[ The First Month of Year 825 AD | Capital Downtown, Arghon Empire ]
Our names were finally painted on the grand registry boards in the central market square, pinned alongside hundreds of other hopeful scholars. The examination was set for Monday. As the morning crowd began to swell and choke the thoroughfare, I slipped away from the posting boards. I had a more pressing errand: gathering the raw medicinal roots and dried herbs Mu Lin required for her own physical trials.
Her results would also be declared on Monday. There was a devastating probability that once the gates closed behind her, we wouldn't see her again for months; the moment she passed, she would be absorbed directly into the inner empire's strictly insulated medical dormitories for imperial training. Our plan was calculated and tight: Laohu and I would send her off at the eastern medical gates, then march straight to our respective testing pavilions.
By midday, the central market had become an absolute bottleneck of aristocratic carriages and swarming commoners. Navigating the main street was impossible if I wanted to remain inconspicuous, so I veered into the narrow, winding back alleys of the downtown district to bypass the chaos.
The moment I paid the apothecary for the last bundle of dried foxglove, the sky split open. A torrential downpour slammed into the capital.
I was wearing a lightweight, standard scholar's robe today. Given my naturally aggressive, wide stride, I knew my trousers and hem would be caked in thick street mud before I even reached the estate gates. Wrong timing had always been a specialty of mine; fortune had a habit of keeping its distance when I actually needed it.
I'll have to jump the rooftops and tiptoe through the courtyard just to keep Linlin from skinning me alive, I thought, grimacing. She was the one managing our communal laundry, and she had a terrifying temper when it came to muddy linens.
Desperate to escape the sudden deluge, I spotted the overhanging eaves of a large, open-fronted establishment. I took a sharp turn and darted through the threshold, shaking the rain from my shoulders. An elderly woman instantly glided toward me, her weathered face caked in thick white cosmetics, her lips painted a jarring, unnatural crimson.
I blinked, realizing exactly where I had just sought shelter. Before I could turn on my heel to leave, the grungy matriarch lunged forward, her long fingers reaching up to cup my jawline.
"Ah, a handsome young master," she cooed, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "The freezing breeze has brought you to our humble pavilion of joy. Come inside, child. We offer exceptional warmth and pleasant company to soothe a weary scholar."
I recoiled, forcefully yanking her hands off my face. Even though I was wearing the structured, masculine linen robes of a young nobleman, my intrinsic pride as a woman felt deeply offended by the gesture.
I turned back toward the street, determined to brave the storm, but a violent sheet of wind and rain slammed against the entryway. I was completely trapped.
"Oh, don't be so bashful, Young Master," the madam chuckled, entirely unfazed by my glare. "Wouldn't you prefer to admire beautiful girls and enjoy a warm flask of spiced wine while the storm passes?"
Before I could protest further, she deftly escorted me into the main hall, guiding me toward a small, unoccupied wooden table near the perimeter. The atmosphere inside was suffocatingly loud. Men of varying social statuses—from petty merchants to minor court officials—were drinking heavily, cheering to the rhythm of traditional stringed lutes, and shouting their various achievements to anyone who would listen.
Reigning in my irritation, I flagged down a servant. "Bring me a pot of chamomile tea. And leave me alone."
I shrugged as the servant scurried off. Women should never be forced to cater to the whims of arrogant men over wine, but in the capital, it seemed to be a currency.
Reaching deep into my inner robe, my fingers brushed against the heavy iron chain Master Cui had pressed into my hand before he died. I pulled it out, staring at the old, unpolished medallion. This artifact was my only link to a forgotten past—the single piece of evidence from the day I was abandoned in the snow. It was both a comfort and a curse.
The stringed music shifted, adopting a slow, melancholic rhythm that mirrored the hollow ache in my chest. Lost in the memory of Weiyou's burning gates, I didn't even realize hot tears were slipping down my cheeks until they splashed against my knuckles. I fiercely rubbed my eyes with the sleeve of my robe, taking a slow, steady gulp of the hot tea to ground myself.
Suddenly, a wave of loud cheers erupted from the center of the hall.
A dancer glided onto the elevated stage, clad in a cascading, vibrant silk gown of woven pink and deep amethyst. Her dark hair was immaculately knotted into an intricate, elegant bun, held aloft by delicate silver hairpins and shimmering ornaments that caught the amber torchlight. She moved with an exquisite, gravity-defying grace that instantly silenced the rowdy patrons. Even my cynical eyes had to admit she was a spectacular vision; she commanded the entire room, using a painted silk fan as an extension of her fluid movements. Every man in the room watched her like a starving wolf. She was clearly the crown jewel of the establishment.
I forced my gaze away from her, staring back down at my teacup. I couldn't afford to be distracted by capital entertainment. I needed to strategize. The moment I set foot inside the Hill Academy, I would be walking a tightrope over a pit of vipers. Any minor slip—a loose binding, an unpolished dialect, a suspicious glance—could blow my identity apart and expose our entire operation to the Ministry of Justice.
My internal mapping was abruptly shattered by a violent crash on the main stage.
The music splintered into discord. A heavily intoxicated man had lunged onto the platform, violently gripping the lead dancer's silk sleeve and dragging her toward the stairs. The girl gasped, struggling against his grip as the surrounding musicians scrambled backward. A few patrons rose to intervene, but the moment they recognized the assailant's face, they froze in absolute terror.
"Step back, you fools!" someone whispered frantically from a neighboring table. "That's Officer Yao. The ruling Yun Clan favors his family heavily. If we touch him, we'll all end up rotting in an imperial ditch by sunrise!"
I let out a low, breathy, sarcastic laugh. What a pathetic excuse for a man.
Every instinct screamed at me to stay hidden, to keep my head down and protect my mission. But then the spineless manager of the brothel rushed forward. Instead of defending his dancer, he began pushing the weeping girl toward Officer Yao's attendants, greedily snatching a heavy pouch of silver taels thrown at his feet. The girl broke from their grasp, stumbling blindly toward the edge of the stage, only for Officer Yao to step into her path and deliver a brutal, ringing slap across her face.
A sharp, familiar pressure flared behind my temples. My vision narrowed. To hell with the rules.
As Officer Yao reached out his filthy hand to clamp around the girl's bruised arm again, my hand moved faster than my thoughts. I snatched the small, heavy iron fruit knife from my table, flipped it in my palm, and hurled it across the room.
The blade cut through the smoky air with a sharp hiss, burying itself clean through the center of Officer Yao's right palm.
A blood-curdling shriek echoed through the hall as the knife pinned his hand flat against the wooden pillar behind him. The entire brothel fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Every eye in the establishment whipped around, scanning the tables until they landed directly on me.
I smirked, standing up slowly.
With a single fluid leap, I vaulted over my table, caught the metal rim of the low-hanging iron chandelier, and swung myself down onto the stage, landing lightly on my boots right beside the trembling dancer. I took the girl by the elbow, pulling her gently behind my back.
Officer Yao was hyperventilating, his eyes bloodshot with a mix of blinding pain and unbridled aristocratic rage. Crimson blood was pooling rapidly down the wood of the pillar from his right hand.
"Who... who are you?!" he screamed, his voice cracking as he clawed at his wrist with his left hand. "What kind of insignifcant bastard do you think you are?!"
The crowd erupted into frantic, terrified whispers. I stepped closer to him, a serene, chilling smile fixed on my face. I wrapped my fingers around the bone hilt of the knife and yanked it out of the wood in one sharp movement. Yao whimpered like a wounded dog, collapsing to his knees.
I held the blade up, watching the thick, dark blood trickle down the steel, before casually wiping it clean on the fine silk coat of his unconscious bodyguard lying nearby. I tossed the knife onto the floorboards with a dull clatter.
"I am truly amazed," I murmured, my voice deadly calm, carrying effortlessly across the silent room. "I didn't think human blood could smell as foul as your behavior, Officer. But you've proven me wrong."
Enraged, Yao attempted to lung upward to tackle me with his left fist. I didn't even blink. I slipped his clumsy trajectory, caught his collar, and slammed him face-first into the stage floor. Before he could recover, I drove the heel of my leather boot firmly into the center of his punctured right hand.
He screamed, a sound of absolute agony that echoed off the rafters.
"Who the hell are you?!" he choked out through the dirt.
"Dan Wei Cheng," I stated clearly, projecting my voice so every imperial spy in the room could hear the lineage. "From the household of scholar Dan. If you will excuse us."
I glanced over my shoulder, seeing that the lead dancer had successfully backed away from the stage restrictions. I scratched my left eyebrow, a habit that always flared when I was mildly annoyed, and prepared to guide her out the side exit. But the sound of scraping steel stopped me. Four of Yao's private guards drew their swords, boxing me into the center of the platform.
I let out a long, heavy sigh. "If you had just let me walk away, we wouldn't have to break your bones today."
The first guard lunged, executing a standard overhead cleave. I stepped into his guard, completely bypassing the blade, caught his extended wrists, and used his own forward momentum to flip him over my shoulder, pinning his arm behind his back until his shoulder joint popped. The second guard tried to corner me from the blind spot. I ducked beneath his wild swing, swept his ankles with a low kick, and drove my palm into his sternum.
I was utilizing only the absolute basics of Weiyou's martial forms, yet these men were collapsing like wet paper. I stared down at them, thoroughly unimpressed. Are the capital's private guards truly this pathetic? Compared to the brutal, relentless endurance of the hunters and scouts in our independent tribe, these city-bred soldiers were absolute jokes. They relied entirely on heavy armor and intimidation, possessing zero real tactical agility.
I was breathing heavily now, the adrenaline surging, when a heavy vibration rattled the front doors.
"Make way! The Northern vanguard of the Yun Clan guards are here!"
The remaining patrons scrambled in absolute panic, knocking over tables and breaking flasks as they fled into the storm. I remained standing on the stage, my boot still resting heavily on the chest of the guard I had pinned.
An imperial captain marched into the hall, his hand resting on the hilt of his broadsword. He glared at the carnage on the stage and pointed his iron gauntlet at me. "Drop your weapon and submit to imperial custody!"
I ignored him entirely, deliberately pressing my heel harder into the guard's chest until the man groaned in agony. Two imperial soldiers advanced, their spears leveled at my throat. I shifted my weight, preparing a high-vault escape toward the rafters, when a figure suddenly materialized from the shadows near the back entrance.
The stranger stepped directly into the path of the advancing soldiers, his posture effortlessly relaxed. The imperial captain froze, his eyes widening in recognition, and he hastily raised his hand to halt his men. Several minor officials accompanying the guards lowered their blades, whispering in hushed, nervous tones as they evaluated the newcomer's presence.
Confused by the sudden shift in the room's gravity, I stepped to the edge of the stage, pointing an index finger at the wounded Officer Yao. "Why are your spears pointed at me when that elite piece of garbage right there was attempting to abduct a citizen against her free will? Is the imperial code truly that blind?"
A few brave souls hiding behind the overturned tables murmured in agreement. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the purple-clad dancer slip safely through the kitchen exit. A small, satisfied smile touched my lips.
The captain's face darkened. "You deliberately assaulted an official of the Yao family and maimed his hand with steel. That is a violation of the peace codes."
"Assaulted him?" I laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. "I was merely correcting his posture."
"Arrest him! Cut him down!" Yao roared from the floor, clutching his bleeding hand.
Before the guards could surge forward, I threw myself backward, vaulted off the high balustrade, and smashed through the paper-lined side window into the alleyway. The rain had cleared, leaving the cobblestones slick and shimmering under the moonlight. I sprinted through the labyrinth of the downtown district, turning sharp corners to lose the sound of clanking armor behind me.
Suddenly, a hand shot out from a dark recess between two storefronts. A strong grip caught the collar of my robe, yanked me off the main street, and dragged me down into a dense patch of ornamental bushes behind an ancestral wall.
A hand clamped firmly over my mouth, cutting off my instinctual shout. I thrashed against the hold, but the person held my arms pinned against my sides with surprising, iron-like strength.
"Shh," a voice whispered right against my ear. "For a scholar, you possess a ridiculously loud mouth, don't you?"
I went still as a patrol of Yun Clan guards sprinted past our alleyway, their torches casting long, flickering shadows against the brick wall before their footsteps faded into the distance.
The moment the coast was clear, I violently twisted out of his grip and stood up, smoothing down my ruined robe. The stranger rose alongside me, casually brushing the dirt and wet leaves from his deep, midnight-blue silks. He carried himself with an unmistakable aristocratic air—his skin was pristine and fair, and his striking hazel-brown eyes looked at me with an expression of pure amusement. He was clearly a high-born son of the capital.
"You are actively courting a death sentence, kid," he said, his voice smooth and entirely unbothered by the chase.
I narrowed my eyes at him, my hand hovering near my belt. "Why did you intervene back there?"
"I didn't," he replied with a careless shrug, a faint, devastatingly handsome smile playing on his lips. "It just so happened that you were blocking my exit."
"You were being pursued by the guard as well?"
Instead of answering, he turned toward the main thoroughfare, throwing a glance over his shoulder. "Stop wandering the entertainment districts, little scholar. Go home before your household has to formally answer for the blood on your boots today."
Before I could demand his name, he vanished into the shadows of the capital gates as fluidly as a ghost.
Predictably, the peace did not last.
The moment I stepped through our estate gates, Teacher Pu was waiting in the courtyard. The news of a "Dan Wei Cheng" skewering a nobleman's hand in a high-end brothel had traveled faster than the storm clouds.
His punishment was swift and agonizing: I was confined to the library desk, forced to transcribe the multi-volume Imperial Penal Code one hundred times over by hand. My fingers were currently cramping, the ink staining my knuckles black. Teacher Pu had spent the entire evening visiting the Yao estate, offering formal diplomatic apologies and utilizing his old academic influence to ensure the family let the matter rest, given that the wound wasn't permanent.
"I should have driven the blade deeper," I muttered under my breath, my brush scratching violently against the parchment. "I should have disabled his sword hand permanently."
SMACK.
Teacher Pu's hand came down sharply, pinching my arm with brutal accuracy.
"Ow! Tsk!" I winced, rubbing the sore spot and glaring up at him.
"Write," he commanded, his eyes severe as he pointed at the blank scroll. "Before I decide to lock you out of the examination halls entirely."