Before Han Li had even reached the second floor, before Yan Ge could knock, a voice drifted out from inside the room.
"Han Li and Yan Ge?"
"Yes, Fourth Mistress!" Yan Ge hurriedly stopped in her tracks and answered respectfully.
"Yan Ge, you may go back. Have Han Li come in alone." Madam Yan's cool voice carried a detached chill that sent a slight shiver through Han Li's heart.
"As you command." Yan Ge clearly held Madam Yan in great respect, obeying her order without the slightest hesitation. She gave Han Li a smile before quietly withdrawing from the second floor, leaving him standing alone outside the door.
Han Li stared coldly at the door but didn't push it open right away. Instead, he released his spiritual sense to probe the situation inside. He had no intention of walking into an ambush and being hacked to pieces by hidden killers the moment he stepped through the door. Better to be cautious.
The room was very quiet. There were only a handful of people inside — he could detect the breathing and heartbeats of Madam Yan and a few others. No one who shouldn't be there seemed to be present, which put Han Li somewhat at ease.
He stepped forward, knocked lightly twice on the door, then pushed it open and glanced inside, about to enter. What he saw made his face change dramatically. The foot he had already raised froze in midair.
It was the same room he had visited the night before. The tables, chairs, and decorations were all exactly as before. The only difference was the attire of the beautiful women inside. Madam Yan and the other elegant ladies were all dressed entirely in white — mourning garments — seated stiffly in chairs, their cold eyes fixed unblinkingly on him.
Han Li's face paled slightly, though not from fear. It was anger — anger at the dead Doctor Mo.
It was obvious he had been outmaneuvered by that old fox again. The letter had indeed contained hidden meaning, just as he had guessed. These tigresses had already learned of Doctor Mo's death from it, and they were waiting right here for the murderer of their husband to walk through the door on his own.
Han Li took a deep breath, and his expression returned to normal. Then he strode boldly into the room, pulled out a single chair without the slightest courtesy, and sat himself down grandly across from the women. Without a word, he simply stared at them, waiting to see how these women intended to deal with him.
Han Li's brazen, open contempt — his apparent willingness to tear off all pretense — clearly caught Madam Yan and the others off guard. It threw them into disarray, each wearing a different expression.
The Second Mistress, Madam Li, was livid. She was clearly enraged by this junior who had been calling them "Mistress" just yesterday and now dared to stare at them with such brazen disrespect. Born into a scholarly family, she valued propriety and proper hierarchy above all else. To be confronted by someone like Han Li, who showed no reverence for his teachers or elders — how could she not tremble with fury?
The Third Mistress, Madam Liu, was entirely different from Madam Li. Far from being angry, she seemed to regard Han Li with considerable interest, gazing back at him. However, her extraordinary allure made Han Li dare not look at her too closely — his eyes merely swept past her face.
Madam Yan behaved much the same as the coldly beautiful Madam Wang. She sat motionless, staring at Han Li with an icy composure, her gaze filled with a chill that could freeze everything it touched.
"You've got quite a nerve, haven't you — my husband's last disciple!" After a long, tense silence lasting as long as it took to drink a cup of tea, Madam Yan finally spoke. The sarcasm in her words was unmistakable.
"Mistresses, if you have something to ask or something to say, just say it plainly. I have no patience for empty words, and I won't waste any of my own." Han Li's voice was flat and expressionless.
Han Li knew full well that if there was anything worse than bickering with one woman, it was being forced into a war of words with several at once. Rather than exhaust himself trying to justify the facts, it was better to cut straight to the heart of the matter. That was his view.
Moreover, the absence of any ambush or hidden fighters in the room told him that these women had no intention of striking him down here and now. Either they had their reservations, or they needed something from him. In that case, there was no need to be overly polite. After all, Doctor Mo had brought his own death upon himself — Han Li had nothing to feel guilty about.
"You—" Even someone like Madam Yan, who had faced all manner of situations, was nearly struck speechless by Han Li's blunt, hard-edged tone.
"Fine. Then let me ask you! Did my husband die at the hands of this treasonous disciple of his?!" The Second Mistress could hold back no longer. Her elegant eyes seemed about to erupt with fire, every trace of her scholarly refinement vanishing, replaced by nothing but hatred.
"Second Sister—" Madam Yan frowned and called out softly, apparently trying to stop Madam Li from asking a question that would immediately push things past the point of no return.
"This Madam Li is certainly direct — putting the most critical question right on the table," Han Li thought with a cold, secret smile.
"One could say he died by my hand, and one could also say he killed himself." Han Li's tone was calm and detached.
This answer left all the women across from him — Madam Yan included — stunned. They had expected Han Li to either deny everything outright or brazenly confess. They hadn't expected such a cryptic, nonsensical response.
Madam Li was momentarily taken aback, but then flew into a towering rage, clearly convinced that Han Li was mocking them.
"What nonsense! It was obviously you who killed him!" Madam Li's whole body was shaking.
"And how do you know it was me? Did you see it with your own eyes?" Han Li shot back without restraint. He knew perfectly well that the letter had been written before Doctor Mo himself was killed, so the letter naturally couldn't state with certainty that he was the one who did it. The words left for these wives were probably nothing more than speculation, which was why Han Li could refute their claims without holding back.
"Since you put it that way, then why don't you tell us — poor women that we are — exactly how my husband met his end? If it truly had nothing to do with you, we won't deliberately frame you." The Fifth Mistress, Madam Wang, who had been sitting coldly beautiful and silent throughout, suddenly spoke up.