Chapter 243: Is This Pig Head Yours

Chapter 243: Is This Pig Head Yours?

No matter what Huangfu Shaozong and Baoqin thought, Tang Wanzhuang and Zhuque, watching from afar, both curled their lips in smiles.

The capital was a grand stage, where no one would easily reveal their true intentions; such naive fools wouldn’t have survived until now.

Their invitations needed a plausible excuse, but Zhao Changhe played it even more plainly, acting as if they weren’t acquainted at all, not even giving face. That was normal—they were all just putting on a play together.

Of course, in Zhuque’s view, Zhao Changhe truly wasn’t familiar with Imperial Consort Huangfu, which made it even more normal.

That wasn’t what they were laughing about, though—it was the Empress.

What gave her the confidence to think Zhao Changhe would heed her? This wasn’t even the time for her to make a move; being so impatient was truly beneath her dignity. If Zhao Changhe refused her to her face, what could she do? Assassinate him?

The two older women pondered for a moment, then quietly instructed their trusted aides: “Follow that eunuch—he might not actually be the Empress’s man.”

Their aides were all startled.

It was indeed possible… If Zhao Changhe “went with the Empress’s man” and was found dead in the palace at midnight, the blame would be firmly pinned on the Empress. Unless Zhao Changhe was a fool, he would never go with him.

Tang Wanzhuang murmured, “If he truly is the Empress’s man, so be it; if not, this feels like something Huangfu Qing would do.”

Zhuque was also saying, “If he’s the Empress’s man, fine; if not, then someone is trying to frame me.”

She then muttered to herself, “If he’s thought of this too, he might suspect the Imperial Consort wants to harm him, right?”

As she said this, her beautiful eyes flickered with amusement. After a moment’s thought, she turned and entered the room: “I am weary; you may go about your business.”

Her attendants acknowledged and withdrew.

Zhuque peeked out, swiftly changed out of her palace attire, donned a fiery red ritual robe, and put on her pig-head mask. Then she leaped out the window, vanishing into the rainy night streets.

Meanwhile, Zhao Changhe was in the VIP room of the gambling house. The room was fully equipped with gambling tables and tools, and there was an inner chamber—a guest room with warm scented curtains, where someone was pouring hot water into a wooden tub.

Zhao Changhe had looked quite dashing walking alone in the rain, but as it turned out, there was a price to pay for showing off. Now he looked like a drowned rat.

The gambling house manager sat across from him at the table, idly shuffling a set of dominoes, looking at Zhao Changhe with a smile. “Young Master Zhao…”

“Huh?” Zhao Changhe’s hair was still dripping wet, but he casually picked up a domino and studied it. “How do you play this?”

“…You actually want to gamble looking like that?”

“Why not?” Zhao Changhe secretly circulated his inner energy, steam rising as he dried his hair and face a bit. His clothes, however, couldn’t match the skill of Sister Yihuo Snake, so he let them stay wet. “Coming to a gambling house is for playing games, isn’t it?”

“That’s not necessarily true. When you went to the gambling house in Sword Lake City, you were playing with Sha Qi’s neck.”

“Hey, your gambling houses have such similar names—isn’t it obvious they’re a chain? Why not just use the same name outright? Wei Zicai pretended not to know who was behind the Kangle Gambling House.”

“Who says similar names mean a chain? So, are you and Wang Dashan brothers?”

Zhao Changhe: “…I suggest using ‘Pang Dahai’ next time.”

The man was both amused and exasperated. “We don’t even know why you assumed a gambling house was ours just because you found one, and you happened to be right. But that doesn’t matter. Since you’re clearly here to find us, it must be fate.”

“Not exactly.” Zhao Changhe said leisurely, “It’s just that since the young marquis refused to enter a gambling house, yet the first name he mentioned was the most famous one in the capital, not just the nearest… There was a closer gambling house on the way, so why didn’t he mention it? That only proves this gambling house is special, marked in his mind.”

The man nodded. “Reasonable. I am Jin Jiu, manager of the Anle Gambling House in the capital. Greetings, young master.”

Zhao Changhe asked curiously, “Are you all named with a surname and a number? You’re middle-aged, managing the capital’s key location; Sha Qi is a young master, managing Sword Lake City. How does the numbering work?”

“We inherit the titles.”

Zhao Changhe pondered. “So Ying Wu once had a group of brothers, but some have passed away… What about the first four?”

“The first four were gone long ago, and no one inherited their titles.” Jin Jiu sighed. “How many brothers can one look back on in old age, amidst the storms of the martial world?”

Zhao Changhe was silent. He felt that although he had few friends, each seemed destined for greatness, not likely to die young. But he couldn’t be sure—even he didn’t know when he might fall in some unknown place.

Jin Jiu said, “Enough small talk. Since you’ve come specifically to find us, what is your business?”

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re actually a professional intelligence organization… I also suspect that the Tingxue Tower is your subordinate, similar to the Blood God Sect and the Four Symbols Sect.”

“You’re half right. We are indeed a professional intelligence organization, but Tingxue Tower is just a long-term partner. When they need to kill someone and can’t find them, they get information from us. There’s no subordinate relationship, and we have no interest in the killing business.” Jin Jiu laughed. “So between us, there truly is no enmity.”

“I reckon you originally sought clues about the ancient era, which gradually evolved into gathering all kinds of intelligence, turning it into an organized business, right?” Zhao Changhe said. “I can’t believe a Heavenly Ranking expert would only be a spy.”

“Correct.” Jin Jiu didn’t deny it. “We not only sell intelligence but also buy it. The most important intelligence concerns ancient secret realms and various lost dimensional spaces; everything else is just incidental. Frankly, worldly affairs are none of our concern… So whatever your identity, to us it’s just a piece of intelligence for sale, not affecting our stance in any way.”

“So when I refused to give them face and walked into your door, you dared to receive me.”

Jin Jiu clapped his hands and laughed. “Of course. In an age of martial arts and pursuit of gods and buddhas, you’re not the only one who scoffs at princes and nobles.”

Zhao Changhe nodded. “In that case… I’m here to buy intelligence. Do you do business?”

“If you want to buy intelligence about the emperor’s current condition, we don’t have it, so we can’t make that deal.” Jin Jiu sighed. “We have a reputation to uphold; we won’t fabricate something that sounds plausible to cheat customers out of money.”

“What about surface-level information? That shouldn’t be a problem. How much?”

“That’s common knowledge in the capital, not worth much. Consider it a gift, as a token of friendship.”

“Then thank you.”

Common knowledge wasn’t something you could just ask anyone about… And having your information cross-referenced with what others knew was useful. Having a dedicated intelligence source was still good.

Jin Jiu said, “On the surface, the emperor spends most of his time in seclusion. When he emerges, he holds court to handle some affairs, and his complexion is normal. What makes people uneasy is his listless spirit and weak voice—nothing like the aura of the world’s number one. Coupled with frequent blunders and none of his early brilliance, everyone suspects something went wrong. It’s not like the rumors outside that he never sees anyone—that’s not true.”

This matched Tang Wanzhuang’s information perfectly, nothing unusual.

Zhao Changhe stroked his chin, thinking, then suddenly asked, “Do you know anything about the inside story of the Crown Prince’s death?”

Jin Jiu smiled. “We only have guesses. Guesses aren’t worth much, but you can hear them out.”

“I believe your guesses are valuable.”

“We guess that the emperor killed him himself.”

Even after considering countless possibilities, Zhao Changhe had never thought of this one. For a moment, he was stunned, eyes wide.

Damn it, if Xia Longyuan would kill his own son, then sitting here was like an old general on the stage—just waiting to be delivered?

Seeing Zhao Changhe, who had always been calm and composed, finally show a change in expression, Jin Jiu felt a strange satisfaction and chuckled. “I said it’s just a guess. As for why we guess that, I can’t tell you without extra payment… Oh, and this kind of thing isn’t free.”

Zhao Changhe stared at him without speaking.

“Alright.” Jin Jiu glanced leisurely toward the inner chamber door, where a beautiful croupier in a sheer camisole stood waiting gracefully. Seeing Jin Jiu look her way, she said softly, “The bathwater is ready. Let me serve you, sir…”

Before Zhao Changhe could respond, the door was suddenly pushed open. A pig head tossed aside two unconscious guards, clapped its hands, and walked in. “Serve him, serve him well. Let me see how it’s done.”

Jin Jiu looked at Zhao Changhe with a half-smile. “I heard you were with a pig head in Sword Lake City. Is this the one? If not, we’ll have to treat this as a provocation and disturbance.”

The pig head looked up at the ceiling, as if too proud to speak to him.

Zhao Changhe broke out in a sweat. “Yes, it should be. This is the one.”

Jin Jiu rose leisurely. “Since you have your own attendant, we won’t disturb you. May our guest find peace and joy at the Anle Gambling House.”