The long night neared its end. The sky shifted from inky blue to indigo, then to the pale belly of dawn.
Jinghong Zhui had suffered seven or eight wounds—none fatal, only flesh-deep. Fuyin, on the other hand, had taken a sword to the left lung. His coughs gurgled with blood—he was clearly spent.
His eyes, bloodshot and wild, threatened to burst. He forced his qi to circulate, blocking his wounds. He raised his flute to play Bewitching Sound one more time—
—only to have Jinghong Zhui pierce his dantian with a single thrust.
Fuyin screamed, both from pain and despair. Coughing blood, he rasped: “You’ve crippled my cultivation but won’t kill me—hoping to torture the truth out of me? I won’t give you the satisfaction…”
Jinghong Zhui retracted his sword tip and reached out to press a few acupoints on Fuyin to stop the bleeding. “This isn’t up to you. How you’ll be dealt with is for the Lord to decide.”
“…You want to know about the Camp Master?” Fuyin’s gaze was unfocused, but suddenly, a smile twisted his face—cruel, satisfied, and tragic all at once. “Fine. Ask him yourself.”
A sharp chill crawled up Jinghong Zhui’s spine to the back of his neck. A sense of danger like none he had ever felt before—right behind him!
He grabbed Fuyin by the collar and leapt forward without hesitation, but a tall figure was already blocking his path.
The person was shrouded in a hooded red robe, every inch of their body covered. Black leather gloves wrapped their hands, and a bronze mask hid their brow and eyes. The lower half of their face was veiled with fine black metal mesh, only the subtle movement of their lips visible as they spoke.
“Subject Number Twenty-Three of the ‘Heaven’ Rank,” the figure rasped, voice rough like grinding sand, gender indiscernible. “Traitors to the camp must die.”
Jinghong Zhui’s sword aura surged, bracing for battle. The blade, patterned with a web of black-and-white star clouds, trembled at high speed, letting out a low, humming resonance.
Under pressure, the sword sang a fierce, unyielding song. No retreat, no surrender—this was his sword intent.
—
Elsewhere
A wine cup slipped from between Su Yan’s fingers and shattered on the floor, dark red wine splashing his hem like fresh blood.
He froze slightly and murmured, “I just had a sudden palpitation… Forgive me, Your Majesty.”
A quick-witted palace eunuch rushed over to clean up, murmuring, “Broken things bring peace.”
The Emperor stood and touched Su Yan’s forehead, then ordered the imperial physician Wang Chunfu to take his pulse.
“I just slipped—nothing serious, really…” Su Yan tried to decline but was nonetheless subjected to a thorough examination.
Physician Wang respectfully reported: “Lord Su is suffering from qi disruption due to cranial concussion. The brain is the residence of the soul—when clarity is blocked, it causes dizziness; when qi stagnates, it causes headaches. When the spirit is oppressed, it brings confusion and memory loss; when stomach qi is disturbed, it leads to nausea and vomiting…”
Normally, the Emperor disliked summoning doctors during his own headaches and detested Wang’s long-windedness. But this time, he listened intently and asked, “If he has all these symptoms, how should he be treated?”
Physician Wang, rarely given such an opportunity, elaborated at length before concluding: “From his pulse, I determine that Lord Su’s condition is no longer serious. A few weeks of bed rest and he’ll be fully recovered.”
The Emperor’s expression softened considerably.
Su Yan muttered under his breath, “I told you—it’s just a mild concussion. It’ll heal on its own.”
“The physician told you to rest in bed. You’d better obey. I’m granting you half a month’s medical leave—you are not to attend court tomorrow.”
After rinsing his mouth and washing his hands, the Emperor rose. “Rest well. I won’t disturb you further. No need to see me off.”
Of course, Su Yan wouldn’t really not see him off. At the very least, he had to go through the motions. He took a cloak from the eunuch, draped it over the Emperor’s shoulders, then stepped back and bowed.
But the Emperor didn’t move, gazing at him. “…That’s it?”
Su Yan blinked. “Huh?”
“You haven’t tied the sash.”
Su Yan suddenly remembered the time in Yangxin Hall, when both his hands were smeared with burn ointment but was still expected to help the Emperor dress. He couldn’t tie the sash then, so was ordered to do it with his mouth… The memory flushed his face red, heat blooming from ear to cheek.
The Emperor, clearly amused, chuckled, “Use your hands.”
Relieved, Su Yan stepped forward and tied a neat butterfly knot at the collar. Tilting his head, he appraised his work—it looked oddly cute. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“Your Majesty heading back to the palace?”
The Emperor, basking in the warm breath so close to him, closed his eyes as if intoxicated. He almost reached out to stroke Su Yan’s reddened cheek, but instead tugged at the ribbon absentmindedly and replied, “I heard Yu Wang was injured last night. Since I’m already out, I’ll stop by and check on him.”
After the imperial entourage departed, Su Yan turned to ask Xiaojing, “Do we have any blood-tonic ingredients like donkey-hide gelatin?”
Xiaojing thought for a moment. “I think we have some powdered gelatin with deer antler. It was a New Year gift from one of your colleagues.”
Su Yan told him to package it nicely and send it to Yu Wang’s residence as thanks for his assistance last night.
Xiaojing found it and noticed a recipe inside: gelatin, deer antler, cuttlefish bone, angelica, cattail pollen—take with wine, three spoons daily, again at night. Treats persistent menstrual bleeding in women.
He couldn’t read well, so he stumbled through it, then said, “The medicine’s good, but it seems… off. Something about stopping endless bleeding in some person…”
Su Yan took a look. Oh. It was a remedy for anemia caused by heavy periods.
“Well, it’s still a blood tonic. As long as it works.” He chuckled, waved it off, and told Xiaojing to wrap it nicely and bury the prescription at the bottom. “Include my name card and deliver it to Yu Wang tomorrow.”
As Xiaojing and Xiao Bei cleaned the flower hall and kitchen, Su Yan paced under the bare old peach tree in the courtyard, sipping a pot of digestion tea.
He thought: Why hasn’t Ah Zhui come back yet?
—
Meanwhile, in the eastern market district
At the edge of the street, a dim lantern swayed above a wonton stall. Its firelight flickered, nearly extinguished, then reignited like embers stirred by wind.
The stall owner’s plain, wooden expression took on a strange air under the shifting light.
He said lightly, “I never thought Feng Que would choose the man who sent him to the underworld to be his successor.”
Shen Qi countered, “You’re with Ning Wang, aren’t you?”
The vendor replied, “And now so are you. From the moment you came looking for me.”
“A low-born, illegitimate prince stationed far away in Henan—what right does he have to stir chaos in the capital? Does he want to follow in Xin Wang’s footsteps and taste that poisoned wine from His Majesty?”
“Xin Wang may have failed, but he died for a cause. His death won’t be in vain. The buried secrets of Zhu Jintang will one day come to light. Then everyone will know who truly bears the late Emperor’s bloodline—who the rightful dragon-born ruler is.”
Shen Qi laughed. “You think I care about that? The thief of a hook is punished, the thief of a nation becomes a lord. No matter who sits on the dragon throne—so long as they give me what I want—I’ll be their blade and do their bidding.”
The vendor laughed too. “That’s exactly what Wangye admires most about you. To be honest, ever since you sold out Feng Que to Emperor Jinglong in exchange for your own life and a meteoric rise, Wangye has had his eye on you. He said: ‘This Shen Qi—ruthless, clever, and capable of great endurance—is a rare talent indeed.’”
Shen Qi sneered. “You said it yourself—I’ve risen swiftly, the Emperor’s favor is strong. The Northern Bureau is in my hands, and the Embroidered Guard will be mine soon. Am I mad, or just stupid, to follow in Feng Que’s footsteps and throw my life away for nothing?”
“If you were truly in deep favor,” the vendor cut in sharply, “the post of Commandant of the Embroidered Guard wouldn’t still be vacant. Since the founding of the state, no leader of the Guard has ever been anyone but the Emperor’s closest confidant. And none of them died for any reason but the Emperor’s lost trust. If he guards you so tightly even now when he still needs you, imagine how quickly he’ll throw away a blade that’s too sharp when the time comes.”
“But as of now, I’m still the Tongzhi of the Embroidered Guard.” Shen Qi’s face stayed still, but his gaze turned even colder. “What can Ning Wang possibly offer me?”
“That depends on the merit you can earn. The commandant’s seal, Marshal of the Five Armies, Minister of War… If the credit is great enough, even titles of Count or Marquis—why not?”
Shen Qi gave no reply.
The vendor leaned forward, deliberately lowering his voice. “And then there’s tonight—the man Emperor Jinglong visited while in disguise.”
Shen Qi’s expression shifted slightly. His right hand moved to the hilt of his xiuchun blade.
The vendor quickly concealed his gloating, casting Shen Qi a nearly sympathetic look. “If I’m not mistaken, half the reason you took down Feng Que… was for him. So this isn’t just breaking up a pair of lovebirds—it’s seizing love with a blade.”
Shen Qi drew his sword, cold light flashing, slashing directly toward the man’s neck.
The vendor raised the bamboo chopstick holder to block it. “In terms of martial skill, I’m no match for Lord Shen. But if you truly want to kill me—I’m just a nobody. It’s the road behind me, Lord Shen, that’s your path to power!”
The blade froze at his neck. Shen Qi said sternly, “Don’t watch him. Don’t alarm him. And don’t even think about touching him. Or I’ll have your head—Emperor or not, I’ll take it.”
The killing aura pierced to the bone. The vendor’s back was soaked in cold sweat, though his face remained calm. “Of course not. His Highness cherishes talent—be it Lord Shen or Lord Su, both are people he values highly and seeks to employ. If Lord Shen can persuade Lord Su, that too would be a great achievement.”
“He has nothing to do with this!” Shen Qi cut him off coldly.
The vendor slowly stepped back from the blade and stood up. “Since Lord Shen dislikes the topic, we’ll speak no more of it. But Wangye has grand ambitions. Perhaps someday, Lord Su will come to my humble stall of his own accord, asking for ‘a bowl of pork wontons without stuffing.’”
Shen Qi pondered briefly, then sheathed his sword. “I’ll come find you when I’ve made up my mind.”
The vendor, now confident in his grasp of the situation, smiled. “Then I’ll await Lord Shen’s return.”
Shen Qi tossed a handful of copper coins onto the table and turned to leave.
The vendor picked up the coins, blew on them, shook them beside his ear to check the sound, then slowly pocketed them one by one. His expression dulled, and once more he became that slow-minded wonton seller.
After walking a dozen steps, Shen Qi suddenly turned and looked toward a corner. By the dim lantern light, he caught a fleeting glimpse of a figure.
That spot offered a clear view of the entire stall. And that glimpse—it looked… familiar.
He strained to recall when a voice from above whispered, “Lord? Lord Tongzhi?”
Shen Qi looked up and saw Gao Shuo peeking down from a rooftop. His expression changed. “Something irregular happened?”
“No, no,” Gao Shuo said quickly. “I came to report that the imperial carriage just left the Su residence!”
Shen Qi made a hush gesture. The two of them left East Market quietly, and only once they entered a deserted courtyard used by the Embroidered Guard’s covert agents did they speak again.
“Where did His Majesty go?”
“I haven’t tracked that down yet. But judging by the direction… it didn’t look like he was heading back to the palace.”
Shen Qi thought for a moment. “Do you remember Chu Yuan?”
“Of course. We traveled together through Shaanxi for over half a year. I even know how many moles he has on his back and how many hairs grow from each.”
“Did he accompany the Emperor today?”
Gao Shuo thought. “He was with the imperial guards when the Emperor arrived at the Su residence.”
“And when they left?”
“Let me think… One moment… I didn’t see him. Yeah, that’s right. I didn’t. He stood very close to the Emperor, but I didn’t see him when they departed. Where did that charcoal-head go? I didn’t see him leave on his own either.”
Shen Qi pondered the events of the night and slowly revealed a cold smile. “Chu Yuan was the one tailing me. I wonder what he’ll report—and how much His Majesty already knows…”
“Report? Know what?” Gao Shuo began to panic. “Lord, weren’t you just eating wontons? What else were you doing?”
Shen Qi raised a hand to silence him. After a moment of weighing, he made up his mind. “No matter what Chu Yuan reports, I won’t be able to talk my way out. A plan revealed before execution is doomed to fail. Right now, the only way is to strike first.”
“Str-strike first… strike who…” Gao Shuo stammered, nearly unable to speak.
Shen Qi glanced sideways at him. “The Emperor, of course.”
Gao Shuo’s scalp tingled and knees buckled—he nearly collapsed.
Shen Qi prodded his ribs with the sheath of his blade, half-smiling. “What are you thinking? I’m going to the palace—to report to His Majesty in person.”
It was as if Gao Shuo’s soul had wandered to the gates of death and just made it back. Wiping cold sweat from his forehead, he grumbled, “Lord, you nearly scared me to death!”
Shen Qi was lost in his own thoughts.
Gao Shuo looked at his superior’s cold and handsome profile in the night and suddenly realized that even after following him for so many years, he still couldn’t guess what the man was truly thinking.
Probably because our esteemed Lord Tongzhi has always been two-faced… No, that sounds bad, even if it’s not wrong…
Scheming to the end… hmm, not quite right either.
Skilled in calculation—that’s it. So then… what exactly is he going to report in person?
Gao Shuo was full of doubts when he suddenly heard Shen Qi sigh, “What a pity, such an opportunity can only be used as a stepping stone.”
Even more pitiful was that, with the Emperor’s suspicion and guardedness toward him, that stepping stone could only save his life, not win him any real gains. Shen Qi thought with regret. As for Ning Wang—only if he could get through tonight would he be truly qualified to compete.
