[Ministry of Justice Prison · 11 PM - 1 AM]
A black shadow swept silently across the rooftops of the Ministry of Justice prison, startling a few crows into flight.
Inside his cell, Wang Ming jolted awake, cold sweat seeping down his back.
Had he... just heard something?
Wang Ming sat up, holding his breath, straining to listen. The surroundings were deathly silent. Only a few scattered oil lamps flickered in the corridor, casting shadows that wavered between light and dark.
Was I imagining things? He tried to calm himself down.
The Ministry of Justice prison was not a pleasant place. The walls were damp, the air thick with the smell of mold and fear. But it was safe—or so he had thought. The Regent had promised to protect him. The Regent's word was his bond.
The Regent's words from earlier that day kept echoing in his mind: "This King will pardon your past offenses and allow you to sit for this session's examinations." It was the most hopeful promise he had ever heard in his life. Only yesterday, he had been a fool who'd sold his future for fifty taels of silver. Now he had a second chance. If he could just survive tonight, he could start fresh...
Just then, faint footsteps drifted from the far end of the corridor.
The footsteps were light as a cat's—barely there, intermittent—yet they froze Wang Ming's blood in his veins.
That's not a prison guard.
Prison guards walked with heavy, regular steps. These footsteps carried the patience and deliberation of a predator.
"Who—"
Before Wang Ming could finish his cry, a black shadow slipped through the window!
His eyes went wide with terror as he stared at the dagger in the black-clad intruder's hand. Moonlight filtered through the window crack, casting a cold gleam along the blade's edge.
The assassin's face was covered by a black cloth, revealing only a pair of ice-cold eyes. "Knowing too much is never a good thing."
Wang Ming's entire body went rigid, his face ashen: "Wh-who sent you?"
"Don't ask questions you shouldn't ask." The assassin's voice was hoarse. "Scholar Chen wants you to wait for him on the road to the underworld."
"I-I won't say anything!" Wang Ming shook his head desperately. "I-I haven't betrayed anyone! Everything the Regent asked me, I didn't say..."
It was a lie, and they both knew it. Wang Ming had said everything. He had traded information for hope, for a future he now realized he would never see.
"Unfortunately," the assassin's lips curved into a cold smile, "you've already said too much."
The dagger flashed. Blood sprayed.
Wang Ming's eyes went wide with disbelief. He clutched at his throat, blood flowing between his fingers. His mouth opened, trying to call for help, but only a ragged wheeze emerged.
The pain was distant, somehow. Less than he'd expected. What hurt more was the realization that his second chance had been stolen before it even began.
In his final moment, the image that flashed through his mind was the Regent's cool, clear eyes.
Your Highness... this commoner... still wanted to take the examinations...
He collapsed slowly, his eyes frozen open, never to close again.
The assassin withdrew his dagger and turned toward the next cell.
Tonight, more than one person would die.
[The Same Time · Outside the Ministry of Justice Prison]
Yin Wuwang led more than a dozen of his personal guards, slipping in through the back entrance of the Ministry of Justice.
He had received Xie Qingyan's warning and rushed over through the night to set up defenses. But before he could reach the cells, a scream echoed from inside.
"No!" Yin Wuwang's expression changed drastically. He broke into a sprint.
Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice crackled in his mind: "Suggestion: Let them silence the witnesses. It has nothing to do with you anyway. These scholars were just pawns from the start."
Get lost! Yin Wuwang snarled internally, pushing himself to run faster.
What did the system know? Those scholars were pawns, yes—pawns in a game they didn't even know they were playing. But Yin Wuwang had looked into Wang Ming's eyes. He had seen the hope there, the desperate gratitude when Xie Qingyan offered him a second chance.
And more importantly—Fuguang had promised to protect him. If Wang Ming died tonight, it would be a stain on Fuguang's word.
I won't let that happen.
He burst into the cell block. Two prison guards lay in the corridor, already dead. Not far away, a black-clad figure was climbing out through another cell's window.
"Stop!" Yin Wuwang roared, launching himself forward.
The assassin glanced back, saw it was the Duke of Zhenguo, and a flash of fear crossed his eyes. He immediately accelerated his escape.
Yin Wuwang pursued relentlessly. The two raced across the rooftops, tiles shattering under their feet.
The assassin was skilled—clearly a trained killer, not some common thug. Halfway across a roof, he suddenly whirled and flung a handful of lime powder at Yin Wuwang's face.
Cheap tricks. Yin Wuwang had already tilted his head to the side before his conscious mind registered the threat. Three thousand years of combat instinct didn't vanish just because his cultivation was sealed. If this were the Demon Realm, you'd have died ten thousand times for that move.
The assassin's eyes widened—he hadn't expected his target to dodge so easily. He drew a short blade from his sleeve and stabbed backward in a vicious arc.
Yin Wuwang caught the man's wrist, twisted, and sent the blade clattering across the tiles. Predictable. Aiming for the kidney—second favorite target of mortal assassins. First being the throat.
He had already calculated three escape routes the assassin might take. When the man broke free and fled toward the eastern wall, Yin Wuwang was already there waiting.
Three thousand years as the Demon Sovereign. He thought coldly. Did you really think a mortal body would slow me down that much?
The gap between them closed with every leap.
"After him!" he shouted to his guards behind him. "I want him alive if possible, dead if necessary!"
The guards acknowledged and split up to surround the target.
In the end, the assassin was cornered with no escape. He glanced around—roof behind, guards below, the Duke of Zhenguo blocking his only path forward. His hand twitched toward a hidden pocket, and Yin Wuwang's eyes narrowed.
Poison needle. Left sleeve. He's going to—
Before the assassin could act, he slammed his own head against the wall, killing himself instantly.
Trained to die rather than talk, Yin Wuwang observed coldly. And smart enough to know I'd already predicted his last move. The Prime Minister doesn't leave loose ends.
He flipped back the man's face covering. It was an unfamiliar face, and there was nothing on his body that could identify him.
"A death soldier," he said coldly. "One of the Prime Minister's men."
He turned and walked toward the cells, a sinking feeling already forming in his chest.
[Inside the Cells]
Yin Wuwang pushed open the cell door. The first thing he saw was a sea of crimson.
Wang Ming lay in a pool of blood, already gone. His eyes were still open, as if even in death he couldn't believe this was how he would die.
Yin Wuwang slowly crouched down and reached out to close Wang Ming's staring eyes.
His knuckles whitened from the force of his grip.
In the cultivation world, death was commonplace. Yin Wuwang had killed thousands—tens of thousands—over his three thousand years. Mortals, demons, cultivators. He had watched them fall and felt nothing. They were ants. Their lives meant nothing to him.
But this was different.
This ant is dead. I shouldn't care.
But the Prime Minister killed someone right under my nose—that's a slap to my face.
I said I would protect him. He died on my watch.
Fuguang promised him a future. That promise died with him.
This debt... I will remember it.
He stood up and went to check the other two cells.
In one cell lay another corpse—one of the two scholars who had been caned that afternoon.
In the other cell, the remaining scholar was still alive, curled up in the corner, trembling violently. The assassin had clearly been interrupted by Yin Wuwang's arrival before he could finish the job.
The man's face was streaked with tears. He had heard the screams from the other cells. He knew how close he had come to death.
Yin Wuwang looked at him and said coldly: "Lucky."
The scholar was too terrified to speak, only shaking his head frantically. His lips moved, perhaps trying to say "thank you," but no sound came out.
Don't thank me, Yin Wuwang thought. Thank Fuguang for warning me. If not for him, all three of you would be dead.
Yin Wuwang took a deep breath and walked out of the cell.
Three scholars. Two dead. Only one saved.
Not good enough, Yin Wuwang thought grimly. But it's something.
He returned to Wang Ming's cell and looked at the body that had already grown cold. His eyes were dark and heavy.
"Very well." His voice was low in the silent cell, laced with a killing intent that would make anyone's blood run cold. "Zhou Yanling, your life... I'm claiming it."
He turned and strode out of the cell block, his robes stirring up a gust of cold wind behind him.
[Regent's Residence · 1-3 AM]
Yin Wuwang rushed to the Regent's residence through the night to report what had happened.
Xie Qingyan listened in silence for a long time.
"Two." His voice was low. "Two dead."
"I arrived too late." Yin Wuwang's voice was hoarse. "If I had gotten there a step earlier..."
"It's not your fault." Xie Qingyan cut him off. "I underestimated the Prime Minister."
He walked to the window and gazed out at the pitch-black night, his eyes deep and unreadable.
"The script for this world... is an absolute mess." He said quietly. "When the original author wrote this part, they probably just wanted to create conflict, so they casually had the NPCs die. Logic? Motivation? Nothing. No wonder this garbage script was abandoned."
Yin Wuwang let out a cold laugh: "That idiot author probably never even thought about how the Prime Minister would clean up after silencing witnesses. By this point the story was already falling apart, so who cares, right?"
"The characters exist only to serve plot points." Xie Qingyan's voice was flat, but there was something underneath—something that might have been anger, if the Sword Deity ever allowed himself such emotions. "Wang Ming wasn't a person to the author. He was just a convenient corpse to raise the stakes. No backstory. No dreams. Just a body to drop at the right moment."
"Lazy writing." Yin Wuwang agreed grimly. "In the cultivation world, even demon beasts have more depth than these NPCs."
"So we have to clean up the mess." Xie Qingyan turned around, his gaze landing on him. "I will make the Prime Minister pay—not for those two scholars, but to make this plot coherent again."
"Naturally." Yin Wuwang's eyes gleamed coldly. "I already said it—Zhou Yanling's life, I'm claiming it."
Xie Qingyan looked at him, silent for a moment: "You want to kill him personally?"
"I want him to die ugly." Yin Wuwang's voice was ice. "Those two scholars' lives—he will repay them."
Xie Qingyan didn't respond. He walked back to his desk and sat down.
"At tomorrow's court session, I will counterattack." His tone was mild. "The Prime Minister wanted to silence witnesses. I'll make sure his scheme blows up in his face."
Yin Wuwang nodded: "I'll coordinate with you."
"It's late." Xie Qingyan looked up at him. "You should return to your residence. Tomorrow's court session will be a battlefield. You'll need your strength."
But Yin Wuwang didn't move.
"What is it?" Xie Qingyan raised an eyebrow slightly.
"I'm not at ease." Yin Wuwang leaned against the window frame, arms crossed. "If the Prime Minister dared to silence witnesses, he might also make a move against you. I'll stand guard here. You'll sleep better."
The words came out before he could think about how they sounded. Too protective. Too familiar. Too much like what he actually felt.
But he didn't take them back.
Xie Qingyan looked at him, silent for a moment. Something flickered in those cool amber eyes—surprise? Consideration? Yin Wuwang couldn't quite read it.
Finally, he didn't refuse.
"As you wish." He stood and walked toward the inner chamber. At the doorway, he suddenly paused. "Yin Wuwang."
"Mm?"
"...Thank you."
With that, he pushed open the door and went inside, not looking back.
Yin Wuwang froze for a moment, then the corner of his mouth curved upward.
Fuguang said thank you... That's a first.
Three thousand years. Three thousand years of watching from afar, fighting on opposite sides, never once receiving a word of gratitude. And now, in this broken story world, playing their ridiculous roles, Fuguang had finally said those two words to him.
He remembered the first time he had seen Xie Qingyan—a flash of white robes in a snowstorm, a hand dropping a healing pill beside his dying body, and then gone. No words. No acknowledgment. Just casual mercy extended to a stranger.
That stranger had spent the next three thousand years trying to be worthy of that single moment.
Was it worth it? He asked himself. Coming to this absurd place, playing this absurd game?
He leaned against the window, gazing at the sky that was gradually lightening toward dawn, his eyes dark and deep.
Yes, he decided. For that one "thank you," it was worth everything.
And tomorrow, I will prove it. Zhou Yanling will learn what happens when you threaten the person I've sworn to protect—even if that person doesn't know I've sworn it.
Tomorrow at court, he would make the Prime Minister understand: some lives are not his to take.
[End of Chapter 18]
Next Chapter Preview:
The Prime Minister thinks he's won. The Regent has other plans.
When the dust settles, only one of them will be left standing—and it won't be the old fox.
Chapter 19: The Prime Minister's Master Move Is Actually Digging His Own Grave