Huangshu, maintaining her distance, swung her staff once more, aiming to catch Ming off-guard. But as usual, he dodged with nimble footwork, trying to close the gap between them. Huangshu quickly stepped back, creating space for another swift swing of her staff. This back-and-forth exchange continued for another fifteen minutes, with the two combatants locked in a dance of attack and evasion, each testing the other's limits. It was a demonstration of skill, precision, and endurance that left both of them drenched in sweat, their breaths coming in heavy, rhythmic beats. Finally, they silently agreed it was time to conclude their sparring session.

With a final, forceful swing, Huangshu aimed a strike at Ming. He deftly dodged, then quickly settled into a defensive stance, signaling he was ready to end the bout. They stood facing each other, their chests rising and falling, visibly exhausted yet satisfied. “That’s enough for today,” Ming said, breaking the silence. Huangshu nodded, her expression one of mutual acknowledgment. They had pushed each other to their limits, and it was clear that both were equally matched.

As they lowered their stances, catching their breath, they heard the sound of clapping from the sidelines. Throughout their sparring, they had been aware of someone watching them, but they chose to ignore the spectator, focusing entirely on the duel. Now that the match was over, Ming turned his attention toward the young man standing a short distance away. He was dressed in somewhat tattered clothing, a stark contrast to the pristine martial uniforms worn by the two combatants. It was immediately clear he was not part of the estate’s staff.

“Thank you for the applause, sir...?” Huangshu spoke up, her tone polite yet curious as she subtly inquired about the stranger's identity while acknowledging his appreciation.

“Ah, I apologize for intruding, young master, young mistress,” Shun said, quickly stepping forward with a slight bow. “I couldn’t help but watch such a marvelous display of martial arts. My name is Xing, from the Brown Tiger Brotherhood. I was invited as a guest by Mister Liang last night.”

Shun’s words came out a bit rushed, as he was keen to clarify his presence and avoid any misunderstanding. He could tell from their poised demeanor and the quality of their uniforms that these two were likely of noble standing, and he certainly didn’t want to offend them.

“Oh, so you’re Uncle Liang’s guest?” Huangshu replied, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Shun. “I see. But the Brown Tiger Brotherhood... I can’t say I’ve heard of it before.” She accepted a towel from a servant, dabbing the sweat from her brow, her expression still curious but not unfriendly.

“We’re a small brotherhood by the river, young master,” Shun replied quickly, glancing over at Ming, who was also wiping his face with a towel. “Not very well-known, I suppose.”

“By the river, you say?” Huangshu echoed, still assessing him. She stepped closer to Ming, her staff now resting casually at her side. “I’ve heard that the Greenwood Bandits have been causing trouble around those parts. Isn’t that area practically occupied by them now?”

Ming nodded thoughtfully, his eyes shifting to meet Huangshu’s. “Yes, I remember hearing about that. The Greenwood Bandits have been making life difficult for the smaller settlements along the river.”

Shun felt a bead of sweat form at his temple, not from the heat but from the need to maintain his fabricated story. He nodded and responded, “That’s true, but we managed to keep a hidden base, so a few of us escaped. We’ve been lying low.”

“I see,” Ming said, his tone neutral but polite. “Well, enjoy your morning, Mister Xing. I would have liked to hear more about the situation outside the gates of our town, but unfortunately, I have to attend to other matters concerning the town’s affairs.” He gave Shun a courteous nod, a small smile playing on his lips.

Before Shun could respond, Huangshu added, “Please, join us for breakfast in the main dining hall. Uncle Liang has done a lot for the town in the past, and it’s only right that we treat his guests with the same respect. Consider it our way of extending our hospitality.” With that, she and Ming turned and began walking back towards the mansion, their conversation drifting into softer tones as they discussed their morning training.

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Shun bowed deeply, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “Thank you, young master and young mistress,” he said, his voice respectful. As he straightened up, he couldn’t help but let out a small sigh.

It had been a strange and somewhat nerve-wracking encounter, but he managed to navigate it without raising too many suspicions. As Ming and Huangshu disappeared through the mansion’s doors, Shun’s gaze drifted upward, catching sight of an imperial flag fluttering atop the building. His eyes widened slightly as he realized where he was—the governor’s residence. It dawned on him that this was no ordinary estate; he had unwittingly found himself in the heart of local authority.

The realization made his heart skip a beat. The two he had spoken to were likely either the governor’s children or close relatives, given their confidence and demeanor. They were too young to be in an official ruling position, but their presence here, training and handling estate affairs, suggested they held significant status. Shun felt a mix of awe and anxiety. On one hand, he had been fortunate to witness such skilled martial artists up close; on the other, he was now entangled in a situation that could be perilous if he wasn’t careful.

As he turned to head towards the dining hall, he took a deep breath, steeling himself.

Meanwhile, deep within the hidden tunnel, Gu and Tao were hard at work, chipping away at the iron door embedded in the stone wall. The small, dimly lit chamber echoed with the sound of metal striking metal, as each took turns heating an iron rod over a torch flame before slamming it against the door. The rhythmic clangs were relentless, the torchlight casting shadows that danced across their tired faces, yet they continued without pause. Sweat beaded on their foreheads, and their muscles ached, but neither was willing to stop.

Gu, his face flushed from exertion, pressed the heated rod against the cold, stubborn metal. He had hoped the heat would weaken the door’s surface, making it easier to break through. Tao followed suit, taking the rod as soon as Gu pulled back and striking the same spot, their efforts coordinated as if they were performing a practiced routine. This went on for a grueling fifteen minutes, but the door remained largely unscathed, showing little more than a shallow dent despite their best efforts.

Finally, the two dropped their rods, panting heavily, and sat down on the cool, dusty ground to catch their breath. “That thing is solid,” Gu muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow and taking a long drink from his water flask. “There’s definitely something valuable behind it, though. No one would go through the trouble of sealing it like this if there wasn’t.”

Tao, equally exhausted, nodded but looked a little uneasy. “I just hope it’s not cursed,” she said, her voice tinged with a hint of superstition.

Gu chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “You and your curses, Tao. If it were cursed, we’d probably be feeling it by now. Come on, let’s take a break. We’ll give it another shot after lunch,” he said with a reassuring smile, his optimism seemingly undeterred.

The two of them picked themselves up, dusting off their clothes, and began to head back up the tunnel, leaving the iron door behind for now. It stood there, silent and imposing, its secrets still intact.

Meanwhile, Minho was brimming with excitement. She had been busy all morning, her energy practically bubbling over as she prepared for her latest experiment. Clutching a simple wooden plate where she had carefully etched out notes, she glanced at the scribbled instructions she had copied down from the [Video] she had watched. And not just once—Minho had replayed that [Video] more than fifteen times, absorbing every detail with wide-eyed fascination. She was determined to recreate what she had seen: the art of sugar-making.

Minho’s makeshift lab was a chaotic yet delightful mess of ingredients and tools. She had gathered everything she thought she would need, including a few pots, some water, and a handful of potatoes she had borrowed from Tao’s supply for the stew. Her hands moved quickly as she set up a small fire pit, arranging kindling and tinder to get a flame going. She had seen Tao and Gu light fires countless times, but doing it herself felt like an adventure.

The morning sun filtered through the cracks in the wooden walls, casting warm patches of light across the room. Minho’s excitement was palpable; she could barely contain herself as she fumbled with the flint, finally managing to spark a small, flickering flame. She fed the fire carefully, watching it grow stronger, and soon, a small but steady blaze was crackling before her. She positioned the pot over the fire, just as she had seen in the [Video], and started measuring out the ingredients she had memorized.

As she moved around, her mind raced with thoughts. If she could pull this off, Gu and Tao would be in for quite a surprise when they returned. She imagined the looks on their faces—part surprise, part delight—and it spurred her on. Minho glanced at her wooden plate again, double-checking her instructions. She didn’t want to miss a single step. Each step was important, from melting the sugar to stirring at just the right moment, and she was determined to get it right.

She added water to the pot and then carefully began stirring in the potatoes, watching as it dissolved, the liquid turning a pale, golden color. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she adjusted the fire, recalling how the [Video] had emphasized the importance of temperature control. “Steady and slow, that’s how you do it,” she muttered to herself, repeating the [Video]’s instructions like a mantra.

Minho’s movements were precise, her hands steady despite her excitement. As the mixture began to simmer, she added a few drops of citrus juice from berries, just as the instructions had suggested, to prevent crystallization early. She was so absorbed in her task that she barely noticed the time passing, her focus solely on perfecting her little creation.

By the time Gu and Tao would return from their efforts at the tunnel, Minho hoped to greet them not just with her usual cheer but with a sweet surprise—a homemade batch of sugar, made with her own two hands. She could hardly wait to see their reactions, and as she stirred the pot, she found herself humming softly, lost in the joy of trying something new.