General Zhang He was deeply valued by Prince Wu — not only for his exceptional spear technique, but also for his steady and methodical approach to leadership and his disciplined command of troops.

Zhang He’s elder brother had once been the foremost commander under Prince Wu’s banner, a man of towering arrogance who believed no one in the world was his equal save Prince Wu himself — and so he had died a terrible death.

Where Zhang He differed from his elder brother was precisely in this: he was low-key and composed, never one to vie for the limelight.

There had once been those who ranked the spear practitioners of the army — Prince Wu in first place, Zhang He’s elder brother in second, a standing that even surpassed Luo Jing.

In truth, Zhang He’s spear technique was, if anything, superior to his elder brother’s. It was simply his temperament that held him back — he had no desire to compete with his brother for glory.

After Zhang He took up his post as commander of the Imperial Guards in Daxing, he carried out his duties with scrupulous diligence, never allowing himself the slightest lapse, and so had likewise earned the Emperor’s favor.

This time, the Emperor harbored a vague and uneasy premonition, and so had arranged for Zhang He himself to personally conduct rounds of inspection throughout the palace grounds.

But the Shiyuan Palace was vast, and the capital city too required Zhang He to patrol and deploy forces — he could not split himself in two. So when assigning his men, Zhang He gave each group meticulous instructions.

He told his subordinates that every gate and passage, without exception, must be reinforced with heavy guard.

He had two generals under his command — one named Guan Yue, the other Wen Da. Both were already Imperial Guard generals; neither was among the trusted lieutenants Zhang He had brought with him personally.

These two men were given the task of conducting patrols, and both were to go without sleep the entire night — which inevitably bred some resentment.

“The Empress is giving birth, and the whole Imperial Guard has to stay awake for it, keeping vigil along with her…”

Wen Da yawned. “Tell me — there’s not the slightest sign of trouble in Daxing right now. Why all this tension?”

Guan Yue laughed. “Bear with it. It’s just one night. Do as the General Commander ordered — no mistakes, no reprimands — and that counts as a real accomplishment.”

Wen Da sighed. “A real accomplishment for what? These days we can’t even get enough to eat. What use is an accomplishment?”

Guan Yue quickly said, “Will you please keep your mouth shut? Any more reckless talk and you’ll invite trouble.”

Wen Da sighed again. “I understand. It’s just that my heart feels wrong.”

They walked and inspected as they went, and upon seeing that every gate and entrance around the Shiyuan Palace had been assigned a substantial garrison, their minds were somewhat eased.

They came to one gate and found it completely unguarded. Guan Yue stopped. “Why is no one here?”

Wen Da said, “Does this even count as a gate?”

Both of them were veterans of the Imperial Guard and naturally knew what this particular gate was.

Ever since the Emperor ascended the throne, the Eastern Palace had gone unoccupied, and the Emperor, in the interest of economy, had already reduced the staff considerably.

Within the Eastern Palace, only a few dozen miscellaneous servants remained — mostly the aged and infirm — tasked with nothing more than occasional sweeping.

And once the thousand-catty stone had been lowered into place, what kind of gate was it really?

Wen Da said, “Come on, let’s go. There’s not even a stray dog in this place. No need to post anyone here.”

Imperial Guard General Commander Zhang He, leading his contingent through Daxing on rounds of inspection while also having to distribute forces at various posts, was already stretched thin — so Wen Da’s words were not mere laziness.

Guan Yue thought for a moment and looked at the men under his command. Their patrol group numbered just over a hundred.

“Post ten men here. Send someone back to fetch a bronze gong — if anything happens, strike it.”

Guan Yue issued the order and then continued forward with Wen Da on their inspection.

The ten men left behind exchanged glances. The squad leader told the unit leader to send someone back for the gong. The unit leader said this godforsaken place couldn’t possibly have any trouble — why bother making the trip?

The squad leader himself felt nothing would happen. The group had already made a full circuit around the Shiyuan Palace, a considerable distance that, for ordinary men, might have left their legs aching. Even for these soldiers, their legs were not exactly fresh — they were tired enough to have no desire to move. So all ten of them simply sat down by the gate, leaning their backs against the thousand-catty stone to rest.

It was already past the hour of Zi. The men were drowsy, and leaning there against the stone, they soon began to drift off.

Suddenly a tremor shook the ground. Everyone jolted awake and sat up straight, looking around — a creaking, grinding sound reached their ears. Still groggy from sleep, none of them could identify where the sound was coming from. After a moment, the squad leader raised his eyes and looked up — and confirmed that the sound was coming from directly above them.

It was like something immensely heavy grinding against stone. Then his back fell away beneath him, and he couldn’t stop himself from toppling backward.

In the instant he was lying there, the Imperial Guard squad leader found himself looking up at an enormous man standing over him, the man’s feet to either side of his head.

From that angle, looking upward, those two legs appeared as thick and solid as a pair of great pillars.

Then pain came, and the man unleashed a thunderous roar.

“Rise!”

A resounding crash — and that thousand-catty stone was forcibly hoisted up by him.

The massive figure lifted the stone to chest height, then bent his knees and began gathering his strength in his arms.

In the next breath, the man heaved with full force, sending the thousand-catty stone surging upward — he thrust his arms overhead and held it aloft through sheer strength alone.

When his legs, bent at the knee, suddenly straightened, a boom rang out from beneath his feet and the ground cratered under him.

The force of air from below sent dust and debris flying, blasting the Imperial Guard squad leader’s face.

He was dazed and confused — instinctively he raised his hand to rub his eyes, and then felt a sudden cold spreading through his chest.

A saber had been plunged into the squad leader’s heart and twisted twice while still inside.

After stabbing the squad leader to death with that one blow, Bai Chouyuan strode through the gate and ordered men to prop the thousand-catty stone up with prepared timber, relieving the one called Huchi’er.

The handful of Imperial Guard soldiers posted at the gate had no time to even attempt flight before they were cut down by Tianming Army soldiers.

Bai Chouyuan had his men spare one captive and dragged him to the front. He looked at the Imperial Guard soldier and said, “Where is the Empress’s sleeping chambers? How do you get there?”

The soldier’s face turned ashen with terror — yet by reflex he shook his head.

Bai Chouyuan drew his dagger, seized the soldier’s ear, and with a few quick strokes sliced it off.

“I’ll ask you one more time. How do you get to the Empress’s chambers? If you won’t say, I’ll kill you — and it’s no great matter to grab another one.”

The soldier trembled with fear and the agony was searing — he had no choice but to point to one side. “It’s over there.”

Bai Chouyuan gave the soldier a shove. “Lead the way. Try anything and I’ll cut you to pieces.”

The rebel troops poured in through the Eastern Palace gate. They were all now dressed in imperial military uniforms, but for ease of identification each had bound a strip of white cloth to his iron helmet.

Bai Chouyuan drove the soldier ahead, making his way toward the Empress’s sleeping chambers. After roughly two quarters of an hour of walking, they ran headlong into another group.

Though the palace was well lit, the approaching party was still far off — barely distinguishable as a group of figures.

“Halt!”

Guan Yue and Wen Da had just completed their circuit and were returning.

Guan Yue sensed something was wrong. The approaching group was clearly large in number, and their uniforms did not appear to be those of the Imperial Guard.

He called out as he drew his saber. “Who are you?!”

Bai Chouyuan had long since abandoned any pretense of concealment. He gave one order: “Kill them!”

He sent the Tianming Army men charging forward, firing crossbow bolts as they ran.

The sudden ambush caught Guan Yue and Wen Da completely off guard — they had no shields — and in moments a considerable number of their men were knocked down.

Even Wen Da was struck by two arrows and staggered backward.

“Send word — quickly!”

Guan Yue roared the order as he charged ahead, saber in hand.

Wen Da had just been struck and was in pain. Seeing his old comrade charging forward, he shouted after him, “What are you doing — come back!”

Guan Yue called back, “This is our duty.”

The soldiers coming from the other side wore Dachu military uniforms — but only a fool would have thought it a misunderstanding at this point.

So Guan Yue held nothing back. His saber flashed up and down without pause — any who came within reach died.

He had long since become a general of the Imperial Guard. Without real ability, how could anyone reach such a position? To have carved out a place in the Imperial Guard and survived through so many storms without being weeded out — there was naturally a reason for that.

The passage here was not particularly wide, and with Guan Yue and his single blade holding the flanks, no one could force their way through.

Just then, Guan Yue felt something go dark before his eyes. He looked up — a massive silhouette had appeared in front of him.

By instinct he swung a diagonal cut — but the moment his saber rose, a great hand seized the flat of the blade. With an almost casual tug, the saber was wrenched from his grip.

In the next instant, that huge hand pressed itself against Guan Yue’s head and simply pushed him forward. Guan Yue was utterly helpless.

He struck out with fists and feet — and couldn’t reach the man at all.

After a moment, the man seemed to grow bored. The massive hand that had been pressing down on Guan Yue’s skull spread its fingers and drove them in — those fingers were like iron rods, and they pierced Guan Yue’s scalp with searing pain.

Huchi’er laughed uproariously. With a single hand he squeezed Guan Yue’s head and lifted the man off the ground — caving in even the iron helmet.

Guan Yue, in excruciating pain and suspended in the air, flailed his limbs uselessly — still he could not touch his assailant.

Huchi’er raised his other great hand and swung a sweeping slap across Guan Yue’s body.

By nature cruel and savage, habitually taking pleasure in killing, he never much concerned himself with whether his victims lived or died. But at this moment a streak of mischief had surfaced in him — so that slap landed not across Guan Yue’s face, but across his shoulder.

A sharp crack — with Guan Yue’s head still locked in Huchi’er’s grip, his body spun a full turn.

At the sight of this, Huchi’er burst into laughter again, apparently quite pleased with himself.

Watching from behind, Wen Da’s eyes went wide in an instant.

His friend dying in such agony — it was as if something ignited in his gut.

He forgot about the two arrows in his body. Wen Da drew his saber and charged forward.

It was entirely instinctive — watching his friend be killed, a surge of heat rose to his head, leaving him with only one thought: kill that man, avenge his friend.

But Huchi’er paid him no heed whatsoever. Seeing the man rush toward him, he snapped a slap outward — faster even than Wen Da’s saber. That palm caught Wen Da squarely across the face, and his head spun half a turn on his neck.

A single palm strike had sent Wen Da’s face pointing backward.

Huchi’er grabbed Wen Da by the throat and hoisted him into the air. He tossed him upward into empty space, and when he dropped, caught him with one hand at the throat and one hand gripping a leg — then with a single wrenching pull, tore the man apart with a wet crack.

Huchi’er tossed the corpse aside and, still laughing, stepped forward.

By now the Imperial Guard soldiers had sounded the alarm. Guards stationed at posts throughout the palace heard the signal and began rushing over to reinforce.

But the Empress’s sleeping chambers were already not far away. Bai Chouyuan ordered a full sprint, and the Tianming Army men surged forward like a tide, pouring rapidly through passageway after passageway.

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