Midnight approached.
Western outskirts of the capital.The abandoned grain canal.
Once, it had been a secret artery of the previous dynasty—a hidden channel for transporting military provisions.
Now it lay sealed, forgotten,its entrance buried beneath wild grass and broken stone.
Even the night patrol rarely came this far.
Clouds devoured the moon.
The darkness was absolute—
not like night,
but like the bottom of a well.
Qing Tian wore plain, dark clothing.No ornaments. No rank insignia.
A cloak.
Silence.
She brought only Spring Tao.
"My lady…"
Spring Tao's voice trembled.
"Do we truly have to go in?"
Qing Tian's eyes rested on the pitch-black tunnel.
Her reply was calm.
"Someone wants me here."
"If I refuse… they'll simply find another way to force me."
She stepped forward.
Into the dark.
Inside the Canal
Cold.
Not damp cold—
but the bitter chill of a placethat had not seen daylight for years.
Rust.
Rotting earth.
Still air.
Their footsteps echoed along the stone walls,each sound unnaturally amplified.
Time stretched.
One tea-length.
Then another.
At last—
a flicker of light ahead.
A single wind lantern.
And beside it—
a figure.
Tall.
Thin.
Painfully familiar.
Qing Tian's heart tightened.
"…Shunzi?"
The figure turned.
It was him.
The timid young eunuchwho once wept from homesickness.
Who survived on scraps and hopein the Pastry Bureau.
Who had smiled like sunlightwhen Qing Tian first promoted him.
Now—
he wore a faded gray robe.
Face pale.
Posture rigid.
"Director Qing…"
He dropped to his knees.
Forehead to stone.
But Qing Tian's heart sank.
Slowly.
Irrevocably.
"You wrote the note?"
Shunzi nodded.
"Yes."
"You also told them I would come."
His throat convulsed.
"…Yes."
Spring Tao gasped sharply.
Qing Tian's voice did not rise.
"Why?"
Shunzi's eyes squeezed shut.
Tears slid down his bloodless face.
"They took my mother."
"They said… if you do not leave this canal alive tonight…"
"…she will."
Silence.
Then—
the lantern flame shuddered violently.
The Ambush
Footsteps.
Everywhere.
Behind stone pillars.
Within side tunnels.
Above shattered beams.
Darkness broke open.
Shadows poured forth.
Not palace guards.
Not imperial troops.
Assassins.
Merciless.
Unmarked.
Men raised and fed beyond the palace walls—
death warriors.
"Kill her!"
A hoarse command split the air.
Steel flashed.
Blades screamed through darkness.
Spring Tao cried out—
but Qing Tian shoved her backward instantly.
The knife missed Qing Tian's throatby half an inch.
Her cloak split open.
Cold wind surged in.
And in that moment—
she understood completely.
They were not after evidence.
Not after ledgers.
Not after grain.
They wanted her dead.
Impact
—CLANG!
Metal collided.
Sparks exploded.
Figures burst from the darkness.
Fast.
Precise.
Lethal.
Blades moved like lightning.
Blood sprayed across stone.
But not hers.
"For the Emperor's command—protect Director Qing!"
A deep, steady voice thundered.
Qing Tian's eyes widened.
It was him.
The imperial bodyguard long rumored retired.
The quiet driver of the green-canopied carriage.
The man who had once bowed like a servant—
yet moved like a predator.
Shunzi froze.
Shock hollowed his face.
Only now did he realize—
the instant he delivered that note,
the Emperor had already known.
Collapse
The assassins fell quickly.
But desperation breeds madness.
In the final seconds—
someone ignited the oil charges hidden in the tunnel.
BOOM—!!
The canal convulsed.
Stone walls trembled.
Debris rained down.
Smoke swallowed the air.
Qing Tian's ears rang violently.
Vision blurred.
Breath burned.
When the dust finally settled—
three corpses lay twisted on the ground.
And one—
barely alive.
Interrogation
Qing Tian stepped forward.
Lantern light flickered across her eyes.
Cold.
Sharp.
Unforgiving.
"Who sent you?"
The wounded assassin laughed.
Blood seeped from his lips.
"You blocked… a road you should never have touched."
"You think you matter?"
"A woman who crawled out from behind a stove…"
"…how dare you—"
He never finished.
Qing Tian raised her hand.
Not to strike.
But to place something before his eyes.
The Imperial Inspection Seal.
The Shangfang Authority.
Her voice was glacial.
"Say that again."
The assassin's pupils shrank violently.
Fear—
raw and unmistakable—
erupted across his face.
Hall of Mental Cultivation — Same Night
Lights blazed.
No one slept.
Emperor Tang Yi stood before a sprawling military map.
Frontier lines.
Supply routes.
Grain markers.
War.
The secret report concluded.
Silence followed.
He asked only one question.
"…Was she injured?"
Gao Dequan bowed deeply.
"No, Your Majesty."
The Emperor nodded slowly.
"Good."
He rose.
Eyes dark as a coming storm.
"For tomorrow's court…"
He spoke at last.
"Prepare the decree."
A pause.
Deadly.
"I will question the grain personally."
That Night
Men died in the abandoned canal.
But those truly marked for death—
were still breathing.
Still robed in silk.
Still standing—
on the imperial court.