Auxiliary Women's Strategy: A Virtuous Wife Helps the King to Rule the World

Qingshan and Qingcheng rode tirelessly, galloping like lightning towards the Seventh Prince's territory. The clatter of their hooves was as rapid as a violent storm, and every tread of their hooves raised a cloud of dust that obscured the sky. They traveled day and night, never pausing for a moment, until they finally reached the Seventh Prince's territory.

After a brief pause at the city gate, the two quickly found an inn tucked away in a secluded alley. The room was simple and dim, and the air was filled with a stale, decaying atmosphere that seemed to speak of the passage of time. They packed their belongings methodically and then rested for a while to recover from the fatigue of their journey.

After a brief rest, the two changed into the coarse cloth worn by ordinary people and entered the largest local market. However, the scene before them was starkly different from what they had described. The market was surprisingly deserted. The sparse vendors tended their stalls listlessly, their cries intermittent and weak. At a stall displaying a few vegetables, they struck up a conversation with an elderly farmer, his face marked by the marks of time, his eyes filled with sorrow.

"Old man, may I ask why this market is so deserted?"

As the old farmer slowly sorted the slightly wilted vegetables on his stall, he sighed deeply and said, "Alas, this is all the fault of the Seventh Prince. Taxes are increasing day by day, and our family's food reserves have been plundered to the point of being completely wiped out. We ordinary people are truly struggling to survive." His voice trembled, filled with endless helplessness and deep anger, as if these words were struggling to escape from the abyss of pain. The surrounding people heard his complaints and gathered around, pouring out their grievances one after another.

"That's right. We can't live like this anymore. If this continues, everyone in our family will be reduced to begging."

"Ah, I really don't know when this dark and miserable day will end."

"Alas! The Seventh Prince is still constantly conscripting men from the city. Where can we find any able-bodied men in Gusu City these days?"

When Qingshan and Qingcheng heard these words, they looked at each other and instantly understood the reason.

……

The night deepened, thick as a basin of insoluble ink, blanketing the earth. Taking advantage of the pitch-black darkness, Qingshan and Qingcheng slipped silently and ghostly into one of the Seventh Prince's courtyards. The courtyard was utterly silent, serene, broken only by the occasional, faint chirping of insects. Like cheetahs in the night, they carefully avoided patrolling guards, their figures nimbly and lightly weaving through the shadows.

In a seemingly ordinary room, Qingshan, with his keen perception, quickly discovered a hidden door. The two of them tiptoed through the door and slowly entered a dimly lit chamber. The room was filled with a strong, decaying odor that was almost nauseating. In the faint moonlight filtering through the narrow window, they could see some mysterious objects inside.

They searched intently and carefully, and soon discovered several relics of the Tongtian Sect. These included metal tokens engraved with strange and intricate symbols, and talismans emitting a creepy, eerie glow. Furthermore, there were messy footprints on the ground and incense burners that hadn't been completely extinguished, still emitting wisps of smoke. These signs clearly indicated that members of the Tongtian Sect had once been active here.

However, after a careful search, they did not see the Seventh Prince. The two had no choice but to quietly withdraw.

As they tiptoed closer to the City Lord's Mansion, they suddenly heard a low, muffled, almost deliberately subdued conversation. A quick glance exchanged, the two men instantly understanding each other. Then, as stealthy as a civet cat, they approached the source of the sound. In the courtyard of the City Lord's Mansion, they unexpectedly spotted members of the Tongtian Divine Cult. Eight deacons sat together, whispering to each other, their expressions rather mysterious.

Qingshan and Qingcheng exchanged a tacit glance, then descended from the rooftop as light as a swallow. Qingshan stood firmly, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes blazing like two piercing bolts of lightning. He shouted provocatively, "Are you from the Tongtian Divine Sect?" His voice reverberated through the silent courtyard, resounding with unquestionable authority and resolute resolve.

The deacons of the Tongtian Sect trembled at the sudden questioning, standing up in panic, their eyes instantly flashing with murderous intent. One of the deacons quickly drew his sword and shouted, "Who the hell are you?"

Qingshan snorted coldly, with a disdainful sneer on his lips: "The one who takes your lives." After that, he gripped the hilt of the sword tightly with his right hand, ready to attack at any time.

The deacon, enraged by these disparaging remarks, charged forward with fury, brandishing his gleaming sword and slashing fiercely at Qingshan. Qingshan dodged with the swiftness of a ghost, his movements as light as a leaf drifting in the wind, effortlessly avoiding the deacon's fierce attack. Simultaneously, he swung his sword backhand, and a flash of cold light like a meteor flashed across the deacon's arm, instantly leaving a deep wound visible to the bone. Blood gushed out like a fountain, and the deacon screamed in agony and stumbled to the ground.

Not to be outdone, Qingcheng unleashed a fierce and powerful fist. His movements were as swift as lightning, his fists whistling and roaring, each punch carrying a force as overwhelming as a tidal wave. In a flash, several more deacons were struck by his thunderous iron fists, spewing blood and falling to the ground like kites with their strings cut.

The two stopped their attack and sneered with disdain, "Is this all you can do? You're so weak that you can't even withstand a single blow. Yet you still call yourself a cult of God. You're just a bunch of people with nothing but a name."

At this time, two people slowly walked out of the house. One of the old men frowned and said solemnly, "Who are you two? How have we offended you?"

"You're not qualified to know. You haven't offended us. You simply shouldn't have come to the Eastern Region, nor should you covet what you don't deserve," Qingshan said with a cold, resolute gaze. As he finished speaking, a dazzling golden light suddenly flashed in his eyes, and his aura instantly became terrifying, a chilling abyss.

The two old men's faces suddenly changed when they saw this. They looked at each other and exclaimed in panic, "Holy Martial Immortal Sect?"

"You still have some knowledge. We don't need to take action, right? But I'll give you a chance. One of you must survive and go with me to see the emperor to explain the terms of the deal with the Seventh Prince. Of course, you can resist. We don't care. Your corpses and tokens are enough to convict the Seventh Prince. If you don't take action within ten breaths, we will." Qingshan's tone was cold and filled with irresistible majesty.

The two elders' faces instantly darkened, like the sky before a storm, thick with dark clouds. One of the elders waved his hands, muttering something. In an instant, the air around them seemed to be frozen by an invisible giant hand, forming an invisible yet incomparably powerful pressure that pressed fiercely towards Qingshan and Qingcheng like a surging wave.

Before Qingshan could react, Qingcheng sneered, his voice filled with sarcasm, "You're resisting? I won't let you stay." Then, like a flash of lightning, he transformed into a phantom. He leaped high and struck the elder on the back with both palms, packing immense force. The elder groaned, blood gushed from his mouth, and his body fell forward like a kite with a broken string.

Seeing this tragic scene, another elder's eyes flashed with undisguised panic, and he turned and tried to flee. Qingshan's eyes widened with anger, and he shouted, "Want to escape? Don't even think about it!" Then he suddenly exerted force on his feet and took off like an arrow. In a few leaps and bounds, he caught up with the elder like a ghost. The sword in his hand was like a venomous snake emerging from a cave, piercing the elder's back with incredible swiftness. The elder, sensing the deadly threat from behind, turned around in panic to block. Qingshan sneered, nimbly dodged the elder's counterattack, and then kicked the elder's wrist with a precise kick, instantly knocking the staff away from his hand. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he attacked the elder with a sword strike as fierce as a storm. Under this violent attack, the elder was completely unable to resist, and Qingcheng seized the opportunity to pierce his chest with a sword, and he fell to the ground dead.

"So weak and fragile." Qingshan wiped the blood off the sword on the old man's clothes, his eyes full of contempt.

Qingcheng casually threw several blazing fireballs, which drifted towards the remaining injured Tongtian Divine Cult members as if they had life. In just a few breaths, those people were engulfed by the flames and reduced to ash.

……