Inside a tent at the Dragon Slayer Knights’ station.
Shen Luolin calmly finished a bowl of meat soup and set the empty bowl aside.
For the past few days, the food Ella brought no longer had that particular scent.
She was beginning to believe Shen Luolin.
Or rather, she chose to believe in the phantom he had personally crafted—a phantom willing to “turn back” for her.
Shen Luolin dispassionately reviewed the chessboard before him.
The emotional rift born of Ella’s jealousy was his only breakthrough point.
However, the two Royal Guards at the tent entrance were the first lock standing in his way—a physical, indestructible lock.
He needed a key.
His gaze passed through the gap in the heavy door curtains, landing on the two motionless “statues” outside.
The Royal Guards, the Empire’s ultimate machines of violence, had their individual wills erased to serve only the imperial power.
Against such people, ordinary threats or bribes were useless.
The curtain was lifted again, and Ella walked in.
This time, she held no tray, but a roll of parchment maps tied with leather cord.
She still wore that simple gray dress, but as she drew closer, the unquestionable aura of an Imperial Captain resurfaced.
“The Northern Border Defense Map,” she said, spreading the parchment on the small table. “The supply points on the west side of the camp have defense forces that are too scattered. If we encounter a surprise attack, it would be easy for our retreat to be cut off.”
Her tone was that of discussing military affairs, but the overly strained, tense lines of her profile seemed to be waiting for a verdict.
Ella was also testing Shen Luolin.
After years of secret unrequited love, she finally saw a glimmer of hope. Ella was even willing to give up her privileged life as a princess for Shen Luolin, to accompany him across mountains and through blood.
An ordinary girl would have long since been like a moth to a flame, preferring to burn herself out rather than let go.
A sense of immense happiness enveloped Ella, yet she still possessed a sliver of reason.
This was her final test. Shen Luolin’s reaction would determine her next move.
Shen Luolin, however, didn’t even glance at the map. He spoke softly, his voice carrying a tone of extreme weariness.
“Your Highness’s deployment is already perfect. There is no need for a useless person like me to say anything more.”
He looked up, looking past the map that represented power and slaughter, and stared at Ella’s face. Suddenly, he stood up and took a step toward her.
The scent, a mixture of soothing incense and silk fabric, instantly enveloped her.
Ella’s body instinctively tensed. Her right fingers twitched imperceptibly—a posture ready to draw a sword at any moment.
Shen Luolin merely stopped in front of her. He raised his hand and, with his fingertip, gently tucked a stray lock of hair hanging by her cheek back behind her ear.
The moment their skin touched, her ear could even feel the slight coolness of his finger.
He repeated the words she had said a few days ago. His voice was very soft, yet it accurately scraped against the depths of Ella’s heart.
“Now… I only want to look more at the person beside me.”
It was a belated but incredibly precise surrender.
Ella’s heart skipped a beat.
She almost frantically avoided his gaze, her eyes flitting back to the map in panic, only to find that the symbols marking troop deployments had turned into a blur of ink.
The composure and self-restraint she took pride in collapsed before his single gentle gesture.
Shen Luolin did not press closer.
He stepped back just the right amount and sat down again, as if the previous approach had been a mere whim.
In a drifting tone, he brought up an unrelated memory.
“I remember that the white wax trees at the academy should be in bloom right about now.”
This sentence instantly pierced through all the hard shells Ella had disguised herself with using logic and military regulations.
The Imperial City, the Royal Military Academy, the white wax trees.
That was the only corner of her entire adolescence that could see the light.
She remembered him standing under the tree, impatiently explaining battle formations while sunlight filtered through the leaves onto the tips of his hair.
A samara from a white wax tree that she had secretly plucked after he left was still tucked inside her most precious book on military strategy.
He actually… still remembered.
Shen Luolin’s performance stepped precisely on the softest part of her memory.
He took the opportunity to make a seemingly harmless request.
“It’s too stuffy in here. Can you help me find a small carving knife and a piece of wood?”
He looked up, a trace of well-timed self-deprecation on his face.
“I need to find something to do, lest my mind wanders. Just like back in the Imperial City, when you were buried in paperwork and I was bored.”
This request was three birds with one stone.
It justified his need for a “tool,” reinforced the memory anchor of “we were once the only ones for each other,” and more importantly, created a perfect excuse for his upcoming contact with the guards.
Ella was completely defeated.
She almost fled, even forgetting to grab the map on the table.
“…I, I’ll go get them now.”
Leaving those words behind, she walked quickly out of the tent, her back carrying a hint of panic she hadn’t even noticed herself.
In the brief dozen seconds after she left, Shen Luolin’s gaze quickly swept over the map that hadn’t been fully covered.
Defensive loopholes at the supply points, patrol rotation routes, core nodes of the warning barriers… all the information was instantly absorbed into his mind, forming a complete action route map.
Soon, Ella returned, or rather, she sent someone with the items.
An adjutant entered respectfully, carrying a tray. On it lay a small, blunt carving knife used for pits and seeds, along with a piece of high-quality white wax wood.
The wood had a fine texture and emitted a faint fragrance.
Shen Luolin took the items. When his fingertips touched the cold handle of the knife, a flash of indescribable disgust crossed his heart.
He was using her.
Using that love from the Imperial City that should have remained unspoken, using their “teacher-student” past that he had long since left behind.
He used the most precise lies to pry open her strongest defenses, and she repaid him with this trust tinged with a hint of humble entreaty.
His knuckles gripping the carving knife turned slightly white from excessive force, as if he wanted to crush that self-loathing and helplessness along with the knife.
But his face showed no change. He simply lowered his head and began to clumsily shave the wood.
Wood chips fell away. He looked as if he were truly immersed in this boring pastime.
However, as the knife moved across the wood, another memory surfaced uncontrollably in his mind.
It wasn’t the princess at the Imperial Royal Academy practicing swordsmanship with meticulous care.
It was a girl by the fireplace of the Return Snow Hut, wrapped in animal skins and barefoot, treating a piece of ugly birch wood like a treasure.
He remembered how she held a tactical dagger that was completely out of proportion to her size, clumsily leaving crooked marks on the wood.
He remembered how, to make the wooden figure look more like him, she carefully condensed a needle-sized cluster of silver dragon flame to burn two deep “eyes” and a furrowed “brow” onto that blurry face.
[“This is for you. You’re not allowed to think it’s ugly.”]
The girl’s voice came across time and space, carrying shyness and a hint of unreasonable bossiness.
And that “ugly thing made with heart” was currently lying in the inner pocket over his chest, pressed against his heart through a layer of fabric.
It was one of the few things with warmth inside his cold shell.
Shen Luolin’s movements stalled for a moment.
He was using a fake memory to trade for the key to pierce the heart of the Empire; meanwhile, a real memory was like a red-hot iron, searing his soul.
This realization made the warm air in the tent feel suffocating.
The coldness in his eyes deepened, and his hand carving the wood became steadier and faster.
He had to get out.
He attempted to speak to the Royal Guards at the door, his voice carrying a deliberate gentleness.
“Brothers, you’ve been standing for so long. It must be hard work. How should I address you? Where are you from?”
His response was two cold, unfluctuating mechanical voices.
“We are doing our duty. Please forgive us, Major.”
The atmosphere instantly dropped to the freezing point. His attempt at friendliness was completely bounced back by a hard wall called “duty.”
But Shen Luolin’s face still showed no change. He just kept his head down, continuing to shave the wood.
Once, twice.
His hand suddenly “slipped.”
The wood carving, which had just begun to take shape, rolled from his hand and stopped right at the feet of the guard on the left.
The guard’s reaction was like a programmed routine. He bent down, preparing to pick up the wood carving.
At the very moment he bent over, Shen Luolin spoke:
“Your cultivation technique is quite good, but there is a half-second lag when your left shoulder exerts force. This is a common flaw among those who studied under ‘Iron Wall’ Barton. He couldn’t even fix it himself, let alone teach his students properly.”
The guard’s body suddenly stiffened.
He stopped mid-bend, and his fingers reaching for the carving froze in mid-air.
The robotic emptiness in his eyes was completely shattered in that instant, replaced by uncontrollable shock and horror.
How could a “Major” who was under house arrest and seemingly broken see through the secrets of his lineage at a glance, even pointing out a flaw that not even his master could resolve!
This was no longer a matter of observation; this was practically monstrous!
The other guard didn’t hear the content clearly, but he noticed his companion’s abnormality and cast a suspicious glance.
Over the next two days, Shen Luolin completely transformed into a “useless man” obsessed with wood carving.
He no longer tried to talk to the guards. Day after day, he simply sat there, letting wood chips cover the floor at his feet.
He would even throw aside half-finished products in frustration because a detail wasn’t carved well. He looked exactly like a fallen noble who had been stripped of power and could only waste his will in boredom.
This harmless posture gradually eroded the last bit of vigilance from the two guards at the door.
They still stood like statues, but the robotic emptiness in their eyes would occasionally reveal a hint of fatigue due to the long hours of standing.
At dusk on the third day, before the relief guards arrived, one of the younger Royal Guards finally couldn’t help but very slightly move his stiff shoulders.
“How much longer do we have to stand…” he grumbled in a low voice only his companion could hear. “To welcome His Majesty, everyone’s sentry duty has been extended.”
The older guard looked straight ahead, his lips barely moving. “Endure it. This is the highest level of security. It will be fine once the Dragon Temple is opened.”
The younger guard sighed. “That still won’t be until the day after tomorrow…”
“Shut up,” the older guard hissed. “Don’t forget who is inside.”
The conversation stopped abruptly.
Inside the tent, the carving knife in Shen Luolin’s hand still moved steadily across the wood, as if he were deaf to everything outside.
But in that instant, a giant boulder had been dropped into his heart.
The day after tomorrow.
The Emperor arrives in person.
The deadline and location for the assassination were presented to him in such an ordinary and hidden manner.
These machines, who had been most thoroughly disciplined by the Empire, had unintentionally revealed the most fatal intelligence in their most relaxed moment.
Outside the tent, the wind and snow continued, dyeing the entire world a pale white.
Shen Luolin looked at the blunt carving knife in his hand that couldn’t even cut fruit. The firelight from the alchemy furnace flickered on the blade.
A fatal storm that was about to pierce the heart of the Empire had already begun its countdown.