Two years later.

On a winter night by Xuanwu Lake, the wind was cold as ice. In the dark, somber courtyard of Jiangwu Hall, all was as quiet as the silent lake.

Meng Jianqing suddenly sat up in his sleep, cold sweat streaming down his forehead.

He had dreamed again of Mr. Yan Er emerging from beneath the grass-covered ground, grinning at him with a smile that seemed to say: Young man, your secret will be known to others someday.

Outside the gauze curtain, his roommate Yan Fuping, who exceptionally was not snoring like thunder, immediately sat up upon hearing him turn over: “Brother Meng, you can’t sleep either, right? Sigh, thinking about our three years of hard study and how our future prospects will be revealed tomorrow, it’s no wonder we can’t sleep.”

Meng Jianqing smiled slightly: “Brother Yan has a deep fortune and need not worry about career prospects.”

Yan Fuping’s father-in-law was said to be a figure with extensive connections in the military.

Yan Fuping said gloomily, “That may be so, but who knows if there won’t be unexpected changes? You, Brother Meng, are the one who truly does not need to worry. In our Jiangwu Hall, which of the top three graduates from the past two years hasn’t received special favor from His Majesty and been entrusted with important tasks? I heard that Guo Ying, who has risen fastest, is now the Deputy Commander of the Guiyang Guard. In another two or three years, he might even earn a hereditary Qianhu position.”

Meng Jianqing was third in their class.

Yan Fuping then continued enthusiastically: “Brother Meng, where do you think you’ll be assigned? You’re from Zhejiang, so presumably you won’t be sent back to Zhejiang? I heard your brother Meng Jianchen is highly valued by Prince Yan—perhaps Prince Yan will also request you.”

Meng Jianqing chatted intermittently with Yan Fuping about this topic that concerned them all, until the horn for morning practice sounded.

After breakfast, there was half an hour of rest.

As a menial worker passed by Meng Jianqing carrying a tea tray, he said quietly, “Young Master Meng, Instructor Leng requests you to come to his room for a talk.”

Instructor Leng, who managed the armory, was a fellow who knew and loved weapons. Because they got along well, he had always shown special care for Meng Jianqing. Calling him now surely concerns his prospects. Meng Jianqing quietly slipped away from the noisy dining hall and headed toward the armory in the eastern quarters. Instructor Leng’s room was on the left side of the armory.

Instructor Leng wasn’t there. A hunched elderly menial worker was tidying the room. Hearing Meng Jianqing ask after Instructor Leng at the door, the worker turned around, grinned, and said, “Instructor Leng asks Young Master Meng to wait a moment.”

When the elderly worker turned around, Meng Jianqing’s expression suddenly changed dramatically. He instinctively stepped back and reached for his waist—but found nothing there. Since last year’s dining hall brawl that resulted in three deaths and seven injuries, Jiangwu Hall has prohibited students from carrying weapons anywhere outside the training grounds.

The elderly worker seemed completely oblivious to the ghostly expression on Meng Jianqing’s face and the killing intent that instantly surged up. He continued bowing and scraping, saying, “Please come in and sit, Young Master Meng.”

He slowly left, clutching his cleaning cloth.

Meng Jianqing stared at that hunched figure.

There had never been such a menial worker in Jiangwu Hall.

He turned to look at this familiar room. What exactly was waiting for him inside?

A voice he would never forget came from the inner room: “Meng Jianqing, come in.”

Meng Jianqing secretly gritted his teeth and stepped inside.

Two doors closed behind him.

Below the eastern window, sitting with his back to the light, was a rather scholarly-looking middle-aged man wearing the uniform of a Ministry of War Bureau of Operations clerk that could be seen everywhere in Jiangwu Hall today—these Jiangwu Hall students first had to be received by the Ministry of War’s Bureau of Operations and issued appointment documents before being dispatched to their official posts.

But Meng Jianqing knelt on one knee: “I pay respects to Commander Shen.”

The seemingly gentle, even somewhat languid, middle-aged man before him was the former Shen Qianhu from three years ago, now the Imperial Guard Commander Shen Guangli, feared by everyone in Yingtian Prefecture.

Shen Guangli smiled: “You have a good memory. You met me three years ago and can still recognize me. No wonder you were so startled by my old servant—presumably you never forget anyone’s face, especially faces like Mr. Yan Er’s.”

The face of that elderly worker, identical to Mr. Yan Er’s, suddenly appeared before Meng Jianqing again.

His complexion couldn’t help but pale slightly. Steadying himself, he replied, “Lord Shen’s perception is keen.”

Shen Guangli looked at him thoughtfully. Meng Jianqing’s words seemed like flattery, but upon reflection, they carried deep meaning.

After pondering a moment, Shen Guangli said instead, “Years ago, I examined Mr. Yan Er’s corpse. He had already suffered severe injuries over ten years prior, with several meridians damaged. That he lived until then was already remarkable; that final strike completely exhausted his vital energy. The strength he had left was only enough for that one blow. Moreover, the way several of those people died didn’t quite match Mr. Yan Er’s usual thunderous methods. Though the killer also used the Thirteen Cuts, he was far more cautious and meticulous than Mr. Yan Er.”

Meng Jianqing’s heart pounded.

Shen Guangli’s gaze fell upon him, heavy as a physical weight, making breathing difficult. His slow words struck directly into the depths of his heart, word by word: “I’ve always thought there must have been another person. But who could this other person be? Yan Wu and Yan Qi had already turned to ash by then, so it naturally wasn’t them. Mr. Yan Da? I know it wasn’t him either. Perhaps this other person was a disciple of the Yan brothers?”

Fine, cold sweat quietly seeped from Meng Jianqing’s back.

Shen Guangli continued: “What do you think?”

Meng Jianqing suddenly raised his head: “I don’t know why Lord Shen brings up this old case after three years. What is your purpose? This subordinate is young and ignorant—please enlighten me, my lord.”

He met Shen Guangli’s meaningful gaze without blinking.

Outside the window, shadows quietly moved to the treetops.

As if several hours had passed in a trance, Shen Guangli smiled slightly: “Young man, are you threatening me? The case from three years ago was handled by me. If errors were discovered now, wouldn’t I also be implicated? Is that it?”

Meng Jianqing lowered his head: “This subordinate wouldn’t dare.”

Shen Guangli said as if casually, “Young man, nothing can be hidden from the Imperial Guard or His Majesty. If someone keeps secrets, it’s only because someone chooses not to reveal those secrets. Would you rather be someone who lives in constant fear because of keeping secrets, or someone who makes others live in constant fear?”

Meng Jianqing was stunned and immediately understood Shen Guangli’s meaning.

To keep one secret, he had been forced to create one deadly secret after another, each sufficient to ruin his reputation and destroy any hope of advancement.

He had to choose: would he go to the Ministry of War carrying these heavy secrets, or would he go to the Imperial Guard, serve under Shen Guangli, place this heavy burden in Shen Guangli’s hands, and also entrust his fate to Shen Guangli.

Shen Guangli stood up: “I must first tell you, young man, I have been watching you for three years, and perhaps will watch you for another three years or even longer. If you cannot satisfy me, you will have nothing.”

Meng Jianqing felt a chill in his heart. He began to understand why he had frequently dreamed of Mr. Yan Er these past three years—because deep down, he had actually sensed the surveillance he was under, so he worried about his secrets being exposed and had such strange dreams.

He did not want to repeat these three years of bizarre nightmares.

He met Shen Guangli’s gaze: “Since Lord Shen favors me with such regard, this subordinate shall naturally serve unto death.”

Shen Guangli studied him for a long time, then smiled again: “Young man, you understand how to assess situations and make quick decisions. The Imperial Guard indeed needs people like you. Good, you may go. I will arrange your position.”

As Meng Jianqing was about to leave, he wanted to ask whether that elderly worker merely resembled Mr. Yan Er, or had some connection to him, or was simply Mr. Yan Da himself—though he thought it inconceivable that Mr. Yan Da, who had retired at the beginning of the struggle for supremacy, would stoop to being a servant. But when he met Shen Guangli’s light yet condescending gaze, he understood he no longer had the right to ask questions.

Because from this moment, he had truly become Shen Guangli’s subordinate.

After Meng Jianqing left, Instructor Leng emerged from the inner room, saying coldly, “Lord Shen, your reach extends too far—you’ve come to Jiangwu Hall to recruit people.”

Shen Guangli smiled slightly: “If I didn’t take Meng Jianqing under my wing, it would truly be a waste of good material. What other person could endure three years of pressure and wait for me to show my hand?”