Xu Suqing had stormed the border fortress wall alone and retreated unscathed — a psychological blow to everyone who witnessed it.

Yet Master Ye seemed less troubled than before. His earlier assessment of Xu Suqing had been even higher.

“He’s injured,” Master Ye said, rubbing his aching arm. The words immediately drew everyone’s attention.

“You saw it, Master?” Yu Hongyi asked quickly.

Master Ye smiled. “I couldn’t see clearly, but I could tell — Xu Suqing’s left arm is injured. That’s why he left so suddenly. Had he fought a moment longer, we would have kept him here.”

No one else had noticed, but since Master Ye said so, it had to be true. In truth, they hadn’t noticed because they’d been overwhelmed by Xu Suqing’s aura — in that moment, he had seemed utterly flawless, impossibly strong.

Master Ye turned to Qianban Yan Lie. “His left arm injury — you had something to do with it.”

Yan Lie was stunned. He never imagined his arrows could have hurt that man — he had clearly seen both arrows caught effortlessly. He found it hard to believe.

Master Ye explained: “Both times he caught your arrows, he used his left hand — because his right is his dominant hand.”

This seemed puzzling at first. If his right hand was dominant, why catch arrows with his left?

Ordinary people might not understand, but the Qianbans were all martial experts. The moment Master Ye said it, they understood.

*Precisely because* the right hand was dominant, it had to be kept free at all times — ready to respond to any sudden threat. The left hand could be injured without too much consequence, and using it first also served to deceive the opponent.

Master Ye continued: “He caught your arrows twice with his left hand and made it look effortless — but he underestimated your arrow force. The arm was already accumulating hidden damage. Then when he traded a blow with me, I knew I was outmatched, so I held some force in reserve for retreat.”

“But Xu Suqing knew I was no match for him, so he didn’t hold back.”

Everyone recalled the exchange — their sleeves colliding with a crack like thunder. Master Ye had staggered back several steps, nearly losing his footing, while Xu Suqing had taken only one step back before steadying himself.

It was in that very moment that Xu Suqing’s left arm was injured — because he had used his left arm again in that clash. Master Ye speculated he may have intended to block with the left arm and then seize Master Ye with his right — but hadn’t expected Master Ye to retreat so swiftly, which both broke his plan and stripped away some of his own force.

In short, Xu Suqing likely hadn’t anticipated that catching two arrows had already left hidden damage in his arm. Upon feeling the injury worsen from Master Ye’s strike, he withdrew without the slightest hesitation.

“He is not as strong as I thought,” Master Ye said slowly, exhaling.

In a one-on-one fight, Xu Suqing would certainly best him — and not take long doing it. Before the exchange, Master Ye had estimated that among those beside the Ning King, only Master Chu could match Xu Suqing. After the exchange, he revised that: there were multiple people in Li Chi’s circle who could fight Xu Suqing.

He thought: *If Master Chu were here, Xu Suqing would never have escaped today.* Even without Master Chu, the Blue Dragon — one of the Four Symbols masters — and Master Wu, the Qingzhou Military Commissioner, likely both had the strength to fight him.

With these thoughts, Master Ye relaxed considerably. Between the twelve Qianbans and himself, Xu Suqing could not truly come and go as he pleased. The man had escaped this time only because everyone was initially stunned, and he had used the terrain cleverly.

Xu Suqing was not only extraordinarily powerful — his mind in battle was sharper than most. Everyone assumed charging a fortress wall alone was suicide, yet he had read the wall’s width perfectly and used it to his advantage. Once on the wall, the Ning army’s numerical superiority was neutralized. Archers couldn’t shoot for fear of hitting allies; the martial experts rushed forward to protect soldiers — and so what should have been a warrior against an army became warrior against warrior instead.

And when he sensed he couldn’t achieve his goal, he left immediately, without lingering.

When the men on the wall still expected another attack, he had simply leaped off.

“Master,” Yu Hongyi asked, “do you think he’ll sneak into the city tonight?”

Master Ye shook his head. “Probably not.”

Shang Qingzhu said, “We could stay together and wait, but we can’t prevent him from killing soldiers on the wall and slipping away before we can respond.”

Master Ye said, “Though he is no longer the Xu Suqing of old — now he’s the bandit Hanzhanzhou — he likely still considers it beneath him to kill ordinary soldiers.”

Such a man, both too proud to dirty his hands on common soldiers, and also aware that killing them would only deepen hatred without strategic gain. If Xu Suqing came, his targets would be Master Ye and the others.

“Tonight, take turns on watch. The twelve of you — keep at least six on duty simultaneously.”

After dismissing everyone, Master Ye waited until he was alone, then looked down at his right hand.

One of his fingers was broken.

He could not let the others see that. It would damage morale.

Back at his quarters, he summoned his trusted aide Xie Wanyu and told him to leave at first light for Chang’an — first, to report to the Emperor about Hanzhanzhou’s alliance with the Black Wu people; second, to request the Emperor send more martial experts as reinforcements.

Master Ye guessed Xu Suqing wouldn’t infiltrate the fortress at night — but he also knew that if the man did enter, catastrophe could follow. What Xu Suqing might do in the wake of Liao Tinglou’s death was impossible to fully predict.

What Master Ye didn’t yet know was that Li Chi was already preparing to set out.

—

**Chang’an.**

Li Chi stood once more before a dragon robe — not one being shown to him by others, but his own reflection in a bronze mirror.

That morning, he had expected to feel overwhelmingly nervous, perhaps even undignified. After all, this was a moment that warranted nerves.

But the entire coronation ceremony had passed in utter calm. Not a ripple within him.

Standing before the bronze mirror, replaying every moment, he found that it didn’t feel like something that should have moved him so deeply.

Just then, the Empress of the Great Ning Empire, Gao Xining, came rushing in — glancing back as she entered.

“You’re hiding in here…” She flung herself into a chair — quite literally flung herself.

“Those fellows have drunk enough to fill a small mountain.”

Li Chi smiled. “I said they could drink as much as they liked today. They command armies — normally they must lead by example and drink sparingly. Today I let them go free. We can certainly afford it.”

Gao Xining burst out laughing.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked.

Li Chi scratched his temple. “I thought I’d surely be thinking of *something* momentous — after all, for the whole of the Central Plains, this is a very significant day.” He smiled. “But I’m thinking of nothing at all. So I stood here feeling guilty about it — then suddenly noticed how remarkably handsome I look, and got lost staring at myself.”

Gao Xining: “Pah! Standing here swooning over yourself while *I’m* right here?”

Li Chi pointed at his reflection. “Look at this man — newly crowned Emperor today, the second most handsome he’s ever been. Don’t you find him extraordinary?”

“Why only second most handsome?”

Li Chi lowered his voice. “The most handsome will be tonight, when I roll around in the big bed with you.”

Gao Xining: “Don’t set your expectations so high.”

Li Chi: “Pah!”

Gao Xining glanced back toward the door and lowered her voice: “Why not take care of the *first most handsome* while you’re still second most handsome?”

Li Chi: “……”

Gao Xining burst into laughter, hands on her hips.

She looked at him. “You’re the Emperor. Emperors do what they want — do you really need to think so much?”

“The Emperor does what he wants — and naturally, the Emperor doesn’t do what he doesn’t want to…”

“Do you have someone on the outside?”

Li Chi: “……”

Gao Xining leaned closer, smiling. “You’re already Emperor now. You really feel nothing?”

Li Chi scratched the corner of his brow again. “I’ve turned it over and over, and I think it comes down to four words.”

“Which four words?”

“Shí zhì míng guī.” *(Well-deserved. A natural outcome.)*

Gao Xining’s eyes narrowed slowly, and she dropped her voice very low. “My Emperor — may I give you four more words in return?”

“What are they?”

“I’ll tell you when you reach your most handsome moment tonight.”

She grabbed his arm. “Come on, come on — everyone’s still waiting. And remember — don’t drink too much.”

“I know, I know. Big things to take care of tonight. I won’t get drunk.”

—

The drinking went on with Xiahou Zhuo, Tang Pidi and the others until midnight, empty jars stacked like two small hills.

When the guests finally dispersed and attendants helped support a seemingly unsteady Li Chi toward the bedchamber, he sneaked a look back — and the moment they were gone, he was suddenly full of life.

He shook off the attendants and, lifting his robes, broke into a trot toward the bedchamber — leaving the attendants staring in bewilderment.

He arrived to find officials from the Ministry of Rites still present. He had forgotten — there were formalities to observe before such occasions.

He stared at them for a moment, then said: “All of you, wait outside. I need to discuss something with the Empress. When we’re done, I’ll call you in.”

The officials hastily retreated, puzzling over what the Emperor needed to discuss.

The moment they left: “Close the door! Anyone who walks in gets a stick to the head.”

He lifted his robes and jumped inside. “Who has time to wait for all that ceremony.”

He entered to find Gao Xining seated properly, the red veil still waiting to be lifted — only then did he remember what those officials had been there for.

He spun around, shut the door. “Skip it all, quickly.”

Gao Xining yanked the veil off herself. “In such a hurry?”

“Aren’t you?”

She blushed faintly. “I am a virtuous, dignified, and graceful Empress. How could *I* be in a hurry for something so… embarrassing…”

Then she grabbed him, threw him onto the bed with a judo flip.

“Wait,” Li Chi said. “You said you had four words for me — what were they?”

Gao Xining began undoing her buttons, one leg propped on the bedframe, looking down at him.

“We’ll see at dawn.”

Li Chi: “!!!!!”

—