The Hidden Sovereign: 100 Days to Conquer the Academy

The Midnight Courier

The digital clock on the bedside table blinked: 11:45 PM.

Han Ye lay on the guest room bed in the Su family mansion, staring at the ceiling. To anyone watching, he was asleep. But his breathing was regulated, his ears tuned to the frequency of the house.

“Commander,” Blackhawk’s voice cut through the silence. “Intercepted a signal. Su Qing just left the corporate headquarters. She’s heading to the West District Docks for a ‘last-minute contract meeting’ with a supplier. The caller ID is spoofed. It’s a trap.”

Han Ye’s eyes snapped open. The West District Docks were abandoned years ago. It was a kill box.

“Who authorized the meeting?” Han Ye whispered.

“The message came from her grandfather’s personal secretary. But the IP address traces back to a burner phone registered to a shell company owned by the Wei family.”

Wei Jun wasn't waiting for the 100 days. He wanted Su Qing vulnerable tonight.

Han Ye sat up, sliding off the bed without making a sound. He grabbed a black hoodie and a generic convenience store face mask.

“Status of the Seal?”

“Active. You cannot be seen fighting. You cannot use military-grade weaponry. And you cannot let Su Qing know you are the one saving her. If she finds out, the mission is blown.”

“I don't need weapons,” Han Ye said, opening the window and slipping out into the night like smoke. “I just need the dark.”

---

West District Docks, Warehouse 4.

Su Qing’s heels clicked anxiously on the concrete floor. The warehouse was vast, smelling of rust and seawater. Her BMW was parked near the entrance, the engine still warm.

“Hello?” she called out, checking her phone. “Mr. Zhang? I’m here for the contract.”

The heavy metal doors behind her slammed shut with a deafening boom.

Su Qing spun around. Emerging from the shadows of the shipping containers were six men. They weren't wearing business suits; they were wearing tactical vests and holding steel pipes and tasers.

Leading them was a man with a jagged scar running down his cheek. He grinned, revealing yellow teeth.

“Mr. Zhang couldn't make it,” the scarred man rasped. “But don't worry, Ms. Su. Young Master Wei paid for the VIP package. We’re just here to… escort you to a more private location.”

Su Qing backed away, her hand fumbling inside her purse for her pepper spray. “My driver knows I’m here. The police are on their way.”

“Your driver is currently taking a nap in the trunk,” the man laughed. “And this warehouse is a dead zone. No signal.”

Su Qing pulled out the pepper spray, but before she could aim, one of the men lashed out with a steel pipe, knocking the canister from her hand. It clattered across the floor.

“Grab her,” the scarred man ordered. “But don't bruise the face. The client wants her pretty.”

Two men lunged forward. Su Qing squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the impact.

Thwip.

A sound like a suppressed gunshot cut through the air.

The floodlight directly above them exploded in a shower of sparks and glass. The warehouse plunged into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the high windows.

“What the— who shot the light?!” the scarred man yelled.

“Boss! Something hit me!” one of the mercenaries cried out from the darkness. There was the sound of a heavy body hitting the concrete. Thud.

“Secure the girl! Use your flashlights!”

Beams of light cut through the dust. The mercenaries swept the area, their weapons raised.

Su Qing was frozen against a crate, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked into the rafters. She saw nothing.

But Han Ye was there.

Perched on top of a stack of shipping containers twenty feet in the air, Han Ye looked down through the thermal lens of his contacts. He held a handful of rusted industrial bolts he had picked up from the floor.

“Five targets remaining,” he calculated. “No lethal force allowed. Disabling strikes only.”

He didn't need a gun. With his grip strength and aim, a rusty bolt was as dangerous as a bullet.

He flicked his wrist.

Whiz. Crack.

The bolt flew through the dark and struck the knee of the nearest mercenary with surgical precision. The man’s knee buckled backward with a sickening crunch. He collapsed, screaming.

“It’s a sniper!” one of the men shouted, panic rising in his voice. “Take cover!”

“There’s no gunshot sound!” the scarred boss roared, waving his flashlight wildly. “It’s a ghost! Come out and fight like a man!”

Han Ye dropped from the rafters, landing silently behind the two men guarding the rear. He moved like a shadow.

He didn't punch them. He simply tapped the pressure point behind the first man’s ear. The mercenary’s eyes rolled back, and he folded like a lawn chair.

The second man turned, swinging a knife. Han Ye sidestepped the blade by a millimeter, grabbed the man’s own wrist, and redirected the knife into the man’s tactical vest—pinning him to the wooden crate behind him.

“Stay,” Han Ye whispered.

By the time the scarred boss turned his flashlight back to the rear, his men were on the ground. Standing in the center of the warehouse, silhouetted by the moonlight, was a figure in a black hoodie and a cheap medical mask.

Su Qing stared at the figure. He wasn't big. He didn't look like a soldier. He looked… familiar? But the aura radiating off him was terrifying.

“Who are you?” the scarred boss growled, pulling a 9mm pistol from his waistband. “Iron Fang will kill you for this!”

Han Ye’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. Iron Fang. Confirmation.

“You’re holding the gun wrong,” Han Ye said calmly. His voice was disguised, lowered to a gravelly rasp.

“Die!” The boss pulled the trigger.

Click.

The gun didn't fire.

“What?” The boss looked at the weapon in horror. The magazine release had been hit by a small, rusty bolt a split second before he fired. The magazine clattered to the floor.

Before the boss could react, Han Ye closed the distance. He swept the man’s legs out from under him and delivered a single, controlled chop to the vagus nerve in the neck.

The boss hit the ground, unconscious before he landed.

Silence returned to the warehouse.

Su Qing was trembling, sliding down the side of the crate. She looked up at her savior. “Who… who are you? Did my grandfather send you?”

Han Ye looked at her. He wanted to speak, to tell her she was safe. But the Seal was absolute.

He heard sirens in the distance. Blackhawk had tipped off the police.

Han Ye turned and sprinted toward the back exit, vanishing into the night without a word.

---

One Hour Later. The Su Family Mansion.

Su Qing burst through the front door, her hair messy, her face pale. She was surrounded by police officers who had escorted her home.

“I’m telling you, someone saved me!” she was explaining to the detective. “He took out six armed men in under a minute!”

She walked into the living room, adrenaline still pumping through her veins. She needed to tell someone. She needed to feel safe.

And there, sitting on the couch, was Han Ye.

He was wearing his pajamas. A half-eaten cup of instant noodles sat on the coffee table, and the TV was blasting a ridiculous cartoon. He looked up, his eyes groggy, as if he had just woken up from a nap.

“ You’re back late,” Han Ye mumbled, slurping a noodle. “There’s no food in the fridge, so I had to make this. Do we have any eggs?”

Su Qing stared at him. The contrast was jarring. While she was nearly kidnapped and saved by a mysterious dark knight, her husband was sitting here in his pajamas, complaining about eggs.

The "Information Gap" was firmly in place.

“You…” Su Qing let out a frustrated sigh, the adrenaline crashing into disappointment. “You useless idiot. I was almost killed tonight.”

Han Ye blinked, feigning ignorance. “Oh. That sounds dangerous. Did you call the police?”

Su Qing looked at him with pure disdain. “Forget it. Go back to sleep. I don't know why I expected anything else from you.”

She stormed up the stairs, leaving him alone in the living room.

Han Ye waited until her door slammed shut. He set the cup of noodles down. He pulled a small, rusted bolt from his pocket—one he hadn't used—and tossed it into the trash can.

“Sleep tight, Ms. Su,” he whispered.

“Mission accomplished, Commander,” Blackhawk said. “But now Iron Fang knows there’s a wildcard in the city. They’ll be hunting the ‘Hooded Man.’”

“Let them hunt,” Han Ye said, his eyes cold. “It’s easier to kill them when they come to me.”