“Why ask about shops? If you need pills, I can just fetch them from the palace,” Qin Lianyi offered.

To her mind, no market stall could compete with the Imperial Treasury. She didn’t know exactly what Han Lie was plotting—he always had that metaphorical gourd of mystery medicine tucked away—but she knew wasting money on outside goods was foolish.

“No need,” Han Lie said, waving a hand. He paused, considering the logistics. “Actually, let’s not involve you in this part, Little Lianyi. I’ll make a quick trip back to the Sect and hassle my useless younger brother for them.”

He could have bought them in Qin Yang City or let Qin Lianyi raid the royal stockpile, but both options carried risks. The Imperial Court was full of prying eyes, and the market left paper trails.

If he wanted this plan to be foolproof, getting the supplies directly from Han Feng at the Heavenly Void Sect was the safest bet. Besides, at his current cultivation level, the trip would take no time at all.

“Hmm… if you insist,” Qin Lianyi said, though her brow furrowed slightly. “But what exactly are you planning?”

Han Lie gave a dry, tactical chuckle. “That… is a bit inconvenient to explain right now. Let’s stick to the strategy we discussed. I’ll fill you in on the dirty details once the dust settles.”

Qin Lianyi didn’t push. She was burning with curiosity, but she understood the stakes. If Han Lie said it was better she didn’t know yet, she trusted him.

She turned and headed back toward the capital, while Han Lie took to the skies.

It took only a few hours for Han Lie to cross from the Great Qin Dynasty back to the Heavenly Void Sect’s mountain gate.

He briefed Han Feng on what he needed, and the Sect Leader delivered within two days: one Soul Confusing Pill and a dose of Truth Serum.

The Soul Confusing Pill was nasty work. As the name implied, the victim would become utterly obedient to the first person they saw. It was a low-grade pill, effective only on cultivators below the Golden Core stage, but for Han Lie’s current target, it was more than enough.

The Truth Serum was equally straightforward. It attacked the nervous system, forcing the victim to subconsciously answer any question truthfully. The only downside was its distinct, bitter taste. It had to be masked in strong liquor to be administered without suspicion.

Armed with his chemical warfare kit, Han Lie hurried back to the Great Qin Dynasty without delay.

Night fell over the capital.

The Gentle Fragrance Pavilion was alive with light and music.

Han Lie had been crouching in the shadows for days, waiting for his prey. Finally, he spotted him. Mu Feng, the Young Master of the Mu family, strode into the high-end establishment.

Han Lie didn’t follow him inside physically. Instead, he returned to his nearby inn, sat cross-legged on his bed, and projected his Primordial Spirit. His invisible consciousness drifted into the pavilion, hovering over Mu Feng like a silent ghost.

As Han Lie had predicted, Mu Feng wasn’t here for the common selection. He went straight for a specific Songstress named Qian’er.

Qian’er was a “Qingyin Xiaoban”—a high-class entertainer. These women sold their art, not their bodies. They were masters of the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting, catering to refined gentlemen who wanted intellectual stimulation and ethereal beauty.

Because of their skills and exclusivity, their prices dwarfed those of ordinary courtesans.

For a wealthy scion like Mu Feng, however, the cost was negligible. In fact, he had booked Qian’er exclusively. She took no other clients.

Han Lie watched the scene unfold, and he nearly laughed his spectral lungs out.

At first, the atmosphere was cordial. They drank tea and discussed art. But then, Mu Feng’s patience snapped. He tried to move the interaction from the table to the bed.

Qian’er tactfully refused.

Mu Feng didn’t take rejection well.

Smack!

A crisp slap echoed through the room.

The silence that followed was heavy. Mu Feng stood over her, chest heaving, while Qian’er trembled on the floor. Eventually, Mu Feng composed himself and helped her up.

Despite the humiliation, Qian’er dared not show even a flicker of anger. She was a bird in a cage, and Mu Feng held the key. She quickly smoothed her dress and resumed her gentle, subservient demeanor.

My God, Han Lie thought, watching from the ceiling. You can’t even bed a brothel girl you paid for? Did this Senior overestimate you, or are you just that pathetic?

To be fair, Qian’er was stunning. Her beauty was of the “fish-sinking, geese-falling” variety—so captivating it could make nature itself stumble. Her skin was like snow, and her every movement radiated a dignified elegance that common whores couldn’t hope to mimic.

Han Lie analyzed the situation coldly. If Mu Feng ever actually succeeded in sleeping with her, he would likely discard her the next morning. The thrill was in the chase.

Qian’er seemed to know this. Even though Mu Feng was her sole patron, she held onto her bottom line with desperate strength. Nobody wanted to lose a stable money bag. More importantly, for a high-class Songstress, virginity was part of the brand. Once she lost it, her commercial value would plummet. It would be a career death sentence.

Qian’er rubbed her reddened cheek, bowing her head. She poured a fresh cup of tea with shaking hands.

“Young Master Mu, please quell your anger.”

“Hmph!”

Mu Feng swept his arm across the table, knocking the hot tea onto the floor.

“I have spent a mountain of Spirit Stones on you!” he roared, his voice thick with entitlement. “What kind of purity are you pretending to have in front of me?”

Qian’er blinked, her long lashes fluttering. She kept her tone dangerously calm.

“Young Master Mu, this humble girl is merely a Songstress. You know the rules of the house. If I break them and share a bed with you, I will face severe punishment from the Pavilion Masters. I might even be cast out. I beg Young Master Mu to understand.”

Mu Feng wasn’t listening. Logic meant nothing to a man used to getting his way.

“Bullshit!” he spat. “Rules are dead! People are alive! I’ve spent no less than five hundred thousand Spirit Stones on you!”

He leaned in, his face twisted in a sneer. “You’re just stringing me along to squeeze more money out of me, aren’t you?”

Qian’er paled.

“I’ll give you three days,” Mu Feng growled, holding up three fingers. “Think it over. If you don’t give me a satisfactory answer, I, Mu Feng, guarantee that everyone in this Gentle Fragrance Pavilion will be out on the street! And those five hundred thousand Spirit Stones? You will vomit every single one of them back to me!”

With that final threat hanging in the air, Mu Feng flicked his sleeves and stormed out.

Qian’er was left standing alone in the luxurious room, her composure finally cracking. Her beautiful eyes swirled with panic. She knew the power of the Mu family. Crushing a mere entertainment house would be as easy for him as flipping his hand.

Meanwhile, back in the inn.

“Bwahahahaha!”

Han Lie’s eyes snapped open, and he immediately doubled over, clutching his stomach.

“Five hundred thousand Spirit Stones! He spent half a million and couldn’t even touch her! Hahahaha!”

He laughed until tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

This was legendary. If word got out, Mu Feng would be the laughingstock of the entire cultivation world for generations. The Great Simp of the Mu Family.

The surveillance had paid off. Not only did he have a plan, but he had also stumbled upon the juiciest gossip in the capital.

The next day.

Han Lie tailed Qian’er as she left the pavilion. She traveled all the way to a luxurious private estate located just outside the fourth ring of Qin Yang City.

Even in the outer districts, a mansion of this size was a fortune. It was proof of just how efficiently Qian’er had been milking Mu Feng’s wallet.

Qian’er entered her home, closing the heavy doors behind her. She slumped against them for a moment, letting out a long, weary sigh. She needed quiet. She needed to figure out how to solve the impossible problem Mu Feng had thrown at her.

She walked into her main hall, massaging her temples.

Then, she froze.

There, sitting casually in the master chair of her own living room, was a man she had never seen before. He was sipping tea as if he owned the place.

“Y-you… who are you?!” she stammered, her blood running cold.