Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

Hu Biao strode over, followed by a squad of personal guards. He was so angry at the farcical scene before him that his beard trembled.

"Father, Father, please save me!" Hu Yuzhen threw herself into Hu Biao's arms, crying her heart out. "Wen Xiujie is trying to kill me! He won't let Shen Shi prepare the medicine for me; he wants me to rot away!"

Looking at his daughter's red, swollen, and mottled face, Hu Biao felt a pang of heartache. When he turned to look at Wen Xiujie, his face was already ashen.

Wen Xiujie realized something was wrong and quickly stepped forward, cupping his hands in greeting: "Father-in-law, may I speak to you in private?"

He lowered his voice, his eyes sinister: "My lord, the facial injury on Yu Zhen was their doing. Once we capture Shen Qiongju and solidify the charge of treason, the lucrative business that Qionghua Pavilion used to make a fortune will be ours. Then, what kind of renowned doctor can't we hire?"

"Even if Yu Zhen's face is completely disfigured, I will still treat her as before."

Hu Biao's eyes gleamed; of course he wanted the money.

But if something were to happen to his daughter at this time, his wife, the tigress, would devour him alive.

Just as Hu Biao was hesitating, a clear and loud shout suddenly came from outside the crowd.

"Express delivery to the capital—!"

That sound was like a sharp blade slicing through the stalemate.

Everyone instinctively turned around.

Pei Zhihui was dressed in plain clothes, wearing a dark blue cloak stained with snowflakes, and holding a pure gold token high in his hand.

The token shone with a dazzling golden light under the winter sun, and the character "Zhao" was clearly engraved on it, which was the emblem of the Marquis of Pingyang's mansion in the capital.

Pei Zhihui was pale and thin, but as he stood there, his arrogant gaze exuded a kind of oppressive aura that made people afraid to look him in the eye.

"Young Master Zhao has given the order."

Pei Zhihui approached step by step, his gaze sweeping coldly over Wen Xiujie before finally settling on Hu Biao.

"The newly brewed 'Drunken Beauty' from Qionghua Pavilion has been designated by the Imperial Concubine as the tribute wine for the Emperor's birthday celebration. The young Marquis has specifically ordered us to seal it immediately and send it to the capital with utmost urgency."

He waved the token in front of Hu Biao, a faint sneer playing on his lips.

"General Hu, Lord Wen."

"If something goes wrong with this wine, or if something happens to the person who brewed it, and it delays the Imperial Concubine's birthday celebration... I wonder if the General is too stubborn, or if Lord Wen is too inflexible?"

Tribute wine, imperial concubine!

These two words were like two mountains, instantly making Hu Biao unable to breathe.

Zhao Qiyan is the young marquis of Pingyang Marquis's mansion, a top-tier noble family in the capital. Since he has invested in the business, it is only natural for him to present the wine to the palace.

If it really involves the palace...

Hu Biao broke out in a cold sweat instantly.

He may be greedy, but he's not stupid. He wouldn't risk his entire family's lives for a little money.

"It's a misunderstanding! It's all a misunderstanding!"

Hu Biao's expression changed faster than turning the pages of a book. He shoved Wen Xiujie aside, his face plastered with a fawning smile.

"I too was misled by slander and almost made a grave mistake. Since this is an official service for the Imperial Concubine, then Manager Shen should do whatever is convenient for him."

After saying that, he turned to Wen Xiujie and roared, "Wen Xiujie, as an official of the imperial court, how dare you frame innocent people and obstruct the tribute of wine? What is your crime?"

Wen Xiujie's face was grim as he stared intently at the token in Pei Zhihui's hand.

He knew he had lost.

They lost because they lacked such powerful connections, and because of Pei Zhihui's cunning and opportunistic tactics.

"Since it's a misunderstanding, I'll take my leave."

Wen Xiujie spat out these words through gritted teeth, his gaze sweeping over Shen Qiongju with venom, before turning and leaving in a disheveled state with his men.

Shen Qiongju breathed a sigh of relief; her back was already soaked with cold sweat.

She immediately borrowed paper and pen, wrote down a prescription, and handed it to Hu Yuzhen: "Three qian of mung beans and five qian of licorice root, boil them in water and drink the decoction. After three days, the remaining poison will be cleared."

This is just a folk remedy for clearing heat and detoxifying. The real effect comes from the lacquer tree powder, whose medicinal properties will naturally subside after the initial effects wear off.

Hu Yuzhen was overjoyed, and left with the prescription, thanking everyone profusely.

The area outside the prison gates finally quieted down.

Pei Zhihui walked up to Shen Qiongju, reached out his hand, and supported her swaying body.

His hands were cold, and his palms were covered in sticky sweat.

"Get in the car."

Pei Zhihui's voice was very low, without any joy of victory, but instead conveyed a tense and chilling atmosphere.

"Don't look back, keep going."

The carriage sped across the snow, its wheels crunching over the snow with a teeth-grinding "squeak."

Inside the carriage, there was a deathly silence.

Shen Qiongju leaned against the cushion, looking at Pei Zhihui across from her in the dim light. His eyes were closed, his brows were furrowed, and his fingers, resting on his knees, were tapping unconsciously—a sign of his extreme unease.

"Uncle..."

"Shhh."

Pei Zhihui suddenly opened his eyes, a cold glint flashing in them.

"They're here."

Before he could finish speaking...

"Whoosh—!"

A burning rocket streaked through the air and slammed into the window frame. The fuel instantly ignited, and flames licked wildly along the wood, engulfing the carriage in the blink of an eye.

"Jump out of the car!"

Pei Zhihui shouted sharply, giving Shen Qiongju no chance to react. He grabbed her waist, shoved open the car door, and rolled down into the thick snowdrift.

The world spun around.

The icy snowflakes seeped into my neck, and the biting cold instantly dispelled the scorching heat of the fire.

Shen Qiongju was held tightly in Pei Zhihui's arms, and the two rolled around in the snow several times before stopping. She felt a piercing pain in her ankle, but before she could cry out, Pei Zhihui pressed her head down.

"Don't move."

Ahead, flames soared into the sky.

That was their carriage, now burned into a huge fireball.

In the shadows illuminated by the firelight, a dozen men in black, wielding long knives, emerged from the snow like ghosts.

The leader tore off his mask, revealing a hideous and twisted face.

It was Wen Xiujie.

"Pei Erlang, Manager Shen, you are truly skilled."

Wen Xiujie, knife in hand, approached step by step, his eyes flashing with a crazed killing intent. "Since the prison can't hold you, then this desolate wilderness will be your burial ground!"

Once the matter of the tribute wine is confirmed, his accusation of framing the Shen family will inevitably be brought to light sooner or later. Rather than waiting to be killed, it's better to fight to the death. As long as these two are dead, there will be no one to testify, and he has plenty of ways to shift the blame to the bandits.

"kill!"

At Wen Xiujie's command, the men in black swarmed forward.

"Hide behind me."

Pei Zhihui shoved Shen Qiongju and slid a pre-prepared short dagger from his sleeve.

When the man in black rushed up, Pei Zhihui did not dodge, but instead turned to meet him head-on. Despite the risk of being slashed on the shoulder, he precisely stabbed the man's soft ribs under his armpit with his short dagger.

"Pfft."

Blood gushed out, staining the pristine white snow red.

Pei Zhihui drew his dagger, slashed it with his backhand, and cut the man's throat.

The movements were swift, ruthless, and without a single unnecessary flourish.

Shen Qiongju covered her mouth, watching the scene intently.

"court death!"

Upon seeing his men killed, Wen Xiujie roared in anger and charged forward with his sword.

He was a military general, and his thick-backed longsword, accompanied by a whistling sound, slashed straight at Pei Zhihui's face.