The carriage rolled to a stop at a small town. Xu Ji’s escort detail began spreading out to secure the perimeter, and the townspeople, sensing the intimidating presence, instinctively gave them a wide berth.

Xu Ji stepped down from the carriage and swept his gaze around. His expression changed at once.

“Pass the order — pull the cavalry and guards back in!”

He spotted one of his attendants in the distance already blocking the road, waving townspeople toward alternate routes. Xu Ji’s heart began to pound.

He could do as he pleased in Yuezhou. Back in Jizhou, he’d allowed himself the occasional indulgence too. But this — this was different. They were less than two hundred li from Chang’an, and his men had dared to seal off a road just so he could rest in peace.

He knew the King of Ning far too well.

“You fools!” Xu Ji hissed, low but vicious.

He could dominate Chen Xugong like a god standing above a mortal. But before the common people? He did not dare show even a trace of arrogance.

This looked like nothing — a trivial matter. But trivial matters, once they reached the King of Ning’s ears, could ruin Xu Ji entirely. Forget about becoming Prime Minister someday; he wasn’t even sure he could hold on to his current post as Military Governor of Yuezhou.

He berated his subordinates, then hurriedly plastered on a smile and walked toward the townspeople, trying to soothe them. The people, still wary, dodged away from him as best they could.

“This is going to be the death of me…”

Xu Ji’s chest ached with frustration.

All the effort he had put into building his image — in Yuezhou, in Jizhou, in the eyes of the common people, he had always presented himself as approachable and benevolent. Domineering before his subordinates, yes. That was necessary; his authority had to be beyond question. But before the people, he kept himself in check at every moment, because he knew the King of Ning was a ruler who had emerged from hardship and poverty. He knew exactly where that man’s line was drawn, and he would not go near it.

Before subordinates, strength. Before the people, restraint. That was the rule.

Chen Xugong noticed Xu Ji’s darkened face and hurried over to murmur a few words of consolation.

Xu Ji sighed. “They just don’t understand — what they think is nothing, is precisely what I consider everything.”

“My lord,” Chen Xugong said, “many of those under you are holdover officials from the old regime. They may not have adjusted to the new order yet…”

“Then they can get out,” Xu Ji said sharply.

He kept walking as he spoke. “I kept them on because they had something useful to offer. But reading the times is also a necessary skill for any official. If you can’t read the times, you have no business being in office.”

This regional administrator who had not yet turned twenty was furious over what his subordinates treated as a matter of course.

“I am warning all of you — once, and only once — burn this into your minds.”

He scanned the assembled men. “I reached the position of regional administrator before the age of twenty. In time, I will become the first Prime Minister of the Great Ning Empire. Whoever gets in my way dies. If one death isn’t satisfying enough, I’ll exterminate the entire family. If that isn’t satisfying enough, I’ll dig up the graves.”

“This is the only time I’ll say it. The next time, I won’t warn — I’ll simply act.”

“Yes, my lord!”

His subordinates bent low in acknowledgment, faces pale, knees trembling.

Because of this small incident, Xu Ji forced himself to be more careful. He walked around outside for a while to clear his head, then returned to the carriage and pulled out the register he’d brought with him, reading through it again, carefully.

This was the roster of officials he had appointed during his tenure as Military Governor of Yuezhou. He had come to Chang’an both to attend the King of Ning’s enthronement ceremony and to submit his official report. Even if Xu Ji ran his territory with absolute authority, this register had to be immaculate.

Former officials, locally recommended talents, candidates drawn from various other channels — the proportions of each had to be precisely balanced, without the slightest deviation. The King of Ning had eyes that could find enormous problems hidden in the smallest details of a document like this.

After reading through it twice, Xu Ji called for brush and ink and struck out two names.

These two were from prominent Southern families — specifically, men surnamed Chen. In a single register, too many people sharing one surname would naturally draw attention.

“From here to Chang’an, tell everyone below — no more staying in towns or settlements. Under no circumstances are we to disturb the people.”

Once he’d given the order, Xu Ji closed his eyes. Another matter drifted, unbidden, into his thoughts.

The matter of the man he had sent to kill Lu Chonglou.

That missing subordinate was still a thorn lodged in his heart. He didn’t know whether the man was dead, captured, or had fled out of guilt. Dead was best. Captured or fled — either way, it was a root of disaster.

“Someone, come.”

Xu Ji called out. Chen Xugong immediately bent low. “My lord, what is your command?”

Xu Ji glanced at him. “I wasn’t calling for you. Wait outside.”

Chen Xugong felt a flash of irritation, but swallowed it, bowed, and stepped out of the carriage.

Xu Ji’s personal guard Qin Xiang climbed in, dropping his voice. “My lord, your orders?”

Xu Ji took up his brush and wrote a letter, then handed it to Qin Xiang. “Send someone ahead of us to Chang’an immediately. Find an opportunity to deliver this to Commissioner Guan.”

Qin Xiang understood at once. “Your subordinate will send reliable men.”

“This is no small matter. Don’t be careless.”

Qin Xiang acknowledged the order, stepped down from the carriage, selected two trusted men, and dispatched them with the letter to ride hard for Chang’an.

—

A day and a night later. Chang’an.

Not far from the Imperial Palace stood the newly constructed Bureau of Justice — a sprawling compound divided into two large courtyards, front and back.

Gao Xining stood at the entrance to the front courtyard with her hands on her hips, looking around with an expression of pure delight.

This Bureau of Justice was genuinely impressive.

Li Chi smiled beside her. “Take a good look. You won’t be spending much time here in the future.”

“Why not? I’m the Grand Chief Justice—”

The words died on her lips as realization struck. She’d be living in the Imperial Palace, of course. A faint blush crossed her face.

“Why not?” Li Chi said. “You really have no idea where you belong, do you?”

Gao Xining bumped him with her shoulder. “Yes, yes, I know.”

Just then, an attendant came in to report that Ye Xiaoqian and the others had arrived.

Li Chi turned and told them to come in, then glanced at Gao Xining. She said, “What are you looking at me for? You think I’m going to play both the villain and the hero all by myself?”

“You’ve already taken the villain’s role,” Li Chi said. “I’ll handle the hero.”

Gao Xining made a dismissive sound.

Shortly after, Ye Xiaoqian strode in. He’d taken a wound back in Qingzhou; by the time he’d passed through Jizhou and made it to Chang’an, more than three months had gone by, and the injury was mostly healed.

Li Chi reached out and helped Ye Xiaoqian up, smiling. “You handled the case well. You’ve been through a lot.”

Ye Xiaoqian knelt respectfully. “Serving my lord is no hardship — it is my honor.”

“Was Yu Jiuling also one of your shifu?”

“No, my lord. I’d heard that General Yu’s skill in flattery is unmatched under heaven, and I’ve always wanted to seek his personal instruction — but I never had the chance.”

Li Chi glanced sideways at Yu Jiuling. “General Yu has quite the reputation.”

Yu Jiuling grinned. “My lord, I’m known everywhere as a rebel. Can’t exactly hide that.”

Li Chi broke into laughter.

He turned back to Ye Xiaoqian. “Because of this case, I said in front of everyone that your merits and your faults cancel each other out. That was for the audience — a performance. The generals understood my meaning perfectly. They were performing along with me.”

“But since the words have been said publicly, you can’t receive a formal promotion within the Bureau of Justice. And given that you already hold the rank of Senior Investigator, advancing further within the Bureau isn’t easy regardless.”

Ye Xiaoqian bent forward. “I understand, my lord.”

“You don’t understand a thing,” Li Chi said. “What I mean is — since you have no room to advance within the Bureau of Justice, perhaps you shouldn’t stay in the Bureau at all.”

Ye Xiaoqian startled. “My lord—”

Li Chi continued. “When you arrived, did you see the new Imperial Palace?”

“I did, my lord.”

“Within those grand and magnificent halls, there is one position still unfilled — Commander of the Imperial Guard…”

Ye Xiaoqian froze.

“Starting today,” Li Chi said, “begin selecting candidates. You may draw from the combat troops, from the Bureau of Justice, from the Military Intelligence Division.”

Ye Xiaoqian immediately dropped to one knee. “Your servant obeys the imperial command!”

That phrase — imperial command — came out with remarkable instinct.

Yu Jiuling exclaimed at once, “Now there’s a quick learner. This one is going places.”

Li Chi shot him a look.

—

In the front courtyard of the Bureau of Justice, Senior Investigator Guan Jinhe was following another officer toward the gate. “Who’s looking for me? Did they give a name?”

“They say they’re from Jizhou, my lord,” the officer said as they walked. “A relative, apparently, who heard you’d taken a post in Chang’an and has come to seek your help.”

The words sent a jolt through Guan Jinhe. He’d originally served as Senior Investigator at the Jizhou branch of the Bureau of Justice. When Xu Ji was reassigned to Yuezhou, Guan Jinhe had been transferred out of Jizhou as well — a routine personnel move, nothing suspicious about it.

But the moment he heard relative from Jizhou, something clenched in his chest.

“His Highness is here in this compound. This must not spread,” he said quickly, dropping his voice. The officer acknowledged it without much concern. In the days before a new dynasty’s founding, having relatives and old friends come to seek favor with someone in office — that was simply human nature.

But Guan Jinhe’s unease had nothing to do with that. He knew perfectly well that no real relative had come.

Relative from Jizhou. Those six words were a crystal-clear signal: Xu Ji had sent someone.

Before leaving Jizhou, Xu Ji and Guan Jinhe had made an arrangement. Whether Guan Jinhe needed Xu Ji’s help or Xu Ji needed his, their agreed code was exactly this — a relative from Jizhou.

But things were different now.

Back then, in Jizhou, Guan Jinhe had lost his grip on himself. He’d been bought by Xu Ji — lavished with gifts, at least twenty thousand taels of silver by a conservative count. At the time, he hadn’t worried much about exposure, because Jizhou, though the King of Ning’s home base, had felt remote enough after His Highness marched south.

Now things were different.

How could he not be afraid?

He stepped outside, saw the two men, and kept up the performance — greeting them with the easy warmth of long-lost family, then turning back to the duty officer to say he was taking his relatives to a meal and would return shortly.

Not long after, in a private room at a teahouse, Guan Jinhe unfolded Xu Ji’s letter. When he finished reading, his expression shifted before he could stop it.

He sat in silence for a moment, then lowered his voice. “Go back and tell the Military Governor — there is no such prisoner in the Bureau of Justice. Either that person died from the start, or he escaped. One of you return with that message now. I’ll try to search the Bureau’s archived records. If there truly is no file on this person, I’ll send the other one back to tell Lord Xu there is nothing to worry about.”

The two men agreed, and decided one would return immediately.

Walking back alone through the city, Guan Jinhe felt his fear growing with every step.

Xu Ji… would this man drag him down with him?

—