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She studied what Rong Sheng had written in his book and came up with a plan, but first she went to a tavern.

Ah Hong, holding the book written by Rong Sheng, didn’t dare to even touch its corners with his own hands. He presented it to Chu Yihan, along with the silk it was wrapped in, and washed and dried his hands in front of Chu Yihan.

Chu Yihan held Rong Sheng’s book in his palm, gently caressing it, a devilish curve forming at the corner of his mouth, “Sister’s handwriting, after practicing for so long, is still like a child’s scribbles.”

He remembered when he first met Rong Sheng, she was like a fairy high above, proficient in everything.

But her handwriting alone was unbearably ugly.

He was born into the royal family and began studying literature and calligraphy at the age of three. Naturally, his handwriting was much better than Rong Sheng’s.

He wrote a piece of calligraphy for Rong Sheng, and she said, “It looks as if it was printed from a textbook.”

Although he didn’t fully understand, he thought it must be a unique compliment.

Later on, as Rong Sheng taught him how to trick Wu Dao and become a ‘modern person,’ he taught her calligraphy in return.

Unfortunately, even though he had come to know the kind of world Rong Sheng described as modern, she still couldn’t produce beautiful handwriting.

Ah Hong was used to it; whenever he got something from Rong Sheng, Chu Yihan’s eyebrows would light up with joy.

But he had to tell Chu Yihan, “Master, the Ninth Prince has been defeated and is hiding outside the city. The situation for Qin Muyan of the Great Wei Dynasty isn’t good either. The West Pavilion Master seems to be coming to see you, master. Are you prepared?”

In previous years, Wu Dao repeatedly tested Chu Yihan, nearly taking his life time after time. He had survived from the edge of the knife and the sea of fire, yet Wu Dao still appeared from time to time. If Chu Yihan showed any behavior in front of him inconsistent with Wu Dao’s expectations,

Wu Dao would certainly take his life.

Moreover, this time, it concerned their grand plan to eliminate Wu Dao.

To this day, he had not seen any ingenious plans from Chu Yihan.

He feared that in the end… their efforts would be in vain.

Chu Yihan scoffed disdainfully, a wisp of hair falling on his chest, sliding over his smooth skin, his expression one of indolent sloth, “Isn’t there still a Su Yingxue in the ghost market? If they want to kill Wu Dao, let her figure it out herself.”

He had given her a chance, and that was enough.

Outside Yungui City, atop a steep mountain with a rugged path, stood a palace carved by the divine work of spirits.

The palace was lavish and majestic, but behind it laid a cliff thousands of feet high.

Hidden between the mountain and the clouds, even its fresh air couldn’t be graced by sunlight.

Hong Lian walked through a colored fountain and into the palace, observing that everything there was incongruous with their era.

Had she not served Wu Dao for so long, Hong Lian would never have known what European-style architecture was.

Red walls and yellow roofs were replaced by white, the great hall ceiling hung several tens of meters high, even festooned with crystalline objects that dangled from the roof like tassels,

Wu Dao said these were crystal chandeliers.

But without electricity, he placed luminous pearls in the room, casting a beautiful glow Hong Lian had never seen before.

However, when Wu Dao was present, the luminous pearls were covered.

He couldn’t be exposed to light.

In the darkness, Hong Lian approached Wu Dao and knelt down, “Pavilion Master, as you predicted, Chu Yihan, grief-stricken from the loss of Su Yingxue and with frequent bouts of bloodthirst, has faced repeated defeats in battle. Now he only has twenty thousand troops, who have been separated from Old General Su’s forces, and is retreating outside Yungui City.”