webnovelvip Chapter 365 He doesn't even remember what His Majesty looks like; he truly is a traitorous mini
Chapter 365 He doesn't even remember what His Majesty looks like; he truly is a traitorous mini
Qin Mu's gaze shifted to the end of the corridor.
A group of people emerged from around the corner.
Leading the way were four people dressed in white masks, wearing snow-white robes, tall white hats, and white jade masks with a crescent moon carved on them.
Their steps were synchronized, like four moving white statues.
Behind them followed several gray-clad followers, carrying incense burners and prayer flags.
Behind them were ten boys and girls.
They wore brand-new white robes, had no masks on their faces, and had youthful, innocent faces with empty eyes, like puppets whose souls had been taken away.
Their steps were synchronized, yet stiff, each step appearing as if they were being pushed from behind.
The masked man at the head of the group walked to the entrance of the main hall and stopped.
He didn't announce his arrival, didn't knock on the door, and didn't even glance at the two servants at the door.
He simply raised his hand and waved it lightly, and the two servants retreated silently to the sides like fallen leaves blown by the wind.
The masked man stepped into the main hall.
The music in the hall stopped.
The dancers stopped swirling their skirts, stepped back to the sides, and stood with their hands at their sides.
Zhou Demao looked up and saw the four white-clad masked men; his smile deepened.
He released his grip on the dancer, straightened up from the back of the chair, and tried to open his eyes wider, revealing cloudy pupils, which were squeezed into slits by his fat.
The masked man walked up to him and stopped.
"Prefect Zhou." His voice was hoarse, with a peculiar echo, making it impossible to tell whether it was male or female.
Zhou Demao quickly stood up, and as his large body squeezed off the chair, the chair creaked under the weight.
He rubbed his hands together, his face beaming with a wide smile. "Your Excellency, the Envoy, you've arrived."
The masked man stepped aside slightly, revealing the ten young boys and girls behind him. "Ten children in total, they're yours to handle."
Zhou Demao's gaze fell on the ten boys and girls.
His eyes lit up, like two lit lanterns, reflecting those innocent faces in his cloudy pupils.
He stepped forward, stretched out his chubby white hands, pinched a boy's chin, turned his face to look at him, then pinched a girl's chin and examined her closely.
"Not bad, not bad." He loosened his grip, rubbing his palms together, his smile growing increasingly lewd.
His gaze swept over the boys and girls, as if he were selecting goods.
The masked man stood there motionless, his eyes beneath the white jade mask coldly fixed on Zhou Demao.
"Did someone bring it?" Zhou Demao rubbed his hands together, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Where's the money?"
The masked man paused for a moment, then raised his right hand and clapped twice.
As the applause subsided, footsteps echoed in the corridor outside the door.
Several gray-clad followers carried in four large boxes.
The box was made of mahogany, inlaid with copper corners, and sealed with a seal on the lid.
They placed the box in the center of the hall and opened the lid.
The candlelight shone inside, and the box immediately burst into a dazzling light.
Gold ingots, silver ingots, pearls, agate, jade, and coral were piled high, overflowing with treasures.
The gold ingots were officially minted, each weighing fifty taels, and were stacked neatly.
There were even more silver ingots, scattered in the gaps between the gold ingots, like silver streams.
The pearls ranged in size from soybeans to thumbs, and even included a few as large as longans, all gleaming with a warm luster under the candlelight.
Agate and jade were carved into various shapes, including Buddha statues, ruyi scepters, and jade pendants. The carvings were exquisite, and they were clearly very valuable.
Zhou Demao's eyes suddenly lit up.
His mouth opened, and a short, suppressed "ho" came from his throat.
He rushed to the box, squatted down, stretched out his hands, picked up a handful of gold ingots, and let them slip through his fingers, making a crisp and pleasant clinking sound.
His face shone with the golden light, and his eyes, squeezed into slits by fat, were filled with the color of gold.
"Enough, enough," he murmured, his voice hoarse, carrying an uncontrollable greed.
The masked man stood behind him, his eyes beneath the white jade mask coldly watching his back as he squatted in front of the box, a hint of disdain flashing in them.
"Prefect Zhou," the masked man's voice was still hoarse, carrying that peculiar echo, "don't forget what my Moon Goddess instructed you to do."
Zhou Demao paused for a moment in the hand holding the gold ingot.
He quickly put the gold ingots back into the box, stood up, turned around, and his face was full of smiles.
The smile was even more fawning and humble than before, like an old dog wagging its tail.
"Don't worry, don't worry, I won't forget."
He nodded repeatedly, the two layers of fat on his chin jiggling up and down. "How could I forget the Moon Goddess's orders? I will certainly carry them out, I will certainly carry them out."
The masked man stared at him for a long time.
Then he turned around and walked out of the hall.
Four white-clad masked men followed behind him, while gray-clad cult members brought up the rear.
The footsteps gradually faded away, disappearing at the end of the corridor.
Zhou Demao stood in front of the box, his hands still in the posture of holding gold ingots.
His eyes were still fixed on the gold and silver jewelry, his pupils reflecting the shimmering light.
A smile lingered at the corner of his mouth, a sticky, greedy smile, like a snake licking honey.
In the shadows of the colonnades.
Qin Mu stood with his hands behind his back, watching this scene, a cold smile slowly curving his lips.
"No wonder the Moon Goddess Cult has been able to develop unscathed to this point." His voice was soft, yet every word was clear. "So that's how it is."
He paused, his gaze falling on Zhou Demao, who was still grinning foolishly at the gold and silver jewelry.
"He is truly my capable assistant."
Zhou Demao clapped his hands, and several servants stepped forward to carry the four large boxes away.
He sat back down in the main seat, picked up his wine cup, tilted his head back, took a swig, wiped the wine stains from the corner of his mouth, and waved to the dancers on either side. "Continue playing, continue dancing."
The sounds of string and wind instruments began again.
The dancers began to twirl their skirts again, their red sleeves fluttering and their waists swaying.
A maid knelt behind him, her slender fingers pressing on his shoulders, kneading them gently.
He comfortably squinted his eyes, leaned back in his chair, his fat face relaxed, and a satisfied smile appeared on his lips.
"who!"
A sharp shout came from the doorway.
Zhou Demao suddenly opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the sound.
A young man emerged from the shadows of the pillars, his moon-white robe gleaming warmly in the candlelight.
He walked with his hands behind his back, his pace unhurried, as if he were strolling in his own backyard.
Zhou Demao frowned.
This person looks familiar, like I've seen him somewhere before, but the name is stuck in my throat, and I just can't remember it.
His gaze swept over the delicate face twice, but he couldn't recognize who it was, and his brows furrowed even more.
"Who are you?" His voice was hoarse, tinged with impatience at having his interest interrupted.
Qin Mu smiled. "Zhou Demao, you don't even recognize me?"
Zhou Demao was stunned for a moment, then let out a cold laugh.
How dare a mere brat address him by his given name?
He raised his hand and waved to the guards at the door. "Take them down."
Four guards drew their swords and rushed forward.
The blade traced several bright arcs in the candlelight, slashing straight at Qin Mu's face.
Yun Luan flashed out from behind Qin Mu, her dark silver slender sword unsheathed.
The sword light flashed only four times.
Four long swords flew out of their hands, and four guards collapsed, clutching their throats.
Blood seeped from between his fingers, winding into thin red lines on the bluestone slab.
Zhou Demao sobered up instantly.
His body jerked backward, nearly tipping the chair over, and his face went from flushed to deathly pale.
"An assassin!" he screamed, his voice sharp as a mouse whose tail had been stepped on.
People poured out from all parts of the mansion.
A dozen guards rushed in from both ends of the corridor, their swords and spears like a forest, their footsteps making the bluestone slabs thud loudly.
Several stronger auras came from the direction of the backyard, and three gray-robed old men soared into the air and landed in front of Zhou Demao.
They were the retainers that Zhou Demao had lavishly supported, one being a first-grade Vajra Realm expert and the other two being peak second-grade experts.
Zhou Demao, hiding behind three elders, poked half his head out, pointed at Qin Mu, and his voice trembled with fear. "Take him down!"
Zhao Qingxue drew her sword.
The Frost Moon Sword gleamed with a snow-white, cold light under the candlelight, and a faint silver glow flowed across its blade.
Her figure floated out gracefully, her sword aimed straight at the second-rank retainer on the left.
The old man parried with his sword, and in the instant the swords clashed, the Frost Moon Sword sliced through the blade as easily as cutting tofu, the tip of the sword stopping three inches in front of his throat.
The old man's eyes widened, the broken knife in his hand fell to the ground with a clang, and his legs went weak, causing him to kneel down.
Yunluan's slender sword had pierced the shoulder blade of the Vajra Realm deity in the middle, with the tip protruding from his back.
The old man looked down at the blood seeping from his chest, slowly knelt down, and a mouthful of bloody foam welled up in his mouth.
Although Jiang Zhaoyue did not draw her sword, she stood in front of Qin Mu and used her palms to knock back the guards who rushed up.
Her palm strikes were as smooth and fluid as water, each strike landing on the back of the guards' swords, causing their hands to go numb and their swords to fall to the ground.
A guard was struck in the chest, flew backward and crashed into a pillar, his mouth full of blood as he slid down.
In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, the inner courtyard of the mansion was filled with people lying haphazardly.
Blood pooled on the bluestone slabs, forming puddles of varying sizes, reflecting the swaying lanterns overhead.
Of the three worshippers, two died and one was seriously injured and fell into a coma.
More than half of the guards were killed or wounded. The remaining few threw down their knives, knelt in the corner, covered their heads with their hands, and trembled all over.
The maids huddled together in a corner, covering their eyes and unable to watch, some sobbing softly.
Zhou Demao slumped to the ground, his legs pushing against the ground as he tried to pull himself back, his back pressed against the table leg, unable to move any further.
He looked at the corpses scattered on the ground, and at the three women standing in the pool of blood, their clothes spotless. The string in his heart snapped completely.
"You, you don't have the nerve to be so arrogant!" His voice trembled so badly that every word seemed to be forced out of his throat.
"I am a distinguished guest of the Moon Goddess! If you dare to touch me, and the Moon Goddess punishes you, can you bear the consequences?"
Yun Luan sheathed her sword, turned to face Zhou Demao, and said in a voice as cold as frost, "You can't even remember what His Majesty looks like. You really are a traitorous minister."
Zhou Demao was startled.
His Majesty?
His gaze returned to the young man in the moon-white robe, and the blurry face in his mind finally became clear.
The silhouette glimpsed from afar during the grand wedding ceremony, the majesty of him in his dragon robe, the languid and composed look in his eyes as the officials knelt in worship.
His pupils suddenly dilated, his eyes widened to their limit, his mouth opened, and a "hoarse" sound came from his throat.
His body began to tremble violently, as if he had been thrown into an ice cellar, with cold air seeping out from between his bones.
"Your Majesty..." His voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's buzz, his lips trembling, unable to form a coherent sentence.
Only one thought remained in his mind—he was finished.