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Zheng Moru felt a slight tension. The recent conflicts between the two nations had calmed down significantly, and trade was resuming. They were entering the court as merchants, and as long as Dayu handled their identities carefully, they should be fine.
After saying this, Zheng Moru clearly did not comfort himself. He turned to the scout in front of him and asked, "Who arranged my identity? There shouldn't be any issues, right?"
The arrangements made by His Majesty's guards would not go wrong.
"Then," Zheng Moru kicked the substitute kneeling on the ground, "make this person look like me when I arrived and take him out. The Court indeed has industries that match my merchant identity. Help him manage that industry, and don’t wander around too much. Once things settle down tomorrow, you can move freely."
The scouts nodded in agreement.
Zheng Moru added, "Also, arrange for a scholar to come to me. I will invite him over to perform some rituals as soon as possible."
It had only been a few days since he left, yet the Marquisate had become so eerie. It was better to be cautious; he could no longer stay here and needed to move quickly.
Exhausted, Zheng Moru supported his weary body and spent more than three hours sorting out matters in the residence. As night deepened and drowsiness overtook him, he lay down on the couch in his study, quickly falling asleep.
In a hazy state, he felt that it was too noisy outside. Annoyed from being woken up, he stepped out barefoot and first noticed people in the residence fleeing in all directions.
There was absolutely no order!
They didn’t even bow or apologize when they bumped into him; in their panic, some even stepped on his feet.
Just as he picked up a stone to throw at one of them, Zheng Moru caught sight of a group of white figures out of the corner of his eye.
What were the servants shouting just now?
Ghosts?
Ghosts?!!!
There really were ghosts!
While he was stunned, the fleeing ghosts spotted him as if they had found their target and rushed toward him excitedly.
Zheng Moru had no way to escape; he was surrounded and beaten by them. Just when he felt that his life was about to end, the white figures suddenly vanished. Then came the sound of a rooster crowing, and Zheng Moru lay weakly on the ground.
He couldn't tell if what had just happened was real or a dream.
With a silent cry of despair in his heart, he wondered why they all came after him!
In the end, the servants, steward, and guards hid at a distance watching; no one came forward to help him.
Perhaps they were secretly relieved.
Zheng Moru regretted sending away several scouts earlier that afternoon. If they had still been there, they would have fought desperately to protect him.
The steward rushed over, "Marquis, there has been another death in the manor. Three servants and a young master have died."
A young master? That would be his son, wouldn't it?
Well, if he's dead, then he's dead. He doesn't need another son.
As Zheng Moru watched the steward tremblingly help him up, he coldly asked, "How many people did you just say have died in the manor?"
"Four. Including the previous ones, that's a total of six people, among them three young masters."
"Oh, so that many have already died? Then what's one more?"
At that moment, a dagger was plunged fiercely into the steward's heart. When it was pulled out, his life had already slipped away.
Zheng Moru's face darkened as he murmured, "You were given so many chances and yet you managed to run the Marquisate into this state. You were also watching me make a fool of myself just now, weren't you? So you got what you deserved."
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