"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.
Aside from some Garrison Guard soldiers, most were officials.
They spoke with angry expressions, some even weeping, creating a noisy but non-threatening scene.
Two figures in black emerged from the darkness, observing the officials being held back by the soldiers.
"What's happening?" they whispered, eyes wary. "Have they noticed something?"
If they had, then they should all be eliminated immediately—no time for delays.
As the night shadows shifted, several hidden black-clad figures surfaced.
"No," they reported. "It's that Zhu Yong from the Garrison Guard—he's caused trouble.The two black-clothed men's gazes sharpened, noticing the officials weren't a unified group but clearly divided into two factions.
One group's official robes shimmered under the torchlight, adorned with the Python Pattern.
Before the hunting ground guards could intervene, the Garrison Guard spoke up first.
"Lord Qiao, inciting such a disturbance like this," Zhu Yong said, "even if you see the Empress, it will only add to your crimes."
His words further enraged the officials.
"Zhu Yong! Stop with the intimidation here," one official shouted. "My conduct is upright and proper!"
Another elderly official with a graying beard, voice hoarse, pushed away those supporting him: "Even if the Empress intends to punish me, I must first impeach you, Zhu Yong! You abuse your power, fabricate charges, extract confessions through torture, and exploit your authority for personal gain—"
Unlike soldiers like Ding Dachui, Zhu Yong came from a civil official background. Despite the uproar, he remained calm.
"Lord Huang, words must be backed by evidence," he said softly. "I arrested Lord Qiao with proof—he corresponded with the Wei Clan of Han County."
As his words fell, the opposing officials erupted like water splashing into hot oil.
"You're lying—" "This is forged—" "Zhu Yong! You colluded with others to seize Lord Qiao's family heirloom treasures—"
"That person has already confessed—the documents were forged by you, and he personally planted them in Lord Qiao's study."
"You tried to silence him, but fortunately, heaven showed mercy and we discovered it in time—"
Amid the roaring officials, Zhu Yong's voice was drowned out.
The Men in Black also understood the situation.
He knew Zhu Yong had been investigating the Wei Clan in Han County with Ding Dachui. After the case was settled, Ding Dachui returned first, and now Zhu Yong was back, apparently continuing to investigate the Wei Clan's accomplices in the capital—hence the officials' siege.
The Men in Black lost interest in listening further.
"Drive them away," he ordered quietly.
The man in black relayed the command to the front-line soldiers, but before it could be delivered, Zhu Yong suddenly broke through the soldiers and headed inward.
"I will explain myself to the Empress," he declared, gesturing to the soldiers. "Stop them."
Since the crowd posed no threat, the soldiers had been somewhat lax. Zhu Yong moved swiftly, and they failed to block him initially. As they prepared to pursue, the officials surged forward upon seeing this.
"We must go too—"
"Stop him, don't let him escape—"
"He's going to slander and frame us before Her Majesty—we can't let him get away."
"I refuse to believe the Empress would truly shield him—"
The soldiers hurried to restrain the officials. Dressed in official robes and unarmed, they were either frail or elderly. The guards couldn't even consider using force, afraid to harm them, and found themselves constrained, resulting in utter chaos.Amid the chaos, Zhu Yong sprinted inward, followed closely by several Garrison Guard soldiers.
"We don't know where the Empress is," they urgently asked while anxiously scanning their surroundings. "Where is the Commander?"
Zhu Yong replied, "No need to find Commander Ding. I know."
He hadn't participated in the hunting grounds' security arrangements, but he had meticulously reviewed the Garrison Guard's recent records and identified the approximate location.
There was no time to find Ding Dachui and the others now—they just needed to reach the Empress—
Zhu Yong felt he had never run so fast in his life.
Faster!
Ahead, the faint glow of lanterns illuminated the tents in the brightness, but the next moment, their path was blocked.
A crowd of people, armed with bows and blades, stood like a solid wall.
Zhu Yong abruptly halted, and the others, unable to stop in time, nearly collided with him.
What was happening?
Zhu Yong watched as the human wall slowly parted, and a man stepped forward. His heart finally sank.
"Lord Xie," he said. "So it wasn't you who was imprisoned."
In the next instant, the sound of crossbows echoed around them. The Garrison Guard soldiers who had followed were caught off guard and fell to the ground one after another, leaving Zhu Yong alone in the blink of an eye.
Xie Yanfang looked at him. "It's you," he nodded. "Not bad. The Empress didn't misjudge you—able to sense something amiss and daring enough to charge in."
Zhu Yong gripped the saber at his waist. Though he was only a civil official and the blade was merely a symbol of the Garrison Guard, he had never used it before.
"Xie Yanfang," he shouted sternly. "You're plotting a rebellion!"
Xie Yanfang smiled. "The Emperor is my nephew, half of his blood is from the Xie family. Why would I need to rebel?" With a wave of his hand, he added, "You were chosen by her, and you've done well. I won't kill you. Keep you around—she might still have use for you later."
But before he finished speaking, Zhu Yong had already drawn his saber and lunged at him, shouting, "Die, traitor!"
Of course, he couldn't kill Xie Yanfang. He didn't even get close. As he yelled, several black-clad figures leaped out, knocking the saber from his hand with a single move and kicking him to the ground. Multiple blades pressed against the back of his neck.
"Since—" Xie Yanfang frowned, but before he could finish, a commotion erupted behind him.
"Young Master," one of the black-clad men called out. "It's from the Empress's side."
Xie Yanfang had already turned and hurried away, his robes billowing.
The black-clad men paid no further attention to Zhu Yong on the ground and swiftly followed.
Zhu Yong struggled to his feet, unsteady. The kick from the black-clad man had nearly broken his leg—these men were even more formidable than Ding Dachui—
Ding Dachui and the others must have already met their demise.
Zhu Yong looked toward the tents ahead, where the sounds of fierce fighting and clashing weapons sent sparks flying. Who had come to rescue the Empress?
He snatched his saber from the ground. Though he could be knocked down with a single kick, he charged toward the fray without hesitation.
...
...
The long saber and iron whip met mid-air with a piercing screech. The saber shattered into two pieces, and the iron whip was sent flying.
The impact forced both combatants backward, sliding two or three steps and carving grooves into the ground before they came to a stop.
The young man clad in black wiped the corner of his mouth, but instead of cleaning the blood, he smeared it across half his face.
The flesh between his thumb and forefinger was torn, his hand covered in blood.
"Not bad, Du Qi," he said, shaking his hand. "You've killed quite a few over the years, haven't you? Getting more and more formidable."
Du Qi stared at the man before him, his eyes filled with shock and fury."Xie Yanlai, you've certainly grown more cunning—faking your death!" As he spoke, he drew a pair of soft swords from his waist. "Very well, today you shall die by my hand!"
Xie Yanlai spun and dropped low, evading Du Qi, retreating swiftly amid flashes of swordlight. One step, two steps, three—then rising, a bloodstained long sword now in his grasp. A cold gleam flashed, and Du Qi let out a muffled grunt as blood sprayed from his arm.
The surrounding clash of battle swirled like a vortex, engulfing them both.
Chu Zhao, who had rushed from the tent still clutching a brush, only caught a glimpse of Xie Yanlai's retreating figure before it merged with the whirlwind of blades and shadows, the scene before her blurred between reality and illusion.
Without hesitation, she snatched up a sword from the ground and charged toward the fray, but a thrown dagger knocked it from her grasp the next instant. Staggering back, she collided with the tent wall.
Xie Yanfang strode over from the side.
"No need for you to join the fight personally," he said. "So many are risking their lives for you. If you die, all their efforts would be in vain."
Chu Zhao glared at him, then turned and ran.
But she was no match for his speed. Within steps, Xie Yanfang caught her.
"I thought you'd at least beg me to stop, to spare them," he remarked with faint amusement. "Why run away instead?"
"Because you would never spare them anyway," Chu Zhao gritted out, struggling fiercely.
Her resistance was futile; Xie Yanfang held her arm firmly as he turned to survey the carnage. The camp was chaos—bodies and blood everywhere—yet his eyes found the young man's figure.
"You hid him well," he said, smiling slightly. "Good. Xie Yanlai is dead, severed from the Xie family. The one living now belongs to you. See? He's come to rescue you. If he were still Xie Yanlai, he couldn't have."
Chu Zhao sneered. "I have something even better—"
As she spoke, the girl who had been straining to break free suddenly leveraged his grip to press close, one arm locking around his waist while the other drove viciously toward his neck.
A brush pressed against Xie Yanfang's throat—pale skin against a dark blue tip, creating an eerie beauty. A drop of crimson blood would have perfected the scene.
But the tip advanced no further.
Xie Yanfang held the girl with one arm and gripped her wrist with the other, glancing down at his neck.
His gaze seemed as composed as before, yet held a trace of surprise.
"Chu Zhao," he said. "You want to kill me?"
Chu Zhao strained, but the hand clasping her wrist was an iron vise—she couldn't move an inch.
"Of course I want to kill you," she hissed through clenched teeth.
Xie Yanfang studied the brush poised at his throat. "And it's tipped with a lethal poison. You truly wish me dead." His voice carried a tinge of melancholy as he looked at the girl in his arms. "I never wanted you to die."
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