Official Protection

At Qinghe County Office, the morning bell startled the roosting birds beneath the eaves.

Chen Ping stood beneath the hall, dressed in a brand-new green robe denoting Subordinate Ninth Rank. A standard-issue Wild Goose Feather Blade hung at his waist.

His back was slightly hunched, and his face wore a few traces of nervous unease. The official robes felt almost too hot to wear.

"Scholar Chen, this assignment has the prefect's personal attention."

The County Magistrate lifted his teacup and gently skimmed away the foam. His tone was measured, yet carried an authority that brooked no refusal.

"Lady Ye, a noble from the Capital City, is going to a neighboring prefecture on business. She specifically requested a local official of clean background and proficient martial skills to escort her. You've only just entered officialdom. This is a fine opportunity to build your credentials."

"This subordinate understands. I'll do everything in my power to ensure the noble's safety."

Chen Ping clasped his hands, his voice trembling slightly with excitement.

In truth, beneath his lowered eyelids, his gaze was as cold as ice.

This was hardly a good assignment.

A Capital Noble passing through a remote border county, bringing none of their own guards and instead recruiting local officers at the last minute—there was something indescribably strange about it.

But he had just offended the Jin Family, and this official status was the best protection he had. He couldn't refuse the County Magistrate's orders.

After receiving the travel authorization, Chen Ping withdrew to the side hall to answer roll call.

Through a crack in the lattice window, he discreetly sized up the group assembled in the courtyard.

Twelve Imperial Guards, each with bulging temples and broad, solid hands. They were all experts in external martial arts.

And around the Nanmu Carriage, there was a faint air of murderous intent.

"An escort? This is clearly a prisoner transport. Something feels off..."

Chen Ping mused to himself, carefully tucking the travel authorization into his robes.

When he returned to the small courtyard in the south of the city, the sun had begun to dip toward the west.

Yun Niang was gathering the laundry from the courtyard. When she saw Chen Ping return, a gentle smile spread across her face, and she turned to go warm up dinner.

"Sister Yun, don't trouble yourself."

Chen Ping took her hand, the calluses on his palm rubbing against the smooth back of hers.

"The yamen has assigned me a job. I have to go to the neighboring prefecture. It'll probably take ten days to half a month before I'm back."

Yun Niang paused, a flicker of alarm crossing her eyes, but she quickly concealed it.

She didn't ask anything. Instead, she silently turned and went inside to pack Chen Ping's things.

Leaning against the doorway, Chen Ping watched her busy figure. The taut string in his heart loosened a little.

For the sake of this peace, some risks had to be taken.

While Yun Niang went to the kitchen to make flatbreads, Chen Ping quickly pulled several gleaming, thin steel plates from a hidden compartment beneath the bed.

He skillfully opened the lining of his close-fitting shirt and sewed the plates one by one over the vital points of his chest and back.

The stitches were tight and neat. From the outside, aside from making him look a little bulkier, there was nothing unusual.

Then he took two small paper packets from the inner compartments of his boots. They contained specially prepared quicklime powder and chili powder.

As for the dagger coated in deadly poison, he strapped it to the inside of his lower leg. Hidden beneath his trouser leg, it was his final killing move.

Only after finishing all this did he put on his honest, simple smile. He took the hot flatbreads Yun Niang handed him and chewed heartily, as if he were merely going to the next village to collect rent.

The next morning, at the city gate.

The convoy was ready to depart. As deputy leader, Chen Ping rode over to wait for orders beside the Nanmu Carriage.

The morning breeze lifted one corner of the curtain, revealing a flash of plain white sleeve.

"Let's go."

A clear female voice came from inside. It wasn't loud, yet it rang like jade beads striking one another, distinct in his ears.

Chen Ping instinctively circulated the Longevity of Pine and Crane. His senses sharpened dramatically.

In that instant, the hairs all over his body stood on end.

The noble inside the carriage, named Ye Muqing, had her face concealed behind a gauze veil, but an indistinct chill seemed to coil around her.

It wasn't the biting cold of winter, but a frigidness that seeped from the marrow, as if something inside that body inspired instinctive fear in the living.

No ordinary internal energy could produce such an aura.

Chen Ping quickly lowered his head, hiding his alarm. His fingers gently rubbed the hilt of his blade, and warning bells rang in his heart.

This assignment was even more troublesome than he'd expected.

By afternoon, the convoy had entered a stretch of barren hills.

The official road wound through the landscape, with weeds as tall as a person on either side.

"Commander, Soul Severing Ravine lies five miles ahead."

Chen Ping rode closer to the stern-faced Imperial Guard commander and pointed toward the distant ravine, his tone deferential.

"The autumn rains have been relentless lately. The soil there is loose and prone to collapse, and the terrain is narrow. If there's a rockslide, it'll be very hard to dodge. I suggest we take the high ground on the left. It's three miles farther, but the view is clear, and it'll be safer."

The commander reined in his horse, eyed the "frail" Tanhua suspiciously, then looked toward the shadowy ravine in the distance. At last, he nodded.

"Approved."

The convoy changed course.

When they reached the top of the hill and looked down, they could just make out several flocks of birds bursting from the grass in Soul Severing Ravine. That was the sort of commotion only an ambush could cause.

The commander looked back at Chen Ping, his gaze lingering. There was less contempt in it now, and more scrutiny.

Chen Ping merely hunched his shoulders and gave an awkward smile.

"I heard old escorts rambling about it back when I used to travel with caravans. Never thought I'd actually guess right. Just lucky, just lucky."

After nightfall, the convoy lodged at a wilderness relay station called Anping.

The station was dilapidated and reeked of damp and decay.

Several Imperial Guards gathered around the brazier to warm some wine and called Chen Ping over to join them.

"Thanks, brothers, but I can't hold my liquor. If I drink, I'll make a mess of things. I'd better turn in early. We have a long road ahead tomorrow."

Chen Ping clasped his hands in apology and politely refused the tempting offer.

In the martial world, alcohol was poison that pierced the intestines. The safer a place seemed, the less one could afford to let down one's guard.

Back in the second-floor room assigned to him, Chen Ping didn't take off his clothes. He first checked the window latch, then took a handful of flour from his robes and scattered it evenly across the floor behind the door and beneath the windowsill.

When he was done, he sprang lightly upward and, like a nimble cat, climbed onto the rafters.

The view from there was clear, and he was tucked away in a blind spot. Sitting cross-legged with the Wild Goose Feather Blade in his arms, he closed his eyes and settled into the shallow sleep unique to the Longevity of Pine and Crane, his breathing barely perceptible.

That night.

Just after midnight, a piercing owl's cry suddenly rang out from the woods beyond the relay station.

"Coo—"

The sound was shrill and grating, unlike anything made by a living creature.

The horses in the stable suddenly grew restless. Their iron-shod hooves kicked against the wooden rails, thudding heavily.

On the rafters, Chen Ping's eyes snapped open, a flash of light in his gaze.

Something was wrong.

The Imperial Guards on night watch were in the main hall below. Why hadn't they reacted to the horses' agitation?

He soundlessly slipped down from the rafters and peered through a gap in the floorboards.

The soldier assigned to keep watch stood with his back to the stairs, one hand on his sword hilt, ramrod straight as a statue.

Chen Ping held his breath, pinched a copper coin between his fingers, and flicked it lightly.

"Clink."

The coin struck the ground beside the soldier's foot with a clear chime.

The soldier remained motionless. He didn't even turn his head.

A chill shot up Chen Ping's spine to the crown of his head.

He didn't hesitate. His figure drifted to the ground like a ghost, circling around to face the soldier.

In the dim lamplight, Chen Ping's pupils contracted.

The soldier's face was bluish-gray. His eyes were wide open, their whites webbed with blood vessels. He was already dead.

Yet there were no knife wounds on him, nor any sign of poison. It was as if something had drained all his vital essence in an instant. His death was just like the "demonic possession" of countryside legends.

Just then, a gust of yin wind sprang from nowhere. The relay station's dim oil lamps flickered, and their flames turned an eerie, sickly green.

At the far end of the second floor, a soft yet dazzling white light suddenly shone from the room where Ye Muqing was staying.

The light was pure and immense, forcing back the surrounding chill by three feet.

"What manner of monster dares to run wild before me!"

A woman's sharp cry pierced the floorboards, carrying an awe-inspiring majesty that brooked no offense.

Chen Ping's heart shuddered.

This light, this pressure—it was no ordinary martial art!

Could it be that this world truly had...

Before he could think it through, the relay station's heavy solid-wood doors boomed.

"Boom!"

The doors were smashed open, splinters flying everywhere.

Thick gray-white fog, dense as solid matter and carrying a stench of decay, poured into the main hall.

Within the fog, shadowy figures flickered, and countless ghosts seemed to whisper among themselves.