Returning to the Second Prince, Plotting the Usurpation

The gray-robed figure at the mouth of the alley neither came closer nor withdrew the hand held in that peculiar gesture. Chen Wuya stared at the pose—three fingers pressed together, pinky and thumb hooked—and the jade pendant in his palm suddenly grew warm again, as if answering something.

He did not move.

But Bai Zhi had already shifted silently half a step, positioning herself at his side. Her soft sword remained sheathed, yet her fingertips rested on its hilt.

The gray-robed figure stood still for a moment, then slowly lowered his hand and turned into the darkness. No footsteps sounded before he vanished around the alley corner, as though he had never appeared at all.

"Go," Chen Wuya said in a low, hoarse voice.

Bai Zhi nodded. The two did not linger, hurrying down a narrow path hidden beneath wild grass. The wind beyond the city carried dampness, snapping their robes at the hems. One hand pressed to his ribs, Chen Wuya felt blood seeping from the old wound torn open by the backlash of the Misaligned Force. Every step felt like fine needles churning through his meridians.

They bypassed two sentry posts and slipped into the outer city through an abandoned drainage ditch. The mud at its bottom was thick, and the shallow water was icy. Chen Wuya gritted his teeth and waded through. When his footing slipped, Bai Zhi seized his wrist. She said nothing, only tightened her grip.

Near the western wall of the Second Prince's residence, Bai Zhi stopped and crouched to investigate. A moment later, she gave a Qingfeng Sect contact signal—three light taps against the wall, their rhythm like raindrops falling upon tiles.

A faint sound came from within the wall, and a hidden side gate slowly opened. A servant clad in black poked