The gates of Lìzhou City were the color of ash.
The stone walls bore mottled scars, rain streaks trailing down from the towers like wounds that had never healed.
Compared to Qingzhou's grandeur and Yuntai's tension, Lìzhou was like a beast crouching low—unseen, but when it struck, it killed in one bite.
Xuanhu rode hard, cloak snapping, hooves splashing through puddles. Townsfolk screamed, scattering, while gate soldiers leveled spears and barred the way.
"Stop! Dismount and submit to inspection!"
The captain at the front was no green recruit—his bearing screamed battlefield bloodshed.
But Xuanhu didn't slow. At his side, the deputy drew an identity token and flung it forward like an arrow.
"Out of the way! This is Lord Xuanhu, City Lord of Qingzhou, come at your master's invitation. Move and report!"
"Move! Move the barricade!"
The captain caught the token. His arm went numb from the force; one glance, and he saw the carved tiger's head, roaring in silence.
Xuanhu's party spurred forward, vaulting their horses over the barriers, thundering straight for the City Lord's manor—leaving behind stunned soldiers and terrified townsfolk.
—
Lìzhou's manor was not large, and barren inside.
Stone steps, pine paintings, an unlit incense burner—this "viper" of a lord lived as if the hall were only for sleep.
"Xuanhu."
The man within lifted his head. His voice was calm.
"You're still the same—rushing about, letting others laugh at you."
He wore white robes. Thin as a reed, two brush-like mustaches glued to his lip. Yet his gaze was sharp, like a green snake hidden in dead branches.
Xuanhu ignored the words. Before sitting, he glanced once.
"Enough chatter, Viper. Why call me here?"
"Such affection," the man murmured, pouring tea. "I remember when we fought side by side… sharing cups."
"Spare me." Xuanhu shoved the cup aside. "This isn't for reminiscing. Out with it."
The Viper smiled faintly, sipping. His eyes cooled.
"Very well, then business."
He slid across a thin scroll—copies of orders, excerpts of reports. At the top: the seal of the Prime Minister.
"Look, Xuanhu," he said softly. "What you saw at Simu Village? That was nothing."
"Trouble in Qixia, in Suze, in Jiuxiao. Nearly ten villages in San Provinces of Hanhai have been struck. The other two Dao are shifting as well."
Xuanhu's eyes darkened.
"And all of this," the Viper tapped the table, sliding the papers closer, "the Prime Minister already knew."
"…He already knew? What do you mean?"
Xuanhu scanned the reports, frown deepening.
"The kingdom's lifeblood lies in the Three Dao's ninety-nine town-seals. That's the cause."
Another sip, a sigh of content. "Fine tea. You truly won't drink?"
The words floated light, but cut like a dagger.
Xuanhu's hand, after a moment, reached again for the cup he'd pushed away. His eyes stayed locked on the documents.
The Viper's smile curved.
"The Prime Minister ordered silence—layer upon layer. Did you think you were the first to uncover this?"
"You're the sixth." He raised a finger. "The first three are dead. The next two were reassigned."
"Which are you?"
Xuanhu's silence thickened, voice finally cold:
"Why tell me this?"
"Because once you choose, the board grows more interesting." The Viper stroked his mustache, eyes gleaming.
"The truth's before you. The rest is choice."
The hall stilled—only his finger tapping, a heartbeat's rhythm. Xuanhu's pulse seemed to follow.
He opened his mouth. But the Viper gestured, sliding out a second letter.
"Extra intelligence. Read."
Not an official report—old parchment, yellowed edges, singed corners, as if often meant for burning.
Xuanhu unrolled it. His brow twitched.
"Li Chengxiao," he growled, voice like thunder beneath the earth.
The Viper nodded. "Remember him? The failed usurper, exiled to Wuling of Shijing Dao."
"He lost everything." Xuanhu's tone was flat. "His troops butchered, his allies slaughtered. The Emperor spared him only for blood's sake."
"But he lived," the Viper's eyes narrowed. "And he never let go."
He crossed to a screen, pushed it aside.
On the wall—an old map. Circles marked Qixia, Jiuxiao, Suze, inked red at certain points.
"These," he tapped, "were once Li Chengxiao's battlegrounds. And now—every seal shattered."
"Coincidence?"
Xuanhu's gaze fixed, wordless.
The Viper spoke on, casual as if of weather.
"He may be far in Shijing, but don't forget—in his bid for the throne, he courted the Sersi Federation. And they are not far from Hanhai."
Xuanhu swayed with the blows—each word another stone in his chest.
The Viper let the screen fall back, covering the map.
"You smelled it in Simu, didn't you? That foreign stench. A cat's nose is sharper than mine."
"The world's interest lies not in open battle, but when peace turns suddenly false."
He strolled the hall, watching, mocking:
"Well, big tiger, how does it feel?"
Xuanhu's face soured, bitter with helplessness—knowing he might never win justice for Simu's dead.
"The Emperor—Li Chengheng… he doesn't know?"