Prince Zhenge's carriage thundered past the capital gates, the guards barely having time to recognize the Crown Prince's banner before snapping to attention and clearing the way. Wei Ling gripped the edge of her seat as they picked up speed on the open road, scanning the horizon anxiously for any sign of the wedding procession.
But the road ahead was empty.
After several minutes of riding at breakneck pace, Zhenge slid open the small window connecting to the driver. "Any sign of them?"
One of his personal guards, riding alongside the carriage, moved closer. "No, Your Highness. There's no sign of the procession having passed this way."
Zhenge's expression darkened. "They should have come through here already if they were heading to Yunzhao.
Unless..." He leaned out slightly, calling to the captain of his guard. "Is there another route?"
"There is, Your Highness," the captain replied, his voice uncertain. "A shortcut through the eastern hills. It cuts several hours off the journey, but—"
"But what?"
"It's dangerous territory, Your Highness. Bandits are known to operate in that area. Wedding processions typically avoid it precisely because of that risk. It would be highly unusual for them to choose that route, especially with the Minister of Revenue's daughter traveling."
Wei Ling's anxiety spiked. She leaned forward, unable to contain herself. "Your Highness, is there a problem?"
Zhenge was silent for a moment, his sharp mind working through the possibilities. Then his expression hardened with decision. "Don't worry. We can reach them before dark if we take the same route." He turned back to the captain. "Take us to the eastern hills. Maximum speed."
"Your Highness, with all due respect, taking that route with only a small guard detail—"
"That's an order, Captain."
"As you command, Your Highness."
The carriage lurched as they changed direction, veering off the main road onto a narrower path that wound toward the hills. Wei Ling's hands trembled slightly as she gripped the seat. Please be safe, Yuelai. Please.
The wedding procession wound its way through the narrow mountain pass like a silk ribbon threaded through stone. The road here was rougher, less maintained, and the tall rocks on either side cast long shadows as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.
Yuelai—still disguised in the stolen guard uniform—marched alongside one of the dowry carts, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.
Why would they take this route? she thought, her instincts screaming warnings. A wedding procession carrying valuable dowry gifts, choosing the dangerous mountain pass over the safer main road? It doesn't make sense.
The light was fading fast. Already, the servants were lighting lanterns to guide the procession's path. The bride's palanquin swayed in the center of the formation, surrounded by guards who looked increasingly nervous.
And they should be nervous, Yuelai realized. Because they weren't alone in these hills.
She'd noticed them about ten minutes ago—subtle movements in the rocks above, the occasional flash of metal catching the dying sunlight, the sense of being watched by many eyes. Her years of training had honed her ability to sense danger.
There were bandits in these hills. And they were following the procession.
She counted them mentally as she caught glimpses of movement. Twenty. No, twenty-five. No... thirty at least. Too many.
This was bad. Very bad.
The guards accompanying the procession numbered perhaps forty, but Yuelai could tell from their movements, their positioning, that they weren't battle-hardened soldiers.
They were ceremonial guards, trained for show more than actual combat. If the bandits attacked—and they would attack, she was certain of it—these guards would fall quickly.
And if the bandits took the carts, if they scattered with the stolen silver, then any connection to Minister Xiao would be severed. The evidence would be gone, lost in the mountains, impossible to trace back to its source.
Where is Zhenge? she thought desperately. Did Wei Ling reach him in time? Is he coming?
The arrow came without warning.
It shot through the air with a high-pitched whistle and embedded itself in the ground directly in front of the procession's lead guards. A warning shot. The entire procession stumbled to a confused halt, servants crying out in alarm, the bride's attendants clustering around her palanquin protectively.
"Bandits!" someone shouted. "We're under attack!"
They poured down from the rocks like water breaking through a dam—thirty, no, forty men in rough clothing, faces covered with cloth, weapons drawn. They moved with the practiced efficiency of experienced raiders, spreading out to surround the procession on all sides.
The Minister's guards drew their swords, forming a defensive circle around the bride's palanquin and the most valuable-looking carts. But Yuelai could see the fear in their movements, the way their hands trembled on their weapons.
They're going to die, she realized with cold certainty. All of them. And the bandits will take everything.
She couldn't let that happen. Not after coming this far. Not after everything she'd risked to get here.
The bandits attacked.
It was chaos immediately. Steel clashed against steel, men shouted and screamed, servants fled in every direction. The ceremonial guards tried to hold their formation, but they were overwhelmed within seconds. Bandits cut through them like a blade through silk, efficient and brutal.
Yuelai moved on instinct. Her hand went to her sword—the one she'd kept hidden beneath the guard's uniform—and she drew it smoothly despite the burning pain in her injured shoulder.
A bandit charged toward the cart she'd been walking beside, and she met him with a strike that sent him stumbling backward, blood blooming across his chest.
Another bandit came at her from the side. She pivoted, using his momentum against him, and he went down hard. A third. A fourth. Her sword moved in the patterns burned into her muscle memory through years of training, each strike precise, economical, deadly.
But there were too many. Even as she cut down one attacker, two more took his place. And her shoulder was weakening with each movement, each block and parry sending fresh waves of agony through her body.
I can't hold them off alone, she realized, even as her sword found another target. There are too many, and I'm already injured. They're going to overwhelm the procession, take the carts, and disappear into these mountains.
Around her, the Minister's guards were falling. The bandits had clearly done this before—they knew exactly which guards to target first, how to break the defensive formation, where the weak points were. This wasn't a random attack. This was planned.
But why would bandits know exactly when and where a wedding procession would be traveling? The thought struck her even in the midst of combat. Unless someone told them.
Unless this entire thing was arranged.
A bandit's sword came at her face. She blocked it, barely, and the force of the impact nearly tore her own sword from her grip. Her left arm was useless now, hanging limply at her side, the wound reopened and bleeding through the stolen uniform.
She was running out of time.
In the luxurious study of the Prime Minister's residence, the atmosphere was one of calm satisfaction.
Prime Minister Xiao sat in an expensive chair carved from dark wood, sipping tea with the refined movements of a man who had spent decades perfecting the appearance of cultured elegance. He was in his fifties, his beard perfectly trimmed, his robes made of the finest silk. Power radiated from him like heat from a fire—subtle but undeniable.
Across from him, his younger brother, Minister Xiao, sat with considerably less composure. He fidgeted with his own tea cup, his leg bouncing nervously, his eyes darting toward the door every few seconds.
A servant entered quietly, moving to the Prime Minister's side and whispering something in his ear. The Prime Minister nodded, and the servant departed as silently as he had come.
"What is it?" Minister Xiao asked immediately, leaning forward. "What did he say?"
The Prime Minister took another sip of his tea before answering. "The wedding procession has been attacked by bandits."
Minister Xiao's tea cup fell from his hands, shattering on the floor. His face went pale, then red with panic. "What?! How can you say something like that so casually?!" He surged to his feet, his voice rising. "What are we waiting for?! My daughter is in danger! Not to mention the silver—all the jewelry—everything! Do something, Brother! I'm begging you!"
The Prime Minister smiled—a small, cold expression that didn't reach his eyes. He set down his tea cup with deliberate care.
"Don't worry," he said calmly. "Your daughter is safe."
"Safe? How can you possibly know that when—"
"It was me who ordered it."
Minister Xiao froze, his mouth hanging open mid-sentence. "What?"
"I arranged the bandit attack myself," the Prime Minister explained, his tone matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather.
"Your daughter's palanquin is marked with a specific symbol. The bandits have orders not to harm her or her immediate attendants. They'll take the dowry carts and disappear into the mountains, but your daughter will be perfectly safe."
"But... but why?" Minister Xiao sank back into his chair, his mind struggling to process what he was hearing. "Why would you do that?"
The Prime Minister's expression hardened slightly. "That new investigator—Wei Han—suspects you. He's been digging into the treasury case, asking questions, following leads. And
Prince Zhenge is supporting him." He paused, letting that sink in. "Otherwise, Wei Han would have been dead long ago. I would have arranged it. But killing someone under Zhenge's protection is... complicated. It would draw too much attention, create too many problems."
Minister Xiao nodded slowly, understanding beginning to dawn in his eyes.
"But this is not the time to deal with Wei Han," the Prime Minister continued. "We can handle him later, when the circumstances are more favorable. Right now, we have a more immediate problem. If Wei Han found the silver in your daughter's dowry carts, he could connect it directly to you. The evidence would be undeniable. You'd be arrested, tried, possibly executed. And the scandal would damage my own position significantly."
"So you arranged for the bandits to take it," Minister Xiao said, his voice filled with dawning comprehension. "If they steal the silver..."
"Then who knows where they got it from?" The Prime Minister smiled again, this time with genuine pleasure.
"Bandits are notorious for raiding and looting. If they happen to have stolen treasury silver in their possession, well, who's to say where they obtained it? Perhaps they stole it from the treasury directly. Perhaps they've been raiding other caravans. The connection to you becomes impossible to prove."
"But the silver will be lost," Minister Xiao protested weakly. "All that wealth—"
"Is worth less than your life, Brother. And significantly less than my political position." The Prime Minister's voice took on a harder edge. "Besides, the bandits are working for me.
Once this investigation dies down, once Wei Han has been dealt with, we can recover the silver at our leisure. For now, it simply needs to disappear in a way that can't be traced back to us."
Minister Xiao sat back, a slow smile spreading across his face as he fully grasped the brilliance of the plan. "You're really something, Brother. I was worried, but you thought of everything."
"I always do," the Prime Minister replied. He picked up his tea cup again, taking a slow sip. "That's why I'm the Prime Minister, and you're merely the Minister of Revenue."
It was said casually, almost as a joke, but there was an edge to the words. A reminder of the hierarchy between them, of who held the real power in their relationship.
Minister Xiao's smile became slightly fixed, but he nodded.
"Of course, Brother. I'm grateful for your wisdom."
"See that you remember that gratitude," the Prime Minister said softly. "And in the future, be more careful. This entire situation could have been avoided if you'd been less greedy, less obvious. You left too many traces, made too many mistakes. That's why that inspector was able to track the thefts back to you."
"I understand, Brother. It won't happen again."
"Good." The Prime Minister set down his tea cup with finality.
"Now, let's discuss what we'll do about Wei Han once this matter is settled. That young man has become rather troublesome, and Prince Zhenge's protection won't last forever. We need to find a way to remove him that doesn't create more problems than it solves."
"I have some ideas," Minister Xiao said eagerly, leaning forward.
As the two brothers bent their heads together, discussing murder and conspiracy over expensive tea in a luxurious study, the sun continued to set over the eastern hills.
END OF CHAPTER 19