Until now, Mr. Zhou had stood in silence, his posture relaxed yet unshaken, like a man accustomed to moving unseen. At last, he spoke, his tone slow and measured.
"The dealings of the shadows rarely surface in the circles of nobles and clans. What you see on the streets is but the smallest ripple. The undercurrent… is far deeper. Normally, I would not reveal what I know, but Prince Xue Xing himself vouched for you and Master Ning. That is why I am here."
Ning Fengzhi gave a small nod, acknowledging the chain of introductions. The Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Clan's close proximity to Heaven Dou City had fostered a long-standing friendship with the royal family.
And since this was not one of the periods as in future when Ning Fengzhi was backing a particular prince in the imperial succession struggle, Prince Xue Xing had agreed to the request without hesitation. It had been a small favor on paper, but as both men in the room knew, small favors in the right circles could overturn the board.
Yu Luomian leaned forward, his deep voice cutting through the tense stillness.
"Then, Mr. Zhou… tell me—who had the gall to touch my daughter's name and my clan's pride?"
Mr. Zhou's eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Before I can give you a name," he said, "you must first understand the kind of people you are dealing with. The ones who hide in filth do not fear the sunlight—they simply make sure it never reaches them. If we are to drag them out, we must be ready to wade into the muck ourselves."
Yu Luomian's jaw tightened. "Then lead the way."
Mr. Zhou cleared his throat, his expression calm but his tone deliberate, making sure every word landed with weight.
"The timing by which the invitations reached every noble household," he began, his voice carrying through the quiet hall, "speaks of an extensive network, someone capable of acting under everyone's nose without raising suspicion."
From the folds of his sleeve, he produced a single cream-colored card. It was the invitation card to the marriage.
"The paper used for these invitations is of premium quality, rare and costly. Whoever orchestrated this had access to significant wealth."
Ning Fengzhi leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharp. Even Yu Luomian's eyes narrowed, though his expression was hard to read. Gu Rong, on the other hand, only sat back in his chair with an air of disinterest, though the way his ear twitched betrayed that he was listening.
Seeing that he had their full attention, Mr. Zhou continued, "I visited every printing house in the city. Not one had received a bulk order in the past month."
There was silence throughout the room.
"Which means," Mr. Zhou said, pausing for emphasis, "the mastermind must have used connections outside the city to arrange the production."
He let that sink in before moving on. "I also investigated the slums, where the child beggars belonged , the one handing out the invitations. Most of it was the usual, petty theft, gang turf squabbles—except for one incident that stood out for its peculiarity."
At that, Ning Fengzhi's gaze sharpened further, and Yu Luomian sat forward in his seat. Gu Rong remained seemingly indifferent but tilted his head ever so slightly toward the speaker.
"One of the gangs reported they had gone to seize a fallen noble girl," Mr. Zhou went on, his voice growing quieter, as though the words themselves carried a faint stench. "You know the type—there are… unsavory establishments where such girls are sold to clientele with certain twisted appetites."
A flicker of distaste passed over Ning Fengzhi's eyes, but no one interrupted.
"However," Mr. Zhou said, lowering his tone, "when they tried to grab her, they were attacked, beaten soundly, by her so-called bodyguard, an old man."
Yu Luomian's brows furrowed.
"At first," Zhou admitted, "I thought it was simply a spoiled second-generation young miss from some sect, indulging her curiosity by wandering the city under the protection of an elder. But…"
He let the suspense build.
"After thorough questioning, neither the gang members nor the bystanders could recall what the girl or the old man looked like. Their descriptions were vague, inconsistent, almost as if their memories had been deliberately tampered with."
That was when Gu Rong finally stirred, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
"Hmph. High-level spiritual-type Soul Masters from a hidden sect. Those street rats have kicked an iron plate and should count themselves lucky to be alive. If I had been there…"
He let the implication hang.
But Ning Fengzhi's calm voice interjected, "Elder Gu, I believe Mr. Zhou hasn't finished yet."
Gu Rong turned his head, eyes narrowing at Zhou in faint challenge, as if to say: Go on, impress me.
Mr. Zhou cleared his throat, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes before he spoke.
"I initially thought they were from some hidden sect. But…" His tone grew heavier. "…after questioning a witness, I concluded they were anything but normal."
He paused, then stepped forward and gave a respectful bow to the three men before him.
"I would like to present the witness."
Yu Luomian, Ning Fengzhi, and Gu Rong exchanged glances, then gave a slight nod.
Mr. Zhou turned toward the door and called to a guard, "Bring that boy in. He should be outside with my men."
Moments later, the door creaked open. A guard entered, pushing forward a scrawny child in tattered, mud-stained clothes. His hair was unkempt, his cheeks hollow, and his small frame was swallowed by a thread bare robe that hung loosely off his shoulders.
The boy's eyes darted around the lavishly furnished room before fixing on Mr. Zhou with a fierce glare.
"You liar!" he burst out, his voice trembling more with hunger than courage. "You said if I told you what I saw, you'd give me food!"
A cold glint flashed in Mr. Zhou's eyes as he stepped toward him.
"Do you know who stands before you?" he asked, his voice low but carrying a weight that made the boy flinch.