"Is she a scapegoat you've prepared for yourself?" Zhou Qing spoke, his gaze like lightning piercing towards Xuanyuan Yichen.
"Brother Zhou, what do you mean by that? I really..."
"Don't understand?" Zhou Qing sneered, placing the teacup heavily onto the table, "The Seventh Prince of the Holy Martial Dynasty, known for his strategic prowess and duplicity, could hardly not understand my words."
Wu Zhenyue quickly tried to mediate: "Master Zhou, is there some misunderstanding between you and the Seventh Prince..."
Zhou Qing ignored him, leaning slightly forward, his gaze as sharp as a blade fixed on Xuanyuan Yichen: "Shall I describe in detail that night you wrapped yourself tightly and secretly went to meet Old Nangong Ghost?"
Upon hearing this, Xuanyuan Yichen's fingers abruptly tightened on the armrest, but his expression remained unchanged, only a fleeting hint of panic flashed in his eyes.
