Under the cover of night, Chen Ji stood at the edge of the rooftop, perched on the overhanging eaves, calmly gazing down at the scene below.
Was there something wrong with the Crown Prince?
If there was, the Crown Prince had been at the Donglin Academy for the past three years, making it impossible for him to have done anything suspicious.
If there wasn’t, why had he returned at this exact moment and appeared in the Golden Workshop?
Chen Ji furrowed his brow, trying to piece together the clues, but there were too many missing pieces.
In the courtyard below, the Crown Prince cursed under his breath as he watched the martial artists abandon him and flee. “Aren’t you supposed to be chivalrous heroes? Always boasting about your loyalty and righteousness? This is just shameless!”
Six armed spies had already stormed into the courtyard, surrounding the Crown Prince and Bai Li against the wall.
One of the spies spoke coldly, “Resisting arrest will only make your punishment worse.”
Bai Li opened her mouth to speak, but before she could finish, the Crown Prince subtly tugged at her sleeve and interjected, “We’re just ordinary citizens here to have some fun in Red Sleeve Alley. We haven’t broken any laws. Why are you chasing us?”
The spy scrutinized them under the moonlight, hesitating for a moment before saying, “... The Crown Prince and the Princess? I recognize you! Our spy agency has solid evidence that Jing Dynasty spies were active in the Golden Workshop tonight. Your presence here is too coincidental. Come with us to the inner prison for questioning.”
The Crown Prince’s heart sank.
The Imperial Eunuch Agency had long been looking for an excuse to target the Jing Prince’s household.
Over the years, many of the Jing Prince’s former subordinates had been taken to the inner prison and never returned.
Once inside the inner prison, even the title of Crown Prince wouldn’t save him.
Seven years ago, the Huai Prince had been arrested by the spy agency for secretly storing armor and crossbows.
He died in the inner prison that very night.
Six years ago, during a severe drought in Guanzhong, the Jin Prince had been arrested for drunkenly claiming that the drought was divine punishment for the Emperor’s neglect of state affairs.
He too died in the inner prison that same month, along with several officials from the Imperial Observatory.
The Crown Prince knew all too well that the lives of the Ning Dynasty’s princes were as fragile as weeds in the face of the eunuch faction.
If he were taken to the inner prison tonight, he might never come out alive.
Thinking quickly, the Crown Prince formed a step with his hands and whispered to Bai Li, “Go, I’ll hold them off!”
The spy’s expression turned grim. “No one’s leaving. If you’re innocent, why are you so afraid to come with us?”
The Crown Prince spat in anger, grabbing a bamboo broom from the courtyard and standing protectively in front of Bai Li. “If I go with you to the inner prison, even if I’m innocent, I’ll end up guilty. I’d rather fight you here and now. Go ahead, kill me if you dare!”
Chen Ji watched the scene silently from above.
Should he intervene?
If he didn’t, the Crown Prince and Bai Li would undoubtedly be captured and taken to the inner prison.
The Golden Pig had been searching for evidence linking the Jing Prince’s household to the Jing Dynasty.
Capturing the Crown Prince and Bai Li here would be like handing him a pillow just as he was about to fall asleep.
The Golden Pig could easily fabricate evidence and extract confessions through torture.
If he did intervene, the six spies were formidable, and reinforcements could arrive at any moment.
The real problem was that Chen Ji had come here tonight to kill Manager Yuan, not to save anyone.
But this was the same Red Sleeve Alley, the same night.
How pleasant it would have been to finish his drink and watch the sunrise from the drum tower.
Chen Ji’s hand was wrapped in cloth, and the short knife in his right hand dripped with blood, the crimson droplets falling onto the gray tiles below.
As the blood hit the tiles, Chen Ji vanished from his spot.
“Come on!” the Crown Prince shouted, swinging the bamboo broom wildly to fend off the spies.
But how could he possibly hold off the elite spies of the agency? The six spies fanned out, and one of them stepped forward, slashing his blade.
With a single, effortless swing, the bamboo broom was cut in two.
The Crown Prince stared at the broken broom, his heart sinking.
He said firmly, “I’ll go with you, but let my sister go. She’s just a girl. What could she possibly know?”
The spy shook his head. “No one’s leaving. If it weren’t for your high status, we wouldn’t even be bothering to reason with you. Come quietly to the inner prison, and neither of you will be harmed. Once we’ve verified your innocence, you’ll be released.”
The Crown Prince’s voice grew cold. “How many people who enter the inner prison ever come out? Do you even believe that yourselves? Aren’t you afraid of retaliation from the Jing Prince’s household?”
“Crown Prince, we’ve arrested princes before. You can’t intimidate us. Go, seize them.”
The spies advanced.
The Crown Prince tried to resist, but one of the spies darted forward and punched him in the stomach.
He doubled over in pain, vomiting a mixture of alcohol and bile.
These spies truly didn’t care about the Crown Prince’s status.
They knew exactly how much their superiors wanted to bring down the Jing Prince’s household.
Their loyalty dictated their actions.
In the chaos, one of the spies twisted Bai Li’s arm behind her back.
Bai Li’s forehead beaded with sweat from the pain, but she didn’t cry out.
She simply glared defiantly at the spy in front of her.
As her eyes scanned the surroundings, she suddenly froze.
One of the spies sensed something was wrong and turned sharply.
In that instant, he raised his blade to strike behind him, but before his arm could fully extend, a shadowy figure closed in silently.
The figure’s left hand clamped down on the spy’s arm, preventing the blade from descending.
In the blink of an eye, the shadowy figure stabbed twice—once to the kidney, once to the lung.
The short knife in his hand moved like a venomous snake, swift and deadly.
The other spies were horrified.
One of them swung his blade to assist, but the shadowy figure casually blocked the strike.
The short knife clashed with the long blade, sending sparks flying into the night.
With a sharp clang, the long blade snapped in two!
The spies’ expressions changed.
They had seen countless martial artists in their time, but never one who could break a blade so effortlessly.
There was no aura, no mystical technique—just a simple flick of the short knife, and their steel blade shattered like ice.
Bai Li, still restrained by the spy, stared at the shadowy figure.
His face was smeared with black charcoal, and his eyes were unfamiliar, but his silhouette felt oddly familiar.
Then she noticed something: as the figure moved through the darkness, his right leg seemed to falter slightly.
The figure seemed aware of this weakness and tried to conceal it, but the injury was too severe to hide completely.
Bai Li thought of someone—someone who also had a leg injury.
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t reconcile the image of the quiet, unassuming apprentice who swept floors with the ruthless killer before her.
The two figures—one light, one dark—seemed irreconcilable.
Bai Li’s expression grew complicated.
Just then, she saw the spies pull crossbows from their belts and aim them at the shadowy figure. “Be careful! They have crossbows!” she shouted.
The battlefield fell silent.
Chen Ji held the spy’s body in front of him as a shield, peering out from behind the corpse’s slumped head.
His calm gaze settled on the crossbows in the spies’ hands.
The spy whose lung had been pierced coughed weakly, blood frothing at his lips.
The coughing spy, the calm assassin hiding behind him to avoid the crossbow bolts—the contrast between stillness and motion was both brutal and mysterious.
Bai Li watched, her heart wavering.
The person she remembered always smiled softly, never raising his voice, never arguing even when questioned.
Now, the spies tried to find an angle to shoot their crossbows, but Chen Ji’s position made it impossible.
In the stalemate, the coughing spy finally closed his eyes, his hand dropping limply as his blade fell to the ground.
Chen Ji let go of his short knife and caught the falling blade.
As he did so, a crossbow bolt whistled through the air, aimed at the side of his face.
Everyone blinked, and in that instant, Chen Ji tilted his head slightly, dodging the bolt.
By the time the bolt embedded itself in the wall behind him, Chen Ji’s head had returned to its original position, still hidden behind the dead spy, his calm gaze fixed on the group.
As the spies tried to reload their crossbows, Chen Ji pushed the corpse forward, using it as a battering ram.
The bolts either struck the body or missed entirely.
Chen Ji closed the distance.
Dropping the corpse, he emerged from behind it and engaged the four remaining spies in close combat.
One by one, their blades snapped under his relentless assault.
The spies had never felt so powerless.
The assassin before them seemed flawless, his movements fluid and impenetrable.
Even with four against one, they couldn’t find an opening to strike a fatal blow.
At best, their blades only managed to cut through Chen Ji’s clothes, leaving no wounds.
The spies had no idea what kind of swordsmanship this was.
The famous sword styles of the martial world were well-known, but this impenetrable technique was unheard of.
What they didn’t know was that Chen Ji had honed his skills through countless life-and-death battles with Feng Huai.
Every mistake meant death, and so Chen Ji had learned to prioritize defense over offense.
Only by staying alive could he attack.
The spy holding Bai Li pressed his blade to her throat. “Drop your weapon, or I’ll kill her now.”
But Chen Ji acted as if he hadn’t heard, continuing to fight with unwavering focus.
The spy hesitated.
Taking the Princess to the inner prison was one thing, but killing her here was another.
Gritting his teeth, he released Bai Li and joined his comrades in the fight.
Bai Li was free, but she didn’t run.
Instead, she stood frozen, anxiously calling out, “Behind you!”
The spy who had just joined the fight swung his blade at Chen Ji’s back.
Chen Ji spun around at her warning, his blade following the motion.
The two blades clashed, sparks flying as Chen Ji’s blade slid up the spy’s, cutting a path from his arm to his neck.
Blood sprayed.
Chen Ji glanced at Bai Li and the Crown Prince. “Go! Don’t hold me back!”
The Crown Prince opened his mouth to protest, but Bai Li grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the wall. “Let’s go! We’re only in the way here. If we leave, he can escape too!”
“Right, right,” the Crown Prince muttered, turning to flee.
One of the spies tried to pursue, but Chen Ji cut him down.
Chen Ji crouched low, his blade held horizontally, blocking the path to the wall.
Blood dripped from the blade, reflecting the crimson moonlight above.
As the Crown Prince climbed over the wall, Bai Li, now perched on top, looked back at Chen Ji’s bloodstained figure.
She thought of the martial artists who had fled earlier, then looked at the man fighting alone.
Her expression was a mix of emotions. “Be careful!” she called out before jumping down and running off.
The courtyard fell silent, leaving only three spies surrounding Chen Ji.
They shifted their stances, trying to find an opening, but none presented itself.
Just as they thought they could hold out until reinforcements arrived, Chen Ji launched his attack.
In the past, every death in his battles with Feng Huai had left Chen Ji disheartened.
But now he understood that the countless deaths had been the price for mastering his swordsmanship.
The four figures clashed, Chen Ji’s blade flashing like arcs of moonlight.
In moments, the spies’ blades were shattered, and their throats were cut.
Chen Ji bent over, panting, and picked up the short knife he had discarded earlier, tucking it into his sleeve.
Instead of fleeing, he climbed back up to the rooftop.
Limping slightly, he made his way to the ridge of the roof and lay down, observing the activity in Red Sleeve Alley.
In the alley below, disheveled patrons and courtesans were being herded out of the brothels by the spies.
Chen Ji scanned the crowd for Manager Yuan.
Tonight’s exchange was crucial, and Manager Yuan would surely be here to oversee it.
But as building after building was emptied and the crowd gathered on the cobblestone street, Chen Ji still couldn’t spot Manager Yuan.
Something was wrong.
The scene before him was nothing like what he had expected.
Red Sleeve Alley wasn’t in chaos.
No one was trying to break through the spy agency’s cordon, and no one was fighting back.
Even the elite troops the Golden Pig had brought from the Mengjin Camp were standing idle.
Lin Chaoqing, wearing a bamboo hat, sat calmly on his horse. “Golden Pig, it seems you’re no different from Jiao Tu and Yun Yang. You’re just luckier—you didn’t dig up the coffin of a former Grand Secretary’s father… My troops, the Jiefan Guard and the Yulong Guard, are the Emperor’s personal soldiers, yet we’re constantly dragged into your messes.”
“Don’t be so hasty,” the Golden Pig said with a smile, dismounting and grabbing a middle-aged man who had tried to flee. “What’s your name?”
“Wu Dongliang.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a tax collector from Xin’an County…”
The Golden Pig raised an eyebrow. “A tax collector? Why were you running?”
He quickly realized why.
The Ning Dynasty’s laws prohibited officials from visiting brothels.
While visiting high-class establishments was often overlooked, being caught in a place like Red Sleeve Alley meant immediate dismissal and investigation.
This law had been established by the founding Emperor, and while it was generally ignored, officials occasionally fell victim to it when someone reported them.
The Golden Pig cursed inwardly and ordered his spies to verify the man’s identity.
He then approached another middle-aged man. “And you? What do you do?”
“I’m a merchant from Huizhou, here in Luocheng to buy furs for sale in the south… Here’s my travel permit.”
The Golden Pig glanced at the permit and immediately knew the man had only arrived in Luocheng that evening.
He forced a smile. “Check everyone’s identity. See if there are any suspicious individuals.”
The Golden Pig’s heart sank.
He hadn’t expected to be outmaneuvered like this… Where had he gone wrong?
The spies began interrogating the crowd.
Some were merchants from the south, others from the north.
There were small-time traders, local gang leaders—each one could clearly explain their background, and their documents showed no signs of forgery.
Chen Ji watched silently.
Aside from the two black-clad men he had killed on the rooftop, no one in the crowd resembled Manager Yuan’s spies.
Were they just that good at disguising themselves?
No, that wasn’t it.
Chen Ji scanned Red Sleeve Alley and realized that the brothel madam and the courtesan Yan’er were also missing.
Someone must have leaked the Golden Pig’s plans, allowing them to escape in advance.
Chen Ji suddenly remembered something.
When the coachman Si Cao had interrogated him at the Hundred Deer Pavilion, he had mentioned knowing exactly what evidence Jiao Tu and Yun Yang had taken from Liu Shiyu’s house… There was still a mole within the Golden Pig’s ranks.
This mole not only had access to the spy agency’s evidence but also knew about tonight’s operation.
Chen Ji was certain that, given the Golden Pig’s cautious nature, he would have taken every precaution.
Yet the information had still leaked.
Who was it?
At that moment, the Golden Pig suddenly turned his gaze toward the rooftop. “Who’s there? Capture him!”
(End of Chapter)