92: Please chop off my head and send it to the emperor to apologize!

"Li Zhong! Are you still alive?" Lu Jiuyuan shouted loudly.

"Master, I'm here!" The butler, Li Zhong, quickly appeared at the door, responding.

"I knew you weren't dead!"

"Hehe, Master already warned me; if this servant still died, wouldn't I be too useless!" Li Zhong chuckled.

"But that little woman, with her smiling face, was truly vicious and insidious in her actions. If this humble one didn't have some skill, I'm afraid I really would have died by her hand!"

"Wu Ming is about to die. I gave him a chance to prepare for his passing. Have your people keep an eye on him, see who he meets, and follow the clues."

"Master, rest assured, arrangements have already been made! Yu Qianhu's side is also watching. This servant will clean up here first, so it doesn't bother your eyes."

Li Zhong waved his hand, and two more people came in, carrying away Beef Soup's corpse.

"Mm, you may also withdraw!"

"Yes!"

"How high is Butler Li's martial arts?"

Shangguan Xueer asked softly. That Beef Soup's martial arts were far above hers, yet Butler Li was able to deceive Beef Soup, making her believe he had already been dealt with.

"He's not bad at all. He's Feng Bao's adopted son and is considered one of the top Masters in the Eastern Depot."

...Wu Ming left Ting Tao Pavilion, his steps still steady. However, each step he took on the bluestone slab left a barely perceptible, dark watermark that was instantly evaporated by his Internal Energy.

His face was as usual, even with a strange flush, as if he were just taking a post-meal stroll.

Only in the depths of his unfathomable eyes was there an increasing weariness.

He walked through the bustling streets of the capital like the most ordinary old man, unnoticed by anyone.

Finally, he turned into a deep, quiet alley and stopped in front of an inconspicuous black lacquered wooden door.

The door opened silently, revealing a meticulously arranged secret stronghold inside.

Gong Jiu was sitting behind a zitan wood desk, his fingers unconsciously tapping the tabletop, his gaze flickering uncertainly.

When he saw Wu Ming walk in, he immediately stood up, his face breaking into his usual, somewhat humble smile:

"Master! You're back! That Lu Jiuyuan..."

His voice abruptly stopped, and his smile froze on his face.

Because he saw Wu Ming's eyes.

Those eyes, which always held an all-knowing, gentle smile or profound inscrutability, were now like two dried-up ancient wells, with only a chilling coldness and weariness remaining in their depths.

What shocked Gong Jiu even more was his Master's glabella!

There, an extremely subtle red spot, like a cinnabar mole, was quietly spreading a very faint yet incredibly glaring red flush.

"Master!" Gong Jiu's voice carried a hint of alarm he hadn't even noticed, "Are you injured?!"

Wu Ming didn't answer. He simply walked to the desk and slowly sat down, his movements still unhurried.

"Hoo~~~"

He exhaled a long, silent breath, a breath so prolonged it seemed to empty his internal organs.

"Not injured. I'm dying!"

"Lu Jiuyuan..." Wu Ming finally spoke, his voice hoarse and dry, like sandpaper rubbing, "He doesn't deserve the title of Sword Saint; he should be called Needle Saint instead!"

Gong Jiu's heart sank abruptly: "Is it that Yamas Summons...?"

"Well-deserved reputation." Wu Ming's mouth twitched slightly, as if he wanted to smile, but it only tugged at the red flush on his glabella, making it spread even faster.

"Fast, accurate, ruthless! Unparalleled speed, unparalleled accuracy, unparalleled ruthlessness in the world!

A point of killing intent condensed to its extreme, scattering the soul, severing life... What a Yamas Summons!

When the King of Hell calls for you at the third watch, who dares to keep you until the fifth? It truly means instant death upon sight, no salvation upon being struck!"

Gong Jiu's face instantly turned pale. He stepped forward anxiously: "Master! Your injury?"

Wu Ming slowly raised his hand, stopping him from approaching. That hand, which had once stirred up clouds and rain and directed the affairs of the world, was now trembling slightly.

"It's nothing." Wu Ming's voice deepened, with a hint of defiance: "My Internal Energy is unparalleled in the world; no one under heaven can match it! It won't be that quick to kill me!"

"How much longer can you hold on? I'll arrange for a doctor!"

"No need to arrange for a doctor, you can arrange for a coffin! I can hold on for another hour!"

"An hour..." Gong Jiu repeated in a dry voice.

"An hour is enough. I have things to tell you." Wu Ming closed his eyes, seemingly feeling the needle-like pain in his head, or perhaps conserving his last strength.

"This is a trap. Lu Jiuyuan is feigning injury! The Emperor knows you're planning a rebellion; we've been watched for a long time.

This is intelligence Beef Soup exchanged with her life."

Wu Ming spoke again, his voice calm and unruffled, as if stating a trivial matter unrelated to him.

The humble smile on Gong Jiu's face completely vanished, as if a mask had been violently torn off, revealing the cold, hard true colors beneath.

"Master... Are you saying... our every move, from the very beginning, has been on the Emperor's chessboard?"

Gong Jiu's voice deepened, his fists clenched tightly.

"Precisely."

Wu Ming's eyes were closed, the red flush on his glabella already spread, like an eerie cinnabar flower branded on his forehead, shocking to behold.

He seemed to be fighting against the damage caused by the embroidery needle in his head, each syllable carrying heavy weariness.

"Lu Jiuyuan is bait, his 'injury' is bait, even his killing of Daoist Mu... it's all bait!

We took the bait, and we're hooked tight.

Prince Taiping's manor... I'm afraid it's also been within the sight of the Imperial Guards for a long time. The reason they haven't acted is only out of concern for the five hundred thousand troops."

"But these troops are the troops of Great Ming, the troops of Prince Taiping, but definitely not your troops!"

Dead silence permeated the secret room, broken only by Gong Jiu's slightly heavy breathing.

He slowly straightened his body. The earlier alarm seemed to have never existed, his eyes becoming unfathomable.

"Master, do you have any unfulfilled wishes? This disciple will complete them for you, even if it costs my life." He took a step forward, his posture still respectful.

What his disciple was thinking, what his personality was, how could he not understand? He saw through it at a glance.

"Unfulfilled wishes? I have dominated my entire life, unrivaled under heaven, and finally died by the Sword Saint's hand, witnessing the strongest Yamas Summons beyond this world. I have no regrets in death."

He paused, his gaze falling on the sword at Gong Jiu's waist. The scabbard was ancient, yet faintly exuded a bloodthirsty cold light.

"What you are thinking now is the last thing this old man can help you with.

Remember, never confront the Sword Saint. If you meet him, you will surely die!"

Wu Ming's tone was unusually calm, as if he were talking about a trivial matter unrelated to him: "Alright, cut off my head, take it, and go directly to the Emperor to beg for forgiveness."

Gong Jiu's body trembled imperceptibly, his eyes suddenly as sharp as needles! He stared intently at Wu Ming.

"Sever all your ties with me." Wu Ming's voice carried a strange certainty, as if he were arranging something long predetermined,

"Tell the Emperor that you deeply resent me for using Prince Taiping's manor, hate me for misleading you, and even more, hate me for causing the death of your Junior Sister, Beef Soup... You endured hardship, just to find an opportunity to personally execute me, this villain, to rid the court of harm, and to clear the name of Prince Taiping's manor!"

Gong Jiu's breathing completely stopped.

"Master... you..." Gong Jiu's voice for the first time carried a hint of imperceptible tremor.

"Do it." Wu Ming slowly closed his eyes, "This is the last thing your Master... can give you."

As his words fell, the secret room plunged into a suffocating dead silence.

Wu Ming sat there quietly, like an old monk in meditation, with only the constantly spreading bloodstain on his glabella indicating the rapid ebbing of his life.

Gong Jiu stood still, unmoving. Time seemed to freeze.

The expression on his face fluctuated, finally settling into a cold, jade-like hardness.

He slowly, and with utmost clarity, drew the sword from his waist.