Zhan Zhao, Bai Yutang, and Ouyang Shaozheng had traveled a long distance and finally arrived near the last blacksmith shop.

Ouyang checked the map of Dao Fu Town and the address, confirming they had the right place. However, he found it odd that a blacksmith shop would be located here—there was a large bamboo forest ahead, and in the distance, he could see an old, dilapidated house.

“People sure have different preferences… A blacksmith shop this far out, would there even be any business?” Ouyang frowned. “This looks more like a hermit’s retreat.”

“Let’s go take a look.” Zhan Zhao bypassed the bamboo forest and found a narrow path, just wide enough for one person, leading inward.

After passing through most of the bamboo forest, they finally arrived in front of a small thatched hut.

The hut was divided into two sections. One was the main house, presumably where the owner lived, with its door closed and no lights on. Next to it was a small shed, enclosed on all sides by black cloth. A faint light seeped through the gaps, and the rhythmic clanging of metal being hammered could be heard from within.

The group exchanged glances—at least there was activity inside, meaning it was likely a real blacksmith shop.

Barging in without warning seemed inappropriate, so Zhan Zhao politely called out, “Is anyone here? Sorry to disturb you.”

He repeated the question twice, but there was no response. The hammering of metal, however, continued uninterrupted.

The group found this strange—was the blacksmith deaf?

With no other options, they had to force their way in. Zhan Zhao, skilled in light-footed martial arts, circled the black cloth enclosure but surprisingly found no entrance.

Ouyang noticed an iron basin and a few hammers on the ground nearby. He picked one up and banged it loudly. “Is anyone there?!”

…

The noise worked—the hammering inside stopped.

After a moment, the black cloth was pulled aside, and someone stepped out.

This person was clad in a thick cotton outfit and wore an iron mask secured by a hemp rope tied at the back of his head. The mask had only two eye holes, from which a pair of sharp eyes peered out at them.

In the dim light, this eerie appearance made even the three skilled warriors twitch at the corners of their mouths—what a uniquely styled blacksmith!

“Uh…” Zhan Zhao was about to speak when the man removed his mask, took off his thick coat, revealing only a thin, sweat-soaked shirt underneath.

It wasn’t the peak of summer, but the weather was still warm. Why had he been wearing such heavy clothes?

The man’s face was dark from soot. He walked over to a well, splashed water on his face, and wiped it off before asking, “Who are you looking for?”

“Uh, we’re looking for a blacksmith…” Ouyang spoke while scrutinizing the man.

This person wasn’t young—probably in his forties or fifties—but he was energetic and well-built, clearly an experienced blacksmith. However… why did Ouyang find him familiar?

After washing his face, the man entered his house, brought out a large cup—seemingly filled with herbal tea—took a sip, and glanced at the group. His eyes finally settled on Ouyang Shaozheng’s striking red hair, and he spoke.

“You’ve grown so much… I really am old now.”

…

A brief silence followed as Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang both turned to look at Ouyang—he knew this man?

Ouyang stared at him for a while before suddenly recalling something. His eyes widened in shock. “You’re Tan Jin?!”

…

At Ouyang’s exclamation, it was now Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang’s turn to be surprised.

“Tan Jin?” Bai Yutang scrutinized the man.

The man smiled and invited them inside, pouring them tea with a friendly demeanor.

After taking a seat, he asked, “Why are you looking for me?”

The three exchanged glances, as if deciding who should speak first.

Ouyang asked, “His Highness has arrived. He wants to ask you about something… Do you know anything about a peculiar batch of red iron ore?”

Tan Jin’s expression shifted slightly at the mention, though he remained silent. After another sip of tea, he turned to Zhan Zhao and Bai Yutang. “What about you two? What brings you here?”

Zhan Zhao thought for a moment. “I came with Lord Bao, but it’s him who wants to see you…” He pointed to Bai Yutang.

“Lord Bao…” Tan Jin smiled slightly. “That brings back memories.” Then he turned to Bai Yutang. “I don’t believe I know you.”

“I’m here for Yang Caisheng’s body,” Bai Yutang stated. “You were partially responsible for his death. Do you have any leads?”

Tan Jin’s brows furrowed further. He hesitated for a moment before sighing.

“Yang Caisheng wasn’t killed by me. To be precise, I don’t know how he died,” Tan Jin said. “After he wounded me, he left. But I should thank him—if not for him, I wouldn’t be alive today.”

The group frowned, confused.

“Back then, Yang Caisheng attempted to assassinate you and assisted foreign spies. The case was officially recorded. How can you say that didn’t happen?” Zhan Zhao asked while glancing at Bai Yutang. “Then who was the man with the facial branding?”

Bai Yutang’s expression darkened slightly, as if equally puzzled.

“It’s a long story,” Tan Jin said. He then turned back to Ouyang Shaozheng. “What did you just say about red iron ore?”

Ouyang thought for a moment and asked, “Two years ago, wasn’t there a batch of red iron ore from Dao Fu Town? Something happened afterward…”

“That ore was unusable!” Tan Jin interrupted with a wave of his hand. “Why the rush for iron ore? There’s no war right now—what would you use it for?”

“It’s not that,” Ouyang clarified. “I just want to know—were you the one who handled the situation back then?”

Tan Jin was silent for a moment before nodding. Then, looking at Ouyang, he asked, “Did Prince Ninth travel all the way here because of military concerns?”

Ouyang chuckled dryly. “Lord Tan is still as sharp as ever.”

Tan Jin waved his hand dismissively. “I’m no longer ‘Lord Tan.’ But I must say, the red iron ore incident is connected to Yang Caisheng’s case.”

The group was even more confused. The two matters seemed unrelated—how were they connected?

“Let’s go.” Tan Jin stood up. “It’s been years since I last saw Lord Bao and the prince. Let me visit them and explain everything properly. Perhaps I can help.”

“Oh, that would be best,” Ouyang said, standing as well.

Tan Jin extinguished the lights and locked up his shop. Just as they were about to leave, Bai Yutang suddenly shoved him aside while Zhan Zhao raised his sword to block incoming projectiles—clang clang! Two darts glowed with a faint blue hue as they fell to the ground.

The group examined them and frowned—they were the same poisoned darts used in the earlier attack on Zhao Pu. That meant… the masked assassins were nearby.

Ouyang touched his nose and nudged Bai Yutang, gesturing toward a specific direction in the forest—there was someone there!

Bai Yutang saw his signal, flicked two ink-colored stones into the bamboo grove—two muffled groans followed, and two masked figures fell from the trees.

Ouyang turned to check another area, and Bai Yutang prepared to throw more stones when Zhan Zhao tugged at his sleeve.

Bai Yutang looked at him.

Zhan Zhao shook his head slightly, as if disapproving, then casually handed Bai Yutang a small pouch.

Bai Yutang opened it—inside were candied peanuts. He looked at Zhan Zhao in confusion.

Zhan Zhao popped one into his mouth and casually tossed a handful toward the bamboo grove.

A moment later, thud thud thud—more than ten masked men fell from the trees.

Ouyang crossed his arms and shook his head. “Pathetic. With this level of skill, they dare to ambush us?”

There were still faint movements deeper in the bamboo grove, but the presence quickly vanished—some had escaped.

“No time to waste. Let’s head back quickly,” Ouyang grabbed Tan Jin. “Good thing we got here early, or you’d be in trouble!”

Tan Jin frowned. “I’ve lived here for years, unnoticed. Why now…?”

Zhan Zhao moved swiftly, sealing the acupoints of the captured assassins.

Without further delay, they hurried back to the yamen.