Night wrapped the palace in a heavy cloak, the kind that pressed close and whispered secrets in shadows. Yu Jingming sat alone in his chambers, staring at the dim flicker of candlelight dancing on the lacquered walls. The day's events weighed on him — Master Chen's sharp eyes, Yu Tianlong's cold smiles, and the unmistakable undercurrent of hostility simmering just beneath the veneer of courtly civility.
He knew he'd made enemies. That much was unavoidable.
A noise at the window drew his attention. It wasn't the usual creak or the soft pattering of the night breeze. No. Something deliberate. Calculated.
Before he could turn fully, the room exploded into chaos.
Three figures, cloaked in the hush of darkness, slipped through the shattered glass, landing silently on the floor with practiced ease. Assassins. No doubt sent by those who feared the sudden rise of the "waste prince."
Yu Jingming's body tensed instantly. Years as a Martial Sovereign had honed instincts sharper than any blade. Though this body was weaker, slower, and far less prepared, his mind raced, cataloging movement, predicting intent.
The first attacker lunged with a gleaming dagger aimed for Yu Jingming's heart. Without hesitation, Yu Jingming sidestepped, grabbing the man's wrist and twisting sharply. A crack resounded as bone broke. The would-be assassin crumpled silently.
Two left.
The second struck, a long blade flashing in the moonlight. Yu Jingming blocked, twisting his grip into the attacker's arm. The blade skittered harmlessly across the floor as he sent the man tumbling over a side table with a sharp shove.
The third was quicker, aiming a strike for his head. Yu Jingming barely dodged, catching the man's arm in mid-air and driving him backward with a palm strike infused with subtle qi pressure—not enough to injure seriously but enough to stun.
Breathing hard, Yu Jingming allowed a cold smile to spread. "Is that all?"
The attackers exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. They made a split-second decision to flee. Yu Jingming didn't give chase — patience was a weapon he wielded better than brute force.
He bent down and picked up one of the discarded weapons — a small, intricately carved silver dagger. Symbols etched into the handle glinted faintly under candlelight. Not common craftsmanship.
His eyes narrowed. Someone important had sent these assassins. Someone with resources and a reason to want him dead.
The prince rose, blood pounding in his ears, adrenaline shaking his limbs in conflict with the body's fragility.
His gaze swept the room, resting on Xiao Mei's wide eyes—she'd been near the door, frozen in fear. That look was familiar; he had worn it once, when threats loomed unseen.
"Get to safety," Yu Jingming said sharply. "Lock the door from inside and don't open it until morning." He tried to keep his voice steady; no need to show weakness now.
She nodded obediently, moving as if the floor had turned to ice beneath her feet.
Alone again, Yu Jingming closed the door silently behind her.
He moved to the window, stepping carefully over broken glass that glinted on the polished floor. The night air was cold, the courtyard below quiet except for a few wandering guards. None would know what had transpired here tonight.
His fingers curled tightly around the silver dagger. The symbols weren't just decorative — they carried elemental affinity, designed to suppress qi flow. Effective against cultivators, even weak ones like this body.
A warning.
Someone had discovered his return.
Someone warned enough to try killing him before he became a threat.
Yu Jingming inhaled deeply, steadying himself. This wasn't the moment for anger or despair. It was a call to action. To vigilance.
He sat back down, the candle flickering low beside him. The life of a prince—discarded, underestimated, yet dangerous—had just grown a whole lot more complicated.
He whispered into the darkness, a promise to the shadows.
"They want me dead... but they'll have to do better than that."
Outside, the palace slept uneasily—unaware that the "waste prince" was no longer as weak as he appeared.
And that those who hunted him had just announced their presence.
***