“We request an audience with the Empress.”

“Your Majesty, we have been wrongfully accused!”

Many people had gathered at the outskirts of the hunting grounds.

Besides some guards from the Imperial Security Bureau, most were officials.

They were speaking angrily, some even in tears, making the scene chaotic though not threatening.

Two men in black emerged from the darkness, observing the officials being held back by the guards.

“What’s happening?” they asked in low voices, their eyes wary. “Have they… noticed something?”

If they had noticed, then they would simply kill them all without delay.

The night air stirred as several more black-clad figures appeared.

“No,” they replied. “It’s that Zhu Yong from the Imperial Security Bureau causing trouble.”

The two men in black focused their gaze and saw that the officials weren’t mingled together but divided into two factions.

One faction wore official robes that gleamed in the torchlight—the dragon patterns of high-ranking officials.

Before the hunting ground guards could intervene, the men from the Imperial Security Bureau spoke first.

“Minister Qiao, inciting everyone to make such a commotion,” Zhu Yong said. “Even if you see the Empress, you’ll only add to your crimes.”

Hearing this, the officials grew even more furious.

“Zhu Yong! Stop your intimidation,” one official shouted. “My conduct is beyond reproach!”

Another official with a graying beard, his voice hoarse, pushed away those supporting him: “Even if the Empress wishes to punish me, I must first accuse you, Zhu Yong! You’ve abused your power to frame others, used torture to extract confessions, and exploited your position for personal gain—”

Unlike guards like Ding Dahui, Zhu Yong had a civil service background. Even amid such chaos, he remained composed.

“Minister Huang, accusations require evidence,” he said softly. “I arrested Minister Qiao with evidence—he’s been corresponding with the Wei family from Han Commandery.”

His words fell like water splashed into hot oil, causing an uproar among the officials opposite him.

“You’re lying—” “This is your fabrication—” “Zhu Yong! You’ve conspired with others to steal Minister Qiao’s family treasures—”

“The man has already confessed that you forged the documents and planted them in Minister Qiao’s study.”

“You intend to silence him, but thankfully Heaven has eyes and we discovered it first—”

Amid the roaring of so many officials, Zhu Yong’s voice was drowned out.

The black-clad men inside finally understood the situation.

They knew Zhu Yong had been investigating the Wei family in Han Commandery with Ding Dahui. After the case was closed, Ding Dahui returned first, and now Zhu Yong had also returned. It seemed he was now investigating the Wei family’s accomplices in the capital and had been surrounded by angry officials.

The men in black lost interest in listening further.

“Drive them away,” one ordered in a low voice.

Some black-clad men moved to relay the message to the guards at the front, but before they could deliver it, Zhu Yong suddenly rushed past the guards toward the interior.

“I’ll explain to the Empress myself,” he said, gesturing commands to the guards. “Hold them back.”

Since these people posed no threat, the guards had been somewhat inattentive. Zhu Yong moved quickly, and they failed to stop him. Just as they moved to pursue, the officials, seeing this, surged forward as well.

“We want to go too—”

“Stop him, don’t let him escape—”

“He’s going to slander and frame us before the Empress, don’t let him get away.”

“I don’t believe the Empress would truly shield him—”

The guards hurried to block these people. The officials were wearing their robes and carried no weapons; they were either frail or elderly. The guards didn’t dare use much force, leaving them constrained and creating chaos.

Amidst this confusion, Zhu Yong sprinted inward, with several Imperial Security Bureau guards closely following.

“We don’t know the Empress’s location,” they asked anxiously, looking around frantically. “Where is the Commander?”

Zhu Yong replied: “No need to find Commander Ding. I know.”

He hadn’t been involved in the security arrangements for the hunting grounds, but he had carefully examined the Imperial Security Bureau’s records from recent days and found the approximate location.

Now there was no time to find Ding Dahui and the others. He just needed to reach the Empress—

Zhu Yong felt he had never run so fast in his life.

Faster!

Ahead, the lights of the camp tents were faintly visible, but in the next moment, his path was blocked.

Many men, armed with bows and swords, stood like a wall.

Zhu Yong stopped abruptly. The others behind him nearly crashed into him.

What happened?

Zhu Yong watched as the human wall slowly parted and a man walked forward. His heart finally sank.

“Minister Xie,” he said. “So you weren’t imprisoned after all.”

In the next moment, the sound of crossbows rang out around them. The Imperial Security Bureau guards who had followed him fell to the ground before they could react, leaving only Zhu Yong standing.

Xie Yanfang looked at him: “It’s you.” He nodded, “Not bad. The Empress didn’t misjudge you—able to sense something was wrong and brave enough to rush in.”

Zhu Yong gripped the sword at his waist. Although he was just a civil official, and the sword was merely a symbol of the Imperial Security Bureau, he had never used it before.

“Xie Yanfang,” he shouted sternly, “you’re committing treason!”

Xie Yanfang smiled: “The Emperor is my nephew, half his blood is from my Xie family. Why would I need to rebel?” He waved his hand dismissively, “You’re someone she selected, and you’ve done your job well. I won’t kill you. I’ll keep you alive—she can still use you in the future.”

But before he finished speaking, Zhu Yong had already drawn his sword and lunged at him, shouting: “Traitor, die!”

Of course, he couldn’t kill Xie Yanfang. He couldn’t even get close. With his shout, several men in black leapt out, knocking the sword from his hand with one strike and kicking him to the ground. Several blades immediately fell upon his neck.

“Since—” Xie Yanfang frowned, but before he could finish, there was a commotion behind him.

“Master,” a black-clad man called, “it’s from the Empress’s side.”

Xie Yanfang had already turned and was striding away, his robes fluttering.

The men in black no longer paid attention to Zhu Yong on the ground and hurried after their master.

Zhu Yong rose from the ground, somewhat unsteady. The black-clad man’s kick had nearly broken his leg. These men were even more formidable than Ding Dahui—

Ding Dahui and the others had likely met with misfortune.

Zhu Yong looked toward the camp tents. The sounds of battle rang out there, weapons clashing and sparking. Who had come to rescue the Empress?

He grabbed his sword from the ground. Although he could be knocked down with a single kick, he still ran toward the battle without hesitation.

……

……

A long sword met an iron whip in midair. With a harsh sound, the sword broke into two pieces, and the whip flew away.

This blow sent both fighters backward—two steps, three steps—leaving a furrow in the ground before they stopped.

The young man wrapped in black clothing wiped his mouth corner, but the blood wasn’t wiped away. Instead, half his face was now covered in blood.

The tiger’s mouth on his hand was split open and bleeding.

“Not bad, Du Qi,” he said, shaking his hand. “You must have killed many people these past few years. You’ve become more formidable.”

Du Qi looked at the man before him, his eyes showing shock and anger.

“Xie Yanlai, you’ve become quite skilled at playing dead!” he said, then drew a pair of flexible swords from his waist. “Fine, today I’ll make sure you die by my hand!”

Xie Yanlai spun and ducked, avoiding Du Qi. As sword light flashed, he retreated—one step, two steps, three steps. When he rose again, a bloodied long sword had appeared in his hand. A cold light flashed, and Du Qi let out a muffled groan as blood sprayed from his arm.

The sounds of battle around them were like a vortex, drawing the two men in.

Chu Zhao, who had rushed out of the tent still holding her brush, only caught a glimpse of Xie Yanlai’s back before it merged with the flashing blades and swords, making the scene before her seem both real and illusory.

Without the slightest hesitation, she picked up a sword from the ground and was about to charge into the vortex when a flying dagger knocked it from her hand. She staggered backward, colliding with the tent.

Xie Yanfang strode over from the side.

“No need for you to join the fray personally,” he said. “So many people fighting to the death for you—if you die, all their efforts would be wasted.”

Chu Zhao looked at him, then turned and ran.

But she couldn’t outrun him. After a few steps, Xie Yanfang caught her.

“I thought you would at least cry out to me to stop the fighting, to spare them,” he said with some amusement. “Why did you run instead?”

“Because you would never spare them,” Chu Zhao said through gritted teeth, struggling fiercely.

Her struggles were utterly useless. Xie Yanfang held her arm steadily as he turned to watch the battle in the camp. People were everywhere, blood and flesh flying, but he still spotted the young man’s figure.

“So you hid him away,” he said with a smile. “Not bad. Xie Yanlai is dead, no longer connected to the Xie family. The one who lives is your man. See, he’s come to save you now. If he were still Xie Yanlai, he couldn’t have come.”

Chu Zhao laughed coldly: “I have even more powerful allies—”

With these words, the girl who had been desperately trying to break free suddenly used his pull to lunge closer, one arm firmly embracing his waist, the other hand thrusting sharply toward his neck.

A brush landed on Xie Yanfang’s neck—pale skin against the dark blue brush tip created a strangely beautiful contrast. If a drop of red blood were added, it would be even more beautiful.

Unfortunately, the brush tip couldn’t advance another step.

Xie Yanfang held the girl with one arm while his other hand gripped hers, looking down at his neck.

His expression seemed as calm as before, but also somewhat surprised.

“Chu Zhao,” he said. “You want to kill me?”

Chu Zhao strained against him, but the hand gripping her wrist was like an iron vise—she couldn’t move at all.

“Of course I want to kill you,” she said through clenched teeth.

Xie Yanfang was still looking at the brush pressed against his neck: “A contact poison that seals the wound as it draws blood. You truly want me dead.” His voice carried a hint of desolation as his gaze shifted to the girl in his arms. “I never wanted you dead.”