Zhang Xin's instincts snapped into place the moment the noise reached him.
That wasn't the chaos of drunken soldiers or a minor scuffle—those were coordinated shouts, sharp and urgent, mixed with the unmistakable clash of steel.
"Stay here."
His earlier haze vanished completely. In one fluid motion, he grabbed his sword and swung himself out of bed.
Zhang Ning also jolted awake, pulling the blanket around herself. The softness and warmth from moments ago were instantly replaced by tension.
"What's happening?" she asked, her voice low but steady.
"Not sure yet," Zhang Xin replied, already striding toward the door. "But no one would dare make this kind of disturbance unless something serious is happening."
Before stepping out, he paused briefly and glanced back at her.
"Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone except me or Dian Wei."
Zhang Ning nodded, her earlier boldness gone, replaced by alert composure. "Be careful."
—
The courtyard outside was already in motion.
Torches flared to life one after another, casting flickering shadows across the walls. Guards were rushing into position, armor half-fastened, weapons drawn.
Dian Wei was at the center of it all, standing like a tower, halberd in hand, barking orders.
"My lord!"
Seeing Zhang Xin emerge, Dian Wei immediately strode forward.
"Multiple intruders—scaled the outer wall. They moved fast and silent. If not for the night patrol, they might have reached the inner residence before we noticed."
Zhang Xin's eyes narrowed.
Professional.
Not bandits. Not random assassins either.
"How many?"
"Hard to say. At least a dozen inside already. More may be outside."
A dozen… bold.
Zhang Xin let out a cold chuckle.
"Whoever sent them has guts."
At that moment, a sharp cry rang out from the eastern side of the compound, followed by the sound of blades clashing.
Dian Wei's expression hardened. "They're probing the perimeter."
"No," Zhang Xin said, gaze turning icy. "They're testing our response speed."
A feint.
Which meant—
"Inner courtyard!"
Almost at the same time, both men realized it.
Without another word, Zhang Xin dashed forward, his robes barely tied, sword gleaming under torchlight.
—
A shadow flickered along the rooftops.
Then another.
Two figures dropped silently into the inner courtyard—right outside Zhang Xin's quarters.
One of them raised a hand, signaling.
"Target inside. Move—"
Before he could finish—
Clang!
The door burst open from within.
Zhang Ning stood there, a short blade in hand, her expression no longer soft or shy—but sharp, focused.
"Looking for someone?"
The assassins froze for a split second—clearly not expecting resistance from inside.
That moment was all she needed.
She moved first.
—
By the time Zhang Xin arrived, steel had already met steel.
One assassin lay on the ground, clutching his throat. The other was locked in a tight exchange with Zhang Ning, his strikes fast and ruthless.
But Zhang Ning did not retreat.
Her movements were not those of a sheltered noblewoman—they were trained, precise.
Zhang Xin's eyes flashed with surprise.
Since when…?
No time to think.
He stepped in.
One strike.
Clean. Decisive.
The assassin's blade shattered mid-swing, and before he could react, Zhang Xin's sword was already at his neck.
"Alive," Zhang Xin ordered coldly.
Dian Wei and the others rushed in moments later, quickly subduing the remaining enemies in the courtyard.
—
Within minutes, the compound was secured.
Several assassins lay dead. Three were captured alive, bound and forced to kneel.
Zhang Xin stood before them, his expression calm—but his eyes carried a dangerous edge.
"Now," he said quietly, "let's see who's so eager to send me a 'gift' in the middle of the night."
One of the captives spat blood and laughed.
"You think… you'll get anything from us?"
Zhang Xin didn't get angry.
Instead, he smiled.
"Dian Wei."
"My lord."
"Take them. Make them talk."
Dian Wei grinned, a grim, almost eager expression spreading across his face.
"Understood."
—
As the prisoners were dragged away, Zhang Xin finally turned back.
Zhang Ning was still standing there, breathing slightly faster, blade in hand.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Zhang Xin stepped closer, glanced at the weapon, and raised an eyebrow.
"…Care to explain?"
Zhang Ning blinked—then, just like that, the fierce edge melted away, replaced by a faintly mischievous smile.
"Sister Wuya taught me."
Zhang Xin: "…"
Of course.
That woman again.
He let out a long sigh, somewhere between exasperation and relief.
Then, after a brief pause, he reached out and gently took the blade from her hand.
"Next time," he said, voice softer now, "wait for me."
Zhang Ning tilted her head.
"But I protected myself just fine."
Zhang Xin looked at her, then shook his head with a faint smile.
"Yeah… you did."
And now, whoever was behind this—
Had just made a very serious mistake.