Henwell stays at the Drunken Dream Tower until midnight before finally leaving.

  Miss Caixia only chats with him briefly. Having seen countless people, she quickly understands something.

  This burly man before her isn’t someone she can move.

  Though Henwell occasionally cracks a risqué joke and even reaches out to tease her cheek, it’s no different from any other guest.

  But Caixia knows clearly that Henwell never shows the slightest flicker of attraction toward her.

  His eyes remain calm throughout, like a deep night sky—completely still.

  Not even a trace of desire flickers in his gaze.

  Though curious about Henwell’s background, she senses he’s no ordinary man.

  From his voice and skin, she guesses he’s quite young, probably not even thirty.

  To resist her charms so steadily and remain composed at such a young age means he must hail from a powerful faction.

  This is not someone she—or anyone in the Drunken Dream Tower—should provoke.

  After leaving the tower, the carriage follows the Fengyue River, heading toward Lucy’s estate.

  Halfway along, steward Number Eight furrows his brow. “Young Master Henwell, I’ve ordered someone to deal with the tail behind us.”

  Henwell shakes his head. “Forget it. That’s not a bandit, it’s Young Master Wang. He’s brought friends and seems ready to ambush me for a lesson.”

  Number Eight nods. “Understood. I’ll arrange for people to block them. I doubt they have the stamina to keep chasing.”

  The Fengyue River is lively, with many pleasure boats floating by. Occasionally, drunken revelers fall into the water, only to be saved by skilled boatmen amid ughter and shouts.

  This bustling scene reflects the prosperity of the Tudor Dynasty.

  Suddenly, Henwell frowns. “Stop the carriage!”

  Number Eight draws his long bde halfway and orders, “Stand guard!”

  The carriage slows to a halt. The guards prepare to draw their swords, but Henwell stops them.

  “No rush. It doesn’t look like they’re targeting us directly. Let’s watch the show.”

  With his bde in hand, steward Number Eight jumps down from the carriage alongside Henwell.

  Henwell grabs a handful of dried fruit, leans against the carriage, and watches the scene unfolding not far ahead.

  The small dock serves as a mooring spot for pleasure boats and flower boats.

  Alongside the dock, numerous rental carriages wait, as do carriages belonging to nobles and officials.

  Next to the dock stretches a bustling night market, a hundred meters long, selling snacks, te-night treats, bouquets, trinkets, and various sundries.

  At that moment, a flower boat slowly approaches the dock.

  A group of young people dressed in vish attire, supported by delicate women, stagger off the boat.

  Accompanying them are over a dozen sword-wielding guards, while guards stationed near the carriages on shore move forward to meet them.

  As this group steps onto the dock, the wooden pnks of the pier suddenly splinter and crack.

  More than a dozen figures burst up from beneath the water, swinging long bdes and hacking fiercely at the young nobles.

  Though the guards react swiftly, the broken pier blocks most of them from advancing.

  Only a few personal bodyguards manage to stay close, but in their effort to protect the nobles, many are cut down and fall into the river.

  Screams and cries fill the chaotic scene.

  The young nobles push the women in their arms toward the assassins, desperately trying to reach the reinforcements rushing from shore.

  The killers show no mercy to the frightened women, sshing them into the water without hesitation.

  Only one or two quick-witted women jump into the river themselves, clearing a path and narrowly escaping.

  Once the pier is clear, the assassins speed up their pursuit.

  Just as it looks like the killers will succeed, two figures leap over the nobles and nd on the pier, blocking the attackers.

  Both draw long swords and charge at the assassins.

  One fights with graceful, flowing swordpy; the other strikes with sharp, rapid precision.

  Their seamless coordination forces the assassins to retreat step by step.

  The young nobles quickly regroup with their guards and rush into their carriages, eager to flee the scene.

  But just as the carriages start moving, several nearby stalls are overturned, and a handful of short spears are hurled into one of the carriage compartments.

  Then comes the dull twang of crossbows firing. A barrage of arrows, propelled with great force, pierces through the wooden panels and into the carriage.

  That’s not all, several ropes with hooked cws are thrown, snagging onto the carriage.

  With the bck-cd assaints pulling hard, the carriage is torn apart, revealing a man riddled with arrows.

  A short spear protrudes from his chest and abdomen. Despite the grievous wounds, the man only gasps weakly, no longer drawing breath.

  Still, the killers show no mercy. Two of them step forward, swing their bdes, and sever his head, packing it away while the man’s eyes remain wide in his final moments.

  The assassins aren’t limited to just one group; they unch the same coordinated attack against four carriages simultaneously.

  But only three are successfully taken down. One carriage’s guards manage to hold their ground, using shields to block the volley of arrows.

  The thrown spears don’t inflict serious injuries, only scratching one guard’s arm.

  Under their desperate protection, this guard abandons the carriage and flees.

  His men hold off the killers as he escapes, wielding a long sword and showing respectable skill.

  Against all odds, he breaks through the ambush and rushes toward Henwell’s direction.

  Meanwhile, Young Master Wang and his friends dismount their carriage, clutching clubs, and hurry toward Henwell, intent on regaining control of the situation.

  The sudden assassination attempt leaves Young Master Wang and his group stunned.

  Only when a bloodied young noble staggers over do they snap back to reality, preparing to flee at the guards’ urging.

  But the wounded man shouts out, “I am Cao Mingzhi, son of Cao Yu, Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works. Please stop these vilins! If you save me, I will repay you greatly!”

  Though it sounds like a plea for help, it’s actually a veiled threat.

  If they refuse aid, they might escape punishment this time, but they certainly won’t be able to stay in the capital afterward.

  The Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Works is a high-ranking official of the third rank in the court!

  None of Young Master Wang’s backers dare provoke someone of that stature.

  Seeing Wang and his group hesitate, Cao Mingzhi clings to hope and presses forward toward the unlucky group.

  But halfway there, the windows and doors of a nearby shop explode open, and several bck-cd figures rush out.

  It’s too te for Wang and his companions to regroup.

  Just as despair settles over Cao Mingzhi, he spots Henwell leaning against a carriage nearby.

  Noticing Henwell’s guards and his imposing figure, Cao Mingzhi’s eyes brighten once more.

  He runs toward Henwell, shouting, “Brother, please save my life! I promise a great reward afterward!”

  Henwell turns to steward Number Eight. “Does this have anything to do with your master?”

  Number Eight hesitates. “I’m not sure. I don’t think this is arranged by my master.”