Chapter 104

The wind stirred the girl’s silver hair at her temples, her expression distant and calm.

Her sleeves, bathed in moonlight, glowed white, radiating a divine aloofness that made Li Guanyi suddenly understand the line of poetry: “I long to ride the wind and return.”

Then Li Guanyi saw the girl lower her head, studying the height from the wall’s top to the ground.

She pressed her lips together.

She squatted down, extended her hand to measure the height, her face slightly pale.

Then she looked up at the young man across from her.

Her face still showed no expression.

Li Guanyi smiled, tossed the scroll in his hand, the white paper scattering like butterflies in the moonlight, then strode to the corner, lifting his hands as before. The girl blinked, crouched down first.

Then she sat in the corner.

She swung her legs, shifting her body naturally.

Without hesitation or doubt.

She leapt downward.

Her silver hair stretched long in the moonlight.

Li Guanyi felt his palms touch her knees and calves, the thin fabric’s texture, then a gust of wind slammed into him. Had his Golden Skin and Jade Bones reacted, he would have flung Yaoguang away, toppled backward, and effortlessly dissipated the force.

The boy fell to the ground.

The silver-haired girl knelt on his chest, her hair swirling and settling, the moonlight clear and bright.

Strands brushed past his temples, tickling.

Distant birds flapped their wings; wind rustled through trees, leaves whispering, slowly merging with the wind beyond the horizon, fading away. Outside, the night watchman’s clapper echoed, his voice hoarse:

“Dry air, brittle things.”

“Beware—”

“Fire.”

The voice faded, vanished into distance.

The silence grew deeper.

Yaoguang’s expression remained calm.

Then she rose, bent over, brushed dust from her clothes, paused, then extended her hand.

The silver-haired girl’s face, serene in the moonlight, seemed as if the moon itself reached out to him. Li Guanyi smiled, extended his hand, thinking that if he were Xue Shen like that—dashing, radiant—he would pull the girl into his arms with force.

That man would certainly do so.

He simply pushed himself up, rising with the momentum. Yaoguang moved behind him, reached out, and brushed the dust from his back.

Li Guanyi stepped outside and saw the girl’s enormous bundle waiting in the courtyard.

He couldn’t imagine how Yaoguang had carried such a heavy load on the road; just picturing it made him want to laugh. “Why did you suddenly come?” he asked.

Yaoguang replied calmly: “I thought you needed help.”

Li Guanyi suddenly recalled the arrays trapping him and told Yaoguang. She flipped through the texts, her eyes surprised, extended her hand—and moonlight curled around her fingertips, swirling with starlight, revealing the array’s shifting patterns.

Yaoguang’s voice, tranquil, said:

“Now the array’s transformations are clear.”

Li Guanyi saw the array changes he had never grasped now rendered in three dimensions in Yaoguang’s hands—far clearer than before. He immediately rejoiced, gathered the scattered scrolls, and together with Yaoguang, began unraveling the arrays.

Progress surged far beyond before. Where Li Guanyi had once struggled even through sleepless nights to grasp the variations, now, with full effort, completion seemed possible. Beneath the lamplight, the girl’s voice remained calm, unruffled.

Each word she spoke gave Li Guanyi fresh insight.

The complex variations, once like celestial script to him.

Yet she saw their shifts at a glance, paused only a few breaths, and uncovered their mysteries. She also grasped parts of the *Huangji Jing Shi Shu*. The Eastern Land’s Star-Gazing School of the Three Outer Sects had endured for so long for good reason.

And Yaoguang, at such a young age, bore the title “Yaoguang.”

She was no ordinary person.

They were not skilled in direct martial combat, yet excelled vastly in other areas.

Time slipped away unnoticed; the distant stars dimmed. Birdsong suddenly brightened, then a sliver of white appeared on the horizon. Yaoguang and Li Guanyi had just dismantled the final array.

Li Guanyi stretched, energized.

The tension in his heart finally eased. As he reviewed the arrays, he remembered yesterday: “Yesterday, Pojun came to see me.”

The silver-haired Yaoguang tilted her head slightly: “Hmm?”

Then she thought, and replied:

“Mm.”

Li Guanyi smiled: “He came to me. Aren’t you worried, as a Yaoguang lineage bearer?”

Yaoguang knelt before him, hands resting lightly on her knees, her voice tranquil:

“Every generation of Pojun excels in military strategy. Even without serving under Bai Hu’s Grand Sect, they offer strategic counsel. Eight hundred years ago, that overlord held both Yaoguang and Pojun—but he ignored Pojun’s advice, thrice allowing Chi Di to escape.”

“When that overlord finally fell, Pojun still found a way out. Though gravely ill, he rowed a boat through Chi Di’s encirclement to reach him, trying to show him the last path to survival.”

“The overlord only apologized, then told Pojun to leave, choosing his own path.”

“Records say that the first Pojun, in old age, cursed ‘fools’ yet wept, mourning the overlord’s death. Since then, as our lineage has its rules, Pojun’s line too must judge a lord’s capacity before pledging allegiance.”

“It seems that generation’s Pojun believed the overlord chose his final fate because of that Yaoguang—and so vowed never again to serve alongside the Yaoguang lineage. That’s ancient history of the Eastern Land’s Star-Gazing School.”

“Before now, only the overlord ever held both Pojun and Yaoguang.”

“Whoever excels in strategy will always have a strategist choose him.”

“He likely came to assess your bearing.”

Li Guanyi said: “Yes.”

Yaoguang’s voice was quiet. After a pause, she said: “Just as the texts describe.”

Li Guanyi was relaxed before Yaoguang. One hand propped his chin; in candlelight, he watched the girl calmly organizing texts. With the other, he snipped the candle’s overlong wick, jesting: “Aren’t you curious about my choice?”

The silver-haired girl, as always, cupped his hands in both of hers.

Her voice, serene, whispered:

“Whether you choose me is not the point.”

“But I chose you.”

“For me.”

“That is enough.”

As Li Guanyi froze, the girl released his hands, pulled her hood over her head, knelt before him, revealing only her perfect chin and silver hair falling at her temples. Her voice, calm and even:

“Is this answer satisfactory to you?”

Li Guanyi fell silent, then raised his hand, gently tapping his chest, and replied:

“I too will honor this pact.”

“Our pact.”

He finished, scratched his head, and said: “It’s daytime now. I’ll get some breakfast, then head to the Jinwu Guard.” He rose and hurried out. Wind blew in as he exhaled.

Inside the room, the girl knelt quietly for a long while.

Her head nodded slightly forward.

Then she jolted awake, straightening instantly.

Her breathing calm, her body leaned forward again, head nodding drowsily.

When Li Guanyi returned, he saw this. He placed the buns, duck blood vermicelli soup, and vegetables on the table, sat quietly, waiting for Yaoguang to wake. She stirred, asked: “You’ve been back long?”

Li Guanyi smiled: “No, I just got back, set the food down.”

“Beijing’s breakfast is quite good.”

“Try some?”

Yaoguang cupped the bun in both hands, took a tentative bite. She ate while kneeling, hands cradling the food. Her wide, hooded robes—worn by those beyond the world—made her seem even smaller.

Li Guanyi devoured his food, then remembered: “Can you add a secret art to the imperial palace’s defenses to make them harder to detect?”

Yaoguang shook her head, her voice tranquil: “Have you forgotten?”

“The assassins before bore traces of witchcraft.”

“Star-gazing, fate-divining, witchcraft—each has its domain.”

“Since ancient times, emperors have feared and coveted star-gazing, dreading their destiny being seen. Thus, palaces always host witchcraft practitioners and sorcerers, and institutions like the Imperial Astronomical Bureau—among the most tightly guarded places in the realm. My arts cannot aid you.”

“The emperor fears death most. They despise us.”

“If I reached my master’s level, perhaps I could help you somewhat.”

Li Guanyi nodded, recalling the Mojia assassin.

“I was just asking. The imperial palace is heavily guarded, but Jinwu Guard officers are permitted entry. Since you’re in the capital, stay here.” Li Guanyi finished breakfast quickly, grabbed his badge, and headed for the palace.

Verified his identity, changed into armor and battle robes.

Jinwu Guard wore battle robes, gleaming armor, carried heavy swords, crossbows on one side, halberds on the other. Li Guanyi surrendered his rank, accepted Jinwu Guard assignment. Though once a seventh-rank Zhenwei Captain, here he was merely a ninth-rank-lower Left and Right Spear-Bearer.

Yet ordinary seventh-rank officers still regarded them with awe.

Later, Li Guanyi and nine other newly selected Jinwu Guards received orders: assigned as Record Clerks under the Yulin Longwu Army, briefed on new regulations.

Li Guanyi learned that even within Jinwu Guard, roles differed. Patrols that caused no trouble and collected bribes from eunuchs or court officials were prime postings.

Patrolling the imperial gardens—though no bribes, still peaceful—were mid-tier.

The worst were two.

One: the abandoned palaces, deserted and untouched, with no bribes from the inmates.

One type is the Cold Palace, where no one comes or goes, and the people inside offer no bribes.

If anything happens, the Jinyuwei soldiers will inevitably be implicated.

The second is the Forbidden Palace’s Qilin Palace, assigned today.

It’s the lowest-ranking post possible.

Nothing to gain, no bribes or offerings—that’s fine—but inside the Forbidden Palace, there are always special rumors. If something goes wrong, Heihei , the Cold Palace might only punish you for disrespect in the imperial presence, but the Forbidden Palace? It means silencing you for good.

Upon hearing the military advisor’s words, every Jinyuwei soldier felt a chill.

They immediately turned their gaze toward Li Guanyi, their eyes filled with hostility. They were all scions of mighty martial clans, some even abandoning their chances to join the Night Gallop Cavalry just to come here and crush the spirit of this boy, whom even Yuwen Lie had praised as “the strongest in Chen Guo” among his peers.

Who could have imagined this fellow had his position pre-allocated?

The very methods they once used to oppress commoners now fell upon their own heads.

They were nearly choked with rage, ready to vomit blood!

The deed was done. The noble youths gritted their teeth and came here anyway, determined to make Li Guanyi suffer. The young man sensed their hostility, yet remained calm on the surface, though inwardly he grew grim—Qilin Palace was surely the Forbidden Palace.

It was a terrible assignment.

I was personally selected by Imperial Consort Xue—likely to be placed in the most lucrative post within the Jinyuwei. I’ve shot myself in the foot.

At that moment, Li Guanyi noticed the stares of these martial aristocrats. A plan struck him. When the military advisor finished speaking and stepped out, the noble youths immediately launched their attack, shouting: “Are you the toad who crawled in through the back door and slipped through the pants?!”

Li Guanyi, clad in heavy armor, said: “Who are you calling a toad?”

The noble youth roared: “I’m calling you!”

As soon as he spoke, he realized he’d walked into the trap. The young man smiled: “Ah, so the toad is calling me—you’re the toad.” The surrounding noble youths, all reckless by nature, laughed uproariously—even though they were allies.

The noble youth’s face flushed red and white, and he cursed: “You filthy peasant!”

Blinded by rage, he swung his fist forward. Li Guanyi casually grabbed a nearby bench and hurled it. The youth’s punch shattered the ground; Li Guanyi flicked his wrist, and the rest of the bench smashed into another youth’s face, leaving him dazed and furious: “F***!”

“Zhou, are you blind? Who are you hitting?!”

The first youth roared: “I hit whoever laughs at me!”

Li Guanyi, far superior in martial skill, stoked the chaos. In moments, the room erupted into a brawl. The noble youths finally realized what was happening and roared in unison: “First, knock this peasant down!”

“This brat is cheating!”

Outside, the military advisor heard the commotion but remained calm, not entering.

The surrounding Jinyuwei soldiers asked: “Sir, shouldn’t you intervene?”

The military advisor sighed: “Ah, this Li Captain is just too arrogant. So many noble youths can’t stand him—how could I possibly stop them?”

“Let them settle it themselves.”

The Jinyuwei soldiers understood: the military advisor had taken sides.

These selected Jinyuwei soldiers were all elite scions of noble clans.

Originally, they were all headed for the Night Gallop Cavalry.

Had it not been for Yuwen Lie’s words that day, they would never have joined the Jinyuwei.

Now, nine armored noble youths, tall and strong—could they not overpower one?

They could crush him under their weight.

The military advisor thought: after this, my she-tiger of a wife would allow me to take a concubine.

She even offered one dragon, two phoenixes. Honestly, without this incident, I might not have agreed.

Just thinking about it made my heart race!

Hearing the noise inside gradually subside, the military advisor said: “It’s about over. Let’s go in.” He pushed open the door. The military advisor and the other Jinyuwei soldiers froze.

Inside was utter chaos—tables and chairs reduced to splinters.

All nine noble youths lay sprawled on the ground, bruised and swollen.

Piled atop one another, only one young man remained—clad in heavy armor, seated atop the fallen nobles’ backs, brushing dust from his battle robe with a flick of his hand, spotless, his gaze calm as he looked down at the military advisor.

In the air, a tiger’s roar seemed to echo.

The military advisor’s face paled. He saw the young man say: “You’ve arrived just in time.”

Li Guanyi stepped forward. The military advisor’s face paled further.

Then Li Guanyi reached out, picked up the roster, looked at his own name, and asked: “Today’s brawl—who is to blame?”

The military advisor, shaken by the White Tiger’s spiritual form, stammered: “I-it was them...”

The noble youths turned pale, furious yet unjustly treated, terrified of being sent to the Cold Palace—until the young man calmly said: “Good.”

“This time, I couldn’t hold back—I beat them.”

“The guilt is theirs. The responsibility, I take.”

The noble youths stared, stunned, unable to believe what they heard. They exhaled in relief, then felt shame—and from that shame, admiration arose.

Such courage and accountability—truly, we are inferior.

One bit his lip and shouted: “Don’t think this means I owe you anything! I, I—”

The armored youth, hand on his sword, turned back and said: “You don’t owe me anything.”

“If you want to fight, come next time with honor—I’ll meet you.”

“This time, one man, one deed.”

“For this ten-day period, I’ll guard the Forbidden Palace.”