Her mind still echoed with the conversation she had just shared with the blue-clad assassin. A faint smile played on her lips.

A roar filled her ears.

Hadn’t she said she wouldn’t deceive him…?

Rong Ting’s gaze darkened, his long fingers tensing, joints whitening from the pressure. His palms felt cold.

When he was young, Rong Ting had once rescued a cat from a gutter.

The poor creature had been bullied by its own kind, nearly drowned in the filth. By the time he found it, it was dirty, frail, and pitiful—barely clinging to life.

Much like he had been.

He took the cat in, cared for it. Even when he himself went hungry, he made sure the cat was fed first.

He endured hunger, yet he was happy.

Because, at last, in that desolate palace, there was another living soul willing to stay by his side.

But in the end, a single rotten fish from the empress’s maids was all it took to lure the cat away.

When he found the cat again, it no longer recognized him.

It never once looked back at the one who had saved its life. Its eyes were filled only with the stench of rotten fish.

And when he tried to take it back by force, it clawed his face, leaving deep scratches.

All those gestures of affection—the way it used to rub against him, the warmth he had once found in its presence—were now reserved for its new master.

…

The cat became nothing more than a pet, trailing behind the empress’s maids, begging for scraps.

And with that, the last shred of trust he had in this world was stripped away.

There was no point in pitying the weak.

No point in trusting anyone.

…

After all this time, he had finally dared to believe in someone again.

Rong Ting’s face was deathly pale. The image of her speaking so effortlessly with the assassin loyal to the empress lingered in his mind.

Refusing to fade.

With a bitter laugh, he covered his eyes.

He could not tolerate even the slightest betrayal.

Nor could he endure the hidden motives behind kindness.

And yet, in his mind, memories of the days he had spent with her flickered past like a reel of fleeting images.

His gaze grew darker.

Lowering his head, he stared at his clenched fingers.

With these very hands, he had once killed that cat.

But the frail whimper it let out in its final breath, the convulsions that racked its tiny body—if that same sight were to appear on her…

A hazy, indistinct image flashed through his mind, and Rong Ting’s hands trembled violently.

He couldn’t bear it.

His tense fingers slowly loosened, resting against the arm of his wheelchair.

Then, he turned and wheeled himself away.

It didn’t matter.

He’d pretend he hadn’t seen her secret exchange with the assassin.

Because it was her—even if she had ulterior motives, it didn’t matter.

He wouldn’t give her the chance to kill him.

But he still wanted her by his side.

…

“Why did that young girl take him toward the eastern part of the city?”

“They said… to punish evil and promote good.”

The officer who had been assisting Jiang Rao replied to his colleague’s question, “But look at that blue-clad man—his posture is that of a skilled fighter. And with that fierce, rough appearance, he might even have blood on his hands. No idea why that girl would get involved in such murky business.”

Rong Ting had been about to leave on his own, pushing his wheelchair, when he overheard their conversation and paused.

His frown softened completely, realizing his earlier suspicions had been nothing but laughable.

But still—

If she was planning to outmaneuver that assassin, she would be in danger!

Rong Ting’s brows furrowed tightly. He turned back abruptly, his voice cold. “Where did she go?”

The officer looked up but hesitated for a moment, startled by the chilling aura radiating from the young man—so at odds with his refined features. “…The eastern part of the city.”

…

Jiang Rao tossed the silver pieces in her palm, her steps light and carefree as she led the blue-clad man toward the east side of the city.

Upon reaching an abandoned house, she came to a stop. “We’re here.”

The assassin shot her a wary glance.

The house before him was small and decrepit, its walls damp with creeping moss, shrouded in darkness and neglect. It hardly looked like a place anyone would live in.

The surrounding area was just as desolate—no signs of life anywhere.

His suspicion deepened.

Seeing his hesitation, Jiang Rao’s face twisted into an impatient scowl. “What? You got more questions? If you do, I’m not saying another word unless you pay up.”

The assassin’s suspicion lessened slightly. The greedier she seemed, the more believable it was that the Ninth Prince actually lived here.

The Empress had sent him to investigate whoever was secretly aiding the prince, but just looking at this run-down, drafty house…

If someone really was helping him, would he be living in a place like this?

Still doubtful, the assassin tossed Jiang Rao a few more silver pieces. “Do you know if the person living here is close with anyone in the area?”

“Who’d dare get too close?” Jiang Rao blinked innocently. “I heard even the poor soul acting as his personal attendant got hauled off to the capital.”

She jingled the silver in her palm. “Anything else you wanna know, sir?”

Realizing he wouldn’t get anything useful from her, the assassin waved her off. “You can go.”

He stepped closer to the door, lowering his body to take a peek inside.

Jiang Rao moved soundlessly, her footsteps nearly weightless against the ground. Quiet as a cat, she slipped behind him—then suddenly shoved him forward.

But the assassin reacted in an instant, his instincts sharp. Jiang Rao’s hands met nothing but air, her plan failing spectacularly.

Jiang Rao frowned and quickly shouted, “Jiang Ping!”

With a swift rustle, Jiang Ping burst out from the underbrush. A sharp whistle followed, and in an instant, the ambush was sprung—hidden figures rushed out from the house.

Outnumbered and overwhelmed, the assassin barely had time to react before a sack was thrown over his head, and he was thoroughly beaten. Soon after, he was tightly bound with coarse rope.

Jiang Rao was still shaken from her failed attempt to push him earlier.

She had expected him to be skilled, but not to the extent that he seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

Luckily, she had brought enough people.

Lowering her gaze, she watched the assassin writhe and curse on the ground. In a calm, almost friendly tone, she proposed, “If you tell me who your master is and testify at the authorities about how she mistreats her own stepson, I’ll let you go.”

The assassin, who had been cursing nonstop just moments ago, suddenly clamped his mouth shut.

Not a single word.

Jiang Rao stared at him, irritation creeping into her expression.

“The master you serve crushes her own stepson, treats human lives as nothing, and is as ruthless as a viper. Staying loyal to someone like that? That’s blind devotion.”

Jiang Rao tested the waters, starting with the stick before offering the carrot. Softening her tone, she added, “Or… does she have something on you? If you’re being blackmailed, I have connections in Jinling—I can help you.”

The assassin’s heart skipped a beat.

How did she know he was from Jinling?

Surrounded by nearly ten towering men, he knew he was outnumbered. Even if he managed to cut his ropes, escape was impossible.

But suddenly, he twisted his body, fingers flicking as a sharp object shot forward.

A flash of cold light—

A silver hook streaked soundlessly toward Jiang Rao’s throat.

Then—

The sharp clang of metal striking metal.

A single pebble hit the silver hook mid-air, knocking it off course. The weapon veered sideways and embedded itself deep into a tree trunk.

Sparrows took flight, startled by the impact.

Not far away, beneath the tree, a boy sat in a wheelchair, fallen leaves scattered across his shoulders.

As he moved forward, dappled shadows flickered between the trees, casting shifting patterns across his sharp eyes and high-bridged nose.

His dark hair was tied high, his gaze as deep and still as a lake.

His eyes swept over the silver hook embedded in the tree trunk.

He narrowed them slightly.

That was the weapon that had nearly taken her life.

Though his face remained unreadable, the lingering fury in his chest had yet to subside. A faint red hue surfaced in his gaze, and his fingers tightened around the stone in his palm, nearly crushing it to dust.

If he had arrived just a moment later…

On the ground, the blue-clad assassin suddenly pressed his lips into a thin line, jaw clenching.

A trained assassin knew one rule above all—if the mission failed, death was the only answer.

Rong Ting’s expression turned ice-cold, a glacial sharpness rising in his eyes.

With a flick of his fingers, the stone shot forward.

A sharp, pained scream tore through the air.

The assassin convulsed like a fish thrown into a boiling pot—his jaw dislocated with an audible crack, left hanging uselessly.

His body twitched violently on the ground, spasming as if struck by lightning.

The whole ordeal lasted no more than a heartbeat.

Jiang Rao had no idea she had just brushed past death itself. All she noticed was the sudden burst of startled birds taking flight—and the blue-clad assassin writhing on the ground, screaming for reasons unknown.

She turned and saw Rong Ting beneath the tree.

For a moment, she just stared.

“…Why are you here?”

Instinctively, she shifted, subtly trying to block the chaotic scene behind her from view.

She was afraid he might misunderstand, thinking she was taking advantage of the situation.

Uncertain where to begin explaining, she finally spoke, “It’s not what you think.”

But there was no suspicion in Rong Ting’s eyes.

Though he didn’t know how she had learned about the assassin’s involvement, he didn’t feel the usual need to know everything about someone before he could trust them.

She could have her secrets.

He gave a quiet “Hmm,” his voice rough and hoarse. “I believe you.”

His gaze shifted to the assassin on the ground, darkening with a fresh surge of bloodlust. “Get him to me. I’ll interrogate him myself.”

…

Jiang Rao had originally planned that if the assassin softened, she could use him to her advantage. In exchange for his cooperation, she might spare his life.

But if he clung to his loyalty to his master and refused to speak, then she’d lock him up and assign someone to watch him.

If he didn’t speak, she wouldn’t let him go—not until he stopped being a threat and couldn’t report back to Jinling.

But Jiang Rao’s thoughts were interrupted by Rong Ting’s question. She frowned, puzzled. “Have you already figured out who he is?”

It was strange. She had only learned of it through a dream—how had Rong Ting come to know?

Rong Ting glanced at the still-twitching assassin on the ground, his expression filled with icy disgust. “He’s one of the assassins.”

The same assassins who tried to kill him during the autumn hunt had all killed themselves before they could be captured.

Back then, Rong Ting had suspected they were part of an elite group, the Empress’s personal assassins.

Seeing this man today only confirmed his suspicion.

He pointed to the small, almost unnoticeable silver snake on the assassin’s collar and showed it to Jiang Rao. “Anyone with this mark is an assassin.”

Assassins rarely wore any obvious insignia. They were supposed to blend in, to be ordinary in appearance and attire, blending into the crowd without drawing attention.

But the Empress’s assassins… it seemed they weren’t just a handful of people. They had become an organized group. With so many members, they likely didn’t know each other well enough, which is why they had resorted to this subtle mark—to instantly recognize each other when they crossed paths.

If he wanted to bring down the Empress and the Xu family once and for all, he would have to wipe out these assassins entirely.

Rong Ting’s expression remained neutral, his gaze as clear and unblemished as glass, but inside, a brutal, bloodthirsty desire was beginning to rise.

His eyes suddenly flickered to Jiang Rao’s delicate neck.

A slender, fragile neck, as white and fragile as a lotus stem, as if it could snap with the slightest touch.

Had the hidden weapon struck her throat earlier, he would have watched her completely vanish from the world.

Rong Ting’s hand trembled, and a dangerous glint flared in his eyes. “From now on, if you ever encounter someone with this mark on their clothing, stay as far away as you can.”

Assassins?

Jiang Rao found it hard to believe, her gaze flickering back to the twitching assassin on the ground.

The laws of Dazhao prohibited the training of assassins.

Yet, there were always a few powerful and reckless nobles, with enough influence to disregard the law and secretly raise their own assassins, out of sight of the emperor’s eyes.

If someone catches wind of this, it could cost you your head!

^_^