "Come stand here and block the wind for me."