As a cold dawn broke over Hill Academy, Dormitory 4 was already fully prepared to leave, their trunks packed and strapped down before the morning bell even sounded. The quiet routine of the campus was shattered by an official, sweeping announcement from the high masters: every single member of the freshman class was to be deployed directly to the Northern Kingdom.
The objective of the sudden expedition was strictly tactical. The freshmen were being sent north to immerse themselves in frontline logistics and gather critical, war-related knowledge. Considering the Northern Kingdom held the supreme military fleet and the most unyielding vanguard forces of the Arghon Empire, the faculty deemed it infinitely more efficient for the students to learn warfare directly from its brutal origins.
Seven massive, reinforced carriages stood lined up in a neat row outside the main gates. Carriages one through five were explicitly designated for the respective student dormitories. The sixth carriage was reserved entirely for their strict Tactical and Defense Instructor, General Niu. The final, heavy-wheeled carriage had already departed hours prior, heavily loaded with their essential provisions, dried food stocks, and surplus baggage.
The brutal field training was scheduled to span anywhere from one to two full months, depending entirely on how the volatile northern climate permitted them to move. Unlike the capital and the southern provinces, which were currently enjoying the gentle warmth of the spring season, the North possessed only two distinct, unforgiving seasons: a brutal winter and a torrential wet season. It was historically the coldest, most treacherous region of the Arghon Empire. When the thick glacial ice finally began to melt, it instantly triggered a relentless rainy season—a brief, desperate window where cold-resistant crops, wild mushrooms, hardy shrubs, and root vegetation could grow just enough to sustain the population until the snow locked the world away once more. The people of the North did not farm luxury goods; they survived entirely by hunting wild beasts and gathering resilient forest vegetation.
The students stood in rigid formations, adjusting their heavy travel cloaks as the clock crept toward 8:30 AM. The departure was scheduled for exactly 9:00 AM, but the entire courtyard suddenly fell into a stunned, deferential silence as a magnificent imperial carriage rolled through the gates.
The Empress herself stepped down from the gilded frame, her heavy crimson silk robes trailing elegantly against the dirt. She had explicitly chosen to grace the academy threshold to personally greet the students before their long journey. As she swept past the lines of bowing scholars, a soft, plastic smile graced her features. General Niu stepped forward, dropping to one knee as the Empress's personal attendant extended a heavy, golden-threaded imperial scroll.
"Receive the command of the throne," the attendant announced.
With a smooth wave of her hand, the Empress motioned for the general and the surrounding students to rise. As her eyes swept across the young faces of the freshman class, a flicker of genuine maternal relief passed through her eyes. Leaving her youngest son, Tae Hua, in the capable hands of General Niu and his elite classmates gave her a rare sense of peace. The arduous journey north would undoubtedly be a grueling, exhausting trial for a prince, but she knew it was a necessary crucible. If Tae Hua ever hoped to secure a legitimate, unyielding claim to the Dragon Throne, he couldn't rely solely on his royal lineage; he needed to prove to the court that he had bled and labored for the consolidation of the empire.
Her sweeping gaze continued across the lines until it locked onto the slender figure of the young boy who had single-handedly intercepted the assassin's arrow just nights before.
She studied Dan Weicheng with an intense, quiet curiosity. The boy's physique was remarkably slender, a trait made even more prominent by the tight, structured tailoring of the academy's traveling uniform. His eyes were strikingly bright, framed by unusually long, delicate eyelashes. He possesses a face and form so delicate he could easily pass for a girl, the Empress thought to herself, her sharp eyes tracking the line of Weicheng's shoulders. Yet, despite his average, unassertive height and slight build, this specific boy had managed to wield the legendary Cursed Bow and launch a fatal dagger with effortless, devastating accuracy. He was a deeply fascinating contradiction.
"This scroll will grant your unit absolute, unrestricted access to the primary Arghon military command centers throughout the northern frontier," the Empress stated clearly, her voice carrying the full weight of imperial authority.
General Niu bowed deeply, accepting the heavy scroll with both hands.
As the clock began its final tick toward 9:00 AM, the Empress offered her formal farewells to the faculty. She cast a long, meaningful look at Tae Hua as the Third Prince silently pulled himself up into the carriage of Dormitory 4, before her eyes drifted back toward the edge of the courtyard.
"Weicheng," the Empress called out softly, her voice carrying a distinct, measured musing.
I sharply blinked, stepping out of the line. Signaling Laohu and the rest of Dormitory 5 to carry our remaining gear into our assigned carriage without me, I closed the distance toward the imperial retinue. I dropped into a flawless, perfectly executed formal bow. "Your Imperial Majesty."
The small, elegant smile on the Empress's face instantly lifted the tense atmosphere of the clearing. Reaching into the deep, heavy cuff of her right sleeve, she withdrew a beautifully woven silk sling pouch secured by a vibrant green string, extending it directly toward me.
I stared at the pouch in quiet confusion, my mind instantly raising its defenses as I carefully reached out to accept the weight of the silk.
"Open it," she commanded softly.
Pulling the green drawstring apart, I slid my fingers inside the pouch. My skin immediately brushed against a cold, solid piece of forged metal. Pulling it out into the morning light, my breath caught slightly in my throat.
"A Northern Crest?" I muttered under my breath.
The Empress nodded slowly, her calculating eyes watching my every facial micro-expression. Unable to completely suppress my shock, the question slipped past my lips before I could think. "Why would you—" Realizing the blunt, deeply disrespectful nature of my interruption, I immediately dropped my head lower. "Forgive me, Your Highness."
The Empress let out a light, melodious laugh, thoroughly amused by my lack of courtly filtering. "The Northern Crest will grant you the exact same administrative and military command that the Imperial Court itself possesses. With that token in your palm, you are permitted to enter and leave the Northern Kingdom's gates completely at your own discretion. Furthermore, certain high-ranking officials and covert agents within the Northern Palace will be forced to obey your direct orders if you present that seal. It is a physical manifestation of the Yun Clan's absolute authority. Given that you saved both the Emperor and myself from an arrow of certain death, consider this a small, practical token of my personal gratitude."
The Empress began to walk back and forth along the path, the silk of her robes rustling softly against the grass. "This specific privilege will prove to be immensely handy for you during your extensive stay at the northern frontier." She paused, her footsteps halting as she noticed the deep, troubled crease forming across my forehead. "But..."
My fingers instantly tightened around the silk pouch, the fabric suddenly feeling as if it were burning hot against my palm. My survival instincts had been honed through years of tragedy; I knew with absolute certainty that an item of this magnitude was never a free gift. It was a binding, dangerous obligation.
"I must ask you for a small favor in return," she whispered.
My intuition had never been wrong. She was a master of political chess, a true descendant of the ruthless Yun bloodline. Before I could even formulate a diplomatic response to decline, the Empress delivered her ultimate command.
"Since I have graciously granted you a Northern Crest as a token of my favor, I am placing an immense amount of imperial trust in your hands, Candidate Dan. I am bestowing this power upon you in the explicit hope that you will utilize your wit and accuracy to ensure my son, Tae Hua, succeeds entirely at the northern frontier. He desperately needs a massive, undeniable military victory to permanently secure the favor of the Emperor and the high court. Do not let his future fracture."
Part II: The Road to Nantong Village
JOLT.
The heavy wooden carriage lurked violently to the side as the iron-shod wheel slammed into another massive, deep rut in the mountain road.
It had been roughly thirty agonizing hours since our caravan had passed through the main gates of the capital, and my mind was still spinning in chaotic circles. My muscles were completely stiff and sore from the relentless, bumpy rhythm of the carriage and the endless, serpentine pathways carving through the rocky terrain. To make matters worse, my stomach was entirely hollow; I hadn't consumed a single proper meal since our departure, choosing instead to drown my anxiety in books and standard water.
"This expedition will technically serve as our very first official military examination, right?" Han Chou Xi asked, thoroughly unfocused as he casually reached into a basket and began peeling a fresh tangerine.
The exact second the skin snapped open, releasing a sharp, highly concentrated wave of citrus scent into the cramped, stuffy interior of the carriage, a sudden wave of violent nausea hit my throat. I immediately clamped my hand over my nose and mouth, my face turning dangerously pale.
The entire carriage stopped talking, staring at me in complete confusion.
"Put that away. Weicheng gets violently nauseous whenever she smells fresh tangerines," Laohu stated bluntly, his voice cutting through their confusion as he snatched the fruit from Chou Xi's hands and unceremoniously hurled it out the open window.
Chou Xi blinked in surprise, quickly helping Laohu toss the remaining peels out into the wind. "Man, you have a seriously weird, fragile personality for a guy who can take down a gang of thugs," Chou Xi muttered, though he quickly shrugged it off, reaching for a secondary bag of roasted peanuts instead.
I leaned my head against the wooden frame, drawing a deep, desperate breath of the cold mountain air blowing through the window slats. The sun was dipping below the jagged peaks, painting the sky in a bruised shade of violet. Peering ahead, I spotted the faint, flickering oil lamps of our first designated milestone. According to the imperial maps, an isolated traveler's inn sat nestled at the absolute base of the first mountain range, managed by the residents of Nantong Village.
Our itinerary dictated that we would rest here until dawn. The subsequent leg of the journey would require four continuous days of travel before reaching a secondary inn near the banks of the Yulo River, followed by three final days of intense riding before our carriages would finally breach the monolithic outer gates of the Northern Capital.
We had barely survived the very first leg of the trip, and my mental capacity was already entirely shut down. I utterly despised the ridiculous, bureaucratic nature of this expedition; if the academy had simply allowed us to utilize the secret, compressed military routes that Master Pu routinely traveled, we could have traversed this entire distance in a mere three days instead of a grueling week.
"Master Pu can literally compress this entire week-long nightmare into a three-day march," I murmured irritably to my left, where Laohu was quietly checking his hidden daggers. Laohu merely offered me a silent, understanding side-glance, adjusting his travel satchel without a word.
Up ahead, the lead carriages turned sharply to the right, pulling into the dirt courtyard of a visibly ancient, dilapidated two-story inn. The wooden roof tiles were rotted and sagging dangerously, prompting a collective grimace from the students as they stepped out of the carriages. Looking across the clearing, I spotted the members of Dormitory 4 stepping down from their ride, the Empress's parting words echoing like a toxic weight in my skull.
Because this was a practical field expedition, the classes were intended to be split into distinct operational groups. Each group was supposed to be assigned to a different sector of the North to independently analyze how local politics, failing economics, social unrest, and imperial military presence systematically affected the kingdom as a whole.
But the Empress had explicitly demanded that my group align our efforts to ensure Prince Tae Hua took absolute credit for resolving the internal conflicts of the province before the news of the rebellion could tarnish his reputation in the Jade City.
"Weicheng, move your feet!" Cha Eun Jo called out, gently grabbing my forearm and pulling me forward. I snapped out of my deep daydreaming, blinking rapidly as I fell into stride beside his exceptionally tall frame.
The second my boots crossed the threshold of the old inn, the ancient wooden floorboards let out a loud, agonizing creak that echoed off the damp walls.
"What an absolute, God-forsaken dump," I muttered under my breath, talking entirely to myself as we filed into the main gathering hall where the entire freshman class had assembled. The students were incredibly loud, laughing and making mocking jests at how terribly old and structurally compromised the establishment was. There wasn't a single servant or attendant in sight to greet us.
"Class! Silence!"
Our attention instantly snapped toward the front of the hall, where General Niu stood with his arms crossed, his severe expression illuminated by a single, flickering lantern. The wooden floor beneath him was severely dented, and the high windows were draped in thick layers of dusty cobwebs.
"You may all take your seats," the general commanded.
Not a single student moved. The chairs scattered around the long tables looked completely unstable. Before General Niu could reprimand them for their hesitation, Wang Tae Hua stepped forward, a smug, aristocratic sneer on his face as he cut his instructor off. "With all due respect, General, those chairs look as though they will violently disintegrate the exact second our fingers lay a single pound of pressure on them."
A massive wave of collective laughter erupted across the hall, the students nodding in eager agreement. The wooden frames were visibly cracked and squeaking under the draft; sitting on them felt like a guaranteed injury.
CRASH.
The laughter died instantly as a heavy wooden chair flew over the second-floor balcony, smashing violently onto the floorboards just a few feet from where we stood.
Every head snapped upward. Emerging from the shadows of the upper railings was an older woman. Her lips were painted in a stark, blood-red stain, her age clearly hovering somewhere in her late fifties. Her fingernails were grown out into long, dangerously sharp points that looked entirely capable of slicing a human throat open, and her dark eyes seemed to pry into the deepest secrets of every soul in the room.
General Niu immediately stepped forward, dropping into a formal, highly respectful bow. He sharply signaled for the students to mimic his posture, and we instantly complied.
"I deeply apologize for the disruptive nature of these students, Lady Suan Ming," General Niu stated, his voice uncharacteristically deferential. "We apologize for the sudden, unannounced intrusion into your establishment. These candidates are embarking on their very first operational mission in the North, and we require a single night of shelter to organize our provisions before continuing our trek."
Lady Suan Ming slowly glided down the creaking staircase, her long nails trailing along the wooden banister. "These children do not possess an ounce of the discipline required for a true northern mission," she noted coldly, her voice sharp. "They do not even comprehend the basic concept of respect."
As the students kept their heads lowered, uttering a chorus of quiet apologies, Lady Suan Ming suddenly kicked another wooden chair straight toward the members of Dormitory 3. The boys scattered in absolute terror as the furniture skidded across the dust.
"That is not the primary issue," she whispered, her heels clicking with an ominous rhythm as she approached the flipped furniture, casually rolling a chair back onto its legs. A creepy, predatory smile stretched across her red lips, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
"Take your seats," she commanded softly.
Our shaky hands immediately scrambled to pull out the nearest squeaky chairs, every single student nervously dropping their weight onto the wood with absolute caution. Lady Suan Ming began to slowly pace behind the rows, her sharp gaze boring into the back of each student's head until she finally halted directly behind my chair.
She narrowed her eyes, slowly clasping her long-nailed hands together as she stared down at me. Every eye in the hall immediately shifted toward our table.
"My, my... what a fascinating, twisted web we have here," she murmured, a sheepish, knowing smile playing on her lips.
I kept my expression entirely frozen, thoroughly confused as she slowly bypassed my seat. "I must deeply apologize for the incredibly shabby nature of my establishment," she added over her shoulder, her dark eyes locking onto mine one last time.
My heart skipped a beat, my pupils dilating. How on earth did she hear me? I had muttered those exact words completely under my breath while standing at the back of the room. Did she possess supernatural hearing, or was the gossip true?
Drawing a steady breath, I stood up from my seat, lowering my eyes to the floor as I offered a formal apology. "I am deeply sorry for my insolent, ungrateful words, Lady Suan Ming," I stated clearly, well aware of General Niu's deeply disappointed glare burning into my side.
She merely pursed her blood-red lips, offering a single, dismissive nod. "What is your name, boy?"
"This candidate is named... Dan Weicheng," I replied, my voice steady despite the bizarre tension.
She shook her head quietly, motioning for me to sit back down. "Class, you are currently standing in the presence of Lady Suan Ming."
"Suan Ming? As in... the legendary capital fortune teller?" a student from Dormitory 1 whispered in awe. General Niu merely offered a small, mysterious smile rather than a direct confirmation. A cold sweat broke across my neck. If she truly was a seer, she hadn't just overheard my complaint—she had seen through my entire facade.
"You may occupy the designated rooms on the second floor," Lady Suan Ming announced, her tone shifting back to business. "You will be required to prepare your own dishes for dinner utilizing the courtyard hearth. I shall be thoroughly occupied with the local villagers' affairs on the secure side of this establishment."
She gestured toward a thick, reinforced set of double doors at the back of the hall, from which the faint, chaotic roar of drinking, shouting, and a massive gambling den could be heard.
Part III: Conflicting Bloodlines
General Niu quickly distributed the room keys, ordering us to unpack our gear, cook a substantial meal at the fireplace, and assemble back in the main hall within the hour for a critical strategic briefing.
As we moved toward the stairs, I found myself walking a few paces behind Qiu Run and Prince Tae Hua. Qiu Run was frantically rummaging through his travel pack, pulling out a beautifully lacquered silk fan.
"Run, your father will quite literally flay you alive if he discovers you are still practicing traditional fan dances instead of mastering the heavy vanguard sword," Tae Hua muttered in a low, exasperated tone. "You are the only male heir of the Niu family line. You might want to actually start acting like a frontline commander."
"He won't get mad, Tae Hua. I just want to keep it in my personal pack," Qiu Run laughed, completely unbothered as he sprinted ahead past my shoulder, clutching his fan tightly.
I continued walking past them, entirely intent on reaching my room, when a sharp, authoritative voice cut through the corridor.
"Dan Weicheng."
I didn't stop, deliberately quickening my pace. I was entirely too exhausted from the thirty-hour carriage ride to engage in another round of childish arguments with a royal brat.
"Dan Weicheng! Stand still!" he barked sternly.
Realizing he wasn't going to let me escape, I let out a sharp, deeply irritated sigh. Turning on my heel, I marched back to where he stood near the top of the stairs, glaring up at him with unvarnished annoyance. "What? What exactly do you need from me, Tae Hua?"
The prince shrugged his shoulders, his dark, bottomless obsidian eyes dropping into a deadly serious, straightforward glare. "What exactly did you discuss with my mother before we departed the capital?"
"None of your business," I snapped, turning my back to leave.
Before I could take a step, his hand shot out, firmly wrapping around my left forearm and violently spinning me back around. He lowered his tall frame, bringing his face dangerously level with mine, his breathing sharp.
"It is... entirely my business," Tae Hua said, his voice dropping into a calm, uncharacteristically heavy register. He let out a long, exhausted sigh, his gaze faltering for a fraction of a second as he shook his head. "You don't know my mother, Weicheng. You have absolutely no idea what she is capable of."
I smoothly twisted my arm, utilizing a leverage technique to break his grip and shoving his hand away from my robes. I offered him a cold, dismissive shrug. "Of course I don't know her," I lied flatly, my eyes hardening.
Oh, I know her far better than you think, Prince, I thought bitterly. I know exactly how much evil and slaughter the two Yun sisters can orchestrate just to keep the entire empire running on the blood of my people.
Turning my back on him, I marched down the creaking corridor without looking back.
The dinner preparation proved to be a chaotic affair, but after thirty hours of near-starvation, the hot stew tasted like a luxury feast. While I was notoriously a catastrophic cook, I possessed an extraordinary talent for eating well—a trait I considered a vital survival asset. Once the dishes were thoroughly washed and cleared, the entire freshman class assembled back in the dim gathering hall.
General Niu was already waiting for us at the center table. Sprawled across the timber was a massive, incredibly detailed tactical map of the Arghon Empire, complete with classified geographic markings, hidden supply routes, and complex military legends. It was the official, unrestricted map utilized only by the high generals.
Across the room, I noticed another pair of sharp, calculating eyes boring into the parchment—Bai Ku Ji. The top scholar of our batch was already analyzing the terrain lines, his fingers subtly tracing the coordinates as his mind ran complex strategic calculations. I had to grant him credit; the boy was an undeniable intellectual asset to our class.
General Niu tapped his heavy finger against the northern quadrant. "The northern frontier is currently fracturing under a massive, violent internal crisis. The citizens of the North are suffering from a devastating famine; crops physically cannot mature due to the unprecedented drop in temperature. Consequently, the local populaces are explicitly refusing to pay the heavy taxes imposed on them by the crown. To make matters worse, a severe, highly contagious illness is sweeping through the labor forces, leaving the silver mines and logging camps completely crippled."
The general's expression turned grim. "A radical insurgent activist group has capitalized on this suffering, systematically convincing the local villagers to join forces to overthrow the regional kingdom governors. The conflict is expanding rapidly. The rebels are demanding extreme concessions, and our military forces are currently held back, waiting for a diplomatic shift. If this chaos escalates, our primary northern armories and war supply lines will be permanently compromised."
General Niu began marking the specific villages with red charcoal. "There are sixteen primary sovereign villages across the North. Ten of them have already openly rebelled against the Northern King's laws, burning down the estates of local noblemen and violently slaughtering the vanguard military horses to cripple our cavalry. This is no longer a simple protest; it is a declaration of war."
The general took a deep breath, looking at all of us. "I do not believe in arbitrary academy groupings when it comes to actual blood and warfare. Therefore, I am permanently dissolving the dormitory division system for this mission. I want you all to operate as a singular, consolidated unit. It is infinitely better to resolve a crisis of this magnitude with our collective numbers rather than scattering you across a hostile territory. I personally promised the Emperor that this freshman class would bring honor to the empire as a single entity."
I froze in my seat, my mind instantly reeling. A sudden change of plans?
If the groups were dissolved, the Empress's secret mandate for Dormitory 5 to orchestrate Tae Hua's exclusive victory would be completely shattered. The Empress would never accept a shared credit. Raising my hand before the rest of the class could vocalize their agreement, I spoke up, my voice cutting through the murmurs. "Sir, what exactly prompted this sudden alteration to the academy's traditional evaluation rules?"
General Niu shifted his gaze across the room, landing squarely on the Third Prince. "The change was initiated by a direct request from the Third Prince himself."
A wave of stunned, confused whispers rippled through the hall. Every student turned their head to stare at Tae Hua.
"Prince Tae Hua explicitly argued before the faculty that when dealing with an active internal rebellion, promoting an internal grouping system within our own ranks would only foster division and compromise our tactical security," General Niu explained, a flash of approval in his eyes. "He stated that rather than allowing a single group to selfishly benefit from a high ranking, the entire class should operate as a whole to maximize our efficiency. If we are to promote the consolidation of the North, the prince believes we must first manifest that unity within our own ranks."
Many of the students immediately voiced their fierce agreement, thoroughly relieved to have the pressure of the ranking system lifted. However, a few of the top elites remained deeply skeptical.
"With all due respect, General, this completely violates the foundational grading rules established by the High Academe," Bai Ku Ji noted sharply, his strategic mind clearly plotting how this would affect his path to the top slot.
"No, it does not," General Niu countered, tapping the golden-threaded imperial scroll the Empress had delivered. "The Emperor himself has explicitly signed this decree. This scroll serves as an absolute imperial command from His Majesty, ordering this class to operate as a singular unit without internal divisions."
My eyes immediately locked onto Tae Hua, my mind working furiously to dismantle his play. He explicitly requested this?
The Empress had given me the Northern Crest with the absolute understanding that the Emperor favored his other brothers, and that Tae Hua desperately needed an exclusive, independent victory to force the high court's hand. Yet, the Emperor had signed a decree that completely washed away Tae Hua's ability to claim the credit alone. Was the Emperor deliberately trying to dilute his youngest son's achievements? Did the monarch already have a different Crown Prince in mind?
Tae Hua simply bit his lower lip, keeping his dark, bottomless eyes fixed on the map, his expression an unreadable mask of stoic defiance. Beside him, Yun Ji Wok offered his cousin a slow, quiet nod of absolute, reassuring solidarity.
Looking at the two of them, I realized that every single move Prince Tae Hua made was entirely unprecedented. He was either executing a master stroke of political chess... or he was about to be eaten alive by the very wolves he was trying to lead.