The tenth floor of the Drunken Dream of Life Pavilion was the most mysterious and revered place in the entire building.
At this moment, an elderly man sat upright in the center of the main hall, his expression calm and his gaze deep as an abyss.
Behind him was a tightly shut door—a large private room that was rarely opened and normally kept locked at all times.
It would only be unlocked when hosting the most distinguished guests of the Drunken Dream of Life Pavilion.
The existence of this private room symbolized the Pavilion’s supreme status and hidden power.
Every single person who had ever stepped inside was a figure of immense prominence and authority within Mingxin Prefecture.
And at this moment, with the elder standing guard here, it was clear that inside that private room sat an exceptionally important guest.
The elder’s face was composed, yet beneath his murky eyes, a faint sharpness and depth glimmered.
His withered fingers lightly tapped the armrest of his chair, producing a soft, rhythmic clicking sound, as though he were pondering something.
The very air around him seemed to grow heavier because of his presence, and even time itself appeared to slow down.
Just then, the faint sounds of commotion drifted up from below, and the elder’s brow twitched slightly.
Soon after, his gaze shifted back toward that tightly shut private room door.
“How peculiar! The Pavilion Master explicitly instructed me to remain seated on the tenth floor these past few days and not to leave for even a step.”
The next second, his brows furrowed deeply, confusion filling his eyes as he murmured to himself, “And yet, it seems someone down below has grown bold enough to dare trespass on this very floor?”
Though his voice was soft, it carried an unquestionable authority.
Clearly, this elder was no ordinary figure—he was the strongest martial artist in the Drunken Dream of Life Pavilion.
A martial artist who had just entered the Internal Qi Realm!
Throughout the entire Mingxin Prefecture, martial artists at the Internal Qi Realm were incredibly rare—fewer than could be counted on one hand.
And this elder was one of them, a renowned figure throughout the prefectural city.
Even the Prefectural Governor himself showed him a measure of respect!
The reason the elder stood guard at the Drunken Dream of Life Pavilion was precisely because the Governor had lured him here with generous martial resources.
In the blink of an eye, Zhou Yue’s figure appeared on the tenth floor like a ghost.
He locked eyes with the elder in the center of the hall, his gaze carrying nothing but indifference.
At the same time, Mu Yundai and the other Black Bird Guards followed closely behind Zhou Yue, swiftly ascending to the tenth floor.
Zhou Yue’s lips parted slightly as he let out a cold shout: “Scram!”
His voice seemed to carry a freezing chill, causing the surrounding air to momentarily solidify.
With that, Zhou Yue acted as if he hadn’t even seen the elder. Without so much as raising an eyelid, he strode purposefully toward the private room door.
At this moment, Zhou Yue’s heart held only one unwavering goal—to capture Wen Mochen.
In his eyes, Wen Mochen was undoubtedly his only hope in this desperate situation—the lifeline that could pull him back from the abyss.
Therefore, no matter who dared to stand in his way today…
Kill!
Even if it were his own son, Zhou Yue would not hesitate to slaughter him.
It was him!
Deputy Black Bird Envoy Zhou Yue!
A martial artist at the minor achievement level of the Internal Qi Realm!
In an instant, the air seemed to freeze solid. The elder’s eyes shot wide open, panic flooding his face.
His Adam’s apple bobbed involuntarily as countless thoughts raced through his mind.
Why would Zhou Yue suddenly appear here?
Chaos and confusion twisted across the elder’s features, leaving him utterly at a loss.
It wasn’t until Zhou Yue uttered those words—”Scram to the side”—that they struck the elder’s heart like a heavy hammer, jolting him awake from his stupor.
The elder’s face turned deathly pale as the thousands of thoughts in his mind exploded.
He finally understood—Zhou Yue’s intentions were far from friendly. He was here for that prominent figure!
Today, the Drunken Dream of Life Pavilion had welcomed its most honored guest—Wen Mochen, the legitimate eldest son of the Wen family and the Imperial Consort.
As the Deputy Black Bird Envoy of Mingxin Prefecture, Zhou Yue was now radiating a murderous aura, his gaze sharp as a blade, his entire body exuding a suffocating pressure.
Even a fool could sense something terribly wrong from the icy expression on Zhou Yue’s face.
“Yes, yes, yes. You’re absolutely right, Lord Zhou.”
The elder suddenly rose from his chair and bowed in agreement, his voice trembling with barely concealed fear.
“I’ll scram right away!”
“My apologies for disturbing you, esteemed lords.”
With that, the elder hastily retreated to the side, stumbling as he cleared a path to the private room, as though lingering even a moment longer would invite death upon him.
After muttering his apology, the elder kept his head lowered, afraid to meet the gazes of Zhou Yue and his party.
Then, with a flicker of movement, the elder shot off like a fleeting shadow, fleeing in the direction away from Zhou Yue and his men. In the blink of an eye, he vanished from sight.
All that remained was the empty hall, thick with a suffocating tension.
The Black Bird Guards and the Wen family were at odds—and he was merely a martial artist who had just entered the Internal Qi Realm.
With his limited strength, he was probably nothing more than an ant in the eyes of these two powers.
The elder knew this all too well. How could he afford to hesitate even a moment? Survival was the priority.
Of all the strategies, retreat was the best!
He could always send some apology money to that old Prefectural Governor after this was all over—buy his way out of trouble.
Better that than throwing his life away here for nothing.
With that thought, the elder fled even more urgently, bolting out of the Drunken Dream of Life Pavilion in a flash, completely ignoring the strange looks from the crowd nearby.
Inside the private room, brilliant lights blazed and laughter intertwined into a lavish symphony.
Soft, warbling voices echoed through the air, as if drawing one into a drunken, dreamlike haze.
Seated at the very center was none other than Wen Mochen.
At this moment, Wen Mochen wore a luxurious brocade robe, his expression languid and carefree, with a stunning woman nestled on each arm.
The women leaned against him, their eyes shimmering with flirtation and smiles blooming on their lips.
Meanwhile, Wen Mochen’s gaze was locked firmly ahead, as if captivated by something.
Before him, eight dancers were twirling gracefully. Their figures were light and ethereal, their sleeves fluttering with every step.
Each turn, each lift of their hands carried an indescribable elegance.
To his left and right, the soft strains of zither music flowed like a babbling brook, seeping into the heart.
The eight enchanting dancers moved even more fluidly to the melodious tunes.
The entire private room seemed shrouded in a hazy, opulent mist, saturated with an atmosphere of decadent indulgence.
This private room was exceptionally spacious, occupying half of the tenth floor and large enough to hold hundreds of people.
Lavish decorations surrounded them—golden beams and painted rafters glowed under soft lighting, complementing each other.
Looking around, exquisite carvings and precious ornaments dazzled the eyes.
Compared to the somewhat more modest structures below, this floor felt like an entirely different world—as different as heaven and earth.
Yet, just as Wen Mochen was sinking into the rich fragrances that filled the air, savoring delicacies fed to him by fair hands…
Suddenly, disaster struck!
The private room door was violently blasted open by a terrifying force, and the heavy wooden panels shattered like paper in an instant.
The Wen family guards stationed by the door were sent flying before they could even react.
Several of the guards hurtled through the air like broken kites, crashing hard into the distant walls.
A deafening roar echoed as the guards, along with chunks of the shattered door, slammed heavily to the ground.
The walls were left with gruesome bloodstains, and the air in the private room was instantly thick with the metallic stench of blood.
At that moment, all laughter and music came to an abrupt halt. The dancers froze in panic, their movements ceasing mid-step, and the music fell silent.
Wen Mochen frowned, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He slowly released the women in his arms and shot a sharp, knife-like glare toward the doorway.
The entire private room sank into dead silence, broken only by the remnants of the shattered door and the blood splattered on the walls.
“How bold!”
Wen Mochen let out a cold snort, his voice piercing as ice. A flash of killing intent gleamed in his eyes.
He rose slowly, his robes billowing without any wind, his entire body radiating a heart-pounding pressure.
“Which bastard dares to ruin my amusement?”
Wen Mochen’s voice was not loud, yet each word struck like thunder, freezing the very air in the room.
The two servants standing beside him were also seething with rage, barking harsh reprimands.
“Outrageous!”
“Who’s there!”
The moment the words left their mouths, the two servants stepped forward, their frames as solid as iron pagodas, shielding Wen Mochen.
Their eyes slowly turned bloodshot, glaring furiously at the doorway.
At the same time, their auras surged violently, and the blood and qi within them churned with a low, rumbling roar.
A faint reddish glow spread across their skin, as though flames were burning within their very blood, radiating an oppressive force.
Peak Blood Refining Realm!
These two servants of the Wen family were both martial artists at the peak of the Blood Refining Realm!
The dancers inside the private room, along with the beauties seated beside Wen Mochen, were trembling in terror.
They all huddled into the corners, desperately trying to avoid being caught in the sudden storm.
In an instant, the air was thick with tension and murderous intent, as though a cataclysmic battle was about to erupt at any moment.
At the doorway, the dust gradually settled, and five figures slowly emerged before Wen Mochen’s eyes.
Their steps were steady, each footfall seemingly pressing down on everyone’s hearts, bringing an invisible weight of oppression.
The one at the forefront had his face shrouded in shadow, but his eyes gleamed like cold stars, locked directly onto Wen Mochen without a trace of fear.
“Zhou Yue, it’s you!”
Wen Mochen’s gaze faltered for a moment as he recognized the face before him.
Then, a mocking smile slowly curled at the corner of his mouth, his voice dripping with undisguised contempt and ridicule.
“Hehehe!”
Wen Mochen let out a low, chilling laugh, his eyes gleaming with bloodthirst and madness, as if he had just witnessed something utterly hilarious.
“I thought it was some clueless fool.”
“Turns out it’s just you—that piece of trash dog.”
Wen Mochen radiated a terrifying pressure, the unmistakable aura of a martial artist at the peak of the Internal Qi Realm.
He held nothing but disdain and mockery for Zhou Yue’s arrival, treating it as nothing more than a farce.
“Interesting. Very interesting!”
Wen Mochen said as he stepped forward, his gaze piercing Zhou Yue like a blade, his tone suddenly turning icy cold.
“Zhou Yue, have you lost your mind, daring to ruin my entertainment?”
Wen Mochen’s anger and mockery intertwined into an overwhelming pressure.
He had originally assumed that, in this small Mingxin Prefecture, anyone who dared to cause him trouble would be either a reckless madman or some ignorant enemy.
But what he never expected was that the one who came was Zhou Yue.
That same deputy Black Bird Envoy who had once groveled and flattered him shamelessly!
“The last time I personally visited the Black Bird Guard headquarters in Mingxin Prefecture, you were on your knees like a dog, wagging your tail for mercy.”
Wen Mochen’s voice was biting cold, his tone laden with undisguised sarcasm: “What, did you grow a pair today, or have you genuinely lost your mind, daring to cross me?”
These words stabbed at Zhou Yue’s heart like daggers.
However, Zhou Yue did not show the fear or panic Wen Mochen had anticipated. Instead, he let out a cold laugh.
Zhou Yue met Wen Mochen’s gaze with composure, a meaningful smile curling at the corner of his lips, and spoke in an eerily calm voice.
“Wen Mochen, don’t tell me you’re still naive enough to think the Wen family can protect your worthless life now?”
Zhou Yue paused briefly, a glint of vindictive pleasure flashing in his eyes. “I’m not the one looking for you.”
With that, Zhou Yue’s demeanor shifted instantly—his face plastered with flattery and servility.
He seemed to shrink in stature as he hastily stepped aside, turning to bow deeply to the old man behind him and announcing in a loud voice,
“Deputy Commander, I have fulfilled my duty. Wen Mochen is right here.”
The moment he laid eyes on Mu Yun’s face, Wen Mochen’s expression changed drastically. His former arrogance crumbled in an instant, and a trace of panic crept into his eyes.
Mu Yun!
That old monster!
Deputy Commander of the Black Bird Guard!
As the Imperial Consort of the Great Xia Dynasty, Wen Mochen had naturally encountered fearsome figures like Mu Yun!
Could it be that that matter had been discovered?
Impossible!
Absolutely impossible!
Everyone who knew about that wretched woman—Princess Xingyue—was either dead or silenced.
Wen Mochen gritted his teeth, struggling to suppress the terror surging from the very depths of his heart.
But the chill of approaching death still crept uncontrollably down his spine.
His lips stiffened as he forced a smile that looked worse than tears—a pathetic, strained pretence of calm.
His voice carried a faint, barely noticeable tremor as he spoke again, feigning composure.
“So it’s Commander Mu! I thought it was someone else. What an honor—please, do sit down, sit down!”
Mu Yun merely stared coldly at Wen Mochen, without the slightest flicker of emotion.
“Wen Mochen, no need.”
“I came here today for one simple reason—to invite you to a certain place.”
Wen Mochen’s smile stiffened slightly at these words, but he quickly recovered his air of nonchalance.
He let out a light laugh, his tone laced with probing and flattery.
“Commander Mu, I don’t quite understand what you mean.”
“How about this—why don’t you accompany me back to the Wen estate? I’m sure the Ancestor would be delighted to see you, Commander Mu.”
Wen Mochen’s words carried hidden implications—both a test of Mu Yun’s intentions and a subtle reminder of the Wen Ancestor’s existence, an attempt to intimidate.
In the next instant, Mu Yun’s aura shifted dramatically. His surging, boundless True Essence erupted without restraint, like a roaring tide flooding the private room.
In the blink of an eye, a terrifyingly solid stream of True Essence, carrying an irresistible thread of spiritual power, shot toward Wen Mochen with the force of thunder!
In that instant!
Wen Mochen felt his vision go black, the world spinning and turning upside down.
An overwhelming, unstoppable force brutally invaded his body.
Wherever Mu Yun’s True Essence passed, Wen Mochen’s life force was mercilessly annihilated.
Had his head fallen?
Was he dead?
Just as Wen Mochen lost all consciousness, a faint, casual voice drifted into his ears.
“Too much trouble. I just need to borrow your head.”
