I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

He didn't say the last sentence aloud, but the meaning was clear: silence him.

A cold glint flashed in the red-haired psychic's eyes, and his expression looked much more ruthless than usual when he said those words.

Zhang Yangqing glanced at him: "You understand the cause and effect I taught you, right?"

The red-haired psychic thought for a moment and said, "I know a little."

Zhang Yangqing said, "She is part of the cause and effect of last night's murder. The fact that she is alive and not here is actually no harm to us."

The red-haired psychic didn't quite understand, and Zhang Yangqing noticed this but didn't intend to explain further.

The reasoning behind this is neither simple nor complicated.

Zhang Yangqing judged that it was best if the female guest was not caught by the mistress and the eldest young lady. Otherwise, after interrogation, the eldest young lady's infidelity might be discovered by the grandmother. If she were killed, it would be like cleaning up the eldest young lady's mess, which was unnecessary.

Therefore, Zhang Yangqing was too lazy to get involved in this cause and effect.

There are some things Zhang Yangqing won't say too much about; whether the red-haired psychic can comprehend them is up to him.

Zhang Yangqing rubbed his throbbing temples, as drowsiness washed over him like a tide.

He arranged the shift schedule: the gloomy and eerie one would watch the surveillance during the day, while the red-haired psychic would rest, and the shift would be changed in the evening.

Then he lay down on the bench in the corner of the monitoring room, closed his eyes, and fell asleep almost instantly.

He woke up at noon, disturbed by a noise.

The clattering of hooves came from afar, growing closer and clearer.

The sound was crisp and rhythmic, like something was approaching the building step by step.

Zhang Yangqing sat up from the sofa and walked to the window.

Outside the window, a dozen white horses were pulling a golden carriage, slowly passing along the gray-white road.

The white horse was very tall, its mane fluttering in the breeze, and it took each step very steadily.

The carriage wheels rolled on the road with a low thud, and the golden patterns inlaid on the carriage body reflected a faint halo in the dim light.

The car windows were tinted, making it impossible to see what was inside, but the oppressive feeling could be felt even without seeing her; she had arrived.

When Zhang Yangqing walked out of the building, the young masters and ladies were already standing in line.

They stood on either side of the doorway, as if they had rehearsed many times, with the same distance between them, their backs straight, and their hands hanging naturally at their sides.

Even the usually mischievous Ninth Miss was very serious. She hid her teddy bear behind her back, put on a serious face, and stood up straight.

The eldest young lady stood at the front, while the second young master stood on the other side.

There was no trace of the chaos and fighting from the previous night on their faces.

The golden carriage stopped in front of the gate. The door opened, and a foot wearing a black leather shoe landed on the ground first, then the other foot, and then the whole person.

The lady stood in the morning light; she was the most beautiful woman in the world, without exception.

Her long hair was piled up and secured with a silver hairpin, with a few stray strands hanging down beside her ears, swaying gently in the breeze.

His facial features were as if they were sculpted with the finest carving knife, every line was just right, too much or too little would be incomplete.

The mistress's skin was almost translucent white, her lips were pale red, her nose was straight, her eyes were slightly upturned at the corners, and her gaze was like the surface of a lake in winter, cold and devoid of warmth.

She wore a deep purple long dress, the hem of which trailed on the ground and swayed gently with her steps.

In her right hand she held a silver scepter, the top of which was set with a dark blue gemstone, from which light flowed slowly, as if it were alive. The matriarch stood there like a god descended to earth; just one glance at her could instill in one an urge to bow one's head and not dare to look directly at her.

Zhang Yangqing's inner assessment: The beauty with peach blossom eyes is undoubtedly the most beautiful, but this mistress is the most beautiful woman in this world, and her beauty is beyond doubt.

She was not only beautiful, but also cold. That coldness was not feigned; it seeped from her very bones and was etched into her soul the moment she took that position.

The mistress didn't need to speak loudly or try to intimidate anyone; she simply stood there, and everyone's attention would unconsciously fall on her, as if an invisible thread was pulling them all in.

The mistress glanced at the young masters and ladies standing in two rows, her gaze sweeping over their faces one by one.

The eldest young lady, the second young master, the fourth young master, the seventh young master, and the ninth young lady—her gaze didn't linger on any of their faces, but it didn't skip over any of them either.

She seemed to be making sure they were all still there before looking away.

The butler followed behind her, keeping an arm's length distance.

He looked very old, his face dry like a map that had been dried out, but his back was straight, and his tailcoat was without a single wrinkle. The cuffs and collar were washed white, but clean as if they had just been ironed.

His eyes were half-closed, his steps were neither too big nor too small, and each step was very steady, as if he already knew where to step next when he stepped on the ground.

He stood there, like a sword sheathed in its sheath—restrained and silent, yet impossible to ignore.

The mistress entered the building, followed by the young masters and ladies. Zhang Yangqing and his staff and subordinates followed further behind, maintaining a distance that would not disturb them.

In the meeting room, the matriarch sat down in the head seat.

The chair was made of stone, with dark patterns inlaid on the back. When she sat down, the air around her seemed to freeze for a moment.

The young masters and ladies took their seats in turn, and no one spoke, no one dared to speak first.

The second young master was the first to speak.

He stood up, leaning slightly forward, his voice filled with barely suppressed anger and urgency: "Mistress, last night Third Sister, Fifth Sister, and Eighth Sister were brutally murdered, and Fourth Sister and I were attacked. I believe that the mastermind behind all of this is Eldest Sister!"

The eldest young lady also stood up. She didn't look at the second young master, but kept her gaze on the mistress. Her tone was calm, as if she were reporting: "Mistress, last night the eighth and sixth brothers planned to kill the other brothers and sisters. In order to maintain order, I killed the eighth and sixth brothers with my own hands. Unfortunately, some younger brothers and sisters still died. Please punish me, mistress."

Her head was slightly lowered, and her posture was upright.

The second young master suddenly turned to her: "You're lying! It was clearly you who killed her!"

The young lady neither looked at him nor refuted him.

The mistress's gaze shifted from the second young master to the eldest young lady, then back to the second young master: "Do you have any evidence?"

The second young master choked. His lips moved twice, his gaze seemed to be stuck on something, his mouth opened and closed again, and finally he could only lower his head: "No, nothing."

The mistress said, "Slap yourself."

Without hesitation, the refined and vain second young master raised his hand and began to slap himself repeatedly.

The force was great, the sound was loud, and after a few blows his face turned red, and after a few more blows, blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.

He didn't stop, continuing one call after another, as if he were proving his loyalty in this way.

The mistress then looked at the eldest daughter: "This is your dereliction of duty."

The young lady immediately knelt down, her back ramrod straight: "Please, mistress, punish me."

The mistress said, “Go and feed the horses and wash them clean.”

Young Miss: "Yes!" (End of Chapter)