As Zhao Ming darted across the crumbling rooftops and narrow alleys of Beihai, his lightness skill barely left a whisper on the tiles beneath his feet. He moved like a shadow at dawn—slipping through gaps, vaulting over fences, pausing only to assess the situation unfolding below.

Beneath him, the city was unraveling.

Cries of panic and the crash of splintering wood echoed between stone walls. Commoners were dragged from their stalls and homes. Rioters in yellow bands stormed through the streets, their eyes wild with fervor and hunger, wielding makeshift weapons. Flames licked at eaves. Smoke rose from scattered buildings, blackening the sky above.

Zhao Ming's breath tightened. He had studied chaos in books—anarchy in theory—but this… this was raw, primal. The order that once held people together had snapped. Now, the city was eating itself.

He heard a woman scream, followed by the brutal sound of a slap and a child sobbing.

His fists clenched.

But he couldn't stop—not now. There was a mission ahead, and every second mattered. He gritted his teeth and pressed forward, ducking behind chimneys, slipping past guards who had abandoned their posts to flee or fight in vain.

Eventually, the din began to dim. Ahead, the Governor’s Office stood atop its hill, the high walls and ornate tiled roofs still untouched by the spreading madness.

He slowed his pace, narrowing his eyes at the guards posted outside the front gate. Surprisingly, they stood relaxed—some leaning lazily on their spears, others chatting. One even sipped tea, utterly unaware of the storm rushing toward them.

What?

Zhao Ming frowned behind his scarf. Did the mounted messenger with the gong not reach them?

He crept closer, weaving between flowering hedges near the outer courtyard, scanning for an opening. Just as he was about to scale the stone wall, a ding sounded in his head—a clear, chime-like tone only he could hear.

A translucent window flickered into view before his eyes:

[System Quest Activated!]

Main Tasks:

• Rescue Lu Qianyi (0/1)
• Ensure the safety of your attendants (0/6)
• Kill Zhao Feng (0/1)
• Discover Kong Rong’s plan (0/1)
• Stop the riot (0/1)

Identify and expose the Yellow Scarves’ leaders (0/3)

Note: Partial rewards will be granted based on task completion.

Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes at the list. His heartbeat quickened—not just from the chaos surrounding him, but the weight of choices now laid bare.

“So many goals…” he murmured under his breath. “But it’s not all or nothing. I can choose.”

The reward structure was clear—select the most crucial objectives and earn accordingly. But the temptation of doing all… that was what gnawed at him.

His thoughts were cut short by distant shouting—closer now. The riot was approaching.

From the base of the hill, smoke and dust stirred as dozens—perhaps hundreds—of rioters surged forward. The guards at the gate finally noticed. Panic snapped them out of their stupor.

“Close the gates!” one officer bellowed, his voice cracking.

Carriages were already preparing to leave the banquet. Servants and minor officials screamed and scrambled toward the office, hoping the high walls would offer safety. The gateway quickly became clogged—horses neighing, servants tripping, guards shouting orders that no one followed.

Zhao Ming saw his chance.

Cloaked, scarfed, and blending in with the panicked rush, he slipped among the crowd. A guard squinted at him, suspicious—Zhao Ming was too calm, too quiet.

“Hey, you! Stop there—”

But before he could finish, another carriage barreled forward, nearly trampling a group of servants. The guard was pulled back to handle the chaos.

Zhao Ming vanished into the inner courtyard.

He dashed across the garden, bypassing stone lanterns and decorative ponds, moving like a fox through a vineyard. A narrow corridor loomed ahead, its double doors slightly ajar. He slipped inside.

Behind him, the outer gate slammed shut with a resounding clang. The guard who had spotted him hesitated, but the cries of his captain drew him back.

Zhao Ming had made it in.

Now, he pressed his back to the wall, catching his breath. His next steps had to be swift and precise. Somewhere inside this vast complex was Lu Qianyi, perhaps still trapped in the banquet hall… and further in, Kong Rong’s records—and Zhao Feng.

The clock had begun ticking.

---

The golden lamps in the Governor’s banquet hall flickered, casting long, uneasy shadows across the polished floor. The clamor of distant shouting had finally broken through the walls of wine and flattery.

Kong Rong, seated at the head table, stiffened as a breathless messenger burst into the hall.

“My lord—the southern gate has fallen. Rioters have entered the city!”

The words echoed like a gong struck in the heart of the room.

Gasps. Clattering cups. Nobles jolted upright, their faces paling. The scent of roasted pheasant and sweet lotus soup was overpowered by fear.

“What nonsense is this?!” shouted Minister Liu, already half-rising. “This city is fortified! How could mere peasants—”

“They’re not mere peasants anymore,” the messenger panted. “There are hundreds of them, maybe more. They’ve overrun the eastern market and are pushing west.”

Panic ignited.

Several nobles scrambled to their feet, nearly tripping over their robes. The harmony of flutes and zithers abruptly ceased as the musicians fled their platform.

“Where’s my carriage! I must return to my estate!”
“My family is near the river—let me out!”
“Get the guards! Call the army!”

And then, loud and arrogant as always, came the voice of Zhao Feng.

“Enough of this cowardice!” he bellowed, slamming his jade goblet to the floor. “Gather the troops! I’ll lead the charge myself. I’ll gut every last rebel and hang their corpses from the gates!”

Kong Rong's fingers twitched around his wine cup. His composed face barely hid the irritation rising within. The hall had already descended into disarray, and Zhao Feng’s posturing only fanned the flames.

“Zhao Feng,” he said coolly, “this is neither the place nor the time to shout empty threats.”

Zhao Feng rounded on him, face flushed from wine and pride. “You dare mock me? I am the nephew of Grand Eunuch Zhao! You think I’ll hide like a woman while these rats gnaw at our walls?”

Kong Rong exhaled slowly through his nose. His patience cracked.

“Aide Chen,” he said calmly. “Escort Young Master Zhao to the western safe house. Ensure his protection.”

Aide Chen, a lean man with quick eyes, stepped forward and bowed. “At once, my lord.”

“What—?!” Zhao Feng blinked. “You’re sending me away?!”

“It’s for your safety,” Kong Rong said curtly, already turning away.

As Zhao Feng was dragged toward the side corridor, still shouting about honor and vengeance, the other nobles began murmuring.

“Why is he being sent to safety?”
“If Zhao Feng goes, why not us?”
“We demand an escort as well!”

Kong Rong raised a hand—but his voice, though calm, was laced with steel.

“No one leaves the banquet hall until the situation is secured. Guards—seal the exits and hold the perimeter.”

The clang of doors shutting silenced the protests for a moment. Then, all at once, the room erupted in shouting. Complaints, threats, insults. A few even tried to push past the guards, only to be shoved back.

Kong Rong, unfazed, stepped off the dais and exited the hall through a side passage, his robes brushing the floor like a calm wave amidst the storm. There was no time to argue with fools. Plans had to be made, and fast.

---

In the adjoining women’s hall, the chaos had rippled in slower, gentler waves.

Whispers passed from matron to maid. The tremble in the servant girl’s voice when she spoke of the riot spread like fire through dry grass. Silk fans stopped fluttering. Teacups were abandoned. Heads turned in search of answers.

“Where is Lady Kong?”
“What is happening?”
“Is it true they’ve entered the city?”

Tears welled in the eyes of young ladies, and older madams clutched their daughters. Fear did not discriminate by rank.

Then, Kong Rong himself entered, flanked by two guards. His face bore the same serene expression he wore during court debates—but this time, it was a mask.

He walked to his wife, Lady Kong, and lowered his voice.

“Take Lu Qianyi. Bring her to the western safe house.”

Lady Kong nodded immediately, grasping the gravity in her husband’s eyes. Her gaze turned to the girl beside her—pale-faced, silent.

“Come, child,” she said gently. “You’ll be safe with me.”

Kong Rong turned to the others, projecting his voice to fill the chamber.

“Remain calm. The guard will keep this place secure. Please do not leave the hall.”

As the guards moved to block the exits, a collective wail rose from the noblewomen.

“I want to see my husband!”
“My son is outside!”
“Why are we locked in?!”

It was like trying to trap frightened birds in a burning aviary.

Lu Qianyi, pressed between two maidservants, kept her gaze lowered. Her heart pounded. She followed Lady Kong’s lead, but her mind raced.

Zhao Feng is already in the safe house? The words she overheard chilled her more than the riots.

As they hurried through the corridor toward the exit, Kong Rong pulled aside a curtain and spoke to his wife and Lu Qianyi quietly.

“I must see to the troops. The city is crumbling faster than expected.”

He looked at Lu Qianyi, his tone neutral but his meaning pointed. “We must ensure Young Master Zhao is protected. His uncle’s support will be… necessary in what’s to come.”

Lu Qianyi said nothing. But her hands curled into fists inside her sleeves.

Lady Kong nodded briskly. “We will be swift.”

With that, Kong Rong turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the corridor, his guards trailing behind him like ghosts. The halls of Beihai’s seat of power now rang with the uneasy steps of nobles, soldiers, and fate.

---

The sun hung high in the sky, casting sharp beams of light down onto the courtyard, where the air shimmered faintly from the midday heat. The estate’s once-lively walkways were now deserted, the quiet broken only by the occasional shout in the distance and the flutter of startled birds taking flight.

Zhao Ming moved like a shadow against the stone walls, his figure nearly unrecognizable beneath a wide straw hat pulled low over his face and a scarf wrapped tightly around his mouth and neck. Only his eyes were visible, narrowed and alert.

He knew the route well—from earlier visits and quiet observations. Now, retracing those steps, he advanced toward the banquet hall, careful to avoid the open paths. The embroidered robe he wore was plain, dull gray, blending easily with the neutral tones of the estate’s corridors.

When he reached the last turn, he paused.

Two guards stood stationed outside the massive doors. Their armor gleamed beneath the sunlight, their expressions grim. From behind the door came muffled commotion—frantic voices of nobles locked inside, some shouting for answers, others wailing in panic.

Zhao Ming didn't waste time. He slid along the corridor wall, staying hidden behind a low stone ridge, and waited.

The heavy doors creaked open.

Kong Rong stepped out, flanked by two guards. His face was pale but composed, his scholar’s robes now slightly rumpled and tucked into a thin leather belt. A short sword bounced at his hip—an unfamiliar sight for a man of calligraphy and Confucian lectures. He turned away from the hall and strode briskly toward the women’s side.

Zhao Ming followed, keeping a careful distance.

When they reached a courtyard with trimmed hedges and a large decorative rock formation, Zhao Ming ducked behind it, heart pounding—not from fear, but from focus. He scanned the area.

The noblewomen and their attendants had already been confined to the main hall. The estate’s outer buildings were eerily silent, with no servants lingering about. Most had either hidden or been evacuated. The only movements were the guards shifting positions under hurried orders.

Then came the moment he waited for.

Kong Rong returned—his wife at his side, walking swiftly and composed despite the tension. Behind them walked a familiar figure: Lu Qianyi, her delicate frame wrapped in a sea-green silk cloak. She walked with her head slightly lowered, guarded by two maidservants.

Zhao Ming’s gaze locked on her.

Even in the daylight, her features seemed like a calm lake amidst the storm. But her posture betrayed tension—shoulders stiff, hands clenched around her sleeves.

They moved westward—toward the secluded section of the estate that housed the safe house.

Zhao Ming moved again, trailing them through a narrow hedge path. The midday sun cast clear shadows; he kept close to the walls and under the eaves, his steps light and measured.

---

High above, atop a rooftop pavilion draped in flowering vines, Lady Yu reclined against a stone railing, idly toying with her painted fan.

“Still noon, and yet the drama begins,” she murmured with a pleased smile.

Next to her crouched Yu Ying, peering down at the scene unfolding below.

“Lady,” she whispered, pointing discreetly, “that person in the straw hat… it’s him. That’s Young Master Zhao.”

Lady Yu’s lips curved. “So it is. Disguised, of course. The scarf is clever.”

Yu Ying blinked. “He’s not trying to sneak in anymore?”

“No,” Lady Yu said, her tone amused. “He’s come for the girl.”

Yu Ying’s eyes drifted to Lu Qianyi, and everything clicked into place.

“So he wants to rescue her... should we help?”

“Help?” Lady Yu let out a soft laugh, the fan snapping open with a flick. “No, no. We watch. Let’s see how gallantly our little hero performs today.”

Yu Ying looked uncertain. “But if he gets caught—”

Lady Yu waved a hand. “We’ll intervene if it gets messy. For now, let him earn his moment. Ready the flare. Just in case.”

Yu Ying nodded and quietly prepared a small cylindrical flare, the tip coated with red powder.

---

Back on the ground, Kong Rong halted at a garden path split, turning sharply to his wife.

“Take her,” he said lowly, his voice edged with urgency. “Go ahead. I’ll return to reinforce the courtyard.”

Lady Kong didn’t question him. She reached for Lu Qianyi’s hand.

“Stay close,” she murmured. “We’re almost there.”

The guard assigned to them—a single, wiry man in leather armor—nodded and took the lead.

Kong Rong turned and vanished down the corridor with his guards, heading back toward the chaos.

Zhao Ming took a breath.

This was the moment.

As the group turned past a hedge, Zhao Ming struck.

He lunged forward, a blur of motion. With one swift strike of his elbow to the back of the guard’s neck, the man dropped with a strangled grunt. The maids screamed. Lady Kong stumbled back in alarm.

Lu Qianyi gasped as a gloved hand snatched her wrist and yanked her into the bushes.

“Wha—! Let go!” she cried, struggling against the grip.

“Quiet,” Zhao Ming hissed, his voice muffled beneath the scarf. “I’m getting you out of here.”

Her eyes widened.

“Who are you—?!”

But she couldn’t see his face—only the gleam of his eyes beneath the straw hat.

Behind them, Lady Kong’s voice rang out in panic.

“Guards! Someone has taken Qianyi!”

Moments later, Kong Rong reappeared with more soldiers, weapons drawn.

“There! Toward the side garden!” shouted one of the maidservants.

Kong Rong’s expression darkened. “After them! Bring Qianyi back! Unharmed, do you hear me?!”

---

Back on the rooftop, the flare hissed and sparked as Yu Ying lit it.

Lady Yu’s eyes danced with amusement as she leaned forward. “Now the game truly begins…”