“So fast, and not a sound at all.”
Shen Qinghuan silently praised, confirming that the space teleportation lived up to its reputation.
His figure flickered, moving like a phantom to the front of the storage room. He did not attempt to pick the lock. Instead, with a mere flick of his mind, he activated the power of space.
The copper lock instantly vanished, absorbed into his spatial pocket, and the door creaked open a slit.
He pushed the door and entered. A mix of gold, silver, silk, and the musty smell of storage hit him immediately.
The warehouse was packed with various crates and shelves. Under the moonlight filtering through the door slit, Shen Qinghuan surveyed the contents.
On the left-hand shelves were arrays of fine silks, brocades, and jewelry—clearly looted treasures.
On the right, the crates were open, filled with heavy silver, numerous gold ingots, and gold bars, stacked like small hills.
In the corners lay ancient artifacts, calligraphy, rare herbs—an overwhelming sight for the eyes.
“A truly great corrupt official.”
Shen Qinghuan sneered coldly, his anger mounting. Jinzhou Prefecture had suffered a drought last year; the people had nothing, selling sons and daughters, wandering homeless. Yet Cai Huaian had amassed such wealth, each coin soaked in the blood and sweat of the people.
He remembered Zhang Yulian’s tear-filled gaze from the day, and the townspeople outside the teahouse who dared not speak their anger. His killing intent deepened.
“Collect!”
Without hesitation, Shen Qinghuan focused his mind, and the spatial power enveloped the entire warehouse.
Gold, silver, jewels, silks, brocades, antiques, and calligraphy flew as if pulled by an invisible hand, streaming into his spatial pocket until not a single piece remained.
Shelves were emptied, crates cleared—the once full warehouse quickly became barren, leaving only dust scattered across the floor.
Yet Shen Qinghuan was not satisfied. Remembering that government offices often had granaries, he turned and made his way to the east side of the backyard.
Sure enough, not long later, he saw a larger courtyard, the words “Granary” hanging on the door. From inside came faint squeaking—mice at work.
He pushed the door open. The granary was stacked high with rice, wheat, and corn, bags taller than a person, the scent of grains filling the air.
Shen Qinghuan sneered. The people of Jinzhou Prefecture were starving, yet Cai Huaian hoarded food, refusing to open the granary, raising grain prices to exploit the populace—truly deranged.
“These grains will do nicely to help the people.”
He activated spatial power again. Bags of grains flowed like water into his spatial pocket, reappearing neatly on the empty land beside the spiritual field.
Even the mice causing havoc among the grain were swept into the spatial pocket, scattering the western wing in panic, eventually captured by Yuanbao, who gleefully used them as “toys.”
After clearing the granary, Shen Qinghuan thought of Cai Huaian’s lavish lifestyle and headed for the prefecture kitchen.
Though it was late at night, a lamp burned inside. Steam rose from the pots, filling the room with rich aromas.
Upon entering, Shen Qinghuan saw a pot of bird’s nest soup, thick and rich, mixed with rare medicinal ingredients. On the counter lay various exquisite pastries and dishes—Cai Huaian’s late-night meal.
“Truly knows how to indulge.”
Shen Qinghuan snorted, using spatial power to absorb the bird’s nest, all dishes on the counter, all pots and pans, even the firewood in the stove.
In an instant, the once bustling kitchen became empty, leaving only an empty iron pot and ashes scattered on the floor.
“There’s still the study room.”
He did not pause. The magistrate’s study often held secrets, and possibly more wealth and evidence of crimes.
Following the memory of the layout, he reached the front courtyard study. The door was slightly ajar, the interior pitch black.
He entered and lit a fire stick he carried, the dim light illuminating the luxurious room.
Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books. In the corner stood a large desk, adorned with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.
Shen Qinghuan searched carefully and soon noticed a loose floor tile beneath the desk. He lifted it, revealing the entrance to a dark chamber.
“So there is a hidden room.”
He smiled, bending to enter. The chamber was not large, but its treasures were even greater than the warehouse.
Rows of crates contained gold bars, silver ingots, jewels, jade, and priceless antiques. There were even boxes of brand-new banknotes, their denomination enormous and quantities staggering.
In addition, the corners held ledgers and letters. Shen Qinghuan picked one up, leafing through it. It detailed Cai Huaian’s bribes, collusion with officials and bandits, reckless killings, forced appropriation of women, and exploitation of the people—every page more shocking than the last.
“These are your crimes.”
He collected the ledgers and letters into his spatial pocket, then swept all the treasures in the chamber into the space as well.
Once satisfied, he left the hidden room and restored the floor tile as if no one had ever been there.
Standing in the study room, Shen Qinghuan gazed at the mountain of wealth and grain in his spatial pocket, letting out a hearty laugh:
“This space teleportation is truly a marvelous tool—untraceable, leaving no hint, impossible for anyone to suspect it’s me.”
Yuanbao cheered inside the space:
“Master is amazing!
All this gold and treasure is ours!
We can help the people and buy so many things for Master!”
“Not done yet.”
Shen Qinghuan’s eyes turned cold. He recalled Cai Huaian and Li Bao’s conspiracy, Cai Huaian’s lecherous face, and his vile plan to capture Shen Qinghuan as a plaything. This corrupt tyrant could not merely lose his wealth—he needed a lesson he would never forget.
With a thought, Shen Qinghuan retrieved the freshly gathered herbs and spirit spring water from his spatial pocket. Following the alchemy manual etched in his memory, he quickly concocted pills.
His fingers moved swiftly; the herbs were precisely cut and purified, spirit spring water forming crystalline droplets, merging with the herbs. Under spatial power, they soon condensed into three black pills—the specially crafted “Madness Pills.”
These pills were colorless and tasteless. Half an hour after ingestion, they induced madness, forcing the victim to reveal all secrets. Their effects lasted at least three months, with no cure during that time.
“Cai Huaian, your good days are over.”
Shen Qinghuan clenched the pills in his hand and activated spatial teleportation, targeting Cai Huaian’s bedroom.