Chapter 86: One After Another

Night had fallen like ink, pouring over the city of the capital. Every household was lit brightly, as if each lightstroke painted a scene of vibrant prosperity.

In the residence of the Prince of Pingyi, Wang Changgen and his family of three gathered around the dinner table in warmth and harmony. Ever since Wang Jia had returned from the Heir Apparent’s manor, her cheeks had been tinged with a rosy blush, her demeanor shy and reserved—a detail that both Wang Changgen and the princess had noted with amusement.

With a satisfied smile, Wang Changgen teased her gently, “Jia’er, are you pleased with the young man your father has chosen this time?”

The question only deepened the pink on Wang Jia’s cheeks, her embarrassment spreading to the tips of her ears. “Father is making fun of me again. I’m full now,” she stammered, hastily putting down her chopsticks and fleeing to her chambers.

The princess called after her anxiously, “Jia’er, have a little more to eat!” But Wang Jia had already vanished from sight.

“You too,” the princess reproached Wang Changgen with a hint of grievance, “the child barely ate a thing.” Yet despite her words, her eyes sparkled with laughter.

Wang Changgen burst out laughing and waved his hand dismissively, bidding her let the matter be.

...

Meanwhile, at the Court of Judicial Review, Wei Nanxi sat alone, sorting through Li Ru’s testimony. It was all nonsense, not a word of value within it. Frustration mounting, Wei Nanxi’s attention was caught by a fleeting shadow outside the window. Instantly alert, he called out, “Who’s there?” and gave chase.

The night cloaked the whole court in uncanny silence; the shadow had already vanished without a trace. As uncertainty gnawed at him, a faint metallic whisper rang out behind him—a blade, flashing cold in the dark. Wei Nanxi dodged in haste, but a searing pain tore through his left arm, blood streaming down at once.

“Assassin!” he shouted. Immediately, chaos erupted throughout the Court of Judicial Review. Sensing the situation had turned, the assassin slipped away.

Clutching his wounded arm, blood oozing between his fingers, Wei Nanxi heard a voice—Zheng Tianlan had rushed in, alarmed at the sight of his injury. “Lord Wei, you’re hurt!”

Wei Nanxi’s mind raced, sensing something amiss, but he did not answer Zheng Tianlan’s question.

Suddenly, a realization struck him. He quickly turned to Zheng Tianlan. “Something is wrong—go check on Li Ru at once!”

He had noticed that the shadow fleeing past the window had gone in front of him, while the attacker who wounded him had come from behind. The two could not be the same person. The court was heavily guarded; for assassins to go to such lengths only to retreat so easily was not their style. The only explanation was that he was not their true target.

In the entire court, only one area lay beyond his window—the dungeon, where Li Ru was the sole prisoner.

Without hesitation, Zheng Tianlan, seeing Wei Nanxi’s grave expression, turned and ran toward the dungeon.

By the time they arrived, it was too late. Li Ru lay lifeless in a pool of blood.

“Damn it!” Wei Nanxi angrily punched the wooden railing nearby, blood dripping more freely from his wound.

Zheng Tianlan frowned deeply, guilt twisting in his chest—he had let the assassins slip past, not only injuring Wei Nanxi but also killing their only suspect.

“Lord Wei, let me tend to your wound,” Zheng Tianlan urged. Wei Nanxi’s rash movement had only worsened the bleeding.

After Zheng Tianlan bandaged him, Sun Changxi arrived with officials from the Ministry of Justice.

“Lord Wei, did you catch the assassin?”

Wei Nanxi shook his head in regret. “They struck swiftly. By the time we discovered them, it was too late. All leads are lost again. I have no idea how to explain this to His Majesty tomorrow.”

Though Sun Changxi usually appeared dull, he had his own insight into such matters. After a brief recounting from Wei Nanxi, he grasped the events.

He knelt and studied the chaotic footprints where Wei Nanxi had been attacked, then looked toward the dungeon.

“There were three assassins,” Sun Changxi declared. “The footprints double back twice but never go deeper—Lord Wei, I fear you were one of their targets.”

Zheng Tianlan was incredulous. “That can’t be—Lord Wei doesn’t know martial arts. Two assassins against him would be dangerous for anyone, even for me.”

Sun Changxi and Wei Nanxi exchanged a look, realization dawning. Both hurried back to the dungeon.

There, the jailer and a few others were cleaning up the blood while Li Ru’s corpse had been set aside, awaiting the coroner’s examination at daybreak.

Zheng Tianlan followed Sun Changxi and Wei Nanxi to the body. They inspected the wound.

“A knife wound?” Zheng Tianlan blurted out in shock. Wei Nanxi and Sun Changxi nodded grimly. It was as they suspected.

Assassins rarely used knives; they were cumbersome, their force blunt, and they made escape and concealment difficult.

Wei Nanxi’s brow creased as he spoke, “There were two groups tonight.”

Zheng Tianlan was utterly confused. One moment it was three, the next two groups—he couldn’t follow at all.

Sun Changxi explained calmly, “The one who killed Li Ru was highly skilled and familiar with him—otherwise Li Ru would have cried out. The other two assassins were sent to kill Lord Wei. Just as they made their move, the killer of Li Ru appeared. Thinking he had come to rescue Lord Wei, the two assassins fled in haste.”

Zheng Tianlan listened, dumbfounded—was this the same Sun Changxi who was usually so taciturn, now suddenly a master detective?

...

At the Heir Apparent’s manor, a figure leapt lightly into the garden, blade in hand.

“Why are you back so late?” Chen Pingwu was leaning quietly against a darkened pavilion, eyes closed in repose.

The figure paused at the sound, turning in the moonlight to reveal the face of Yang Guang, the general.

Chen Pingwu opened his eyes slightly, their brightness cutting through the night as he regarded Yang Guang, frowning.

“The scent of blood—you killed someone?”

Yang Guang bowed, his face expressionless. “By the prince’s command, I have dealt with some… irrelevant people.”

Chen Pingwu sighed softly, resignation in his tone. “Go and rest.”

Yang Guang nodded and withdrew.

Watching him go, Chen Pingwu finally stepped out of the pavilion, gazing at the bright moon. In his mind, the cold, beautiful face of Feng Yewu surfaced once again.

The next morning, the Deputy Minister of War was found murdered in his home, sending waves of panic through the capital.

In the imperial garden, Feng Yewu’s expression was grim as Wei Nanxi and Sun Changxi knelt nearby, recounting the events at the Court of Judicial Review from the night before.

“You two need not kneel—get up and speak,” Feng Yewu said, rubbing his brow as he waved them to their feet, helplessness in his gesture.

The two rose and stood aside.