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

Zhuge Ming had already understood.

He heard every single word and sentence clearly from beginning to end.

This young girl bought a student ticket online and entered the mountain by swiping her ID card as required. However, the staff at the ticket window made all sorts of trouble for her, using excuses such as "the stamp is not clear," "she does not have a smartphone," and "she bought the ticket at an internet cafe." First, they refused to let her in, then they confiscated her ID card, and finally they tried to accuse her of "suspected fare evasion."

This is clearly a case of treating people differently based on their status—bullying young girls who are naive, from poor families, and who can only squat on the ground and cry when they encounter problems.

As a leading cadre of the people, he noticed a detail that ordinary people would not notice—there was a fluctuation of Qi on the burly middle-aged man in the window.

This person is an extraordinary individual.

An extraordinary person sat in the ticket booth at the foot of the Celestial Master's Mansion on Longhu Mountain, using his meager power to bully an innocent little girl.

Zhuge Ming took two steps forward, unhurried and steady.

He knelt down beside the little girl and gently placed one hand on her shoulder.

The hand was fair and slender with distinct knuckles, but the force it exerted on the little girl's shoulder was extremely gentle, like a falling leaf floating on her shoulder.

He bent down and said in a gentle and quiet voice, as irresistible as a spring breeze blowing through a wheat field, "Comrade, come—don't cry."

The most beautiful thing in life is a person's smile.

Upon hearing this, the girl's violent trembling gradually stopped.

This voice is so beautiful, it sounds like it came from another world, carrying a warmth and power that makes you want to trust it unconditionally.

She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, looked up, and through her blurry, tear-filled eyes saw a man squatting beside her—his dark blue hair was neatly combed, his skin was fair, he wore thin-rimmed glasses, and he had a gentle and calm smile on his face.

Sunlight streamed in from behind him, casting a soft glow around the outline of his hair.

He was wearing a simple white shirt with a small red party emblem pinned to his chest.

The two words "comrade" kept echoing in the little girl's mind.

He called me comrade.

This person was the first to call me comrade.

Her intuition told her with absolute certainty—this was definitely a good person.

Zhuge Ming saw the answer in the little girl's eyes, which were red and swollen with tears but still trying to look at him.

He nodded, as if confirming something, and then slowly stood up.

When he turned to face the ticket window, his entire aura changed instantly—not fierce, not angry, but a chilling coldness that emanated from his very bones.

He held the little girl's shoulder with one hand, the other hanging naturally at his side, and looked up at the middle-aged man still sitting with his legs crossed in the window. He asked in a deep voice, "Which company do you work for?"

The middle-aged man was taken aback for a moment, but quickly resumed his dismissive expression.

He slammed his pen on the table, leaned back in his chair, and said in a contemptuous tone that seemed to say, "Oh ho, a hero saving a damsel in distress? That's an old, tired trope."

Since you asked, I'll mercifully tell you—I'm from the tourism bureau, and I'm in charge here, understand? You can go in, but everyone has to buy a ticket.

I'm making this clear: cash only. Got it? We're already being generous by not raising prices!

The sound was very loud.

The entire leadership team of the Yingtan Municipal Bureau of Culture and Tourism listened to every single word.

Director Li's face was no longer just sweating—it was drenched in sweat.

He stood there, his polo shirt soaked through with sweat, clinging tightly to his skin, beads of sweat trickling down his temples, but he didn't bother to wipe them away.

He stared wide-eyed at the middle-aged man who was still sitting with his legs crossed at the ticket window, his eyes filled with fear and anger, as if asking, "Where did you come from?"

Several officials from the Culture and Tourism Bureau next to him also changed their expressions. Some subconsciously took a half step back, some quickly looked down and flipped through their phone contacts, and some nudged their colleagues with their elbows, the meaning of which was very clear—it's all over, it's all over, it's all over.

Zhuge Ming remained firmly in place, one arm protecting the little girl, staring directly at the person inside the window. His voice wasn't loud, but every word carried an undeniable air of authority: "Let's not talk about anything else. Who gave you permission to confiscate my ID? Which law allows you to confiscate my ID? Are you a law enforcement officer? Do you have the authority to enforce the law?"

The middle-aged man, probably feeling humiliated by being questioned in public, put his legs down, leaned forward, and raised his voice by half an octave. His tone shifted from businesslike indifference to an arrogant and domineering taunt, as if he'd been provoked: "Oh ho, trying to intimidate me with the law? This is our job, we're doing this for management purposes. You're just an ordinary tourist, you have no right to know! Buy a ticket if you want, otherwise leave. Don't block the way for the people behind you!"

Before Zhuge Ming could speak, Director Li had already rushed forward.

He had been holding back for so long, his jaw was practically clenched to the bone, and now he finally found an opportunity to explode.

He rushed to the ticket window, pointed a finger directly at the middle-aged man inside, and his loud voice, strong tone, and stern attitude startled his subordinates behind him.

His expression was a mixture of anger, shame, and the deep humiliation of being seen in his jurisdiction by his superior. Every word was squeezed out through clenched teeth: "What nonsense are you spouting? You're turning black into white! You're playing utter nonsense! What kind of attitude is this? What kind of work style is this? How did you even get into this unit? Who hired you? Do you even know who you're talking to?!"

The middle-aged man was stunned for a moment by the sudden barrage of questions, but he remained defiant.

He glanced at Director Li, then at the group of people behind him, seemingly completely unaware of who these people, dressed like ordinary tourists, were.

He rolled his eyes and, in a defiant and arrogant tone, snapped, "What's it to you? Are you buying a ticket or not? If not, then—get out!"

Director Li was trembling with anger. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but he found that he was too angry to utter a complete sentence.

At this moment, Zhuge Ming calmly asked, his tone still businesslike and steady, without raising his voice or emphasizing his words, as if he were asking a very routine work question: "Comrade Li—can you resolve this?"

Director Li quickly turned around, his anger instantly transforming into respect and shame as he faced Zhuge Ming.

He bowed deeply, speaking rapidly and firmly, each word spoken with the solemnity of a military pledge: "Leader! This can definitely be resolved! I'll go find his direct supervisor immediately! There must be some misunderstanding! This person absolutely cannot represent the work style of our tourism bureau—this is simply, this is simply banditry! Absolutely not! Please give me some time!"