The palace has a way of swallowing secrets and turning them into routine.For two days, the world remained stubbornly normal. Wei Jue didn't summon me. No strange missions. No silent execution order waiting around a corner.It was as if he forgot about me. Which made me trust the silence less.Life in the Yan Imperial Palace moved with a deceptive, rhythmic grace. I watched it all from behind the silver-and-black mask of an Imperial Guard. I saw the young attendants scurrying through the corridors with stacks of aromatic cedar scrolls, their heads bowed. I heard the rhythmic clack-clack of stone pieces from the barracks where guards gambled away their copper coins, and the distant, melodic chime of the bronze bells signaling the change of the watch. Even the koi ponds seemed to hold their breath, the golden fish darting beneath lily pads as the afternoon sun turned the water into liquid brass.Internally, for the first time in days, I wasn't a man being eaten alive. The herb medicin

Chapter 103 (silent current) Wei Jue’s The night air was a thin blade, sharp and precise cutting sleep away from my eyes. I walked beside the koi pond with my hands folded behind my back, listening to the small sounds hidden beneath the stillness, the soft ripple of clear water against stone. Beneath the lilies, the fish moved like orange ghosts; silent, captive, and entirely dependent on the hand that fed them.The distant toll of bronze bells somewhere beyond the eastern wall rang, cutting through the air, but it did nothing to dry the hum of insects buried within the lotus reeds or the lantern light stretched across the pond in fractured gold or the broken stars floating on dark water.The koi pond was unaffected by whatever turmoil was going on in the palace and so was Chen…. almost unaffected by anything I threw his way. My robes dragged lightly across the stone path as I walked.A dull ache stirred beneath my ribs again. Not enough to bend my posture, but enough to remind m

The palace felt quieter after rain.No one had ordered silence, yet the palace wore it instinctively, like prey sensing a predator nearby without knowing where it hid.The wet stone paths reflected the dying lantern light in fractured gold, while cold mist clung low around the ritual wing like something alive and reluctant to leave. Water dripped steadily from curved roof corners, each soft tap against the ground unnaturally loud within the silence.All attendants were told to stay away from the ritual chambers and even some guards were dismissed. No one questioned it. The ritual always unsettled the lower staff. The Taishis disappeared behind sealed bronze doors for days at a time, and ordinary people feared things they could not understand.I didn’t go home that night. For the first time since I walked into the imperial palace as a guard, I stayed through the night, sneaking through corridors to avoid being seen. I stood beneath the eastern corridor awning with my arms folded, wa

“It seems,” I said, my voice barely more than a murmur that cut through the damp morning air, “that we have both been chasing the same ghost.”Chen did not flinch like a cornered prey, he never did. He turned fully to face me, his face calm like he had seen this scene play out hundreds of time.His lips slowly curved into a half smirk, hand remained white-knuckled on the hilt of his sword. I studied him for a moment and returned the smile. He didn’t hesitate when the Head Taishi turned that corner. He had pursued him with the precision of a man who already knew his target, confirming who the shadow was. He knew the shadow was Han Ruo even before I suspected.“Tell me,” I said, stepping closer, the silk of my robes whispering against the stone. “Why were you chasing after the head Taishi.. do you have private business with him?”Chen’s gaze shifted to the empty corridor, then back to me. His expression was a mask of cold iron. “I think you must have seen wrong, your majesty, I wasn’

The archive corridor felt too narrow for breathing.Dust floated through the lanternlight like drifting ash while Han Ruo stood at the far end of the shelves, white robes motionless against the dark, the flickering lantern light catching the jagged line of the scar that bifurcated his face, ending at the empty socket of his missing eye. The silence between us was a heavy weight pressing against my eardrums until they throbbed with the rhythm of my own pulseMy hand remained on my sword hilt.His one good eye remained on me. Neither of us blinked.“A misplaced log.” Han Ruo repeated. The words were soft, yet they carried the resonance of a funeral bell. “The patrol records are not kept in this wing, Shen, they’re kept in the Eastern wing archives.”He took three steps closer and my hand tightened on the hilt of my sword. “The western wing is reserved for the history of the nobles.” His voice didn’t rise above a murmur but the way he said the last word sent me chills. I forced my hand