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Just two or three days later, the Demon Suppression Bureau in the capital received an unexpected messenger pigeon from Bashu.
The entire bureau was thrown into an uproar. Pigeons were not something that could be casually raised in hiding; these birds followed meticulously trained routes, always returning to their designated roosts. The ones that had been bred in the Bashu Demon Suppression Bureau would, without fail, return to their original station—essentially delivering themselves into Li Shentong’s hands.
Since the bureau’s operatives in Bashu had been forced into deep hiding, there had been no way for them to train new pigeons.
That thus begged the question, where had this one come from?
Qin Dingjiang hurriedly untied the small scroll fastened to the bird’s leg. One glance at its contents made his eyes widen in shock. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Tang Wanzhuang’s office.
“First Seat! First Seat! A letter from Bashu!”
Tang Wanzhuang paused, momentarily surprised, before offering a faint smile. “Why the rush? Bring it here.”
Only that very morning, she had received a letter from Zhao Changhe, written back in Miaojiang—the very same one he had penned while Sisi was hiding under the table.
That letter had detailed the current state of the Spirit Tribe and Miaojiang, the circumstances of Sisi’s coronation as the Queen of Dali, and...
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