At the Northern Surveillance Bureau.
Intelligence from various martial sects and organizations continuously flowed in from secret agents across the provinces, arriving at the bureau where another team, specialized in sorting and analyzing information, reviewed and extracted key details.
As the commanding officer, Shen Qi only needed to wait for the filtered reports.
Inside the hall, some officers moved hurriedly, some exchanged low-voiced discussions, others remained bent over their desks in silent concentration. The entire operation functioned with a quiet, methodical efficiency. One by one, reports were placed before Shen Qi.
His gaze stopped on one page—
Hidden Sword Sect. Founded by the swordmaster Xiao Yin during the Zhenghe era of the Song Dynasty, the sect had risen and fallen over centuries. Now, its members were dwindling, and its lineage was on the verge of extinction.
Xiao Yin had established the sect with the intention of using violence to curb violence, eliminating the corrupt and the wicked, focusing especially on punishing treacherous officials and oppressive bureaucrats. Early generations of sect leaders upheld righteousness, but during the Yuan Dynasty, as imperial rule grew increasingly brutal, Hidden Sword Sect was gradually reduced to a mere tool for aristocrats vying for power.
When Emperor Taizu of the Ming Dynasty founded his reign, the sect, deeply entangled with the former elite, withdrew from the martial world to avoid being eradicated by the court. Since then, it had vanished without a trace.
“Sounds noble, but in the end, they’re just assassins,” commented Wei Ying, the Qianhu of Criminal Affairs, as he handed over another thin stack of pages. “Lord, here’s what we’ve gathered about their martial techniques and past crimes. But since they’ve gone into hiding, reliable information is scarce.”
Wei Ying and Shi Yanshuang were Shen Qi’s trusted subordinates, handpicked and promoted after Su Yan’s purge of the corrupt Feng faction. The two had served under Shen Qi for nearly a decade. As old subordinates, they spoke more casually with their superior.
Shen Qi reviewed the papers and remarked, “The information is indeed limited and superficial, but there are still details worth noting.”
He pointed at one passage. “Look here. It mentions that Hidden Sword Sect possesses a secret technique capable of clouding a person’s mind, making it highly effective for assassinations. Outsiders don’t know its name, but because the practitioner’s pupils turn blood-red when using it, they call it ‘Ghost Eyes.’”
“Blood-red pupils… Ghost Eyes…” Wei Ying murmured, then suddenly brightened. “I remember now! The Crown Prince mentioned that the assassin who attacked him had eerily red eyes! Could it be related to this Hidden Sword technique?”
Shen Qi nodded. “Highly likely.”
Wei Ying stood up. “If the trail leads to Hidden Sword Sect, no matter how deep they hide, we’ll dig them out!”
“No rush.” Shen Qi gestured for him to sit back down. “There’s still another clue.”
“The silver-ringed snake that bit the Crown Prince? Lord, to be honest, that’s going to be difficult to trace. The snake isn’t native to the capital, but it’s common across the central plains—in Southern Zhili, Huguang, Jiangxi, Fujian… If we try to track its origin, it’d be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”
Shen Qi knew it wouldn’t be easy.
A single snake—no matter how strict the lockdown on the capital, no matter how many gates were sealed or houses searched—it would never be found that way.
“We can’t rule out that the snake was raised by the Hidden Sword Sect for assassinations. Why don’t we strike directly and wipe them out?” Wei Ying suggested.
Shen Qi pondered for a moment before replying slowly, “I have a feeling there’s more to this snake. The Hidden Sword Sect is certainly skilled in assassination, but they also pride themselves on swordsmanship. Even after a century of decline, they remain proud of their sword arts. Poisoning blades is plausible, but breeding venomous creatures for murder doesn’t fit their style.”
Wei Ying frowned. “If someone else is behind the snake, then is the Hidden Sword Sect working with them, or under their orders? What’s the connection? And what’s the ultimate goal?”
“All of this is speculation. We need proof.” Shen Qi tapped the intelligence report with his finger. “We can’t alert the enemy. But we can lure them out.”
“How?”
“The best bait is, of course, the Crown Prince. The mastermind tried to kill him and failed. They won’t give up. If we use him as bait, our chances of success are highest.”
Wei Ying’s face went pale. “Sir… that’s the Crown Prince! The heir to the throne! How could we possibly—”
Shen Qi smirked. “I know it’s impossible. I’m just saying, that would be the best way.”
Wei Ying let out a breath of relief. He knew his superior’s temperament—if he went mad, he might drag both Wei Ying and the entire Northern Surveillance Bureau into the mess.
But on second thought, Shen Qilang rarely lost his mind; most of the time, he was shrewd and calculating. And even if he chose an extreme tactic, he would always first ensure his own safety. Wei Ying had watched Shen Qi for years and knew very well the lengths this man could go to survive and rise in rank—how ruthless, resilient, and relentless he truly was.
“What do you plan to do, sir?” Wei Ying asked with trust.
Shen Qi said, “If we can’t go for the best outcome, then I’ll settle for the next best—I’ll be the bait.”
“Sir—”
“Yes. I’m in charge of this case. We just need to spread word that I, Shen Qi, have traced things back to the Hidden Sword Sect, and I intend to wipe them out completely. Not only that, I plan to uncover every single accomplice who profited from the scheme—and I already have some leads in hand. Hearing that, they won’t be able to sit still. The simplest and most effective way for them to get out of this mess is to kill me, then destroy all case-related information and files, leaving no way for whoever takes over to investigate further.”
Wei Ying had always known Lord Shen was devious and ruthless, but to turn that ruthlessness onto himself? That was a level few could endure.
He wanted to dissuade Shen Qi from risking himself, but he also knew—once Shen Qi said something out loud, it meant the decision was already made. No one could shake it.
Wei Ying sighed. “Sometimes I really can’t tell whether you value your life or treat it lightly.”
Shen Qi sneered. “Of course I value my life. It’s just that when you’re used to walking on the edge of a cliff, even if you’re offered a flat road, you still aim straight for the fastest, sharpest route. This case is serious, and the higher-ups are pressing hard. If I don’t show some real strength, how will they ever recognize my capabilities?”
Wei Ying could only nod. “If you must be the bait, at least prepare an ambush. I’ll go call Qianhu Shi so we can plan this together…”
—
Ten days later, it was the fifteenth of August—Mid-Autumn Festival.
The jade dew cleansed the autumn sky. A full moon cast its silvery light simultaneously over the capital and Qingshui Camp in Lingzhou.
The same bright lanterns lit the night, the same toasts and revelry.
In a temporary residence within Qingshui Camp, Su Yan finished a round of drinks with fellow Embroidered Uniform Guard officers at his table. Tipsy, he excused himself and returned to his quarters. In the dark shadows of the trees behind him, a pair of crimson eyes stared at him with feverish hunger and desire.
Late at night in Wangxian Tower in the capital, Shen Qi brushed off a courtesan who had come to steady him and stumbled out the main doors, climbing onto his horse with bleary eyes, trying to recognize the road home.
He squinted, pointing with his riding whip in different directions, finally settling on one path and hiccupping drunkenly, “…This way!”
Two of his subordinates followed worriedly, wanting to escort him home.
Shen Qi slurred, “No… no need… Go, all of you go! I can get… home… myself!”
He lashed the horse’s flank hard with the whip. Startled, the horse bolted forward dozens of yards in an instant. Shen Qi, head down, wrestled with reins that seemed to multiply into shadows. As for the voices calling after him, they were long lost to the rushing wind.
Luckily, the good steed knew the way and galloped through alleys on its own, needing no help from its drunk rider.
Halfway through the ride, Shen Qi suddenly yanked the reins, leapt off the saddle, and stumbled to a willow tree by the roadside—where he promptly doubled over and vomited.
The ground was a mess, sour air wafting. A nearby night watchman pinched his nose and hurried by. Aside from him, there were no other pedestrians in sight.
Beyond the weeping willow was a small river, it’s dark surface reflecting distant lights. On the other side, a stone path hugged a pink-plastered wall. The academy inside had given holiday leave to teachers and students alike; even the night watchman had gone home to celebrate. The courtyard behind the wall was pitch dark and silent.
After vomiting twice more, Shen Qi’s stomach finally calmed a little. He left the tree and staggered toward the riverbank, squatting down to scoop water into his hands to rinse his mouth and face.
The icy water seemed to clear his head slightly. He wiped the water from his face and was about to return to his horse—
When a flash of swordlight, swift and serpentine, shot up from the depths of the water—aimed straight at his face.
The sword strike was lightning-fast and vicious. Shen Qi barely managed to throw his head back, narrowly dodging a fatal blow.
At the same time, a black shadow burst forth from the splashing water.
The sword glinted like a shooting star, like a bolt of lightning. Shen Qi, his limbs heavy with drunkenness, couldn’t even draw his blade properly. He could only tumble sideways to evade the lethal arc of the sword.
Rolling, staggering, lunging forward, lurching back—every strike he dodged was clumsy and close, as if death was one breath away. And yet, by sheer luck or instinct, he slipped past each blade by a hair.
The attacks came faster. His robes were torn in several places. Gritting his teeth, Shen Qi leapt onto the top of the courtyard wall and tumbled unsteadily into the courtyard beyond.
The figure in black moved as one with their sword light, chasing after Shen Qi’s back, aiming for a fatal strike.
In midair, Shen Qi twisted his waist sharply, flicking out a wrought iron chain hidden in his sleeve. The chain coiled around the sword’s edge in tight loops, binding not only the blade but also the attacker’s arm.
Sensing something was amiss, the black-clad figure abruptly lifted his hooded face, revealing a pair of ghostly, crimson eyes that locked directly onto Shen Qi.
A chill ran through Shen Qi’s heart. He turned his face away just in time, avoiding direct eye contact, while his hands moved without pause, fastening the lock at the end of the chain securely around the opponent’s wrist.
The iron chain twisted further, crossing behind his back. With a pull and a snap, it sealed off the internal energy flow in the attacker’s meridians. Even if he had wings, he wouldn’t be able to escape now. This was a specialized restraint used by law enforcers to capture martial artists.
Shen Qi maneuvered behind the black-clad figure, snapping on a second lock and pressing him to the ground.
Just then, the black hood fell away, revealing a masked face. The crimson eyes burned like whirlpools of blood, threatening to devour souls and pull minds into an abyss—
At the very last moment before his consciousness blurred, Shen Qi realized the truth: the man did not have two faces, one in front and one behind. The face at the front had actually been a mask worn on the back of his head.
This assassin had mastered some kind of extreme flexibility technique, twisting his joints like a snake. The moment he realized he had been tricked, he twisted his head almost entirely backward, using the mask at the back of his head as a visual decoy—all to force Shen Qi into making eye contact with his blood-red gaze.
The Hidden Sword Sect had lived up to its centuries-old legacy. Not only were their movements swift and elusive, their swordplay as fast as lightning, but even their trickery was nearly impossible to guard against.
As the illusion of confusion overtook him, Shen Qi vaguely heard sharp cries and the clash of steel, surging toward him from all directions, swallowing him whole.
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