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A year ago, the leader of “Yun” dispatched over a hundred people to expand their influence in the capital. The leader of this group was “Yuan”, known in the underworld as “Master Yuan”.

The middle-aged man in the gambling den’s upstairs room was “Yuan”, directly commanding ten subordinates numbered “One” to “Ten”.

Each of these ten had ten direct subordinates, creating a well-structured organization of over ten thousand members.

Tao Pengnan was a direct subordinate of “Nine”.

The three merchants were underlings of one of “Nine’s” subordinates.

All were true members of the “Yun” faction, identifiable by the grain tattoo on their bodies.

The deaths of the three merchants were the work of a traitor within the “Yun” faction, though the merchants mistakenly believed they were killed by their own.

This was evident from the dying words of a merchant in the brothel: “You will pay for this”.

However, who the traitor was remained unknown.

With Tao Pengnan and Qian Junjie dead, only eight of “Nine’s” ten direct subordinates remained, now operating in various corners of the capital.

Everyone had a dual identity. By day, they led the lives of ordinary people, and by night, they transformed into members of the faction, assisting with various tasks.

Even “Nine” led such a life, serving as a guard in Prince Rui’s mansion by day and transforming into “Nine” by night.

The ten direct subordinates of “Yuan” never contacted each other and were unaware of each other’s identities, interacting only when cloaked and hooded. Revealing any information to each other meant certain death.

Everyone was cautious, never knowing if “Yuan” had sent someone to secretly watch them.

Most faction members had families, making them easier to control, as no one wanted to risk their family’s destruction.

However, the faction didn’t just randomly recruit; its members often came from life’s hard-luck stories – like stepchildren abused by stepmothers, children neglected by parents, men betrayed by women, and so on.

The final question was about the incense. Qu Xinwei said that the incense, made from opium poppies, had been produced in large quantities and distributed to various ministers and the royal palace half a month ago.

In this era, opium poppies were called “Afu Rong”, originating from an ancient family in the neighboring Ningyuan country. This family cultivated Afu Rong for medicinal purposes without malicious intent.

However, “Master Yun” discovered them during his travels, brought the plants to the eastern border, and secretly cultivated them on a large scale. The shipment of the opium poppies to the capital was part of a sinister plot.

Upon hearing this, Tang Jinghong’s expression darkened. Setting aside the ministers, the incense had already entered the royal palace, and it was uncertain if the emperor had used it.

“Qingzhi, is there a way to identify Afu Rong?” he asked.

Chu Qingzhi replied, “I need to see the incense to be sure.” She paused, then added, “Go to the inn and find Hongjun and Linjiang. Bring them to me. I’ll head to the incense workshop first.”

Tang Jinghong watched Chu Qingzhi for a moment before nodding, “I’ll go as soon as we leave here later.”

Chu Qingzhi rang a bell in front of Qu Xinwei’s ear, knocking him out. “Jinghong, check if he has a grain tattoo,” she said, then walked towards the window to avoid looking.

Tang Jinghong undressed Qu Xinwei, “Qingzhi, he has the tattoo.”

Chu Qingzhi nodded, “Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

They left Prince Rui’s Mansion and split up. Chu Qingzhi headed to the incense workshop, while Tang Jinghong went to the inn.

Chu Qingzhi arrived at the Minister of War’s residence, flew to the roof of the central building, and rang her bell. The sound, like ripples, entered the ears of everyone inside, putting them to sleep.

She landed in the courtyard, entered the incense workshop, and headed straight for the finished incense wooden tray.

The incense was block-shaped, light brown, and slightly pungent, each piece the size of a thumb.

Chu Qingzhi took a piece, crushed it in her palm, and mixed the powder with water in a nearby teacup. She activated her spiritual power to heat the mixture, turning the water in the cup purple.

“Identifying it is easy,” she noted.

She opened the five large boxes, unsurprised to find them filled with poppies.

There were more opium poppies still en route.

Chu Qingzhi’s fingers gently brushed against the boxes. Immediately, all the poppies changed their quality, but they looked and smelled the same.

She closed the boxes and examined the incense production process. Midway through, Tang Jinghong arrived with Yuan Hongjun and Bao Linjiang.

“Master,” the two greeted her.

Chu Qingzhi asked, “Did Jinghong tell you what happened?”

The two of them nodded. “Yes.”

No further explanation was needed. She handed them the cup, “This is incense made from Afu Rong. When the powder is dissolved in water and heated, it turns purple. Investigate discreetly.”

“Master, we understand.”

Chu Qingzhi advised, “Remember, don’t startle them, or we won’t be able to catch them all at once.”

The two of them replied with solemn expressions.

Chu Qingzhi said, “This is the workshop where they make incense. Take a look.

If there are no problems, you can leave.”

Yuan Hongjun asked with concern, “Master, what about you?”

“I have other plans. Don’t look for me unless I contact you. Be careful during this time,” she responded.

Yuan Hongjun assured her, “We understand, Master.”

Chu Qingzhi turned to Tang Jinghong, “Can we still go to the Ministry of Justice’s dungeon at this time?”

Tang Jinghong nodded. “Sure.”

Chu Qingzhi’s eyes sparkled with interest, “Then let’s go right away. I’m curious about the big secret the Minister of War is hiding.”

A short while later, Chu Qingzhi stood before the Minister of War.

Even as a prisoner, the Minister maintained his dignity, dressed neatly in his prison uniform, his hair impeccably groomed…

Chu Qingzhi observed him silently.

The Minister of War, not asleep, opened his eyes upon hearing the noise. As his gaze met Chu Qingzhi’s clear, spring-like eyes, a sense of foreboding washed over him, feeling as if his secret could no longer be concealed..