Chen Baoxiang spent a most pleasant stretch of time in the small courtyard recovering from her injuries.

A beautiful man at her side, nothing to worry her, the Emperor sending gifts now and then, and the Princess Imperial holding her in considerable regard.

With such favorable conditions for recovery, she lived up to expectations and healed quickly, returning to duty at the Patrol Camp.

When a new official takes office, the three fires they light are typically meant to intimidate — just enough to warn the subordinate officials below them, and that would do.

But Chen Baoxiang was different.

She took the Patrol Camp’s authority token, brought her trusted associates, and strode with great boldness and vigor to tear down one of Cheng Huaili’s private residences, on the grounds that its construction exceeded the area recorded in the land deed by half.

Cheng Huaili had already been unable to stomach her, and being provoked right under his nose, he immediately dispatched men to take action.

And so several hundred people on both sides came to blows right there in the streets of Shangjing.

Chen Baoxiang not only won, she also went to the palace first to sob and file a complaint: “Your Majesty, this subject acts according to the rules. If General Cheng does not abide by these rules, please give this subject direction, so that she may act according to whatever new rules there may be.”

Cheng Huaili filed his complaint too late, lost the initiative, and not only failed to pin the charge of overstepping her authority on her — he instead received a thorough scolding from the Emperor.

Naturally he refused to take this lying down. He immediately had people stir up trouble in her jurisdiction, hoping the Censorate would charge Chen Baoxiang with incompetence and inability to keep order in the Shangjing Patrol.

But somehow — no one knew where she got so many capable people — across all twenty-four ward markets of Shangjing, she had eight or nine fiercely loyal subordinate officials in each ward. Whether it was a fire or a murder in the street, things were always resolved with the greatest of speed.

She also raided six illicit workshops, two illegal gambling dens, and one unlicensed brothel of his in quick succession. No matter who came to intercede on his behalf, she ignored them entirely.

Those who didn’t know the inside story thought she was simply taking revenge because he’d struck her in the main hall, and that retaliation made perfect sense.

But Cheng Huaili understood clearly — she was not avenging what had happened in the main hall. Her grievance ran too deep and stretched too far back. She intended nothing short of his complete destruction.

Chen Baoxiang’s life wasn’t entirely easy either. Every single day, whether she was out on patrol or on her way home, someone made an attempt on her life.

She had been prepared for this from the start and would never let these people succeed so easily, but one could defend against a day or two — when it continued without end, even her closest allies and helpers began to wear thin.

And these attackers could fail many times over. She herself could not afford to be negligent even once.

One day, utterly exhausted from this relentless pursuit, Chen Baoxiang went directly to take shelter beside the Princess Imperial.

Li Bingsheng looked at the fighting outside and shook her head with a tsk: “Did you dig up Cheng Huaili’s ancestral grave for him to hate you this much?”

“I haven’t dug it up yet,” she said with a bright laugh. “But one day I will.”

Li Bingsheng burst into laughter, enormously pleased with her response: “I’ll assign you fifty personal guards right now.”

“There’s no need.” She shook her head. “This subject can’t afford to maintain that many elite guards. Staying close to Your Highness for a measure of safety will do.”

“But you can’t stay by my side forever.” Li Bingsheng pointed in the direction of the palace. “That person has grown restless of late and has begun transferring troops from the frontier toward Shangjing.”

Cheng Huaili was already as good as finished and could no longer lead troops in battle, but there were many capable men under his command — especially his disciple Song Juqing, who commanded an elite cavalry force with an unbroken record of victory in battle.

This man had been stationed in Yunzhou to serve as a check against outside threats, so it came as a shock when a secret imperial edict arrived a few days ago ordering him to begin moving his forces in the direction of Shangjing.

“Does Your Highness mean for me to intercept him?” Chen Baoxiang asked.

Li Bingsheng shook her head: “Not at all. Others are already attending to that matter. What I want is for you to take the measure of the Forbidden Mobile Army stationed outside the palace walls.”

The Forbidden Mobile Army numbered roughly four thousand and was permanently stationed in the vicinity of the imperial palace, rotating in three shifts. Originally under Cheng Huaili’s command, the new Emperor — evidently finding Cheng Huaili’s lame leg made him no longer fit for purpose — had divided half the military authority and given it to Zhang Ting’an, who had recently returned to the capital.

Zhang Ting’an was stubborn as a mule. She had sent no fewer than seven or eight persuaders to him already, and not one of them had managed to get him to lower his head.

“The Forbidden Mobile Army is a vulnerability. I won’t feel at ease until it’s in our hands.” Li Bingsheng looked at her. “Are you willing to try on my behalf?”

Chen Baoxiang agreed almost immediately.

But the moment she turned away, her face crumpled like a wrung-out rag.

What is this? The strategists couldn’t manage it, so they hand it to her, a military officer? Zhang Ting’an had always looked down on her — let alone listening to anything she said.

The situation in Shangjing right now was already a gale howling before a storm about to break. The Zhang Family had always been loyalists to the throne, so how could they possibly abandon their allegiance because of a few words from anyone?

They were giving her far too much credit.

While she was mulling this over, Bikong came rushing up, urgency written across her face: “Something’s happened. Fenghua just brought Zhao Huaizhu and Han Xiao home, and assassins broke into the house right after. There were many of them. The guards we left behind couldn’t hold them off, and there are substantial casualties.”

Her pupils contracted. Chen Baoxiang was so alarmed she vaulted over the railing and ran.

“Go and help.” Li Bingsheng quickly gave the order.

“Yes.” Bikong received the command and went to mobilize people.

Chen Baoxiang ran at full speed, without even time to fetch a horse. She took the shortcut from the Princess’s estate back home and scaled the wall to get inside.

Patrol officers from the area had already arrived to help, but the residence was still a scene of total devastation — lanterns smashed, blades broken, black-clad figures collapsed across the ground, spreading blood seeping along the edge of the pond into the water.

She quickened her pace into the main courtyard, where she saw the little maid she had recently bought for Han Xiao — about the same age as Han Xiao, with a long gash torn across her back, lying motionless on the ground, already without breath.

Chen Baoxiang’s eyes reddened.

Beside her, a remaining black-clad figure swayed and raised a sword toward her.

She drew her blade with a sharp ring and drove it straight through the attacker’s abdomen with a fierce thrust, then sent the person flying with a kick. Still not satisfied, she swept her blade sideways and cut the throat of another assassin who came lunging at her from behind.

“Where are they?” She grabbed a household servant and asked urgently. “Where are they?”

“In the back courtyard.” The servant managed to point.

Chen Baoxiang handed him off to the patrol officers who had come to support them, drew her blade and went toward the back courtyard.

Her mind was in turmoil the whole way, and she prayed the entire time that Han Xiao would be unharmed.

Han Xiao was the only person in this world who still shared blood with Grandmother Ye.

She kicked the back courtyard door open and held her blade crosswise in readiness to defend.

The person holding a sword on the opposite side had a grave expression, apparently also prepared for a desperate last stand — but when they saw who had arrived, they gave a start, then sheathed the sword behind their back.

It was Zhang Zhixu.

Chen Baoxiang breathed a sigh of relief, then immediately strode forward in long steps, calling out: “Han Xiao?”

From within the crowd a small hand shot up, and a clear little voice called back: “Baoxiang jiejie!”

She pushed past the others and grasped her hands in urgency: “Are you hurt?”

Han Xiao shook her head. Tears were brimming in her eyes. “Jiejie Chen, thank goodness it was you who came in.”

“Let me look.” Chen Baoxiang tossed her blade aside and examined her face carefully, then looked her up and down all over.

No wounds, no missing limbs. Wonderful.

She exhaled a long breath and smiled: “Your grandmother is surely watching over you from heaven. So many assassins, and not one of them laid a hand on you.”

Han Xiao looked at her with a complicated expression, then looked at the person behind her. “Grandmother will certainly watch over me, but I didn’t get hurt mostly because he was protecting me. I need to thank him.”

Chen Baoxiang turned.

Zhang Zhixu stood to one side, calm and composed, his plain white clothing spattered with blood. His eyes were quiet, seemingly without much emotional fluctuation.

He said: “It was nothing out of the ordinary. No need for thanks. Now that you’ve returned, my Lord, I’m sure the remaining assassins will be cleared out quickly.”

“Don’t worry,” Chen Baoxiang rose and said. “I won’t let a single one of them walk out of this courtyard.”