“… My lord! Wake up, Lord Tongzhi!”
“Lord Shen, let go!”
The fog in his mind cleared, and the world around him gradually came into focus. Several anxious male faces swam into his vision. Instinctively, Shen Qi raised his arms to block them—only to realize that his subordinates were gripping him tightly, some holding his wrists, others seizing his waist, still others prying at the hilt of his sword.
His embroidered Springblade was pressed against his own chest, the tip having already sliced through his robes, leaving a shallow gash. Blood seeped through the fabric.
He had nearly stepped off a cliff—just a little more force, and the blade would have sunk into his heart.
“I’m fine now.” Shen Qi signaled for them to release him, sheathed his sword, and glanced at the bound assassin on the ground. The man, dressed in black, was trussed up and pinned beneath a Embroidered Uniform Guard’s boot. His face was forced into the dirt, his mouth stuffed with cloth, but he still struggled fiercely, letting out muffled grunts.
Wei Ying wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. “That was terrifying. Just as you subdued this assassin, you suddenly froze like you were possessed. Then, out of nowhere, you turned the blade on yourself… If you hadn’t snapped out of it at the last second, even if we’d rushed in immediately, we might not have stopped you in time.”
Shen Qi pressed his fingers against his temples, forcing himself to completely shake off the lingering illusion.
A lifetime within a hallucination—yet in reality, it had been only a fleeting moment.
But it hadn’t all been illusion. His time in the Shen household, his mother, his younger sister—those were real.
As for his so-called younger brother, Little Nine…
There had never been a Little Nine. Yao Shi only had one biological daughter.
“Shen Yan” had never existed. He was merely Su Yan, twisted into a younger brother by Shen Qi’s inner demons, a manifestation of all his unfulfilled longing.
Hatred, greed, obsession, delusion, resentment—any of these could give birth to a heart demon.
And what was his?
It wasn’t just the thorn-covered path he had walked—it was that one fateful vow:
“From now on, you and I are brothers bound by life and death.”
Shen Qi lowered his face into his palms, a bitter laugh ringing in his heart: Ha! Even if we truly were blood brothers, so what? Would that have stopped me? Would that have held me back? No one can take Su Qinghe from me—not imperial power, not dark sorcery, not anything.
He wiped away all traces of emotion, lowered his hands, and said, “I was careless for a moment and almost fell for their trick. This ‘Ghost Eye’ technique of the Hidden Sword Sect is truly formidable—it drags a person’s mind into an illusion, blurring the line between dream and reality. If one fails to distinguish between the two, they become lost and perish. You must all be extremely cautious if you encounter it.”
Everyone shuddered at the warning and immediately blindfolded the captured assassin with layer upon layer of cloth, securing it tightly.
Their plan had succeeded. Laying the trap, waiting patiently, using himself as bait—it had all paid off. They had caught the key figure.
The blood-eyed assassin.
Even if this wasn’t the same one who attempted to assassinate the Crown Prince, he was still a critical lead.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard dragged the captive back to the Northern Surveillance Bureau, locking him in the most secure cell of the imperial prison under strict guard.
After drinking strong honey water to sober up, Shen Qi, along with the Shi Yanshuang, entered the prison to interrogate him.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard had always believed that no one who fell into their hands—no matter how steadfast—could avoid being broken.
Some men might not fear death, but no one could endure endless torment, lingering in a state between life and death.
Except for one kind of person—
—
“He’s gone mad?”
Lan Xi, who had come to check on the case’s progress, was in utter disbelief.
His nearly invisible eyebrows arched slightly, his expression hovering between doubt and displeasure. “Shen Tongzhi, we all know you’re capable. You’ve handled several major cases without disappointing His Majesty. But the Crown Prince’s near assassination is a matter of great importance—His Majesty is personally overseeing this case. And now, this is the absurd answer you’re giving me? How am I supposed to report this to the Emperor?”
Shen Qi’s face remained serious, his tone sincere. “This is not an answer to the case—it is simply the truth. Lan Gonggong, you’ve seen the files on how we captured this assassin. As soon as he fell into our hands, he used the Hidden Sword Sect’s ‘Nightmare Enchantment’—what the martial world calls ‘Ghost Eyes’—and immediately lost his mind. He has been completely deranged ever since.”
Lan Xi pressed further: “Is he truly mad, or is he only pretending?”
“A man who drinks his own blood, eats his own flesh, and remains utterly indifferent while being violated by dogs—I cannot think of any condition other than genuine madness.” Shen Qi’s expression was eerily calm, as if discussing something utterly mundane.
Lan Xi sucked in a sharp breath, covering up the shiver that ran down his spine. His voice, normally sharp, dropped to a whisper: “If that’s the case, I will report it as is. Shen Tongzhi, just make sure he doesn’t die—His Majesty values this case highly and may wish to see the prisoner personally.”
Shen Qi nodded. “Rest assured, Gonggong. This humble official understands and will handle the matter cleanly, ensuring that nothing offends His Majesty’s sight.”
Lan Xi returned to the palace to report.
Shi Yanshuang said to Shen Qi, “My lord, I fear His Majesty may blame us for failing to investigate thoroughly.”
Shen Qi replied, “This black-clad assassin is a death warrior, an abandoned pawn. His Majesty is well aware of this. If he wishes to pursue the forces behind this, he will still need us to act. We are the sharpest blade in His Majesty’s hand—as long as we do not cut our master, we will not be easily discarded. Do not worry.”
Shi Yanshuang nodded, then muttered, “What kind of demonic sorcery is this ‘Nightmare Enchantment’? If it fails to mesmerize the enemy, does it end up driving the user mad instead?”
“Perhaps it’s a backlash of internal energy, or maybe more than that. I had a skilled martial artist and physician examine him. His meridians are reversed, and the chaotic flow of his energy impacted his brain, leading to delirium, mania, and insanity—much like Qi deviation.”
“If it truly is Qi deviation, a mild case might be reversible, but if severe… he could remain insane until death. A pity, after all the risk you took to lure in such a big catch, only for the lead to be cut off.”
“It is indeed regrettable. But such is the nature of investigations—when it seems like a dead end, another path may suddenly appear. As long as you use this—” Shen Qi tapped Shi Yanshuang’s forehead, then lightly kicked his calf, “—and this, a new breakthrough will come.”
Shi Yanshuang chuckled. “No case you take on ever remains unsolved, my lord. I have faith.”
That included the “cases” Shen Qilang orchestrated—ones that always managed to align perfectly with political needs and benefited both the emperor’s loyal subjects and themselves. Such was the Embroidered Uniform Guard, such was the Northern Surveillance Bureau, was it not?
The next afternoon, an imperial decree arrived. As expected, Emperor Jinglong wished to see the so-called “mad” assassin for himself.
The Imperial Edict Prison was too dark and filthy for the Son of Heaven to set foot in, so he chose to visit the public hall of the Northern Surveillance Bureau instead, ordering the prisoner to be brought outside into the courtyard.
The Imperial Guard surrounded the entire office, sealing it like an iron barrel. Between the emperor, seated in the main hall, and the front courtyard, stood hundreds of Embroidered Uniform Guard forming a human barrier.
Not only had the emperor come in person, but the crown prince, Zhu Helin—bored from his so-called “recovery” in the Eastern Palace—had tagged along. Emperor Jinglong was dressed in a golden robe embroidered with four coiling dragons, with additional sun and moon patterns on his shoulders, exuding majesty. Beside him, Crown Prince Zhu Helin wore a fitted orange-red military robe, overlaid with an autumn-yellow brocade cuirass, his waist bound with a narrow belt. He sat with youthful vigor beside his Royal Father.
Shen Qi saluted and then stood at the side with hands respectfully clasped.
The bound assassin was dragged into the courtyard, forced to kneel, and his mouth restraint removed. As a precaution, the blindfold covering his eyes remained.
The assassin was a young man, lean but wiry, his body wrapped in prison garb. His wounds had been treated and bandaged beforehand, and he had been given a bowl of strong ginseng soup to keep him alert. Thus, despite his condition, he did not appear too weak.
He knelt blankly in the center of the courtyard. Deprived of sight, he strained his ears to catch any sounds.
After a long look, Emperor Jinglong asked Shen Qi, “You say this man has gone mad?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. He is truly insane,” Shen Qi replied.
Zhu Helin stood abruptly. “I will go see for myself whether he is the one who attacked me that night.”
“Your Highness, it is too dangerous!” “A nobleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall—please reconsider!” His attendants, Fu Bao and Cheng Sheng, hurriedly tried to dissuade him.
Zhu Helin waved them off. “He’s trussed up like a rice dumpling—what’s he going to do, bite me? Besides, do you take me for a weakling?” He turned to his Royal Father and said, “Royal Father, I will confirm his identity.”
The emperor, seeming to appreciate his courage, nodded slightly.
The Embroidered Uniform Guard standing on the steps parted, creating a path. As Zhu Helin descended, he smoothly drew a Xiuchun blade. He was not nervous at all—if anything, he felt a faint thrill.
Stepping steadily to the prisoner, he examined the man’s face and hands, then suddenly raised the blade and sliced through the blindfold.
His abrupt action sent a jolt of tension through the surrounding Embroidered Uniform Guard. Shi Yanshuang and the others immediately warned, “Your Highness, be careful! Do not meet his blood-red eyes—you might fall under his enchantment!”
Zhu Helin replied, “All techniques require internal energy to function. If he is truly mad, his strength and Qi should be either exhausted or in disarray. How could he possibly cast an illusion?”
The torn blindfold drifted to the ground, revealing the assassin’s face. He was in his twenties, his features plain and unremarkable, his irises a murky red, like dull glass beads. Compared to the sharp and eerie glow his eyes had radiated during the assassination, they were now lifeless, his very spirit extinguished.
Zhu Helin carefully inspected him, then nodded decisively. “He is the one who attacked me that night.”
The assassin stared at him vacantly, then suddenly stood up, laughing madly. “Ha! Hahaha! It’s him, it’s him!”
Zhu Helin demanded, “Who are you? Who sent you? Why did you try to kill me?”
The assassin babbled, “He ran away! Hahaha! Take the medicine… Obey… Die… Don’t die…”
The last few words were garbled nonsense, barely human speech.
Zhu Helin pressed the blade against the assassin’s throat, drawing blood. The man lowered his head, licked the edge of the blade, slicing his own tongue, his mouth filling with blood, which he swallowed audibly.
“Lunatic,” Shi Yanshuang muttered. “How dare you disrespect His Highness?”
Zhu Helin wiped his blade clean on the assassin’s prison robes, then turned to return the Xiuchun blade to its owner.
“Thank you, Your Highness!” The Embroidered Uniform Guard, honored that his weapon had been wielded by the crown prince, expressed his gratitude loudly.
Suddenly, the assassin lifted his bloodstained face, opened his mouth, and shouted:
“—Beat the young master!”
Everyone froze, staring at the scene in shock.
The assassin’s throat gurgled as he swallowed more blood, all the while laughing wildly, chanting, “Beat the young master! Beat the young master! Hahahaha, Beat the young master…”
A cold wind swept through the courtyard, sending phoenix tree leaves swirling. The autumn air carried a chilling, murderous stillness.
The mad assassin’s eerie laughter echoed through the air, blending with his incessant, nonsensical cries of “Beat the young master!” The absurdity of it sent an unshakable chill creeping up everyone’s spine.
Zhu Helin walked back to his Royal Father without looking back.
Emperor Jinglong, his expression calm, asked him, “Are you afraid?”
Zhu Helin shook his head. The youthful arrogance and recklessness he once had seemed to fade away, like summer flowers withering under autumn frost. “What is meant to come will come. Only by preparing for every possibility can we handle unforeseen dangers.”
The emperor’s eyes revealed satisfaction as he nodded. “Sit by my side.”
Placing his hand on the crown prince’s shoulder, the emperor issued an order: “Eradicate the Hidden Sword Sect, wipe out every last remnant. Anyone closely associated with them—whether from noble families, the imperial court, or the jianghu—shall not be spared!”
He then instructed Shen Qi, “Continue investigating. Dig out the mastermind. I want to see exactly who dares to target my son.”
With that, the emperor and crown prince returned to the palace.
The mad assassin was still raving in the courtyard, but the Embroidered Uniform Guard dragged him back to the imperial prison. Shen Qi ordered the jailers to treat his wounds, provide him with food and warm clothing—keeping him alive, as he might still be of use.
However, no one expected that three days later, the assassin would die.
In the middle of the night, he had chewed off all ten of his own fingers, bled out, and perished.
Shen Qi personally examined the body and carefully searched the prisoner’s cell. Eventually, he found several dried bloodstains on the stone wall near the ground, just behind the bedding.
The stains were left by a fingertip dipped in blood.
Each mark resembled a small, narrow petal.
There were eight in total, fanned out in a semi-circle.
A blood lotus with eight petals.
Shen Qi stared at the tiny blood lotus for a long time before making a rubbing of it onto paper. Then, he scraped the stone wall clean with a knife.
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