Zhi’er shook her head, somewhat regaining her clarity.

She struggled to get down from Feng Fuce’s embrace.

"I need to go down with you to check on Third Brother."

Feng Fuce, however, held her hand.

Perhaps he didn’t want to frighten the others.

He murmured softly, "Don’t go. From this smell, there are at least a dozen corpses below."

Zhi’er was a bit worried, "What if Brother is in danger?"

If Fang Wushen really fell through this secret passage, it would be strange.

Why would he pull the iron chain for no reason?

Feng Fuce’s eyes darkened, "I have a way."

He carried Zhi’er to a corner by a stool.

Feng Fuce took off his outer robe, laid it on the stool, to prevent Zhi’er’s skirt from getting dusty.

After Zhi’er sat on the chair,

Feng Fuce bent down, his expression composed and indifferent.

He whispered, "Detaching the divine sense, I can go look."

This way, no one else could see them, and Zhi’er wouldn’t get overwhelmed by the foul air below.

Zhi’er nodded.

She closed her eyes slightly, concentrating.

In an instant, her divine sense detached, her body closed its eyes, leaning on the chair.

No one could see this pink-gold shadow.

Feng Fuce saw Zhi’er enter the tunnel.

He called for Fang Youzhen, "The Princess is drunk and asleep. Please watch over her for me."

"The Third Young Master went down alone, perhaps he needs help. I’ll go down to take a look."

Upon hearing Feng Fuce wanted to go down, Fang Youzhen finally relaxed a bit.

After all, Marquis Wan is capable. With him there, both the Third Young Master and her brother would have more assurance of safety.

"Thank you, Marquis!" Fang Youzhen went to Zhi’er’s side, supporting her to let the "sleeping" Zhi’er lean against her.

The crowd watched as Feng Fuce prepared to go down.

A classmate from earlier, Yao Liang, stepped forward, "Does the Marquis need a torch?"

Feng Fuce did not turn his head back, "No, I can see."

He descended the stairs, his figure fading into the darkness.

The crowd secretly admired him in their hearts.

In such a dark, foul-smelling place, Marquis Wan remained composed.

No wonder he was capable of commanding the Xiuluo Guard.

Zhi’er followed the long tunnel forward.

Ahead, a faint light suggested her Third Brother holding a torch.

Around the cells, skeletal remains were everywhere.

Most of them had perished at the cell doors.

Pity flashed in Zhi’er’s eyes.

It seemed she could still faintly hear their cries for help from back then.

When the former dynasty fell, all the former dynasty officials feared being caught and executed by Bai Xilie.

They fled swiftly.

The prison guards likely escaped with them.

Leaving the prisoners in these deep dungeons unable to escape, or even have their cries heard.

Zhi’er heard a strange whipping sound coming from ahead.

She was startled.

Her Third Brother probably didn’t carry a weapon, and even if he did, it wouldn’t be the sound of a whip.

Zhi’er raised her gaze, seeing the torchlight extinguished.

She hurriedly rushed forward.

The Third Young Master was standing there, inspecting the torch.

"Strange, why did it suddenly go out?"

He could not see the resentful ghost in prison guard attire in the shadows, raising a whip high, ready to strike him.

Zhi’er softly exclaimed, "Stop!"

The prison guard’s ghost turned to look at Zhi’er, its face shrouded in black aura.

Perhaps Zhi’er’s divine light was too dazzling.

The ghost prisoner was somewhat uncomfortable, retreating into the darkness and slowly disappearing.

In an instant, the Third Young Master’s torch relit itself.