Just as they reached the second floor, before Yan Ge could knock, Lady Yan’s voice came from inside the room.
“Is that Han Li and Yan Ge?”
“Yes, Fourth Mistress!” Yan Ge quickly stopped and answered respectfully.
“Yan Ge, you may return. Have Han Li enter alone,” Lady Yan’s cool voice rang out, its detached tone stirring something in Han Li’s heart.
“As you wish.” Yan Ge clearly held Lady Yan in high regard, showing no hesitation in following her order. He smiled at Han Li before quietly retreating downstairs, leaving Han Li alone outside the room.
Han Li stared coldly at the door, not immediately pushing it open. Instead, he released his spiritual sense to gauge the situation inside. He had no intention of walking into an ambush and being cut down by hidden attackers—caution was paramount.
The room was quiet, with only a few people inside—Lady Yan and a handful of others, judging by their breathing and heartbeats. It seemed there were no unexpected presences, which put Han Li somewhat at ease.
He stepped forward, knocked twice lightly, then pushed the door open and glanced inside, preparing to enter. But the scene within made his expression shift drastically, and the step he had taken froze mid-air.
The room was the same one he had visited the previous night, with identical furniture and decorations. The only difference was the attire of the women present. Lady Yan and the other beautiful women were all dressed in plain white mourning garments, sitting upright on chairs, their cold eyes fixed intently on him.
Han Li’s face paled slightly—not out of fear, but from anger toward the deceased Master Mo.
It was clear that the old fox had tricked him once again. That letter, as he had suspected, must have contained hidden implications. These “tigresses” had likely learned of Master Mo’s death from it and were now waiting for him, the husband-killer, to walk right into their trap.
Han Li took a deep breath, his expression returning to normal. He strode into the room without ceremony, found a single chair, and sat boldly opposite the women. Without a word, he stared back at them, waiting to see how these women intended to deal with him.
Han Li’s audacious, confrontational approach clearly took Lady Yan and the others by surprise, throwing them off balance. Their reactions varied.
The Second Mistress, Lady Li, turned pale with rage. Clearly, she was infuriated by Han Li—who had respectfully called her “Mistress” just the day before—now daring to stare so boldly at them. Coming from a scholarly family that emphasized hierarchy and respect for elders, she trembled with anger at his insolence.
The Third Mistress, Lady Liu, reacted quite differently. Instead of anger, she gazed back at Han Li with interest. However, her striking charm made Han Li avoid looking directly at her, letting his eyes sweep past her face.
Lady Yan, much like the cold and elegant Fifth Mistress Lady Wang, remained expressionless, her icy gaze fixed on Han Li, filled with a chilling intensity.
“You have quite the nerve, my husband’s last disciple!” After a long moment of silence, Lady Yan finally spoke, her tone dripping with sarcasm that none could miss.
“Ladies, if you have questions or something to say, speak plainly. I have no interest in wasting words,” Han Li replied expressionlessly.
He knew all too well that arguing with one woman was difficult enough—arguing with several at once was even worse. Rather than struggling to explain the truth, it was better to cut straight to the heart of the matter.
Moreover, the absence of hidden experts in the room suggested these women had no immediate intention of attacking him. They likely had either reservations or something to ask of him. In that case, there was no need for excessive politeness. After all, Master Mo’s death was his own doing—Han Li felt no guilt.
“You…” Even someone as experienced as Lady Yan was left nearly speechless by Han Li’s blunt tone.
“Fine, I’ll ask you! Did you, you treacherous disciple, kill my husband?” The Second Mistress could no longer contain herself, her elegant eyes blazing with fury. The scholarly air about her vanished, replaced entirely by resentment.
“Second Sister,” Lady Yan frowned and called out softly, as if trying to stop the Second Mistress from escalating the conflict with such a direct question.
“Lady Li is quite straightforward, laying the key issue right on the table,” Han Li thought with a cold inner laugh.
“You could say he died by my hand, or you could say it was suicide,” Han Li replied calmly.
His words stunned the women, including Lady Yan. They had expected him to either deny it outright or brazenly admit it—not offer such an ambiguous response.
After a moment of shock, the Second Mistress, Lady Li, flew into a rage, clearly believing Han Li was toying with them.
“Nonsense! You clearly murdered him,” Lady Li said, trembling with anger.
“How do you know it was me? Did you see it yourself?” Han Li retorted sharply, no longer holding back. He knew perfectly well that the letter had been written before Master Mo’s death, so it couldn’t definitively pin the blame on him. Most likely, the letter only contained speculation for his wives, allowing Han Li to refute it without restraint.
“Since you say that, why don’t you recount the circumstances of my husband’s death for us women? If it truly wasn’t your doing, we won’t wrong you unjustly,” the always cold and silent Fifth Mistress, Lady Wang, suddenly spoke up.
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