Jiang Cheng returned to Fengri City overnight, but Shen Hao did not; he chose to spend the night right on the flower boat.

The drinking party last night brought Shen Hao a storm of information, and at the same time, the songstress at the gathering left him burning with desire, so he found an outlet on the spot.

When he woke again, daylight was already streaming in. Leaving a silver note by the pillow, Shen Hao got up, feeling refreshed, and went to wash up.

Even on the flower boat, everything here was worth the hefty price tag. There were maids attending to everything—washing his face, brushing his teeth, getting dressed. Even if that songstress from last night couldn’t get out of bed today, the guests would never be neglected due to that.

He had just finished washing up and opened the door when he glanced aside—and saw Lian Xiang in a long, pale yellow dress. He hadn’t expected her to be staying in the room next door last night.

"Good morning, Miss Lian Xiang."

"Hmph! So Shen Zongqi slept well? Too bad I lay awake all night." Lian Xiang’s pretty face was full of grievance, tinged with a blush.

Shen Hao was startled at first, then realized she was complaining about the commotion and ruckus he caused last night. How was he supposed to respond to that? If it were an ordinary songstress, he might joke right back, but Lian Xiang’s patron was Liao Chengfeng—no need to bring trouble on himself.

"Haha, it seems I’ve been rude to Miss Lian Xiang. It’s getting late; I must return to Li City, so I’ll take my leave."

With that, Shen Hao smiled and tried to walk past, heading towards the dock. But just as he brushed by Lian Xiang, he felt a gentle tug at his sleeve. He stopped and looked down; the woman was lifting her head, cheeks flushed, looking up at him with expectant eyes.

"Shen Zongqi, when will you come next time?"

"Ah? Oh, I’m not sure about that. But whenever I have the chance, I will surely come to support Miss Lian Xiang."

"Mmm, it’s a promise then! Don’t you lie to me! You must come again soon!"

"Mm."

Only then did she let go. Shen Hao quickly stepped off the flower boat, and turned his head subconsciously—catching sight of that pale yellow figure waving him goodbye at the rail.

Shen Hao couldn’t help feeling something indescribable: Just what is this demoness planning?

...

After returning to the Li City Guard Station, Shen Hao didn’t even go back to the Public Office, but headed straight for Black Banner Battalion’s dungeon. This had been newly built in their camp, set apart from the main prison—an adjustment made for the special investigative role of the Black Banner Battalion. The Wen Family members were the first batch of prisoners here.

The cells were underground. Cultivators from the Garrison who were adept in arrays had already set multiple magical prohibitions below, cutting off all escape skills and preventing would-be escapers from turning the dungeon into a sieve.

Upstairs, five Black Banner Warriors and ten soldiers guarded the entry. There was only one entrance—narrow, just wide enough for a single person. The path sloped downward, with three bends; after each bend, there was a hidden sentry post. Pressing further in, only after passing through three arrays and prison doors could one reach the main area.

Shen Hao made his way in unimpeded, carefully surveying the dungeon’s defenses—so he could patch any loopholes at once if found.

"General Flag, the man is locked in the innermost cell—eating and sleeping, health is fine. Per your orders, we haven’t used harsh torture, but the little tricks are daily—he’s had no chance to just relax."

The prison chief had been seconded from Team B. The other prison guards were all veterans of the Black Banner Battalion—another rule Shen Hao set when the dungeon was built: stick with reliable people first, capability second.

"What about the others?" Shen Hao didn’t rush into the cells, but sat in the prison chief’s shack, sipping tea while asking for updates.

"Of the other six, three died from the Execution Rods the day they were locked up. Two more died suddenly during questioning yesterday. Only one is left now."

"Who did it?"

"Zhou Guangcai and Jia Sheng—those two butchers did it."

"Hmm... Get two men to follow Zhou Guangcai and Jia Sheng, learn their craft. You all need to master basic interrogation skills; you’ll need them here in the dungeon."

"Yes, Sir. I’ll get them trained up at once."

"Good. Let’s go take a look."

"This way, General Flag."

Through the narrow passage, they entered the cell block. Each cell was only a zhang square, with just a chamber pot and a thin blanket—nothing else, not even a skylight.

Though newly built, the stench inside was already unbearable. Dim light revealed most cells empty. In one, someone lay on the ground, motionless. From outside, there was a noticeable smell of blood. Sensing the faint life within, Shen Hao estimated the man would not survive the day.

He snorted coldly, lips curled in a sneer, and walked on.

The end of the cell block was where Wen Renhai was locked up.

Unlike the other cells, three large oil lamps were set outside Wen Renhai’s cell, and through the magical artifact bars, everything inside was in full view. Wen Renhai wasn’t sitting or lying down—he was bound to a cross pillar.

"Where did this cross pillar come from?" Shen Hao asked, surprised—he recalled there was no such thing in the dungeon’s original fittings.

"Heh, got it from the Interrogation Chamber. Zhou Guangcai and the others weren’t busy, so we brought it over for him. You know, it’s actually really handy."

The cross pillar set with a Spirit Suppression Array and board locks was obviously useful. Shen Hao shook his head. Never mind, let Zhou Guangcai file for another one at the Garrison; this one’s staying here.

The prison chief opened the door; Shen Hao entered with his hands folded behind his back, frowning—mainly because the smell here was so pungent, his nose wouldn’t stop itching.

"Go to the Alchemy Room and requisition a dose of Heart Rot Powder. Force it down his throat. Then tell Zhou Guangcai and Jia Sheng: from tomorrow, step up the big tricks—frequency and intensity is up to them. I have only one requirement: squeeze every secret out of his head!"

"Yes, yes, I understand."

Only then did Shen Hao look over at Wen Renhai, who was struggling helplessly on the cross pillar. Hearing the words "Heart Rot Powder," Wen Renhai’s eyes bulged, horror filling them—he was locked down and couldn’t speak, but clearly knew that poison’s infamous reputation.

Heart Rot Powder—lethal to Cultivators, especially those in the Qi Refining Realm. There’s no cure. Within three days it dissolves all True Qi and corrodes the victim’s very foundation, leaving no hope of Cultivation ever again. This stuff is strictly controlled—only Xuanqing Guard can have it; Local Government Offices and the military are forbidden to possess it.

Shen Hao’s thinking was simple: since the higher-ups wanted the Wen Family as a lesson, there was no way for him to refuse. In fact, he was relieved—it was more troubling to let someone go than to be merciless. That would be releasing a tiger back to the mountains. So, cripple his Cultivation first, then slowly wring everything out of him. Shen Hao was certain that Wen Renhai, an important Wen Family disciple, knew many of their secrets—maybe there’d be another breakthrough.

Just as Shen Hao left the dungeon, a guard arrived with a report: a woman bearing the Wen Clan Emblem, accompanied by Trial Hundred Households of Wang Cheng, was already waiting for him outside his Public Office.