Xu Ke flung the candlestick behind him with one hand while the other reached for the sword hanging at the head of the bed.

He had not drawn the sword earlier because he had anticipated that Cai Nan would come.

Against ordinary people, his strength alone would have been sufficient — there was no need for a blade. But the figure approaching from behind had moved in near-total silence, and that left him no choice but to respond with everything he had.

The moment the candlestick clanged as it was knocked aside, Xu Ke swept his sword in a backwards arc. Another sharp ring cut through the air as the two blades met, sending a shower of sparks scattering through the darkness.

With his right hand holding off the attack from behind, Xu Ke seized the bedding with his left and hurled it outward, then immediately launched himself away.

He didn’t wait to see whether the blanket had caught anyone — escape was the only priority.

That he had lived concealed within the Prince of Wu’s estate for so many years, hidden so thoroughly that even the Princess Consort of Wu had harbored no suspicion until he chose to reveal himself, spoke plainly of how meticulous his mind truly was.

He knew he could not afford to be entangled now. Slipping free came first. The moment the blanket left his hands, he shot toward the rear window.

The front window stood open — Cai Nan had leapt out through it when she left, which meant whoever arrived afterward had come in the same way, without a sound. Had Xu Ke been even slightly less sharp, he would have been subdued from behind before he could react.

He reached the rear window, drew his sword across the frame, and cut it open in a single stroke, then drove himself through.

He was on the second floor, but the height hardly mattered — he’d leap first and think later.

Yet the moment he pushed through, something felt wrong. A net hung directly in his path. Whoever had set this trap had anticipated him.

His head was already halfway out when Xu Ke pressed his left palm to the wall beside the window and wrenched himself back inside by sheer force.

In the next breath, he planted his feet and vaulted straight upward, grabbed a roof beam, swung his body overhead, and drove both feet into the ceiling with full force. The roof tiles shattered under the impact. He flipped through and landed outside — and before he could even find his footing, a fist came crashing toward his face.

The blow was too fast, too sudden. Even with reflexes like his, Xu Ke could not dodge in time.

*Thud.* The punch landed squarely on the bridge of his nose. His skull rang like a struck bell.

The second blow came immediately — a fist driving into his abdomen. As he doubled over, the attacker grabbed his head and shoved him back down through the hole in the roof.

Xu Ke tumbled back into the room below. The figure who had been inside earlier landed a kick squarely into his chest while he was still in midair, sending him flying sideways into a pillar. The force of that kick left him unable to rise from the floor.

That figure stepped in quickly and drove a palm strike into the back of Xu Ke’s neck. Xu Ke let out a muffled groan and lost consciousness.

The one on the roof was Gui Yuanshu. The one inside was Fang Xidao.

Gui Yuanshu dropped into the room and glanced around. The bodies scattered across the floor genuinely surprised him.

In the next moment — once the surprise had settled — he methodically turned out the silver from every corpse.

He moved to the window and clapped three times. The sound was soft, but Maijie, crouched in the alley across the way, caught it immediately.

He could have simply walked away. But people, as a rule, let curiosity pull them in directions they hadn’t planned.

He truly wanted to know who was in that room. He wanted to know what had become of the black-clad figure who had gone in after. And more than anything, he wanted to know what Gui Yuanshu was actually playing at.

As it happened, only a handful of people were staying at this inn. The innkeeper had been startled by the men who had burst in, but had only been told to shut himself in his room and keep quiet.

Daxing City had been sealed for days. There were hardly any travelers left. Tonight had finally brought a few guests — and look how that had turned out.

Maijie climbed the stairs with several of his men. The moment his eyes landed on the bodies on the floor, they went wide.

“Lord Gui, you really didn’t hold back, did you?!”

Gui Yuanshu gave him a flat look. “You think we did this?”

He pointed to the wounds on the corpses’ necks — each one a single hole, clearly made by the same hand.

Maijie recognized Gao Jianjia and the others among the dead. He felt a twinge of something, thinking on the unpredictability of life — just that morning they had eaten breakfast together, and now they lay here cold. His primary feeling, though, was that he could probably get his silver back.

As if reading his mind, Gui Yuanshu gestured toward the table. “Your money.”

Maijie stepped over quickly. The silver was laid out neatly — clearly already counted. He tallied it himself and found it came to exactly half of what he’d paid those men.

He turned to Gui Yuanshu. “How is it so exact?”

“Because I counted it twice,” Gui Yuanshu said. “Of course it’s exact.”

Maijie blinked. “Are you serious?”

“We agreed: I recover half your silver, and what’s left is mine to decide. You already accepted those terms. Now hand over the silver — don’t even think about backing out.”

Maijie clicked his tongue in admiration. “I have to say, when it comes to shamelessness, officials really are in a class of their own. My deepest respects.”

“You flatter me,” Gui Yuanshu replied without a trace of embarrassment.

He looked to Fang Xidao. “Take the man back. I’ll handle things here.”

Fang Xidao answered with a grunt, hoisted Xu Ke over his shoulder, climbed out the window, and vanished into the darkness.

Maijie couldn’t help himself. “You went through all this trouble just to abduct a man in the middle of the night?”

“Close your mouth, grab your silver, and wait outside,” Gui Yuanshu said.

Maijie had no desire to linger in a room soaked with blood. He herded his men back downstairs.

*Not my bodies. Not my problem. Get out before someone tries to pin this on me.*

Gui Yuanshu examined each corpse one final time, confirmed nothing had been left behind, then followed.

Downstairs, he produced a packet of silver and set it on the counter in front of the innkeeper. “We’re from the gambling house. Those men upstairs caused us trouble, so they had to die. No harm to you. Take this silver — it’s enough to buy this whole inn twice over. Now go.”

The innkeeper, his wife, and the young assistant had gone pale as paper. They nodded frantically and bolted for the door.

“Use the back exit,” Gui Yuanshu called after them. “Find somewhere to hide. I’m going to burn this building, so get well clear.”

The three of them stumbled out through the rear, hearts hammering with every step.

Gui Yuanshu smashed several wine jars, put a torch to the floor, then stepped outside to find Maijie.

He emerged just as the flames began to bloom behind him. The moment Maijie saw the fire, he spun and ran, cursing as he went — *you ruthless bastard, don’t ever come looking for me again.*

Gui Yuanshu thought: *if I don’t come looking for you, someone else might — and that would be far worse.*

He called after him: “Wait. I have something important to tell you.”

“Absolutely not,” Maijie shouted without slowing down.

The inn caught quickly. Before leaving, Gui Yuanshu had found a bronze gong inside and struck it loudly, shouting that there was a fire, rousing the neighbors from their sleep. Fortunately the inn stood apart from the surrounding buildings, so the blaze would not spread.

—

*Dawn.*

The Princess Consort of Wu looked first at Cai Nan, then at Zhao Luan.

Both women dropped to their knees at the same moment, both lowered their heads at the same moment.

“Such a simple thing,” the Princess Consort said coldly, “and this is what you’ve made of it?”

“The two of you have been with me for years. Tell me — have you gone backward? Where is the competence you once had?”

Zhao Luan spoke carefully: “My Lady, something must have gone wrong. I instructed those men to kill Xu Ke and leave the city before dawn. They had no reason to burn the inn — there was no need to draw that kind of attention.”

“Then why is there so much attention?”

Cai Nan lifted her head. “My Lady, shall I go to the Daxing Prefecture offices to gather information? The inn has burned, but how many bodies were found, and whether they can still be identified — none of that is certain yet.”

The Princess Consort made a quiet sound of assent. “Tell them one of the estate’s stewards may be among the dead, so you’re inquiring. The Daxing Prefecture wouldn’t dare hide anything from us.”

“I’ll go at once.”

Zhao Luan glanced at the Princess Consort. “My Lady, I’d like to go as well. After all, it was my people who failed.”

“Go. Both of you. Find out exactly what happened.”

The two women departed and rode toward the Daxing Prefecture.

The Daxing Prefecture, in truth, had been idle for a long time. By rights, the offices governing the capital should have been kept busy with civil administration and law enforcement. But the Great Chu had been reduced to a single city. The officials here lived day to day, knowing nothing was guaranteed — none of them had the heart to actually govern anything.

On any other day, Wang Zhanjian, the Prefect of Daxing, would not have troubled himself over a fire, however many people it had killed. He would have called it an accident, and no one above him would have bothered to investigate.

But a delegation from the Prince of Wu’s estate appearing at his door first thing in the morning — that, he could not ignore. Even if the Chancellor himself showed up, Wang Zhanjian would treat them with deference. These were the Prince of Wu’s people.

“Nine bodies in total,” Wang Zhanjian told Cai Nan and Zhao Luan. “The coroner has examined them. All male. But the fire burned them beyond recognition — there is no way to identify the faces.”

When Cai Nan heard the number nine, something flickered briefly in her eyes before she composed herself again.

She knew exactly who had been in that room. She had killed five of the black-clad intruders herself. Add Gao Jianjia and the other three — nine bodies. Which meant Xu Ke was not dead. Someone else had set that fire. There was no cause for concern.

But then she paused. A thought struck her.

She turned to Wang Zhanjian. “Besides these nine burned bodies — are there any survivors?”

Zhao Luan looked at him too.

“No survivors,” Wang Zhanjian said. “Though the innkeeper is not among them.”

Cai Nan’s chest tightened.

She had just realized: if Xu Ke had set that fire, he would have killed the innkeeper’s household before lighting it. He never left witnesses.

Zhao Luan asked, “How do you know the innkeeper wasn’t inside, my Lord?”

“The innkeeper and his wife and their young assistant were spotted in the crowd watching the blaze. Someone recognized them crying and pointed them out.”

Cai Nan said at once: “May we speak with the innkeeper?”

Wang Zhanjian could not refuse — even if he wanted to. Two women from the Prince of Wu’s estate, behaving as though he, the Prefect, barely warranted notice. It irritated him, but what could he do? They’d said a steward from the estate might be among the dead. Fine. Let them look.

Besides, if the estate’s people took this off his hands, he’d have one less thing to answer for.

Not long after, Cai Nan and Zhao Luan met the three survivors in the main hall.

—