The group had quite a grand entrance, but it didn’t concern Su Lun and his companion in the slightest.

  The waiter soon returned with a teapot, flipped open two teacups, and poured for the pair.

  "Please enjoy," he said politely before retreating to the kitchen. When he reemerged, he carried a large tray laden with bowls of tea, filled to the brim.

  Approaching the convoy, he raised his voice, "Tea's here!"

  A group of guards quickly gathered, each taking a bowl and retreating to the shade of the trees, drinking and chatting leisurely.

  Ye Menghua raised her bowl and was about to drink when a faint scent reached her nose. She frowned slightly, then quickly composed herself and glanced at Su Lun.

  To her surprise, Su Lun had already taken a large sip. Alarmed, she tried to intervene, "Wait—"

  But Su Lun cut her off with a subtle glance, moving his hand over her bowl. Ripples spread across the surface, dissolving something into the tea in an instant. Within seconds, the liquid was indistinguishable from before.

  Ye Menghua's heart skipped a beat.

  "It's just some Mixin Powder," Su Lun murmured softly. "I've neutralized it. No need to worry."

  Ye Menghua gave a barely perceptible nod.

  "Is this a black-market inn?"

  "Not necessarily aimed at us."

  "Did you take the antidote?"

  Su Lun shook his head.

  "I don’t need it... This stuff has a faint sweetness. I used to drink it as sweet tea when I was a kid."

  Ye Menghua lowered her head, trying to hide her shock.

  Mixin Powder as sweet tea? Was this man even human?

  She knew well what Mixin Powder was—a drug used by petty criminals to render victims unconscious and erase short-term memory. Its mild taste made it notoriously hard to detect, ranking it among the top knockout drugs in the underworld.

  Who could possibly treat it like a harmless beverage?

  Unbeknownst to her, Su Lun’s unusual constitution had been forged by a relentless regimen of poisons and treatments to combat his Nine Lives Demonic Veins. Though the ailment remained uncured, it had left him highly resistant to most toxins and drugs.

  Mixin Powder? Child’s play.

  Su Lun’s gaze shifted to observe the convoy. The head guard, surnamed Geng, stood near the sedan chair, holding a bowl of tea.

  "Madam, the journey has been long. Please have some tea to refresh yourself," Geng offered.

  "I don’t need it," came a soft yet commanding voice from within the sedan chair. "You all drink up and rest. Once you're ready, we’ll continue. The Master is waiting."

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  "Understood," Geng replied, bowing before stepping aside to drink his tea.

  Su Lun studied Geng for a moment before lowering his gaze and continuing to sip his tea. After some time, he exchanged a glance with Ye Menghua. With a sudden thud, he slumped onto the table, his teacup falling and shattering on the ground.

  The sound seemed to trigger something.

  Around the tea house, guards from the convoy began collapsing one after another, leaving only Geng standing, staring at his tea with a darkening expression.

  Inside the sedan chair, the curtain quivered as the woman’s trembling voice called out, "Geng Huwei... what’s happening?"

  "Madam, don’t worry," Geng reassured her, stepping toward the sedan. Behind him, others rose to follow.

  "Second Master has admired you for a long time. He has ordered us to invite you to the mountain..."

  As he reached for the curtain, two sharp whistling sounds burst forth from within the sedan. The air itself seemed to shudder as two streaks of light pierced Geng's chest, leaving two bloody holes.

  He stumbled backward, his face a mix of shock and fury. "Twin Star Darts! Cheng Jimo?! How... How are you here? Where is Madam?"

  The sudden turn of events left Su Lun intrigued. Whatever plan Geng had for the "Madam" was clearly foiled.

  "By now, she’s probably already in Cangzhou City," came a low, steady male voice from within the sedan.

  This time, the curtain parted, and a man in simple white stepped out. He looked to be in his thirties, with a square face, thick brows, and sharp eyes that radiated an imposing presence.

  He stood with hands behind his back, staring down at Geng. A faint sigh escaped his lips.

  "Geng Zhaoxing, you were always clever. Why choose such a reckless path?"

  "This... this is impossible!" Geng stammered. "I personally escorted Madam into the sedan. When did you—"

  A cold laugh interrupted him. The waiter from the tea house stepped forward, sneering, "Geng, why waste your breath? He’s alone—kill him!"

  Cheng Jimo glanced at him indifferently. "Your skills are mediocre, but your arrogance knows no bounds."

  Without any apparent motion, a series of piercing whistles filled the air as iron darts flew toward the group behind Geng Zhaoxing.

  The first to bear the brunt was the younger of the two brothers. He tried to ready himself to block, but his body froze mid-motion.

  A coin-sized hole appeared on his forehead as if by magic. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless.

  The others fared no better. Cheng Jimo's mastery of hidden weapons was nothing short of deadly. Though the iron darts seemed scattered at first glance, each found its mark with deadly precision—one dart per person, one life per dart.

  Geng Zhaoxing's face turned pale as he spun around, trying to flee.

  But the next moment, a firm grip clamped down on his shoulder, sapping all his strength.

  Cheng Jimo's voice sounded right by his ear:

  "Where do you think you're going? The master is still waiting for you at home."

  Geng Zhaoxing's face drained of all color. Cheng Jimo took a step forward, ready to drag him away.

  Suddenly, Cheng Jimo's sharp instincts kicked in. He sensed someone watching. Turning abruptly, his gaze locked onto a figure perched atop a tree outside the teahouse.

  "Who's skulking around over there?"

  The man, whose cover was blown, leapt into the air. His right fist clenched tightly, gathering an explosive force as he descended like a thunderbolt!

  Cheng Jimo's brows furrowed. With a swift flick of his hand, a piercing hum filled the air as an iron dart shot straight toward the incoming fist.

  However, the descending man’s strength was extraordinary. The overwhelming force of his punch halted the dart mid-air.

  The dart, suspended under immense pressure, let out a sharp crack. The next moment, silvery shards burst forth from within, streaking like lightning toward the man's chest and abdomen.

  The man staggered as his strength dissipated. His body tumbled from the air, crashing downward.

  Cheng Jimo exhaled in relief, his expression regaining its usual calm composure.

  But just as the figure was about to hit the ground, his body twisted mid-fall. Another fist lashed out, even faster than before.

  "What?"

  Cheng Jimo's eyes widened in disbelief. This man had taken a direct hit from his concealed weapon and still had the strength to attack!?

  Caught off guard, Cheng Jimo barely managed to throw a counterpunch.

  A thunderous crack split the air as the two collided.

  Both men were sent hurtling backward from the impact. Cheng Jimo, however, showed his skill. Even as he retreated, he maintained his grip on Geng Zhaoxing, pulling the latter with him.

  He skidded to a halt two zhang away, steadying himself and preparing for another round.

  Before he could strike, a distant voice interrupted:

  "Eh? Is there a fight happening here?"

  "Ah, Amitabha! Friends, hold your hands for a moment. I have a question to ask. Once you've answered, I'll kindly send you all on your way together."