While Chen Lu Han strolled lightly through the gardens of Medang, far to the north—in the inner halls of the Yi Dynasty's palace—a small fire was being lit.
Not for warmth…
But to burn a name into ashes.
Inside the private chamber of the Fourth Prince—Chen's half-brother—a man with a calm yet frigid face, like the northern walls of the realm, sat before a massive map. Behind him stood Consort Six, his mother—a woman with cold beauty and a voice like a velvet-covered blade.
"Chen Lu Han is still alive?" she asked, her voice barely a breeze.
"Unfortunately, yes," replied the Fourth Prince, as he positioned chess pieces over the map.
"You've let your brother dance too long. He's never been serious, yet somehow he's survived this far."
The Fourth Prince smirked.
"He's like an insect. Small. Slippery. But knows how to sneak into places that matter."
"And now he's in Medang. A foreign land that doesn't know how vile our family can be."
The prince picked up a black seal and pressed it onto a thin silk letter.
"I've sent the order. A unit of assassins will slip into Medang through the trade route, posing as merchant escorts. After that, all I'll need is news of his death… and a cup of wine to close the chapter."
Meanwhile…
Chen sat on the veranda of the Medang palace, gold pen in hand, writing a letter.
Not a diplomatic one.
A poem.
The title read: "The Fierce General and His Beloved Arrow."
He wrote:
"If only arrows felt like an embrace… perhaps I would've died happier."
Han Yue approached from behind, carrying a patrol report.
"There's word of a northern trade ship docking ahead of schedule."
"Oh?" Chen arched an eyebrow. "Are we talking about goods or goons?"
"Both." Han Yue handed over the paper. "But one of the merchants has a record that's… a little too clean."
Chen looked up to the sky.
"You know, sometimes I wish to die young. Just not at the hands of my own brother. That would be too cliché."
"Your Highness suspects it's your sibling again?"
"Han Yue, they've tried to kill me with poison, scorpions, hairpins, even a love potion from the Seventh Consort. If they've started sending assassins abroad, that means I've officially leveled up."
Han Yue nodded, unfazed.
"I'll arrange extra security."
Chen gave a crooked smile.
"And don't tell the General. I haven't even sent him part two of the poem. If I die now, the shame of being an unfinished poet will hurt more than the death itself."
Elsewhere…
Raka was receiving a report from the harbor guards: a group of merchants from the northern lands had arrived unannounced, bearing special credentials from the Yi Dynasty.
Sri listened quietly, eyes fixed on the dusky sky.
"Too many coincidences arriving at once," she murmured.
"And I don't believe in coincidences."