Huaiyue smiled sweetly without speaking, but Zhang Jingshu said smugly:

"Of course there are. Huaiyue is my man, and I know exactly how many moles he has."

Song Ting originally didn't take this noisy good-for-nothing seriously, and just indulged Huaiyue for fun.

But Zhang Jingshu's words clearly struck a nerve. Song Ting turned around coldly, his gaze as icy as ice.

When Zhang Jingshu was swept over by such a gaze, he stopped in his tracks, his palms and the backs of his hands covered in cold sweat.

"Is what he said true?" Song Ting had already turned her gaze away and was staring at the person in her arms.

Huaiyue leaned against him, and said with a half-smile, "Whatever Young Master Zhang says goes."

Song Ting's expression changed, and anger surged deep in his dark eyes.

He longed to meld the person in front of him into his very bones, yet he couldn't bear to even touch him.

He closed his eyes, slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, then picked up Huaiyue, carefully placed him on the stool behind him, and then carefully adjusted his outer robe.

This series of actions completely disregarded Zhang Jingshu, who was initially furious, but then had a sudden inspiration and quietly approached.

He grabbed a porcelain vase from the side and smashed it down hard on the back of Song Ting's head.

"Go to hell!"

However, it was as if that guy had eyes in the back of his head; Zhang Jingshu didn't even feel the other party make a move before he was already on the ground.

The bones in his chest cavity felt like they were broken; the pain made his vision blur and even breathing difficult: "Cough cough... cough cough cough..."

The man had already stood up, slowly walked up to him, and looked down at him with disdain.

It was like a demon god.

Zhang Jingshu saw a strong killing intent in the man's eyes.

—He really wanted to kill him.

"You can't...cough cough cough...you can't kill me! Do you even know who I am?!"

"My father is the prefect of Yingtian. If you dare to kill me, my father will skin you alive!"

"So what?" Song Ting's eyes were icy cold. "Even if Zhang Lu were here right now, I would still kill you."

If Attorney Zhang were truly present at this moment, he would probably have gleaned something from the man's self-identification—

Looking across the entire Great Yan, there is only one person who dares to call himself "This Seat".

Unfortunately, Zhang Jingshu was so terrified that he didn't realize anything was amiss, and even dared to brazenly threaten Song Ting:

"You! How dare you!"

"If you've got the guts, state your name and let this young master see what you're really like..."

"Ahem... Just who is this person?!"

"You dare to challenge me?" Song Ting had completely lost his patience. A cold light flashed at his waist, and a sharp weapon appeared in his hand.

Huaiyue narrowed her eyes and realized that it was actually a soft sword. The tip of the sword was pressed directly against Zhang Jingshu's chest.

"Help! Mother Flower! Go find my father! What are you all standing there for? Get up and find my father!"

"Huaiyue! Huaiyue, save me! Don't kill me!"

Zhang Jingshu was already incoherent.

“My family has connections in the imperial court. If you dare to lay a finger on me, even if you run to the ends of the earth, my father will not let you go!”

Huaiyue leaned against the table, resting her chin on her hand, and asked with interest:

"I wonder who the important person behind Young Master Zhang is?"

"This distinguished person..." He casually pointed at Song Ting, "is also a high-ranking official. Perhaps it's a case of mistaken identity, like family members not recognizing each other."

Zhang Jingshu was a simpleton; hearing Huaiyue say this, he thought she was speaking up for him, and immediately said:

"That's right! My father is a man of the Commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard!"

"If you kneel down and beg for mercy now, and kowtow three times to me, I might spare your life!"

"It was actually that lord..." Huaiyue nodded thoughtfully.

He then asked Song Ting, "I've heard that this lord is nine feet tall, with a face like a demon, and has taken countless lives. He's not someone to be trifled with. Are you afraid, sir?"

Song Ting: "..."

"Why don't you listen to Young Master Zhang and admit your mistake?"

Song Ting: "…………"

Song Ting was almost at her wit's end.

But Zhang Jingshu completely missed the teasing in Huaiyue's tone and said smugly:

"As expected of my Huaiyue, you pretty boy, why don't you apologize to me right now?"

"your?"

The soft sword was not only not retracted, but instead pierced through Zhang Jingshu's clothes.

The latter felt a chill in his chest and saw a heart already embedded in the sharp tip of the sword.

It's still beating, thump-thump.

Zhang Jingshu lowered his eyes with difficulty and discovered a hole in his chest, from which his heart had been ripped out.

“That’s…mine…”

mine……

heart.

Zhang Jingshu stared wide-eyed, dying with his eyes wide open.

Song Ting casually tossed the heart into the hands of one of the servants, then took out a plain white handkerchief and carefully wiped the blood-stained sword.

After doing all this, he slowly walked up to Huaiyue, knelt down, took his hand, and gently asked, "You want him to die, don't you?"

Huaiyue didn't speak, but leaned over and touched the corner of his lips with her soft lips.

It's like a reward.

Song felt a tightness in her throat, and her heart pounded violently. Instinctively, she chased after him, wanting more.

Huaiyue extended a finger and gently pressed it against his chest: "Killing one is not enough."

Several servants, who had already secretly stood up and were about to drag Zhang Jingshu's body away, changed their expressions drastically upon hearing this.

Before they could react, the door was slammed shut by a burst of energy, and no matter how hard they pushed, the door wouldn't budge.

And then the sound of a man's footsteps came from behind.

Each stroke, light and slow, was like a deadly ghost, rendering one completely immobile.

"The one on the left with the long mole slapped me with his left hand."

As soon as Huaiyue finished speaking, a servant's left arm was severed by a sword, and he cried out in pain.

Huaiyue looked somewhat annoyed: "But it could also be my right hand, I can't remember."

"Aaaaaah..." Even his right arm was severed off.

"The one in the very middle grabbed my hair and dragged me to Young Master Zhang. It hurt a lot."

Before the person whose name was called could even utter a sound, their head had already been severed.

"The fatter one, kick the slave over."

"And him, he took advantage of the chaos to touch my waist..."

With each word Huaiyue spoke, Song Ting would strike with his sword. In the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, seven or eight servants had all fallen, and the entire room was filled with a heavy stench of blood.

Huaiyue walked barefoot among the severed limbs on the ground towards Song Ting, her face bearing the seductive smile that Song Ting had become very familiar with over the past few days.

"You nobleman killed the prefect's only son. Aren't you afraid that the commander of the Embroidered Uniform Guard will take your life?"

Song Tingyi pulled the person into his arms and picked them up, saying, "The ground is cold; be careful not to catch a cold."

Huaiyue was walking carelessly, and inevitably a few drops of blood got on her feet. Song Ting saw this and frowned unhappily.