Exiled!? Ha! I have An Infinite Space

Chapter 210: Chapter

Inside the room, Wei Meilan looked up through her tangled hair. Her face was pale and stained with tears, but as she stared at the man towering over her, the terror in her eyes slowly hardened into a cold, desperate rage.

"You are forcing me to marry you," she hissed, her voice shaking but raw with pure hatred. "What else do you expect from me? To love you? To stand by you?"

She let out a harsh, broken laugh that cut through the quiet room.

"I only wish you rot in hell."

With the last of her strength, she spat directly onto his pristine wedding robes.

The room went dead silent.

Outside the door, An Li held her breath, her hand gripping the hilt of her hidden dagger so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Bao Li stared down at the damp spot on his expensive robes. For a second, his face was completely blank. Then, slowly, his shoulders began to shake.

He started to laugh.

It wasn’t an angry shout, but a low, echoing chuckle that sent shivers straight down An Li’s spine. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his sleeve, calmly wiping his robes, before looking down at Wei Meilan with a sickening, evil smile.

"Rot in hell?" Bao Li repeated softly, his eyes curling with dark amusement. "How dramatic. But you seem to forget, Meilan... you aren’t the only one in that drafty little house of yours."

Wei Meilan’s eyes widened, her entire body freezing. "No..."

"Your two children," Bao Li whispered, leaning down until his shadow completely engulfed her. "They will be the first ones to suffer for your betrayal. I wonder... how long do you think they would last in the labor camps?"

"You monster!" Wei Meilan screamed, lunging forward to grab him, but he easily stepped back, letting her fall heavily onto the floorboards.

"I am a businessman," Bao Li corrected calmly, tossing the soiled handkerchief onto her face. "And I always collect my debts. I will marry you today, Meilan. No woman I have laid my eyes on has ever slipped away from me. Even if you die..." He leaned down closer, his voice dropping into a dark, guttural promise. "...I will make sure I devour every single bit of you. Your family, your children, your very name. I will consume it all."

On the floor, Wei Meilan let out a choked, hopeless sob, her spirit finally breaking as she wept for her children.

Outside, An Li’s heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She looked back down the empty hallway, then back at the crack in the door.

Fu Sheng was trapped by Bao Li’s right-hand man. Su Long and the others were supposedly walking into a slaughter. And right inside this room, a mother and her children were being sentenced to a living nightmare.

Back in the pitch-black room of the forbidden building, Fu Sheng stood surrounded.

Four swords were drawn, their cold steel gleaming in the light from the open doorway. In front of them, Bao Li’s right-hand man stood with his hands resting casually on his belt, looking at Fu Sheng with a patronizing, mocking sneer.

Fu Sheng slowly let the paper slide from his fingers. The terrifying truth settled in. Bao Li hadn’t been tricked at all.

"Did you really think your past would stay hidden forever, Fu Sheng?" one of the guards sneered, shifting his weight. "We know who you are. But just because you used to be a general doesn’t mean you can take us all. You’re outnumbered, out of practice, and unarmed. We are far stronger than you now."

Fu Sheng’s eyes remained completely calm, but a dangerous, icy edge settled over his features. "Is that what you think?"

"Take him!" the right-hand man ordered, stepping back. "Break his legs first. We still need him alive."

The first guard lunged, thrusting his blade straight toward Fu Sheng’s shoulder.

Fu Sheng didn’t flinch. At the very last millisecond, he dodged the incoming strike, his eyes locking onto the far wall of the study where several decorative swords hung on display. With a swift, powerful burst of movement, he vaulted over the heavy wooden desk, dodging two slashing blades that cut through the empty air where he had stood just a second before.

Before the guards could pivot, Fu Sheng reached the wall display, grabbed the hilt of a heavy steel broadsword hanging amongst the collection, and ripped it from its mounts with a sharp, metallic ring.

The weight of the weapon in his hand was familiar. Instinct, honed by a hundred battles on the blood-soaked borders, took over instantly.

"He’s got a blade!" the right-hand man yelled.

"It won’t save him!" the guard who spoke earlier roared, rushing forward with a heavy downward slash.

Clang!

Fu Sheng parried the blow with absolute ease, the screech of sliding steel echoing through the room. Without breaking momentum, he drove his heavy leather boot into the guard’s knee, shattering the joint. As the man fell screaming, Fu Sheng spun, his broadsword cutting a lethal, sweeping arc through the air.

The heavy steel clashed against the next two guards’ weapons. The sheer, raw power behind Fu Sheng’s swing forced them back, their hands trembling from the impact.

"A general is never out of practice," Fu Sheng said, his voice low and deadly.

He stepped forward, a blur of absolute, ruthless efficiency. He parried a frantic thrust from the third guard, stepped inside his reach, and slammed the heavy iron pommel of his sword directly into the man’s temple, knocking him out instantly. The fourth guard lunged in desperation, but Fu Sheng caught the blade on his own, twisted his wrist to disarm him, and delivered a devastating kick to his chest that sent him crashing through a wooden privacy screen.

In less than a minute, the four guards lay broken and groaning on the floor.

Bao Li’s right-hand man drew his own sword, his face completely pale, his previous smugness replaced by absolute terror. "You... you monster..."

Fu Sheng pointed the tip of his broadsword directly at the man’s throat. A single bead of cold sweat rolled down the right-hand man’s cheek.

"The ledger," Fu Sheng demanded, his voice dead and cold. "Where is it?"

"It’s... it’s in the desk!" the man gasped, choking on his own breath, his eyes darting frantically to the drawer. "In the hidden compartment! Please, don’t kill me!"

Fu Sheng didn’t hesitate. He struck the man with the flat of his blade, knocking him into unconsciousness, before dropping the heavy broadsword onto the floor.

He quickly knelt by the desk. Reaching into the open drawer, his fingers caught on a small wooden latch at the bottom panel. He pressed it, and a false bottom popped up, revealing a thick, leather-bound book.

Fu Sheng grabbed it. But the moment his fingers brushed the cover, his brow furrowed.

The leather felt too new. The paper inside was too clean.

He flipped the book open. Inside were neat rows of names and numbers, detailing smuggler routes and weapon transactions. It looked perfect. But Fu Sheng’s eyes narrowed as he touched a dark line. A tiny smudge of fresh blue-black ink smeared onto his fingertip.

It’s fresh, he realized. Written within the last two days. It’s a fake.

If Bao Li knew they were coming, he would have prepared a fake ledger to feed them false information, leading them straight into another trap even if they managed to get this far.

Fu Sheng stood up, casting his eyes around the dark office. Bao Li was a paranoid, meticulous man. He wouldn’t keep the real ledger—the one that held his life, his secrets, and his leverage over the entire Barren Lands—in a place his right-hand man could easily point to. He would keep it somewhere only he could access.

Fu Sheng forced himself to think like a hunter. He walked slowly around the room, lightly tapping his knuckles against the wooden panels of the walls.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He moved past the bookshelves, past the hanging scroll paintings. Near the corner of the room, behind a heavy, decorative iron incense burner, he tapped again.

Hollow.

He reached behind the incense burner, feeling a small iron lever hidden in the stone molding of the wall. He pulled it downward.

With a low, grinding sound, a section of the wooden bookcase slid backward and popped open, revealing a dark, narrow passageway built directly into the thick stone walls of the estate.

Fu Sheng stepped inside. At the end of the short, damp corridor was a small, hidden study. On a pedestal in the center of the room sat a dusty, heavily worn book with tarnished silver corners.

He picked it up and flipped through the yellowed pages. The ink here was faded, filled with messy, hurried handwriting, crossed-out figures, and genuine signatures of high-ranking officials.

This was it. The real ledger.

Fu Sheng slipped the book securely into his inner tunic.

Just as he turned to leave, a faint, muffled sound of a scream echoed through the stone walls of the hidden passageway.

It was a woman’s voice, crying out in terror from the direction of the residential wing.

Wei Meilan.

Fu Sheng’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. He had the ledger, but the battle was far from over.

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