One person said: The essence of Wuhou Qimen lies not in Qimen, but in Wuhou.

Zhao Fangxu stared intently at the young yet steady figure standing by the window, his heart churning with emotion.

After a long while, he exhaled a long breath, all the doubt on his face turning into sincere respect. He stood up again and said solemnly:

"Secretary Zhuge has a broad vision and a grand perspective, while I have limited my thinking to the narrow framework of maintaining public order and stability."

I fully agree with your strategic vision. I will immediately arrange the relevant meeting and security procedures!

"Hey, there's no rush."

Zhuge Ming turned around, raised his hand and lightly tapped the tea table, his face regaining its usual gentle and approachable expression.

"Comrade Zhao, sit down and finish your tea."

The Celestial Master's Enlightenment Tea sent by the Celestial Master's Mansion is invigorating and refreshing; it must not be wasted.

Once we get into the reception room, another long and drawn-out argument is inevitable.

These days, the more capable and ambitious a person is, the more fallacies and heresies they tend to have. If we don't give them a proper lesson in ideology, we're afraid we won't be able to control them.

Zhao Fangxu smiled upon hearing this, and his tense nerves completely relaxed.

He picked up his teacup, smiling as he continued:

"No matter how many fallacies there are, it's still a paper tiger."

Truth is often held by a minority, but even more so by those who uphold principles and innovate.

"Secretary Zhuge, please have a few more sips of this tea. The crucial part later, guiding the lost sheep, depends entirely on your leadership and decisive action!"

The two looked at each other across the table and smiled knowingly.

The scalding hot tea soup slid down my throat, and amidst its sweet and refreshing bitterness, a pure Taoist charm quietly unfolded.

As night deepened, undercurrents surged on the summit of Longhu Mountain, while within this tranquil teahouse, the course of the entire catastrophe had already been laid out and set in stone.

……

A secluded retreat deep in the bamboo forest behind Longhu Mountain.

The light inside was so bright it was almost blinding.

Several high-specification portable explosion-proof cold light lamps were placed in the four corners, illuminating the originally antique Zen room in every detail, even revealing the dust on the cobwebs in the corners.

In the very center of the room, there was an old-fashioned eight-immortal table.

Around the table sat several powerful figures renowned throughout the world of supernatural beings—

Zhang Zhiwei, the old Celestial Master of the Celestial Master's Mansion, lowered his eyelids, his thumb slowly twisting his cuff, his face ashen; Tian Jinzhong, in his wheelchair, rested his hands on his knees, his breathing barely audible; the impeccably dressed Lu Jin, the old master, stood ramrod straight, his white eyebrows slightly furrowed, his expression serious yet filled with suspicion; Wang Ai leaned on his cane, his orange-peel-like old face deeply buried in shadow, his triangular eyes gleaming with a cold, uncertain light; Lü Ci drooped his single eye, the crisscrossing scars on his face appearing particularly ferocious in the pale light, like a vicious dog feigning sleep; Feng Zhenghao of the World Society, on the other hand, wore a sharp suit, the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose reflecting a cold light, a very measured fake smile playing on his lips, his eyes downcast, his mind unfocused.

However, the most eye-catching people in the whole room were not these "Ten Elders" who could make the world of supernatural beings tremble with a stomp of their feet.

Instead, on the undisputed main seat at the north end of the octagonal table... there was an empty carved armchair.

A brand-new red hardcover notebook and a black pen were placed in front of the chair.

No one spoke, no one drank tea, and even their breathing was kept to a minimum.

Several old monsters who usually wield great power are now sitting quietly on the sidelines, waiting for the arrival of their new leader, Zhuge Ming.

……

In contrast to the eerie silence inside the quiet room, the courtyard outside the villa was filled with a suffocating sense of dread.

On the surface, eight soldiers dressed in new digital camouflage and wearing unmarked special tactical armbands, armed with new short assault rifles that were entirely black and clearly modified, locked the door of the quiet room in a standard tactical defensive formation.

The goggles beneath the helmet glowed with a faint red light, and his entire body exuded a cold, murderous aura from years of battlefield experience.

In the shadows, hidden among the rooftops and ancient tree branches, there are at least four heavy anti-material sniper positions, their dark muzzles silently covering the entire courtyard.

"Tap, tap, tap."

The dull sound of footsteps broke the silence of the night.

Two fully armed special forces soldiers escorted three figures through the corridor to the door of the quiet room.

The guard didn't even lift his eyelids. He simply raised his hand and used a portable infrared and Qi-based dual laser scanner, which quickly scanned the three people with a "beep".

"Hand over all dangerous items you are carrying, including magical artifacts."

The soldier spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion, like a piece of cold, raw iron.

Gong Qing, who was walking at the front, had a calm expression and didn't say a single unnecessary word. He simply nodded in perfect compliance.

He slowly emerged from the sleeves of his faded Taoist robe, his hands holding three slender, dark, and gleaming silver needles between his fingers—his unique secret technique, the Ghost Needle.

He gently bent down and neatly arranged the silver needles on the tray by the door.

Seeing this, Ding Shian, standing behind him, spread his arms and calmly pulled out three identical Ghost Needles from the lining of his black clothes, throwing them in with a clang.

It was Lü Liang's turn last.

The short, cute boy swallowed hard, looking at the dark gun barrels and the cold-blooded special forces soldiers in front of him, his forehead covered in cold sweat.

His hands trembled as he reached into his pocket and began frantically rummaging through them:

A tactical folding knife, two poisoned darts, a steel slingshot, two boxes of steel balls... and even a nail clipper with a pink strawberry pattern on it!

"Well... it's a professional habit, I trim my nails occasionally for self-defense..."

While awkwardly forcing a smile, Lü Liang piled all his belongings on the ground and then bowed deeply to the soldier comrade at a ninety-degree angle in an extremely obsequious manner.

The laser scanner scanned again, and the green light came on.

"Name."

"Gong Qing".

"Ding Shima An".

"Lü...Lü Liang, good morning, sir!"

"Identity confirmed. Take him in."

……

"Squeak—"

The two heavy wooden doors of the quiet room were pushed open from the outside by the special forces soldiers.

As soon as the three figures stepped across the threshold, several pairs of extremely sharp eyes from beside the octagonal table shot over at them!

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

The expressions on the faces of the ten elders at the table the moment they saw who it was were so dramatic it was almost theatrical.

Shocking, astonished, absurd, unbelievable!

Especially Zhang Zhiwei and Tian Jinzhong.

The old master's previously calm eyes suddenly widened, staring intently at the boy walking at the front.

That was Xiao Yuzi, the little Taoist priest who had been wiping Tian Jinzhong's body for three years and calling him "Second Master" with humility!

Wang Ai's cane slammed against the ground with a dull thud, and Feng Zhenghao's finger, which was pushing up his glasses, froze in mid-air.

The acting leader of Quanxing? Ding Shian, one of the two heroes? And Lü Liang, the traitor from the Lü family?

They just swaggered in, empty-handed, like they were being escorted vagrants into the room where they were having a meeting?!

Despite the astonishment of the entire room, the three people who entered displayed completely different expressions.

Gong Qing raised his head slightly, his face showing no fear of being a prisoner, but rather a deep and solemn air of someone who had long held a high position.

His gaze lingered for a moment on the empty armchair and the red notebook on the table, his mind already racing as he calculated how to report his thoughts to that "Secretary Zhuge" later.

Ding Shian's gaze was intense.

He was only slightly interested when he glanced at Lu Jin, Wang Ai and the others, but the moment his gaze met that of the old master Zhang Zhiwei, an overwhelming fighting spirit almost burst forth from his bones! But just a second later, a chill ran down Ding Shian's neck - the high-precision weapons hidden in the shadows outside the door were radiating a terrifying pressure.

He's a martial arts fanatic, but he's definitely not a suicidal idiot.

He forcefully suppressed his fighting spirit, a wry smile appearing on his lips.