The Valued Lady is Truly Dominant

On a winter night, the wind screamed as snowstorm raged.

The West City was already deep in slumber, those awakened by the subtle disturbances dared not light their lamps to investigate.

Common citizens know best how to preserve themselves, minding their own business is the safest approach, for curiosity can kill.

Song Zhiyuan walked into the small courtyard in the West City, cloaked and hooded, with Jiang Fula holding an umbrella by his side to shield against the falling snowflakes, as they gazed at the corpses in the courtyard.

”Prime Minister.” Several individuals knelt on one knee, their voices cold.

Song Zhiyuan glanced at them, then at the bodies on the ground, eyes deep.

”Aside from those who bit the poison sacs and died immediately, the brothel madam was executed, but fifteen minutes ago, she suddenly bled from her seven orifices.” Jia Yi stepped forward, solemnly reporting: ”It’s the poisonous insect, the mother insect must have been induced to death, she followed suit.”

He pulled out a glass bottle from his sleeve, inside was a tiny worm, which crawled out of the brothel madam’s eye after she died.

Song Zhiyuan’s gaze deepened further, he no longer looked at the bodies, but walked slowly into the room.

The humble abode had no excessive furniture or decorations, fitting the dwelling of ordinary citizens.

”Prime Minister, here is the entrance to the underground passage.”

Inside the room, the bed had been dismantled, revealing an entrance to a tunnel beneath the floorboard.

No need to ask, there’s certainly no one inside.

Song Zhiyuan proceeded into the tunnel, leading to an equally simple secret room, furnished only with a long table, several chairs, and another desk, atop which were some writing tools and a few books.

Nothing else excess, not even a letter.

Song Zhiyuan approached the desk with writing tools, sat down, closed his eyes briefly then opened them again, picked up and skimmed through the books.

Apart from a book of Confucian classics and poems, there were a few volumes of historical accounts.

”Besides the entrance, the tunnel leading to the exit was demolished, I had someone dig upward, it leads to a coffin shop by the moat, connecting to the outer city, probably with other exits, but...”

Song Zhiyuan listened while flipping through a volume of historical accounts, detailing the life of Ning Hongde, the most renowned Cabinet Minister of the Xia Dynasty.

He looked through the book, then at the others, surveyed the room again, arching an eyebrow, pondering over the historical accounts.

”Prime Minister, if the remnants of Xia Yu are truly here...”

”Not the remnants of Xia Yu.” Song Zhiyuan interrupted Jia Yi: ”It’s not him per se, but rather people from the Xia clan’s former force.”

Jia Yi showed confusion, this stronghold belonged to Xia’s remnants, it was from the former force, indeed it should be.

”This little courtyard, is not the principal, yet the person is extremely critical, definitely a leading figure, and quite advanced in years.” Song Zhiyuan sniffed the historical account book disdainfully.

Jia Yi: ”...”

What? His lord sniffs the book, is he trying to identify the person based on the scent of the book?

”An old man.” Song Zhiyuan squinted, leaned back, hands supporting the chair, contemplating over the historical account.

Jia Yi asked: ”An old man?”

”Hmm, don’t you smell there’s an elderly scent in the air?” Song Zhiyuan pointed to that historical account: ”This book should be frequently perused by the owner, visibly more worn than the others, with a heavier scent.”

Jia Yi’s heart skipped a beat, picked up that book, sniffed it too, then quietly put it down.

It’s that aged, proverbial smell of impending death.

Prime Minister, truly deserving of your title.

”Gather up these things, I’ll pay a visit to the palace.” Song Zhiyuan stood up and instructed.