The sound of approaching boots echoed behind them as Zhao Ming tightened his grip on Lu Qianyi’s hand, pulling her along the narrow corridor.

“Faster,” he urged under his breath.

“I—I’m trying,” Lu Qianyi gasped, stumbling slightly as her silk gown tangled around her legs. “I can’t run in this—!”

Zhao Ming glanced over his shoulder. The guards were closing in.

Without hesitation, he halted for half a breath, bent down, and swept Lu Qianyi into his arms, lifting her in a smooth motion.

“Ahh—!” she squealed, her arms instinctively circling his neck as she was lifted into a princess carry. “W-What are you doing?!”

“Stop wriggling,” he muttered, voice low through the scarf. “You’ll fall.”

She blinked rapidly, staring up at him beneath the shade of his straw hat. His voice—it was familiar. Her heart skipped.

“Zhao Ming?” she asked softly, voice trembling.

His steps didn’t slow, but he gave a short nod. “Yes.”

Her lips parted in shock. “You… You came for me…”

“Don’t say thanks yet,” he said, eyes sharp as he turned a corner. “We’re not out of this mess.”

The corridors twisted and turned as he ran, dust rising from his feet. The east courtyard loomed ahead—his destination. Zhao Ming knew there was a narrow servants’ side gate at the far wall, often left unguarded during the day. He could almost see it now, tucked behind the laundry alcove.

But shouts rose behind him.

“Don’t let them escape!”

The guards rounded the far corner, gaining ground fast.

Zhao Ming ducked low and darted through the corridor. A silver glint caught his eye—a throwing knife spinning through the air. He twisted mid-stride, shoulder dropping. The blade whistled past, embedding itself in the wood beam with a heavy thunk.

“Watch it!” Kong Rong’s voice snapped from behind. “You fools—don’t hit the girl!”

The guards halted their throws, cursing under their breath.

“Split up!” a sergeant barked. “Surround the courtyard!”

From above, on tiled roofs and narrow ledges, shadows began to move—guards taking position, forming a loose encirclement.

Zhao Ming’s eyes narrowed. No way through. He pivoted into a narrow side passage, the walls tight on either side.

Dead end.

He clicked his tongue and turned around.

“Hold on,” he said, gently setting Lu Qianyi down behind him. “Stay behind me.”

She didn’t argue this time. Her hands clutched her cloak, eyes wide and unsure.

Moments later, the guards filled the entrance of the corridor. Their armor clinked as they raised spears and blades.

Kong Rong stepped into view, his face pinched in frustration. “You’ve caused quite the disturbance. Who are you?”

Zhao Ming tilted his head slightly, straw hat shadowing his eyes. “Just a wandering sword.”

“Spare me the poetry,” Kong Rong said coldly. “Seize him!”

The tight space worked to Zhao Ming’s advantage. Only one or two could come at him at a time.

He took a breath.

Crane Between Bamboo Sword Technique: Single Feather Return.

He drew his sword in one smooth motion.

The first guard lunged with a spear—Zhao Ming side-stepped, blade flicking like a whisper. The shaft split mid-air, and the guard went sprawling.

The next came with a curved saber. Zhao Ming deflected it upward and twisted his wrist. The saber clattered to the ground, followed by the sound of the guard groaning and falling back.

His movements were fluid—like a crane weaving through bamboo, never lingering, never forced. Each strike was deliberate, his steps as light as falling feathers.

Lu Qianyi stared, speechless.

“He’s… incredible…” she murmured.

Two more came—then three. Zhao Ming danced through them, blade gleaming under the noon sun that filtered through the courtyard lattice. The guards faltered, falling back one by one.

Kong Rong’s lips curled. “Enough. Archers!”

From behind the walls, archers took position. Bows creaked. Arrows were nocked.

“Ready—”

A voice interrupted, trembling: “Sir—what if the girl gets hit—?”

Kong Rong’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Then bandage her later! Fire!”

Just as the order rang out—

BOOM!

An explosion erupted from the far side of the estate. Smoke billowed from the direction of Kong Rong’s office, the sound of shattering wood and crumbling stone ringing through the air.

Kong Rong spun in shock. “What in Heaven’s name—?!”

Zhao Ming didn’t hesitate.

He turned, grabbed Lu Qianyi’s hand again.

“Time to move.”

Just as Zhao Ming turned with Lu Qianyi in tow, ready to make their escape amidst the chaos—

A shadow barreled toward him.

The Guard Captain—a man built like a wall, with broad shoulders and the weathered face of a seasoned warrior—came charging in, sword drawn and armor clanking with every step. His eyes were locked on Zhao Ming, unwavering and full of grim determination.

“You’re not going anywhere!” he barked.

Zhao Ming’s brows furrowed. He pushed Lu Qianyi gently behind him again, then braced himself.

Their blades clashed with a deafening clang.

The force of the blow nearly knocked Zhao Ming off his feet. The captain was strong—brutally strong—and each swing of his heavy broadsword sent tremors down Zhao Ming’s arms. He met each strike with precision, using the agility of his Crane Between Bamboo technique to weave around the powerful blows. But this was no mere foot soldier.

This man had faced death on the battlefield and come back hardened.

Steel met steel again, sparks flying. Zhao Ming managed to nick the captain’s shoulder, but it barely slowed him. The next strike sent Zhao Ming stumbling backward, his boots scraping against the stone floor.

Kong Rong’s voice rang out behind the smoke, furious. “Captain Zhou! Secure them! Now!”

Zhao Ming grit his teeth. His knees bent, one touching the ground. He was losing ground. His arms ached, his breath came faster.

The captain raised his blade overhead.

“End of the line, kid—!”

PFT!

A knife whistled through the smoke, piercing the air with eerie precision.

It struck the captain squarely in the shoulder joint—just between the armor plates. He jerked, eyes wide, and his arm immediately seized up.

“What—?!” he gasped, stumbling back.

His legs gave out next.

A familiar voice purred behind Zhao Ming.

“Such a young hero… and you still need help rescuing a beauty? I’m disappointed.”

Zhao Ming turned his head just in time to see Lady Yu descending through the smoke, her embroidered cloak billowing behind her like wings. Yu Ying followed close behind, landing silently with a dancer’s grace.

Zhao Ming exhaled. “You’re late.”

“Fashionably,” Lady Yu replied with a smirk. “Besides, you looked like you were holding your own.”

“I was about to lose,” Zhao Ming muttered, pushing himself to his feet.

“Oh? Then perhaps you’ll accept help from a mere woman, just this once?”

He didn’t argue. “Fine. Just get her out of here.”

Lady Yu flashed him a wink. “Knew you’d come around.”

Without another word, she swept up Lu Qianyi in her arms. “Apologies, Miss Lu. I’ll be handling your escape today.”

“Eh—?! Wait, what—?!”

Lady Yu vaulted toward the courtyard wall with practiced ease, Lu Qianyi gasping all the while.

Before Kong Rong could issue another order, Lady Yu flung another smoke bomb directly in his direction. It exploded in a thick plume of black and violet smoke, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

From above, archers began coughing violently. Some dropped their bows. Eyes watered. A second wave of tear gas spread over the rooftops. Chaos erupted.

Zhao Ming and Yu Ying moved quickly, darting through the mist. The side wall loomed. With a running start, they leapt—

Over the wall and into freedom.

Once safely out of the compound, Yu Ying walked beside Zhao Ming in quiet stride, her expression unreadable.

“You handled yourself well,” she said. “Your swordplay is refined, but your movement skills… even better.”

Zhao Ming grunted. “I had no choice.”

Lady Yu, still carrying Lu Qianyi effortlessly, called over her shoulder with a grin. “Seems our young master has as many secrets as he does lovers.”

“Can we not start with that right now?” Zhao Ming snapped, glaring at her.

Lu Qianyi, still breathless in Lady Yu’s arms, murmured, “Wait… lovers—?”

Lady Yu smiled sweetly. “Oh, dear. We’ll have so much to talk about once you’re safe.”

The streets of the eastern district were far calmer than the chaos erupting behind them. Smoke still rose faintly in the distance, casting long shadows against the buildings as the sun began to dip ever so slightly westward. The group moved quickly, their cloaks and robes blending into the crowds of merchants and commoners who had wisely begun retreating indoors.

Zhao Ming kept pace beside Yu Ying, glancing at Lady Yu ahead as she carried Lu Qianyi like a featherweight bundle of silk.

Still catching his breath, Zhao Ming finally asked, “That explosion at Kong Rong’s office… that was your doing, wasn’t it?”

Yu Ying gave a small nod without breaking stride. “Yes. We planted the charges in advance. The riot created enough confusion to slip past his inner guards. We took the opportunity to secure what we needed.”

“What exactly did you take?”

“Ledgers. Letters. Personal documents,” she said plainly. “Enough to hang him for ten crimes, if not twenty. We found them hidden in false drawers inside his study and the cellar beneath the guest wing.”

Zhao Ming let out a breath through his teeth. “You planned all of this.”

Yu Ying’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk. “That’s what Lady Yu does best.”

They turned down a quieter alley, then onto a narrow street lined with shopfronts and overhanging wooden signs. In the distance, the sounds of shouting and clashing wood still echoed—but the noise seemed to be swelling from the northwestern quarter.

Zhao Ming narrowed his eyes. “The riot… it's shifted northwest.”

Yu Ying’s gaze flicked toward the smoke. “That’s deliberate. We steered the most agitated crowds toward the northwestern district. Zhao Feng’s manor is there.”

Zhao Ming stopped for half a step. “You planned to use the riot to get to Zhao Feng?”

Yu Ying nodded again. “We plan to infiltrate his estate and free the women he’s been keeping. When the dust settles, we’ll have proof that both Zhao Feng and Kong Rong were behind the refugee disappearances. We’ll burn the rot out of Beihai—starting with them.”

They were nearing the Jade Elegance Pavilion now, the quiet façade of the store standing untouched behind closed shutters. For a brief moment, all seemed peaceful.

Zhao Ming exhaled and glanced to the side.

Ding.

A faint chime echoed in his mind. A translucent window floated into view, visible only to him:

[Mission Progress Update]

• ✅ Rescue Lu Qianyi (1/1)
• ⚠ Ensure the safety of your attendants (0/6)
• ❌ Kill Zhao Feng (0/1) [UNAVAILABLE]
• ✅ Discover Kong Rong’s Plan (1/1)
• ⚠ Stop the Riot (0/1)

Zhao Ming stared at the screen, the notifications shifting slightly with a pulse of red light. The “Kill Zhao Feng” task was grayed out—unavailable, for now. No surprise. That target was currently out of reach.

But what caught his eye was the second task:

Ensure the safety of your attendants (0/6)

It was blinking.

Bright red.

“Attendants…?” he muttered aloud.

Yu Ying gave him a sideways glance. “What?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Six attendants.

He thought quickly—then his stomach turned.

“The maids…” he whispered. “The girls at my courtyard. There are six of them.”

His expression darkened. That blinking red— was a warning.

The realization struck him like lightning: It wasn’t an assassination squad or Kong Rong’s guards—it was the rioters. In the chaos, they must have breached the Murong estate. If the crowd had been redirected toward Zhao Feng’s manor, some might have broken off, heading toward nearby wealth and power. The estate would’ve been an easy target—six unarmed maids, alone in the courtyard.

He stopped dead in the middle of the street.

“I have to go back.”

Yu Ying blinked. “What—?”

“I have to go back. To the Murong estate. They’re in danger.”

“Wait—Zhao Ming!”

But he didn’t wait for further discussion. With a sharp inhale and a surge of inner strength, Zhao Ming leapt up onto the rooftops, his feet touching down with practiced balance.

He was already moving—vanishing across the tiles in a blur of urgency.

Lady Yu, still carrying Lu Qianyi effortlessly in one arm, turned her head just in time to see the silhouette disappear into the hazy afternoon skyline.

“Well,” she murmured with an amused sigh. “There he goes again. That boy’s either going to die a hero or a romantic fool.”

She shifted her gaze to Yu Ying, who was already stepping forward, muscles tense.

“Go after him,” Lady Yu ordered gently. “He’ll need someone to cover his back.”

Yu Ying nodded. “Be careful.”

Lady Yu grinned. “Always.”

With a whisper of wind and a leap, Yu Ying disappeared, moving swift as shadow in Zhao Ming’s wake.

Lady Yu turned, eyes narrowed toward the still-smoking skyline, and gently shifted Lu Qianyi in her arms.

“Let’s get you inside, dear. The real storm’s just begun.”