He An had thought Han Zhan was merely a rough-hewn brute who had seized Western Liang and usurped a sovereign's title. Only now, seeing how swiftly he deployed his troops and how tightly he organized his defenses, did He An realize that this man had not swallowed a kingdom and secured its dragon throne by sheer luck.
Firelight reflected in his cool eyes, but could not pierce the deep chill within them. Han Zhan was indeed a formidable tyrant of his age, but the murderer of He An's parents could not be allowed to live beneath the same sky. He had to kill this villain with his own hands.
He An crouched in the shadows beneath an upturned eave, concentrating on his surroundings. The night wind brushed past, carrying the low commands of armored soldiers below and the icy menace of their weapons.
His thoughts raced like lightning. He would escape the Imperial Palace first, hide in Wuwei City, and wait for another chance to assassinate Han Zhan. Having decided, he extended his divine sense to search for an escape route, only to feel a sudden jolt of alarm. Some invisible restriction seemed to shroud the sky above the entire Imperial Palace, preventing him from taking flight on his sword.
The Palace City of this upstart emperor actually concealed such mysteries.
The firelight below drew closer, and the shouts were already clearly audible. He An's gaze swept over the ranks of palace halls and settled on a secluded residence deep behind them.
Its lamplight glowed softly, utterly at odds with the surrounding clamor, lending it an air of quiet secrecy.
The Imperial Palace was encircled as tightly as a watertight barrel. Better to take shelter there for now, avoid the sharp edge of the pursuit, and wait for an opening.