Okay, here is the translation of the provided Chinese text, following all the given rules:

Safe travels. The convoy proceeded along the official road, occasionally spotting traces left by bloody incursions of the Hu people. Each time, Fan Xian would get out of his carriage to inspect the area for a while, while intelligence officers from the Second Bureau under his command carefully gathered information.

Moving and stopping like this, it only took six days to reach Qingzhou, the most remote and youngest prefecture-level city in the entire Qing Dynasty.

Qingzhou was very different from what Fan Xian had imagined. Before arriving, he had carefully reviewed the intelligence gathered by the Bureau and even specifically asked the First Prince about the situation on the Western front. He had expected Qingzhou to be a desolate border town, more like a heavily guarded military camp. However, he was surprised to find that besides the soldiers patrolling, the city was mostly filled with... merchants.

Merchants, just like Fan Xian, hurried through the few remaining streets of Qingzhou, anxiously exchanging paperwork for leaving the pass, loudly shouting for porters, and carefully watching the goods they had brought to the border. All of this made Qingzhou seem less about iron and blood, and more about the rich scent of money, making it exceptionally bustling.

Fan Xian had assumed that the court's establishment of a prefecture here was mainly symbolic, that Qingzhou City would be especially small and dull. He never imagined that it would feel somewhat like a mini-Suzhou. Sitting on the carriage shaft, he wryly observed the scene before him, at a loss for words.

In fact, Qingzhou's distorted prosperity was not entirely unrelated to Fan Xian himself. In this small prefecture-level city, a large portion of the brave merchants busy entering the grasslands came from Jiangnan. The Qing Dynasty had always strictly prohibited trade with the Hu people. Three years ago, Fan Xian had advised the Emperor to secretly relax this rule.

Salt, iron, and grain were of course strictly forbidden to be sold to the Hu. However, what was there to fear about selling luxury goods like jewelry, perfume, and strong liquor to them? On one hand, it could bring considerable revenue to the Qing internal treasury, as the royal families and nobles in the Hu tribes, who controlled over ninety percent of the wealth, greatly welcomed these items. On the other hand, it would be easier to send agents into the grasslands.

Fan Xian had seen the potential in this. However, he hadn't come to Qingzhou himself, and he hadn't realized that his idea would allow Qingzhou City to develop so rapidly in just a few years, exceeding his expectations.

It seemed that by using small, not particularly valuable items, one could earn gems, raw materials, good horses, and carpets from the Hu. Such a huge profit had indeed excited the Qing merchants to the extreme, making them willing to risk the dangers of constant warfare to venture deep into the grasslands for trade.

"Marx was right," Fan Xian thought, already having a plan. Since there were so many fellow merchants providing cover, he should still be able to go to the grasslands.

The border troops stationed in Qingzhou were exceptionally strict with these merchants. Even though the merchants vigorously stuffed silver notes into the officers' pockets, it didn't speed up the inspection. Fan Xian and his group waited at the city gate for a long time, barely able to move forward.

The autumn grassland sun hung in the middle of the sky, a stark white disc. Although it didn't bring too much heat to test the merchants and soldiers in the city, its brightness made people irritable.

Qingzhou was a unique place, a strange city made up of soldiers and merchants. When the soldiers became irritable, their attitude towards the merchants worsened. And although the merchants were also irritable, they still had to lower their heads and wear smiles on their faces.

To this day, the soldiers of the West Camp still couldn't understand why the court would agree to let these profit-hungry bastards pass through Qingzhou, enter the grasslands, and curry favor with their irreconcilable Hu enemies. As they stamped the documents, they cursed under their breath, hoping that these guys, who risked their lives and honor for money, would die in the grasslands, at the hands of the Hu arrows, and never return.

Outside the inspection office, several officials from the Overwatch Council, dressed in black uniforms, sat beside the military officers, supervising the inspection of goods. Fan Xian gave Mu Feng'er a look. Mu Feng'er immediately understood his master's meaning and began preparing to discreetly contact these colleagues from the Fourth Bureau.

After arranging everything, Fan Xian grew impatient with waiting in the convoy. He jumped down from the carriage shaft, dusted off his trousers, and led a subordinate disguised as a servant towards the interior of Qingzhou.

He pulled open his collar, looked up and squinted at the small, round, white sun in the sky, feeling extremely annoyed, especially since he wasn't even sweating.

At that moment, the Qingzhou city gate behind him suddenly opened. A series of rapid, orderly hoofbeats rang out at the city gate, startling the long line of merchants waiting for inspection.

The crowd curiously looked towards the city gate, wondering which unit was returning to camp. The units returning at this time must have been out all night, "hunting rabbits" in the grasslands.

"Hunting rabbits" was a border slang term, similar to the Hu's so-called "grabbing grass and grain." The Qing and Western Hu had been skirmishing with each other for years, maintaining their blood feud through this constant raiding and counter-raiding. Although the Qing army was strong, the units daring to venture out of the city at night still demonstrated considerable courage.

Fan Xian also heard the urgent hoofbeats and turned his gaze away from the sky, looking towards the city gate.

Perhaps the sun in the sky was too intense, leaving a bright white spot on his retina. When he looked at the troop of cavalry with dust-covered faces entering the city gate, especially at the general leading them, he felt like he was seeing a sun.

...

...

The general who bravely led the cavalry on a night raid into the grasslands wasn't tall. In fact, she appeared somewhat petite in her armor, but Fan Xian felt that her entire being radiated light.

Especially those eyes beneath the distant mountain-like eyebrows... that pair of eyes.

Those eyes were still so bright, without a trace of impurity, like jade, reflecting the sunlight. But her eyebrows were furrowed, as if she had more worries than many years ago. Her armor was stained with blood, and her horse was tired, indicating that she had experienced a real battle last night.

As if stung by those pure eyes, Fan Xian closed his own, lowered his head, hoping that she wouldn't notice him. He felt a strange sensation rising within him. This scene seemed to prove that time wasn't just an absolute, linear progression.

Five years ago, when Fan Xian arrived in the capital from Danzhou, he had seen this young girl with distant mountain-like eyebrows and jade-like eyes outside the city gate. Back then, the girl who called him "Master" wore a light-colored ruqun (skirt and jacket) and a playful white deer skin hat. Today, however, the girl wore a dust-covered military uniform, radiating an imposing aura.

Time had changed many people, changed many things for them. It seemed that only their names remained the same.

Fan Xian lowered his head deeply, using his subordinate's body to shield himself. Ye Ling'er, who was riding a horse, was clearly exhausted and didn't notice the familiar face among the merchants by the side of the street. The merchants, upon recognizing Ye Ling'er as the leader of the cavalry, also averted their gaze.

These merchants, who had been traveling to and from Qingzhou for years, were already used to this scene. Since it was Miss Ye leading the troops out of the city, whether it was night or day, she always had to kill some Hu people before returning.

The rebellion in the capital had passed two years ago. The Emperor, grateful for the Ye family's loyalty, issued a special decree, stripping Ye Ling'er of her title as Princess Consort, effectively allowing her to remarry.

In the old territory of the Dingzhou army, all the soldiers and civilians still habitually referred to this returning girl as Miss Ye. No one was used to calling her Princess Consort. Ye Ling'er stubbornly continued to refer to herself as Princess Consort, but a year ago, she had taken a knife and forced Li Hongcheng to send her to Qingzhou.

...

...

Fan Xian watched the receding, slender figure on horseback, remaining silent. He knew very well what Ye Ling'er's life had been like in Dingzhou and Qingzhou over the past two years. He also understood why Ye Ling'er insisted on using the title of Princess Consort, and why she was wearing armor.

Perhaps only in the grasslands, only when wielding a sword, could she forget those unpleasant memories. The grassland environment, the iron and blood life, was indeed the best way to make someone strong.

The daughter of the Vice Minister of the Supreme Military Council, the daughter of the person in charge of Qing's military forces, was actually fighting the enemy head-on in the most dangerous border region. This was probably a scene that had never appeared in history. However, precisely because of this dramatic situation, Ye Ling'er now received not only sympathetic glances and gossip, but also respect and awe.

Fan Xian wasn't worried about Ye Ling'er's safety, because Li Hongcheng wouldn't let Ye Ling'er fall into a deadly situation. The people on both sides of the border had a natural respect for the Ye family, and the cavalry led by Ye Ling'er must be the elite of the Qing army.

Ye Ling'er had the strength of a Seventh-Rank fighter, enough to protect herself. Most importantly, this path of oblivion was chosen by Ye Ling'er herself, and Fan Xian deeply respected that.

--------------------------------------

After much effort, Mu Feng'er finally obtained the paperwork for leaving the pass. He was berated by the Qingzhou military, threatened with endless warnings about the dangers of the Hu people in the grasslands, and finally completed the formalities with a helpless expression.

The goods were concentrated in the Qingzhou government office, to be collected upon leaving the city and entering the grasslands, based on the road pass in hand. This was also to prevent some people from secretly tampering with the goods after the inspection.

Smuggling was rampant at every border, and even some officers were involved in small amounts. However, the General's Office in Dingzhou turned a blind eye to this. Qingzhou was isolated on the edge of the grasslands, and life was bitterly difficult. Without some extra income, no officer would be willing to stay here for years.

That night, Fan Xian and his group stayed in a large common sleeping area. The entire room reeked of sweaty feet, and the night was bone-chillingly cold. Fan Xian used his "privilege" to sleep in the spot against the wall. Although it was the coldest place, it was also the quietest.

Mu Feng'er lay beside him, repeatedly apologizing in a low voice. Fan Xian smiled and said nothing. In everyone's eyes, he was nobility, but few knew the hardships he had endured in both lives. When it came to enduring hardship, everyone underestimated him.

As the night deepened, several very faint noises came from outside the window of the common sleeping area. Mu Feng'er immediately woke up and prepared to notify Lord Fan, but when he turned his head, he saw Fan Xian's bright, calm eyes, gleaming in the night.

Like a wolf.

The two quietly got up and met with an Overwatch Council official from the Fourth Bureau, the same clever person who had secretly sent the knife to the capital. In a dark corner of the courtyard, Fan Xian lowered his voice and asked the official, "How many of these knives are there?"

"Just this one," the official replied quickly. "We originally found three during that search, but after I took one, I discovered the next day that the other two were missing."

Fan Xian felt a chill in his heart and asked, "Could it be...?"

The official knew what he meant and shook his head. "It wasn't taken by the West Camp. These spoils of war are unremarkable and piled up in the warehouse. No one pays attention to them. As for the two knives... they must have been stolen, but I don't know who stole them."

"You weren't watching that night?" Fan Xian stared into the official's eyes.

The official looked up and replied softly, "I watched all night, but I didn't find anything..." He paused and said, "If someone could steal the knives right in front of me, they must be an expert."

For some reason, Fan Xian trusted this subordinate's confident judgment. He smiled and asked, "How good?"

"As good as a Ninth-Rank," the subordinate replied endearingly.

After a few brief exchanges, Fan Xian found himself liking this Fourth Bureau official, whose name he didn't even know, but he didn't know where the liking came from. He curiously glanced at the official, said nothing, and thought to himself that all Ninth-Rank cultivators in the world were famous and powerful figures. How could a Ninth-Rank appear in this remote Qingzhou?

Despite his liking, Fan Xian's eyes, lowered slightly, became cold. His fingers curled slightly, ready to strike and kill the official in front of him at any moment.

"One last question, why are you so concerned about this knife?"

The knife that had broken in the carriage was very ordinary in style. If Fan Xian hadn't been very familiar with the material used in the blade, he would never have noticed the hidden danger.

The Fourth Bureau official didn't sense Fan Xian's suppressed killing intent and replied respectfully, "Lord, your subordinate... is a member of the Qinian Group."

The official knelt on one knee and presented an item with both hands. Fan Xian took the item and slowly stroked it in his palm, feeling empty inside. Yes, this was the token of his most loyal subordinates, but he truly knew nothing about the existence of this official.

However, he confirmed the official's identity and no longer suspected anything. He nodded.

The official stood up and said softly, "Your subordinate was personally selected by Lord Wang to join the group, but I haven't revealed myself until now. I was in the Three Major Workshops for the past few years, and I was only transferred to Qingzhou by the Bureau at the beginning of this year. I felt something was strange about this knife, because the knife blank should have been made of B-grade steel from the C Workshop... In previous years, weapons produced by the Internal Treasury might have been lost on the battlefield, but this type of knife hasn't been equipped to the military yet. Your subordinate felt the situation was urgent, so I quickly notified you, my Lord."

Fan Xian nodded, took a deep breath, and knew that his good luck was still continuing. He just didn't know who the Ninth-Rank expert who had stolen the two knives was. He secretly speculated that if that person was his enemy, the court would already be filled with accusations of his treason. Since the court was quiet, it meant that the person who stole the knives was also trying to cover for him.

"So you were personally chosen by Old Wang." In the darkness, Fan Xian smiled, but his smile was twisted. "No wonder you speak so... interestingly."

Fan Xian spoke again, "Regarding the name Songzhi Xianling, what progress have you made in your investigation?"

The official stood up and reported seriously, "There have been several outsiders in the Hu King's tent in the past two years, but there is no one named Songzhi Xianling. Your subordinate has no clue."

"Mm," Fan Xian said. "I've already asked the Second Bureau to investigate this name. You wait here, and once there is any news, immediately send someone into the grasslands to notify me."

"Are you going to the grasslands, my Lord?"

"I'm going to find the person who stole the knives." Fan Xian's voice was cold, but he quickly softened it, patted the official on the shoulder, and said, "You did well this time. After this case is resolved, come back to the capital and help me."

"Thank you for your promotion, my Lord..." The official was overjoyed, kneeling down to accept the order, and lowered his voice, unable to suppress his joy. "It's been two years since I saw Lord Wang. I wonder how he is doing."

Fan Xian had never explicitly revealed Wang Qinian's whereabouts to the officials within the Bureau. Everyone, including Yan Bingyun, believed that Old Wang had gone to carry out a secret mission for Director Fan. No one suspected anything, and the peripheral Overwatch Council officials knew even less.

Hearing these words, Fan Xian was speechless, thinking to himself, "That old bastard Wang Qinian, even after he's gone, he's still helping me non-stop. How can I not miss him?"

...

...

(Last night's Paralympic opening ceremony was fantastic. If you haven't seen it, it's best to watch the replay, or you'll miss out...

Also: Yesterday, I read Zhang Xiaohua's *The First Disorder*, which I had saved for several months. I finished it in one go and almost burst out laughing. Talent is talent, there's no denying it... How is it that Old Liu just happens to be named Liu? His arguments are too biased, too biased...

The writing in September is slipping, it's too smooth, the speed is too fast, which is a bit unexpected and surprising. I don't know if it's a good or bad thing. Finally, a friendly recommendation: *The Miracle of Creation* 1010258. To be honest, I haven't had time to read this book yet.)