The screaming wail of the morning alarm shattered the peace of the dawn, echoing relentlessly across the stone courtyards of Hill Academy.
I blinked against the early light, staring up at the carved wooden ceiling. My first night sleeping in a proper, cushioned bed had felt utterly bizarre—too soft, too quiet, completely lacking the harsh, freezing bite of the northern mountain snows I was used to. By 5:00 AM, the restlessness had driven me out of the blankets. I had already finished ten grueling laps around the dirt archery range and slipped into the academy kitchens to prepare breakfast for the rest of Dormitory 5. It was a small welcome gesture; a quiet way to thank them for putting their trust in me as their leader.
Walking back through the main hallways, the academy was dead silent. The other dorms were completely peaceful, their heavy oak doors shut tight. I was undeniably the first person awake in the entire compound.
When I reached our quarters, I didn't bother knocking. I kicked the door open with the heel of my boot, carrying a heavy wicker food basket. Inside, the room was thick with the rhythmic, heavy snoring of four grown men. I shook my head in exasperation.
"Dorm Five, wake up!" I shouted, dropping the basket onto the center table.
When no one moved, I marched from bed to bed, planting a sharp kick into the side of each mattress. Grunts and groans echoed through the room as they immediately rolled over, pulling their blankets tighter and refusing to let go of their precious sleep.
"How can you even sleep this deeply on your first night?" I muttered under my breath, returning to the first bed and physically dragging Pei Hang by his massive forearm to force him upright. "Don't any of you get homesick? Next time, I swear I am soaking you all in cold water just to clear the room."
"Come on, we're going to be late," I breathed, sitting down at the center table and unlatching the basket.
Rubbing their eyes and blinking miserably, the four of them slowly sleepwalked over, slumping into their respective seats around the low table like a pack of dazed spirits.
"I woke up at dawn to cook for you, and you won't even appreciate my skills?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Laohu's eyes suddenly widened as the haze of sleep left him. He stared at the mysterious dishes, looked at my face, and instantly tried to slide backward to return to his bed. I smiled sweetly, my hand flashing out to catch the collar of his white inner robe. With a sharp tug, I dragged him right back into his seat.
"Sit down," I said softly.
"I'm... I'm already full, Leader," Laohu begged, holding his hands up in surrender just as the other three blindly picked up their spoons and dug into the food.
I held my breath, exchanging a tense look with Laohu as we waited for their reactions.
Pfft—
Right there and then, Pei Hang, Cha Eun Jo, and Han Chou Xi simultaneously gagged, violently spitting the food back out. Their faces twisted into masks of pure horror and disgust. I glared at them darkly, the sweet smile vanishing from my face as I pulled a gleaming, heavy kitchen knife from the depths of the basket, letting the metal catch the morning light.
"Does it taste good?" I asked, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.
The three of them stared at the knife, their throats bobbing as they collectively gulped. They slowly, terrifiedly nodded, forcing themselves to swallow the remaining bites with agonizing effort.
"Excellent. You can finish it all up," I said, leaning back.
Their faces went entirely pale. I turned my gaze to Laohu, who was eyeing the door like a trapped animal. I let out a soft chuckle and planted the knife firmly into the wooden tabletop with a sharp thunk. The terrifying sound made them jump. Realizing there was no escape, the other three frantically gestured for Laohu to save himself and take my orders. Trembling slightly, Laohu picked up a spoon and took a bite.
When they finally finished the agonizing meal, I tilted my head. "Was it too sweet?"
"It's... it's completely fine, Leader," they chorused instantly, their eyes locked on the knife.
I smiled, thoroughly satisfied, and waved my hand to dismiss them to change into their official scholar robes.
When we set out for the lecture hall, we were far earlier than the rest of the student body. The academy had distributed the required texts the night before, and as I walked, I flipped through the heavy pages, wondering if today's Confucian Way class would stick strictly to the dry text or push us into something practical.
As we walked down the stone pathways, I couldn't help but notice how my team completely towered over me. My height was utterly incomparable to theirs. They were fully grown men, after all. Even the timid prince, Han Chou Xi, who looked like a lost kitten most of the time, stood at a solid 175 centimeters with masculine, broad proportions. Laohu was easily 177, while Eun Jo and Pei Hang easily pushed 180 centimeters.
Then there was me. Dan Weicheng. Running around at a meager 165 centimeters, praying the thick layers of linen wrapped tightly around my chest wouldn't restrict my breathing enough to make me faint.
Our destination was a breathtaking, serene pavilion built entirely over a wide, clear lake covered in blooming water lilies. The hall was an isolated islet, connected to the main walkways by a single, beautifully carved stone bridge. It was empty and perfectly quiet, a stark contrast to the massive commotion building up near the west wing entrance, where a huge crowd of students was gathering as if waiting for a royal procession.
A lone figure emerged from the bridge, completely unbothered by the distant noise.
Yun Ji Wok walked into the pavilion, his expression perfectly stoic, his hands settled casually behind the small of his back as if he were analyzing every living thing in his path.
"What's happening out there?" I asked the moment his boots hit the pavilion steps.
Ji Wok shrugged nonchalantly, taking his place directly at the table next to mine. "The newly passed imperial physicians are entering the academy today for their tour," he said, his low voice smooth and entirely indifferent.
The lecture hall was arranged strictly by rank: the first row was reserved entirely for the dormitory leaders based on their numbers, while our team members sat directly behind us.
"Oh," I replied, glancing back at my squad.
To my surprise, none of them were looking at the bridge. I nodded, mildly impressed. "Aren't you guys going over to see them?"
Cha Eun Jo shrugged, resting his chin on his palm. "I've seen palace women thousands of times back home. Why do I need to see more?"
"Not interested," Laohu grunted, already cracking open his strategy booklet.
Pei Hang let out a dry cough, turning his head away. "I've seen every kind of girl imaginable in the markets and downtown. It's nothing new."
I looked at Chou Xi, who was frantically polishing his iron flute, his cheeks flushing slightly as he felt our eyes on him. "What? No... I am not interested either."
I let out a soft laugh, turning back to the front. "Alright, alright. A team that isn't bothered by earthly distractions or material desires will surely prosper." I intentionally raised my voice so Ji Wok could hear me, before crossing my arms on the desk and burying my face in them to catch a quick nap.
A low, rare sound cut through the quiet pavilion. Ji Wok was laughing.
I lifted my head, turning my gaze to him. The usual coldness in his eyes had softened, and a faint pair of dimples showed on his cheeks as he leaned slightly closer to deliver the magic words.
"They are the newly passed female imperial physicians," Ji Wok murmured.
Scrape!
The sound of four chairs violently rattling against the floorboards shattered the silence. Before I could even blink, Laohu, Eun Jo, Pei Hang, and Chou Xi dashed out of the pavilion like a pack of starved wolves, racing toward the west wing entrance to join the crowd.
My jaw dropped. I stared at the empty space behind me, my blood boiling in utter mortification as I massaged my temples.
"Liars," I hissed through my teeth, my voice shaking with embarrassment. "Men always lie."
Ji Wok watched them go, a small, unreadable smirk playing on his lips as he stood up from his desk.
"Women can be deceiving too, Candidate Dan," he said, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.
He reached deep into the folds of his immaculate blue-lined robe and withdrew a small, heavy ceramic jar. With a quiet click, he placed it directly on my desk, his eyes dropping to the thick white bandages wrapping my right hand—the brutal reminder of my trial with the Cursed Bow.
"Treat your wounds," Ji Wok said, turning his back to me before I could even formulate a question. "I don't think our class will resume anytime soon. You should head back to your dorm."
I sat there, completely dumbfounded, as his silhouette vanished across the wooden bridge. Slowly, I picked up the small jar, pulling the stopper to catch the scent. A sharp, incredibly rare medicinal aroma hit my nose. I had been planning to find Mu Lin later to beg for some salve, but this... this was something far more potent.
Gathering my team's abandoned books and belongings from the desks, I left the empty pavilion. If class was canceled, I wasn't going to waste the day.
Back at Dormitory 5, I dropped their things onto the table, stripped off my heavy scholar robes, and changed into my dark, tight-fitting training gear. I unraveled the blood-stained white linens from my right hand, replacing them with a sleek, clean black cloth. I was thoroughly tired of looking at my own blood.
Grabbing a standard practice bow and a quiver of light timber arrows, I made my way down the quiet stone alleys toward the southern training range. My hand was far too sore to handle the eighty-five jin draw-weight of the Cursed Bow for at least another two weeks, but a normal bow was my comfort zone. I had survived the northern wilderness with nothing but a timber frame; I knew the weight of every arrow, the tension of every string. It was second nature.
But as I stepped into the archway of the covered range, the serene silence vanished. The unmistakable, sharp clash of steel against steel echoed through the courtyard, followed by ragged, heavy breathing.
My brows furrowed. I hurried down the steps, keeping my footsteps silent.
In the center of the dirt ring, the Second Prince, Nu Lee, and the Third Prince, Tae Hua, were locked in a vicious, unscripted spar.
Earlier that morning, while the entire academy was distracted by the arrival of the imperial physicians, Nu Lee had marched straight into the freshmen's quarters, tracking his younger brother down. Tae Hua had been resting in Dormitory 4 when Nu Lee kicked the door open, his eyes instantly locking onto the legendary Cold Sword lying on the table—a sacred heirloom of the Yun Clan given to Tae Hua by his mother, the Empress, when he was just a child. Infuriated by the sight of it, Nu Lee had seized the weapon and hurled it into the dirt outside, forcing Tae Hua to pursue him all the way to the isolated range.
Now, Nu Lee's imperial saber was drawn, the polished steel pointed directly at his younger brother's throat. Tae Hua stood before him, his training clothes already stained with dust, his hand gripping the sheath of the Cold Sword—but he refused to draw the blade.
"Stop acting like a cowardly child and fight me!" Nu Lee roared, his face twisted with ancient malice.
"I cannot," Tae Hua replied, his voice flat, though his eyes were wide with a deep, personal torment.
Angered by the refusal, Nu Lee lunged forward, using the heavy guard of his saber to shove Tae Hua backward. Tae Hua hit the hard dirt, his breath escaping him in a sharp gasp. The tip of Nu Lee's blade instantly hovered inches from his eyes.
"Stand up!" the Second Prince commanded.
As Tae Hua pushed himself off the ground, Nu Lee executed a lightning-fast, malicious swipe. The steel bit into Tae Hua's right shoulder, tearing the fabric and leaving a jagged, bleeding gash. Tae Hua hissed in pain, his fingers tightening around his sheathed weapon, but he still didn't draw.
"Stop being so pathetic!" Nu Lee shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "If you want the crown, bear its weight and fight for it!"
Nu Lee swung again, a brutal downward cleave. Tae Hua twisted his torso, narrowly dodging the blade as the steel buried itself into the dirt where his head had been a second prior. "I told you," Tae Hua gasped, his balance breaking. "I don't want the crown!"
"Tell that to the Empress and your northern dogs!" Nu Lee snarled, his eyes bloodshot.
"I already did!"
"Your mother wanted to throw my mother out of the palace like trash!" Nu Lee screamed, completely consumed by the rage of an eighteen-year-old blood feud.
The imperial court had recently concluded its grueling, nearly two-decade-long investigation into the assassination attempt on Tae Hua when he was a two-year-old toddler—a dark event that had resulted in the execution of hundreds of palace maids and eunuchs due to mass poisoning. The final verdict had pointed the finger directly at Nu Lee's mother, Imperial Consort Lee, ordering her exile.
"I will speak to the Empress... I will talk to my mother," Tae Hua pleaded, his voice cracking.
"I don't need your pity!"
Nu Lee raised his saber high, capitalizing on Tae Hua's distraction. He aimed a vicious, crippling strike directly at Tae Hua's remaining good shoulder, intending to ruin him permanently.
THWACK—PING!
A timber arrow flashed through the air with terrifying speed, striking the flat of Nu Lee's saber with enough force to send the weapon flying out of his grip. The sword clattered violently across the stone floor.
Nu Lee froze, his eyes widening in shock as he whipped his head toward the entrance of the range.
I was already sprinting down the steps, my practice bow raised, my eyes cold and unyielding.
"Who the hell are you?" Nu Lee shouted, his chest heaving as he stared at the intruder.
Ignoring him, I reached down and grabbed Tae Hua by his uninjured arm, hoisting him off the dirt. The moment he was on his feet, Tae Hua violently shoved my hand away, his face pale with anger. "I didn't ask for your help, freshman!"
Nu Lee let out a cold, hysterical laugh, retrieving his fallen saber. "You're helping the wrong person, kid," he spat, eyeing my green-trimmed gear.
"You should have let him cut me!" Tae Hua shouted at me, his mind completely broken by the revelation of his mother's political warfare.
I stepped between them, my gaze locked onto the Third Prince, my voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register. "You will die by my hands, Tae Hua. Not his."
Nu Lee's sarcastic smile widened. He sheared his sword back into its scabbard, turning on his heel. "Thank your little savior, brother. I'll be back to finish this." With a final, dark glance, the Second Prince vanished into the alleyways.
The moment we were alone, I walked over, picked up Tae Hua's pristine Cold Sword from the dirt, and threw it aggressively at his feet.
"Your brother was never going to kill you today," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet range like a whip. "He couldn't stand the sight of you holding a legendary weapon without the spine to draw it. You are nothing but a weak, pathetic opponent in his eyes."
Tae Hua didn't even clutch his bleeding shoulder. He stared at me, his eyes dark with resentment. "Why do you keep involving yourself in my business?"
"I am not saving you," I countered, leaning in close so he could see the absolute sincerity in my eyes. "As I said... your life belongs to me. You will die by my hands."
I promised myself long ago that every single member of the high-born Yun Clan who participated in the slaughter of my tribe, every noble who spread the filthy lies that my Master committed treason, would pay in blood. Tae Hua was no exception.
Turning away, I remembered the small ceramic jar resting in my pocket—the one Ji Wok had given me. I pulled it out and tossed it carelessly into the dirt right next to his sword.
"Treat your wounds," I muttered, adjusting my quiver. "So you can actually stand a chance when you face me."
As I walked away, I felt Tae Hua's intense, lingering gaze burning into my back.
With every step I took back toward the dormitory, small drops of dark crimson fluid fell onto the stone path.
Down at the range, Tae Hua slowly reached up to touch his injured shoulder, expecting to find his own blood—but the gash was shallow, the bleeding already slowing. His eyes dropped to the trail of fresh red droplets staining the dirt where I had been standing. It hadn't been his blood. It was mine. The violent recoil of the practice bow had ripped open the fresh lacerations on my right hand.
Frowning deeply, Tae Hua knelt in the dirt. He picked up his heirloom sword, and then his fingers closed around the cold, smooth ceramic jar I had left behind.
He froze.
He examined the flawless glaze, the distinct circular sealing technique at the base. His brow furrowed in deep confusion. Tae Hua had grown up in the imperial palace alongside his second cousin, Yun Ji Wok, the brilliant, untouchable son of the Second Minister. He knew every single habit, every hidden detail of Ji Wok's life.
And he recognized this jar instantly. It was the exclusive, highly restricted medical ointment manufactured solely by the northern clans for the Yun family's personal use. It was a legendary salve capable of knitting flesh and healing severe wounds within two days, and only a handful of jars were brought into the capital each year.
Holding the cold jar tight in his fist, Tae Hua marched back to the upperclassmen dorms, ignoring the loud, laughing crowds of students still surrounding the female physicians in the main courtyard.
He threw the door to his room open.
Yun Ji Wok was sitting peacefully at the grand desk, completely immersed in a heavy text on military strategy. He looked up slowly as the door slammed, his calm, collected expression unbothered.
"What's the matter?" Ji Wok asked smoothly.
Tae Hua hid the ceramic jar deep within his sleeve, stepping into the center of the room. He forced his posture to relax, shrugging his uninjured shoulder. "Nothing. Just curious about something."
Ji Wok closed his book with a soft sigh. "About?"
"Just random things," Tae Hua muttered, averting his gaze.
Ji Wok's eyes narrowed slightly as he noticed the dust on Tae Hua's clothes and the torn, bloody fabric near his collarbone. Without a word, he stood up, walked to the wooden cabinet, and retrieved a roll of clean white linen and a basin of water. He silently began cleaning the shallow gash on Tae Hua's shoulder. Despite being the same age, Tae Hua was technically the grandson of the North, carrying a heavier lineage, but Ji Wok handled him with the quiet authority of an older brother.
"Nu Lee?" Ji Wok asked quietly, placing a strip of cloth over the wound.
"Yeah. He heard the news about the exile," Tae Hua muttered, watching his cousin's face intently.
Once the bandage was secure, Ji Wok calmly walked back to his desk, reopened his book, and began reading as if nothing had occurred.
Tae Hua stood perfectly still in the center of the room, his heart pounding against his ribs. He swallowed hard, stepping closer to the desk. "Ji Wok... do you happen to have any of the family's northern ointment left? My shoulder is burning."
Ji Wok's fingers paused on the edge of the page. For a fraction of a second, the untouchable scholar looked completely dumbfounded. Then, a faint, polite smile returned to his face as he looked up.
"I am afraid I forgot to bring one from the palace estate, cousin," Ji Wok said smoothly.
Tae Hua's stomach dropped. He nodded slowly, forcing a faint smile to match his cousin's, while a cold realization washed over him.
He's lying.
The Yun Clan's ointment was made from the rarest herbs in the empire; it was impossible to smuggle a jar out of the royal dispensaries without the head physician's knowledge. But Ji Wok was a master of medicine. Every single year, he personally secured a small stash of those exact jars for their training emergencies. Entering a brutal academy like Hill, there was absolutely no way Yun Ji Wok would have left the estate without one.
Ji Wok was a notoriously cold-hearted pragmatist. He didn't care about anyone outside his immediate circle, and he certainly didn't hand out priceless family secrets to commoners.
Tae Hua turned on his heel, exiting the room into the cool evening air. He pulled the small ceramic jar out of his sleeve, staring at the smooth surface in utter bewilderment.
Why did Yun Ji Wok give his most precious medicine to Dan Weicheng?