Early dawn had barely broken when the iron hooves of the Beijun army trampled into Yancheng, blockading the entire city with terrifying efficiency.
The streets, usually bustling with early vendors and townsfolk, were now filled with armored soldiers moving swiftly in tight formations. Their presence cast a shadow over the city like a looming storm cloud.
Startled by the military movement, the common people panicked. Fear etched into their faces, they abandoned their errands and fled to the safety of their homes, bolting their doors and windows tight. Whispers filled the air, spreading unease like wildfire [T|N:like in LA].
At the same time, the county magistrate's mansion was surrounded by heavily armed soldiers. Their discipline and numbers made it clear—they weren't here for to talk.
Inside the mansion, County Magistrate Li Rui was still in bed when his wife burst into the room, breathless and pale with anxiety.
"Master! Something terrible has happened!" Her voice trembled.
Groggy, Li Rui sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Dear, what's going on?" he asked, still half-asleep.
She clutched his arm. "Soldiers! A whole squad has arrived at the gate. They said… they said they're going to search the mansion!"
His heart skipped a beat. The sleep vanished from his eyes in an instant.
"What? Why would they search our mansion?" he exclaimed, jumping off the bed, not even pausing to fully dress himself.
He was already thinking the worst—had the Northern King finally decided to purge him?
But he quickly calmed his thoughts. No, he reassured himself. He had already handed over all military power and had been working diligently under the Northern King's banner. Why would the prince move against someone loyal?
After all, without his cooperation, it would be far harder for the prince to manage the intricate political web of Beijun. He was useful—too useful to discard.
Still, the sense of danger gnawed at him like termites.
Moments later, Li Rui stormed through the corridors and emerged at the front gate of his residence, his hair disheveled and robe hanging loosely.
To his relief, the leader of the squad was someone he recognized—Captain Wu Hong, a familiar face from the city patrol.
Suppressing his nerves, Li Rui called out, "Captain Wu, what's the meaning of this?"
Wu Hong cupped his hands politely and replied, "Lord Li, forgive our intrusion. Last night, assassins from the Blood Moon Tower infiltrated the palace. The prince was targeted, but fortunately survived. Several assassins escaped the encirclement. We've been ordered to search the city thoroughly. No household is exempt—not even the county magistrate's."
Li Rui's expression changed drastically. "The prince was attacked? Is he injured?"
Wu Hong shook his head. "The prince is safe, Lord Li. Thanks to a mysterious master who intervened at the last moment, the assassins failed. His Highness was only frightened, not harmed."
Only then did Li Rui exhale, the weight on his chest lightening slightly. If the Northern King had died last night… even I wouldn't have escaped suspicion, he thought grimly.
He stepped aside and gestured. "Very well, proceed with the search."
"Many thanks, Lord Li." Wu Hong nodded courteously, then led his men inside for a swift inspection. They were thorough, but respectful. After a brief search, they left and moved on to the next household.
But the seed of chaos had already been planted.
News of the assassination attempt on the Northern King spread like wildfire across Yancheng.
Everyone was talking about it—the Blood Moon Tower's failed plot, the mysterious expert who saved the prince, and the chaotic night that turned the city into a fortress.
Even though the Northern King was widely known as a figurehead prince with no real power, he was still a royal. An assassination attempt on a prince—regardless of his stature—was no trivial matter.
And soon, the news reached the capital.
…
At the residence of the Eighth Prince, chaos brewed.
Lu Shuyun stood in his study, hands trembling as he held the letter delivered by Wang Qingci's carrier pigeon. His expression twisted in rage as he scanned the contents.
Then—Crash!
With one furious sweep, he flung everything from the desk to the floor. Porcelain shattered. Books scattered. He overturned the heavy wooden table next, sending ink pots and scrolls flying across the room.
The deafening sounds of destruction filled the air as he continued his rampage, smashing everything within arm's reach.
"Trash! Useless trash!" he roared, his voice hoarse with fury.
"Six ninth-rank warriors and a half-step grandmaster… and they couldn't even kill one good-for-nothing prince?!"
"What the hell is the use of having you!"
His voice echoed like thunder through the residence.
Outside the study, the maids and servants cowered, their faces pale. No one dared enter. Inside, the few who had remained stood stiffly against the wall, trembling, not daring to even breathe too loudly.
Lu Shuyun's blood boiled.
He had been so sure. With the Misty Rain Pavilion and the Blood Moon Tower working together, success was all but guaranteed. Even if that mysterious guardian remained in the Northern Palace, a half-step grandmaster should've been enough to hold them off. The others would have had ample time to finish Lu Chen.
But reality had mocked him.
Not only had the Blood Moon Tower failed, but the Misty Rain Pavilion's elite were all slaughtered—Wang Qingci barely escaped with her life, grievously wounded and now in hiding within Yancheng.
Lu Shuyun could hardly breathe. He felt like he was suffocating from his own rage and humiliation.
This was supposed to be easy. Lu Chen was nothing more than an incompetent, out-of-favor prince with no backing. Eliminating him should have been as simple as swatting a fly. And yet—he had failed not once, but twice.
And after such public failures, no other assassin organization would be foolish enough to accept his commission again. Even the ruthless Blood Moon Tower would think twice.
His thoughts were interrupted by hurried footsteps. A servant stumbled into the ruined study, panic in his eyes.
"Your Highness! Something terrible—"
Thud!
Lu Shuyun spun around and kicked him hard in the chest, sending the man flying into a nearby wall. Blood spurted from his mouth as he gasped for air.
The prince growled, "Do you think now's the time to shout like a fool?!"
The servant scrambled to his knees, holding his ribs, and croaked, "Y-Your Highness… rumors… the capital—everyone is saying… saying that you hired the Blood Moon Tower to assassinate the Ninth Prince… just to win over the Jiangnan families…"
For a moment, Lu Shuyun froze.
He stood still, his fists clenched, expression darkening like a gathering storm.
Then a bitter, cold chuckle escaped his lips.
"So… my dear brothers couldn't even wait a day to stab me in the back, huh?"
In politics, you could do things—but you could not speak of them. And you could speak of things—but never actually do them.
Everyone in court knew that he hated the Ninth Prince the most. After all, their maternal clans were both from the Jiangnan region, and the powerful Jiangnan factions could only support one of them for the throne.
It was an open secret. But such things were never spoken aloud.
Now that the rumor had spread across the capital, the line had been crossed. It wasn't just internal court politics anymore—it had become a scandal. A scandal of fratricide.
Someone was clearly pulling strings behind the scenes to destroy his credibility.
If such rumors gained traction, Lu Shuyun would be stripped of legitimacy. He'd be branded as a prince who broke the ultimate taboo—plotting to murder his own royal brother.
Even if he didn't actually kill Lu Chen, once the public and the court believed he did, it was over. His political career, his claim to the throne—gone.
At that realization, Lu Shuyun gritted his teeth until his jaw ached.
So what now? Was he supposed to just let that useless Lu Chen continue breathing?
His first and second assassination attempts had been politically motivated. But now, it wasn't even about power anymore—he just wanted Lu Chen dead.
Even so, he knew he had to rein it in now he can't act like before now.
His rage slowly cooled into cold calculation.
No matter how much he hated it, he had no choice—Lu Chen couldn't be touched for now. If anything happened to him, the blame would fall squarely on Lu Shuyun, whether he had a hand in it or not.
Taking a deep breath, he turned toward a bookshelf at the side of the study and stared silently.
Without turning around, he spoke calmly, "Send a message to Wang Qingci. Tell her to lie low in Beijun. Recover from her injuries, and do not act until I say so."
A shadow stirred behind the shelf. A figure, cloaked in black, nodded silently and slipped out the window like a ghost, vanishing into the night.
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