30

Just after the morning bell rang at dawn, Qingchen stood atop the watchtower of the West Gate, glancing towards the distant City Lord's Mansion.

The particularly thick-walled building in the northwest corner was the treasury he had been monitoring for over a month.

He hadn't been idle for the past month.

During the day, using his position as the Assistant Commander of the West Gate, he cultivated relationships with the officials of the City Lord's Mansion.

At night, he spent his time mingling and chatting with Li Muyun, familiarizing himself with the ways of the place.

Qingchen jotted down all this information on a rough piece of paper, folded it into a small square, and tucked it into his boot.

According to the information he had gathered, the City Lord's treasures were most likely stored in two places:

One was the City Lord's study, where he handled official and private affairs daily, and was very likely a key location for the treasures.

The other was the treasury within the City Lord's Mansion, where the City Lord had always rewarded and rewarded his subordinates, naturally another possible hiding place for the treasures.

...

The moon was mostly obscured by clouds tonight, its light hazy.

Qingchen changed into a coarse black linen outfit, inconspicuous in the night. His belt held a handkerchief soaked in a sleeping potion, a wire, and a double-layered brown paper package.

He emerged from the shadows of the city lord's mansion's back wall, his toes barely touching the bluestone slabs at the base of the wall, making no sound.

Having mastered the "Shadow Clone Technique," his steps were lighter than a cat's.

His fingertips gripped a crack in the wall, using his gecko-like wall-climbing skills to ascend. His palms pressed against the bricks, feeling their roughness.

The wall was old; moss grew in the cracks, making it slippery.

Reaching the top, he crouched low and saw two guards at the treasury entrance dozing against a pillar, their spears propped askew on the ground.

Qingchen took out the handkerchief and lightly jumped down.

He landed with his knees slightly bent, dissipating the force. He circled behind the guards, covering the left guard's mouth with his left hand while his right hand, holding a handkerchief, pressed against the guard's chest.

The guard's nose twitched; he was about to struggle when his body went limp.

Qingchen caught him and gently placed him against the wall, then subdued the other guard in the same way.

In less than the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, the treasury entrance was empty.

The treasury door was a wooden door with copper nails, and the lock was brass, showing signs of wear.

Qingchen took out a wire, inserted it into the keyhole, and gently turned it with his fingertips.

He had recently secretly learned how to pick locks, and now, with the aid of internal energy, he manipulated the wire with perfect curvature.

With a soft "click," the lock opened.

Pushing open the door, a metallic smell wafted out.

Qingchen took out a tinderbox, blew on it, and waved it around.

The treasury was filled with rows of shelves, and swords, spears, and halberds hung on the walls. The scabbard of the topmost ring-pommel sword was made of sharkskin.

The bottles of pills on the shelves were made of jade and porcelain, with labels written in cinnabar. Some of the characters were blurred, but one could make out words like "blood tonic," "bone strengthener," and "yang-locking."

In a corner, dozens of suits of black iron armor were piled up, the plates dented, as if struck by a blunt object.

He didn't have time to examine them closely; his eyes were fixed on the top shelf. As Li Muyun had said, valuable items were placed high up.

But just as he was about to reach for it, a sudden chill ran down the back of his neck, like being pricked by a needle.

Qing Chen whirled around and saw an old man in a gray robe huddled on a beam, his hair half-white, tied in a bun, his hands calloused even more than his own.

"Boy, you've got some nerve, daring to break into the city lord's treasury."

The old man's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a force.

Before Qingchen could speak, the old man's palm struck out, and Qingchen only had time to raise his hand to meet it.

With a loud "thud!"

His palm felt like it had been hit by a hammer; a numbness shot up his arm to his shoulder, and he staggered back two steps, bumping into a shelf. A bottle of pills rolled down and crashed to the ground with a "thud," scattering powder everywhere.

"How could you sense me?"

The old man frowned, stroking his beard. "With your internal strength, you're at best a second-rate expert. Logically, I was hiding on the beam; you shouldn't have noticed."

Qingchen didn't speak, only gripping the brown paper package in his hand tightly.

He knew this old man was not to be trifled with; his palm strength far surpassed his own. A direct confrontation was definitely not an option.

Seeing his silence, the old man grew angry and swung his palm again. This strike was even more powerful than the previous one; Qingchen could feel the air itself being compressed by the force of the palm strike.

He hurriedly stepped back, his foot landing on the scattered powder, using the slippery surface to dodge to the side, while simultaneously pulling out the brown paper package.

"Old thief, taste the flavor of my Black Fire!" Qingchen said hoarsely, throwing the package at the old man's face.

"Despicable and shameless!"

The old man, mistaking it for Black Fire, paled—the treasury was full of flammable materials; if it caught fire, he couldn't bear the responsibility.

The old man hurriedly swung his palm, trying to push the package away, but the moment his palm touched it, the double-layered brown paper tore!

Pale yellow powder exploded with a "whoosh," enveloping the old man.

"This is…" The old man was about to curse when he suddenly felt his face burning, his breathing becoming heavy, and all his strength seemed to surge in one direction.

Qingchen chuckled beside him, "Haha, you old thief, this is twenty times the potency of a regular aphrodisiac! You're in for a good time tonight, you're not playing along! Hahaha!"

He didn't linger, turning and running towards the back window of the treasury.

The moon was just peeking out from behind the clouds, illuminating the ground.

Qingchen leaped out onto the windowsill, landing just as he heard a series of heavy footsteps.

The armored soldiers outside the treasury sounded the alarm and rushed towards him, the clanging of their armor plates particularly jarring.

The old man, his blood boiling, couldn't give chase, didn't even have time to curse. He could only sit down to meditate and regulate his breathing, but he couldn't suppress it...

"Catch the assassin! Don't let him get away!" someone shouted.

Qingchen didn't dare look back, his figure leaving a blur as he ran towards the servants' quarters to the east.

Using his two signature light-footed skills, "Phantom Doppelganger" and "Gecko Wall-Climbing Technique," he embarked on a thrilling escape.

The wall of the servants' quarters was low; he tiptoed over it, landing silently on a pile of dry grass.

The shouts of battle behind him grew closer, and torchlight swept across the top of the wall.

Qingchen hurriedly ducked into the nearby woodshed. This woodshed was used for storing miscellaneous items; the door wasn't locked and opened easily.

The inside was filled with cobwebs and the musty smell of wood. He hid under the pile of firewood, holding his breath.

He could hear the footsteps of the guards outside. "Search this area carefully, don't let the assassin hide!"

Qingchen regulated his breathing, his internal energy slowly circulating within him. His shoulder, injured from the exchange of blows with the old man, still ached.

Then, his figure darted swiftly between the attic, corridors, and courtyard;

sometimes disappearing into the shadows, sometimes leaping into the air, sometimes hiding among the artificial hills.

Like a nimble gecko, he scurried freely across walls and stones.

After a difficult struggle and maneuvering, Qingchen was forced to hide in a seclu