"What did you say? Tell me one more time if you dare."
The tip of my sword rests against his throat, just enough to press the skin without cutting through completely.
He is already on his knees, head lowered, but his body does not stop trembling. The chamber is silent except for his breathing, sharp and uneven, echoing too loudly against the stone walls.
"My Lord…" His voice shakes despite the effort to control it. "We failed to execute the girl and her family that night. A boy interfered. We were forced to retreat when the magistrate's patrol approached. By morning, the girl was gone… and today, the parents as well."
The blade sinks a fraction deeper.
A thin line of blood appears instantly, sliding down his neck in a slow, steady trail.
"You are five men," I say quietly, my voice colder than the steel between us. "Trained. Selected. And you return to me with excuses about a boy?"
He swallows hard, but does not move. "We were interrupted, Your Lord. The magistrate's soldiers closed in, and the boy… he fought. He killed one of us before we could regroup."
The chamber grows heavier.
The sword presses further.
Blood begins to drip more freely now.
"And you thought that mattered?" I ask, my tone still even, still controlled, which only makes it worse. "Did I send you to survive… or to complete the task?"
His head lowers until it nearly touches the ground. "We deserve death, Your Lord."
For a moment, I say nothing.
Then I withdraw the blade.
The pressure disappears, but the mark remains, blood staining his collar as he exhales shakily, barely daring to breathe again.
I turn away from him and walk back to the raised seat, the sound of my steps the only thing breaking the silence.
I sit.
Slowly.
The weight of the chair settles beneath me as I rest one arm against the armrest, my fingers tapping once, deliberate.
"Do you recognize the boy?" I ask at last.
"No, Your Lord," he answers immediately. "But there is… something. A new recruit arrived recently. His build is similar. The timing also aligns."
My gaze sharpens slightly.
A recruit.
Inside my camp.
Alive.
"Bring him to me," I say.
The words are calm.
Final.
"Yes, Your Lord."
He bows deeply and retreats, not daring to lift his head again as he exits the chamber. The doors close behind him with a dull, heavy sound, leaving the room quiet once more.
But not still.
A boy who kills trained men.
A girl who disappears overnight.
A family that vanishes without trace.
My fingers curl slightly against the armrest.
The pendant rests where I left it, unseen but not forgotten.
How.
The question lingers, sharp and unanswered.
How does a mere village girl cut me, escape my men, and vanish without leaving anything behind?
And why—
Why does she not die when ordered to?
A knock breaks the silence.
A guard steps in, bowing low. "Your Lord, Counselor Shen requests your presence in the strategy room."
I exhale slowly, lifting a hand to press briefly against my temple before letting it fall again. "I am coming."
He bows again and steps back.
Before I rise, I speak once more, my voice carrying without force but leaving no room for error. "Question the recruit. I want to know where he is from."
"Yes, Your Lord."
"If he is from Anhe," I add, my tone turning colder, sharper, "do not treat him gently."
The guard stiffens. "Understood."
I stand.
The chamber doors open as I walk toward them, my expression unchanged, my steps steady, controlled. Outside, the camp continues to move as if nothing has shifted, as if nothing is already unraveling beneath the surface.
But it has.
And I will find it.
No matter how deep it hides.
________________________
Gu Qingli POV
"Hey. You."
The voice is sharp, cutting clean through the noise of the training ground, carrying a weight that does not need to be raised to command attention.
A soldier in black steps forward, his gaze landing directly on me without hesitation, his presence alone enough to shift the air around him as if everything nearby must bend to it.
My body stills, but only for a fraction of a breath.
He stops a few steps away, eyes scanning me once, slow and deliberate, as if committing every detail to memory before deciding something unseen. "The Official is calling you."
For a moment, nothing moves.
Then I nod once, short and controlled, and step forward.
The walk feels longer than it should. Every step echoes too clearly in my ears, my heartbeat pressing hard against my ribs, fast and heavy, but my face remains still, my expression flat, giving nothing away. The soldier does not look back to check if I follow, as if he already knows I will.
The camp noise fades behind us.
The air grows quieter, heavier.
By the time we reach the command tent, the guards at the entrance step aside without a word. The soldier lifts the curtain, and I step inside.
The space is dim, lit by low lanterns that cast long shadows across the floor. Several guards stand within, unmoving, their presence silent but suffocating.
The moment I cross the threshold, the air changes, thicker, colder, as if something unseen is watching from every direction.
I lower myself into a deep bow.
My gaze stays fixed on the ground.
"What is your name?"
The voice comes from ahead, calm, measured, carrying no urgency and no warmth. It does not need either.
"Gu Chang'an," I answer, keeping my tone steady, even, controlled.
A pause follows.
Not long.
But enough.
"Where are you from?"
The question comes just as calmly, but there is something beneath it now, something sharper, searching. It is not a casual question. It is not asked without purpose.
For a single moment, the image flashes through my mind. Blood on the ground. A body falling near the house. The night before.
If this is about that—
Then there is no second chance.
I say, my head still lowered, my voice respectful, steady. "I am from Lianhe Village."
Silence.
It stretches just enough to feel dangerous.
"Are you certain?"
The tone does not change, but the weight behind it does.
"Yes, sir," I answer without hesitation, forcing the words out clean and firm, leaving no space for doubt.
Another pause.
Then—
"You may leave."
Relief does not show on my face.
I bow once more, deeper this time, then step back, turning carefully before walking out of the tent without rushing, without breaking pace.
Only when the curtain falls behind me do I breathe.
My hands tremble.
Slightly.
I clench them into fists, forcing the movement to stop as I walk back toward the others, each step still controlled despite the way my pulse refuses to slow.
"Chang'an!"
Chen Hu reaches me first, his brows drawn together, Luo Ping close behind him, both of them watching me with open curiosity. "What was that about? Why did they drag you there?"
"It is nothing," I say, keeping my voice light, casual, as if it truly means nothing at all. "They only asked where I am from."
Luo Ping exhales loudly, shaking his head. "You scared us for nothing."
Chen Hu lets out a short breath as well, tension easing from his shoulders. "Next time, do not walk like you are going to your execution."
I force a small smile.
The sound cuts through the air before I can respond.
A sharp whistle.
It echoes across the entire ground, loud enough to silence every conversation at once.
A soldier steps forward, voice raised, clear and commanding. "All new recruits, step forward and form a line at the center."
The movement begins immediately.
Bodies shift. Lines form.
We step forward with the rest, falling into place among dozens of others, shoulder to shoulder, the heat of the crowd pressing in from every side.
The soldier's gaze sweeps across us once.
Then—
"Remove your upper garments."