The middle-aged man in gray cloth sat on the grass about twenty meters away from Fang Jie and his companions, holding a wooden ladle to water the horses. Beside him was a small, clear spring, its water crystal clear. The three fine warhorses from the Northern Liao region took turns drinking water with impeccable order.
After feeding the three horses, the middle-aged man couldn't help but praise them, saying, "They're even more well-behaved than people. Very good."
His praise of the horses implied that some people were, in his opinion, quite bad. Whether these bad people were Fang Jie and his companions, or the Qingya Feiyupao who had charged forward behind Fang Jie and Daquan, remained unknown. After drinking, the three horses went to graze silently on the grass. It was unclear whether they were afraid to disturb the peace and tranquility of the place, or if something prevented them from neighing.
The middle-aged man casually tossed the wooden ladle aside and muttered, "A ladle of water transforming into a lake—that's the limit; it's hard to break through."
For some reason, even though the pursuers were already close behind, Fang Jie felt no fear. He smiled at the middle-aged man in the gray cloth robe and said, "A ladle of water transforming into a lake is the limit. Next time, if you want to create something even larger, try a bucket of water."
The middle-aged man wasn't annoyed by Fang Jie's words. Instead, he seriously considered it for a moment before slowly shaking his head and rejecting Fang Jie's suggestion: "A bucket is too big; it's inconvenient to carry around."
His words were somewhat amusing, yet he spoke them with a very serious tone.
Fang Jie didn't laugh either, because he knew that even though he had half-joked earlier, the man before him had genuinely considered his words carefully. This was a person who took everything seriously, and therefore worthy of respect.
"Why did you lead my friend here, sir?"
Fang Jie glanced back at the flying fish robes that had stopped a few dozen meters away and asked the middle-aged man. The middle-aged man smiled and said, "I originally wanted to invite all three of you to come, but your skills are still too lacking, so I could only invite this young lady alone. The other two… one's unwavering resolve surprised me, and the other harbors deep hatred, making her defenses too strong. I couldn't invite you, so I had to lure you here."
"As for you…"
He looked at Mu Xiaoyao, his eyes full of approval: "You possess a rare and remarkable sensitivity, your perception far surpassing that of ordinary people, so you can sense me without much effort. Since you can sense me, I naturally have a way to get you here on your own. You have exceptional talent; if you encounter a renowned master, within fifteen years, a powerful figure will likely emerge in this martial world."
This was the second person to say Mu Xiaoyao had exceptional talent.
The first was that unreliable old cripple in the Red Sleeve Pavilion.
"Let's not rush into that. What exactly do you want us to come here for?"
The large dog took a step forward and slowly burrowed into the fist. He shielded Mu Xiaoyao and Fang Jie behind him, his eyes filled with hostility as he looked at the middle-aged man. Yet, beneath this hostility, a hint of fear, though deliberately concealed, still lingered. A single sentence the middle-aged man had spoken earlier had sent a storm raging through Da Quan's heart.
"You two, one of you has a resolve that surprises me. The other, because of a deep-seated hatred, is too guarded..."
Da Quan's fear stemmed from the fact that this middle-aged man seemed to have seen right through him, revealing his sixteen-year-old secret. He now even suspected that this man wasn't human, but rather a demon who had cultivated in this dense forest for countless years, attaining enlightenment and human form.
"I'm not a demon, just an ordinary person."
Just as Da Quan was thinking this, the middle-aged man suddenly spoke. Da Quan's expression changed drastically, and he abruptly took a step back.
Fang Jie took a deep breath and slowly drew his sword. He looked at the middle-aged man and said, word by word, "Regardless of your hostility, please state your purpose. Perhaps you truly are a peerless master with extraordinary cultivation, but we are not lambs to the slaughter."
The middle-aged man looked at Fang Jie and smiled, saying, "You're quite an interesting person. You speak with great bravado and act as if you're ready to fight to the death, but in your heart you're thinking about how to escape… I don't know whether to call you hypocritical or cunning."
Before Fang Jie could speak, he walked forward and asked, "I want to know, you just said that the lake was too calm, not real, unless… unless what?"
"Illusion."
Fang Jie uttered two words softly.
"Illusion… that name is fitting."
The middle-aged man smiled and said, "For so many years, I've called this method 'mirage,' but I always felt it was too obscure and difficult to understand. The word 'illusion' you used is very good. In the future, when others ask, I'll use those two words to explain… Thank you."
He said thank you. "Don't be so polite. Now you can tell me who you are. If I'm not mistaken, you're definitely in cahoots with those Qingya officials behind me, right?"
Fang Jie asked.
"Yes and no."
The middle-aged man slowly walked up to Fang Jie and said seriously, "Yes means that I am indeed from the Qingya, just like them. No means that... they came to kill you, and I came to save you. Of course, you don't need to thank me, because if I had been more diligent, you might not have faced so much danger along the way. I left the capital five days before them, but I was too engrossed in the scenery and walked too slowly..."
He pointed to his nose and said, "My surname is Zhuo."
Then he pointed to the Qingya officials in their flying fish robes: "They all call me Mr. Zhuo."
...
...
Gao Tianbao looked at the middle-aged man in gray cloth in front of him, his heart trembling. He subconsciously turned to look at Meng Wudi, the deputy commander of the Qingya, hoping to get some instructions from the latter. Undoubtedly, when Meng Wudi saw the gray-clad man, his expression turned even more grim than Gao Tianbao's.
"Mr. Zhuo, what brings you here?"
Meng Wudi immediately leaped off his horse, rushed over, and performed a deep, almost excessive, bow. His position was that of the Deputy Commander of the Intelligence Bureau, while this gray-clad man held no official rank, merely a commoner from a humble background.
For a fifth-rank official to bow so deeply to a commoner.
Therefore, Fang Jie couldn't help but be surprised by this scene. He couldn't help but guess that this middle-aged man was Hou Wenji, the Commander of the Intelligence Bureau. But he claimed to be surnamed Zhuo. If he were truly Hou Wenji, it seemed there was no reason for him to fabricate an identity. Nor would he need to conspire with Meng Wudi and the others to put on a show.
Because Xiang Qingniu's understanding of the Intelligence Bureau wasn't very detailed, Fang Jie was unaware of the commoner with a very special status within the bureau.
"We should have arrived much earlier. I played a few rounds with the old master of Plum Manor on the way, but my repeated defeats only fueled my competitive spirit, and I ended up staying there for seven days, forgetting all my business… That's all for you. I'm taking these three to the capital; you can all go back."
The man called Mr. Zhuo said calmly.
"Go back?"
Meng Wudi hesitated, startled, and said, "But this is the order of the Garrison Commander, and these people are wanted criminals whom the court has ordered to be apprehended."
Mr. Zhuo shook his head, sighed, and softly uttered four words: "Stubborn to the end."
Meng Wudi's expression changed, and he quickly calculated in his mind. Before he could devise a plan, Mr. Zhuo calmly said, "You don't need to think about how to deal with me. Just go back to the capital obediently now, and I'll pretend I saw and heard nothing. And don't think you can hide anything; the Garrison Commander already knows. I left the capital five days earlier than you, yet you foolishly thought you could keep it all a secret. If it weren't for the Garrison Commander remembering your contributions over the past decade, would you still be alive today?"
Hearing this, Meng Wudi's legs went weak, and he knelt down. He prostrated himself on the ground, kowtowing and pleading in a trembling voice, "Please, Mr. Zhuo, say a few words for me before the Garrison Commander! I... I was just momentarily confused and blinded by greed, which is why I accepted those people's money... Mr. Zhuo, I know I was wrong."
Mr. Zhuo shook his head and sighed softly, "You still don't know where you went wrong... Accepting money from the Li family and those people in the Ministry of War isn't a huge mistake. Your mistake was that you actually thought you could do things in the Intelligence Bureau that could be kept secret from the Garrison Commander. The Intelligence Bureau belongs to His Majesty... but the one who truly controls it is always the Garrison Commander."
"I know I was wrong, I really know I was wrong."
Meng Wudi kowtowed and pleaded, his voice hoarse.
Fang Jie and the other two exchanged glances, secretly letting out a sigh of relief. Then came surprise; they were all extremely curious about Mr. Zhuo's identity. The deputy commander of the intelligence agency was kneeling before him, kowtowing and begging for mercy. Anyone who witnessed this scene would be utterly astonished.
Mr. Zhuo sighed and said, "The commander has already mentioned this boy to His Majesty. If you really kill him… do you know the immense disaster that will bring to the intelligence agency?"
"Your Majesty…"
Meng Wudi raised his head, his face instantly drained of all color.
"The Garrison Commander ordered me to leave the capital before you to fetch this young man, not to expose you, not to stop you, and not to kill you… In fact, the Garrison Commander has already given you a way out. It's you who were blinded by greed for money, your vision is so narrow… You shouldn't have done that."
As he finished speaking, he suddenly turned to Gao Tianbao, his tone indifferent yet tinged with disdain: "You're more audacious than Meng Wudi, actually considering killing me."
Gao Tianbao was shocked, first taking a step back, then unable to hold back, he shouted to Meng Wudi: "Sir, there are only four of them here. We have over a hundred repeating crossbows. With your cultivation, even if they were gods, they wouldn't survive! Sir, don't listen to his instigation. Kill them and return to the capital. Who will know we did it!"
Meng Wudi's trembling body stiffened abruptly as he watched Mr. Zhuo slowly stand up. He turned and walked up to Meng Wudi, saying, "You're right, after killing them, no one will know. But have you considered this? If I really did that, I would also find a way to kill everyone present today to prevent future trouble. Mr. Zhuo is also right, you have more courage than I do… Although I'm ruthless, I've never thought of betraying the Garrison Commander."
As he finished speaking, Gao Tianbao was already fleeing.
Meng Wudi simply made a gesture, and then more than a hundred crossbows were raised. In a moment, Gao Tianbao was riddled with arrows, collapsing to the ground, lifeless, before he could run even twenty steps.
"Sever your own arm. I will speak with the Garrison Commander after we return to the capital."
Mr. Zhuo said calmly, then turned and walked towards Fang Jie and the other two.
"Thank you, Mr. Zhuo!"
Hearing the words about severing his own arm, Meng Wudi showed no fear; instead, a look of joy appeared on his face. He stretched out his left arm, bit his lip sharply, and with a soft "poof," his left arm flew off his body without warning, spraying a cloud of blood. The arm flew a long way before exploding in mid-air into a mass of flesh.
Pale-faced Meng Wudi knelt on one knee, looking at Mr. Zhuo's retreating figure, and said, "Keeping my right arm to wield a weapon allows me to do more for the Intelligence Bureau."
"Hmm."
Mr. Zhuo nodded, waved his hand, and said, "Go. I still promised to let you live, and I won't go back on my word. My words still carry some weight with the Garrison Commander."
Meng Wudi kowtowed again, stood up, and turned to leave. The flying fish robes hurriedly followed, not daring to linger for even a second.
This seemingly mysterious and powerful Mr. Zhuo secretly wiped the sweat from his palms onto his clothes after Meng Wudi left.
He breathed a long sigh of relief and muttered to himself: Fortunately... no one knows that my palms sweat when I lie... and the biggest advantage of this identity is that no one dares to disbelieve me when I lie.