The streets along the route had already been cleared. Soldiers stood at every intersection, inspecting the occasional passerby.
Every ten paces, whether on high ground or low, patrol constables stood watch. Men had even been stationed beneath bridges and along the riverbanks.
Within a hundred zhang of the Imperial Street, all idlers had been driven away.
All streets facing the route had been ordered shut.
Yet there was no shortage of people who loved a spectacle.
Just beyond the cordon, many commoners gathered to watch the procession, squinting to make out the canopies, jeweled fans, great standards, and bright placards. Armored soldiers stood beside huge banners, while more than three hundred men held crossbows and blades, glaring like tigers eyeing their prey.
At the very front of the procession rode Imperial Riders in full armor, serving as the vanguard.
Following behind were more than thirty carriages, all curtained so that no one could see who sat within.
Guards surrounded them on all sides.
"The false emperor has set out," someone reported with the latest sighting.
Cao Yiyan stared blankly at the boiling water in the tea kettle.
"Can you confirm it is the false emperor?"
The man looked troubled. "From afar, the banners and carriages all look like an imperial procession. It should be the emperor's carriage passing through... but it is truly too far away, and we cannot get close."
"Is that so?"
He waved the man away. "Scout again!"
The tea churned and rolled, tossing up the tea leaves like the turmoil in his heart—surging and roiling, impossible to suppress.
After a long while, Cao Yiyan sighed again. "Bandits in the mountains are easy to crush; the bandits in one's heart are truly hard to break."
This was a desperate gamble. Success or death—there was almost no other