The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

The Su residence!

Minister of Works Su Yuanyi spent half the night in his study reviewing a list of river works funds submitted by the Ministry of Works' Construction Department.

The lamp on the table had been oiled twice and the wick trimmed three times, but the numbers on the account book were still densely packed on the paper, like a group of restless ants lining up to crawl to the edge of the page.

He rose from county magistrate to minister, and in his lifetime he handled at least a hundred records of river works. He could tell at a glance whether the numbers were correct or not.

The accounts were not bad, and there were no major mistakes on the surface, but he always felt that there was something hidden under those numbers that had not been written down.

He paused when he turned to the third page, tracing the number "transportation loss" twice with his fingertip, then picked up a pen and drew a tiny circle next to that line before putting it down again.

The court has been in turmoil lately.

The matter of Mingdao Ke caused a great uproar throughout the city.

His old colleagues, who used to drink tea with him in the duty room, are now divided into two groups.

Upon meeting him, one group sighed and said, "His Highness is young and impetuous, and doesn't know his own limitations."

Another group said in a low voice, "If the Mingdao exam can really be opened, it's not a bad thing."

Su Yuanyi did not respond to any of the questions.

Funds, grain, and river works are the backbone of the nation; everything else is just a superficial struggle.

He didn't care who was arguing or what they were arguing about.

He only needed the river works funding to be accurate and the dikes in the North to be repaired on time next spring, and that would be enough for him.

But tonight, he suddenly felt that the aura that always flowed in the shadows had changed.

That aura was something he only gradually came to sense after serving as an official for forty years.

It's hard to pinpoint where it comes from; it's like the extremely slow and heavy movement that occurs beneath the surface of a river before it freezes over in winter.

You might not notice it on ordinary days, but it's always there—between the beams and pillars of the imperial court, in the cracks of the walls of the various departments' offices, and under the bluestone slabs of every street and alley in the capital.

Tonight, the atmosphere seemed to have been suddenly tightened, like a string that had been stretched for too long being plucked with a finger, producing a very low, almost inaudible hum.

Su Yuanyi put down his pen, picked up the half-cooled tea beside him, and was about to drink it when he suddenly caught a very faint scent on the tip of his nose.

It smells of blood.

Not the kind of blood used in kitchens to kill chickens and fish, but fresh blood that's still warm.

It was as if the heat and metallic smell had just flowed out from a freshly cut wound, carried by the night wind through the cracks in the door.

Su Yuanyi's hand holding the teacup didn't tremble, but his eyes narrowed slightly.

He slowly placed the teacup back on the table, making almost no sound as he did so.

He did not stand up or make a sound, but simply moved his right hand off the table and gently pressed it on the official seal of the Minister next to the inkstone.

The official seal was carved from Qingtian stone. It was slightly cool to the touch. The moment his fingertips touched it, he felt a faint warmth on the surface of the seal, like the lingering warmth of a stone that had been exposed to the sun all day and was slowly released after nightfall.

The warmth seeped into his meridians through his palm, traveled a short distance through his body, and then quietly settled down, like a beast that had been awakened but was still waiting for commands.

The official seal was burning hot.

That's the reaction the official seal makes when it senses that a righteous aura nearby is being squeezed by an external force.

The official seal will only be activated automatically when a scholar of a certain rank is attacked or when the imperial court's fortune is suppressed by external forces.

Su Yuanyi's official seal as Minister of Works was connected to the capital's dragon vein.

It was hot at that moment, which meant that the attack had reached his roof.

He stood up, straightened his clothes, and took a deep breath.

His Adam's apple bobbed slightly, and his voice was deep and steady: "Someone come here."

No one answered the door.

He called out again, "Someone come here!"

The courtyard was unnaturally quiet.

Even the night breeze seemed to have been cut off by something.

The north wind, which had been howling through the corner of the corridor just moments before, was now completely silent, as if an invisible hand had covered its mouth.

There were no footsteps, no coughs, and not even the occasional sound of servants turning over in bed at night.

Su Yuanyi's brows furrowed suddenly.

He walked around the desk, strode to the door, and pushed open the study door.

The front yard is just outside the threshold.

The moonlight shone on the blue brick floor, making it appear as white as a layer of frost.

Two servants on night duty lay on the veranda, one lying face up and the other curled up on his side, each with a very thin line of blood on his throat.

Both of them had their eyes open, their expressions frozen between shock and confusion, as if they hadn't realized what had happened until the very last moment.

Su Yuanyi squatted down and reached out to feel the side of the neck of the person lying on the back. When his fingertips touched the flesh, it was still warm, but the pulse underneath had completely stopped.

He checked another one; the same temperature, the same silence.

Both of their hands were still in a certain subconscious posture.

One person's right hand was half-open, as if trying to grab something, while the other's fingers were curled in their palm, as if clutching a word that had not yet been spoken.

Su Yuanyi slowly stood up.

The righteous spirit within him surged up suddenly, like a well that had been suppressed for too long suddenly gushing water.

The moonlight shone on his face, clearly illuminating the fine wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, but his eyes were frighteningly bright.

Although he was not known for his martial arts skills, as the Minister of Works, a high-ranking official of the second rank and a scholar of the seventh rank, he was blessed with the fortune of the court every day and held the official seal, which was enough to make him a match for an eighth-rank official.

At this moment, he used the Qi within the seal to activate his power, and the righteous Qi around him almost materialized. His robes fluttered without wind, and the blue brick ground beneath his feet was stirred by this Qi, causing fine dust to swirl in all directions.

"Damn it!" His voice wasn't loud, but when the two words landed, it was like two pieces of iron being slammed heavily onto a stone slab.

The fallen leaves in the courtyard were stirred by this mist, swirling back and flying half a foot up from the ground before fluttering back down.

He took a step forward, the blue bricks beneath his feet making a faint cracking sound. A righteous aura emanated from him in a ring, like an invisible ripple pushing the air in the courtyard outwards.

However, those lurking in the shadows are also waiting for him to make his move.

The moment Su Yuanyi took his second step, dozens of dark figures silently emerged from the rooftops, behind the corridors, and at the base of the walls, as if they had squeezed out of the night.

They were dressed in black, close-fitting clothes, with swords at their waists and crossbows hidden in their sleeves. Their movements were so swift and precise that there was hardly any wasted effort.

When someone flipped down from the eaves, their toes touched a tile, and that tile didn't even shake.

The sound of someone emerging from behind a pillar, the rustling of their clothes, was drowned out by the night wind; not even a whisper of fabric could be heard.

These people were neither outlaws nor ordinary government officials.

Even outlaws in the martial world don't have such a disciplined formation, and ordinary government officials don't possess such clean and efficient skills.

After landing, they quickly dispersed, forming a semi-circle around Su Yuanyi. The distance between them was as if measured with a ruler, with each person being exactly two zhang apart, allowing them to either encircle or disperse.

What alarmed Su Yuanyi the most was that these people seemed to be extremely familiar with Wen Xiu's methods.

As soon as he activated the official seal, he felt a strange chill closing in from all around, like an invisible net that forcibly separated him from the aura between him and the official seal.

That net wasn't righteous energy, nor was it a cultivation technique; it was more like a deliberately crafted magic array.

It was as if someone had changed the density of the air around him; when he unleashed his righteous energy, it felt like he was trapped in a lump of glue, and the force was gradually reduced.

He could exert force without any difficulty, and he could use his qi, but he could never use even 80% of it.

The righteous spirit within him was surging like a tide, but when he reached the net, it was as if he had crashed into an invisible cotton wall. Seventy percent of his strength dissipated, and only thirty percent could pass through.

Su Yuanyi's expression changed.

He had served as an official for forty years and had seen all sorts of tricks in the martial arts world, but he had never seen anything that could specifically suppress the official seal.

He gritted his teeth and suddenly raised his palm to strike.

This palm strike condensed nearly half of his righteous energy as a seventh-grade literary cultivator. Wherever the palm wind passed, the air seemed to be torn open, emitting a "whoosh" sound as it cut through the air.

The two men in black at the front were unable to dodge in time and were struck in the chest, flying backward and crashing into half of the carved wooden door.

Wood chips flew everywhere, and the sound of the door frame breaking was particularly jarring in the quiet courtyard, like a saw tearing through bone.

But Su Yuanyi could see it clearly.

The two people landed with just one roll, then slowly pushed themselves up, as if they felt no pain.

But that doesn't mean they didn't feel pain; when they landed, they braced themselves with their hands on the ground to regain their balance.

When he stood up, the man on the left was clutching his chest with his left hand and reaching for the dagger at his waist with his right. He pulled it out after a couple of tries, his fingers trembling slightly.

They are in pain.

But they were wearing something.

When Su Yuanyi's palm strike passed through, it seemed to be stopped by a very thin, soft layer.

He took a closer look by the moonlight.

As the two men in black fell, the hem of their clothes flipped up, revealing a section of dark silver lining that gleamed matte in the moonlight.

Soft armor.

Soft armor specifically designed to counter righteous and upright individuals.

The righteous energy he unleashed struck the soft armor like a fist smashing into a bag of wet sand; most of the force was dissipated, and only 30% penetrated.

That 30% was still enough to cause them pain, to make them stagger, to make their hands tremble as they drew their swords, but not enough to make them fall down and never get up.

Su Yuanyi's face turned completely pale.

He suddenly realized that everything these people were wearing and hiding in their sleeves was specifically designed to deal with Wen Xiu.

The magic array that severed the official seal's fortune, the soft armor that dissipated righteous energy, and their coordinated formation.

Every step seemed meticulously planned, so precise that it almost disassembled him from head to toe before stitching him into this protective suit.

Throughout his life, he had debated, argued, and even slammed his fist on the table in the imperial court, but that was done with words, pens, and seals. No one had ever told him this in his own home, in front of him, in this way.

We've already seen through the skills you're so proud of.

Su Yuanyi was furious.

His beard and hair stood on end, and his eyes seemed to be spitting fire.

Since he entered officialdom, he had never been bullied to such an extent in his own household.

He stomped on the brick beneath his foot, shattering it into three pieces. He then raised his official seal high above his head and roared, "I am the Minister of Works, a second-rank official of the Imperial Court! You trespass on my residence at night, slaughtering my servants! Do you have no respect for the law?! No respect for His Majesty?!"

The official seal gleamed with an intense golden light.

That golden light was formed from the imperial court's fortune and connected to the capital's dragon vein. Now, he was activating it with all his might, and the golden light surged out from the seal, like a small sun rising suddenly, illuminating the entire front yard.

The snow on the eaves was illuminated by the golden light, reflecting a warm yellow glow, and even the veins of the withered grass at the base of the wall were clearly visible.

The men in black seemed to pause for a moment under the weight of the light. Their formation, which was about to close, loosened slightly. Some instinctively turned their heads to avoid the golden light, while others raised their arms to shield their eyes.

But the sluggishness lasted for less than two breaths.

Soon, a tall, thin figure emerged from behind the crowd.

The man was also dressed in black, but his face was not covered.

He walked slowly, with even strides, his hands hanging at his sides, fingertips pointing slightly downwards, as if he were twisting some invisible thread.

He walked to the gap in the center of the formation and stopped, standing face to face with Su Yuanyi at a distance of more than ten steps.

Su Yuanyi stared at him.

The person was not standing far away, and his features were clearly visible under the golden light of the official seal.

It's a very ordinary face, with a low nose bridge, straight brow bones, and thin, pursed lips. It's the kind of face that you wouldn't notice if you put it in a crowd and turned around.

But his eyes were frighteningly deep.

Those eyes held no emotion, like two black stones that had been soaking in water for decades. When you stared at them, you felt as if they were looking at you, not the other way around.

When it looks at you, you can't find any gap through which you can pass.

The tall, thin man slowly raised his hand.

He raised his hand slowly, as if he didn't care about waiting a few more breaths.

His hand paused in mid-air for a moment, then he spoke.

His voice was like a dull knife scraping sandpaper, low and cold, each word seemingly ground in his throat before being uttered: "Lord Su, I know you are an official, so I've come to offer you a word."

Su Yuanyi was trembling all over.

It wasn't cold, nor was it fear; it was a tremor of anger and helplessness intertwined.

His knuckles were white as he gripped the official seal, and the golden light on the seal surface shimmered slightly as it trembled, like a lamp whose shadow was scattered by the wind.

He stepped forward, his righteous aura clashing with the official seal's fortune within him, causing the snow under the eaves to fall in a flurry. Several icicles hanging from the eaves were broken off by the shock and fell to the ground, shattering into several glistening fragments.

But that invisible net was always pressing down on him, as if countless invisible threads were hanging down from his head, shoulders, and back, one by one tied to his energy channels, pulling his energy down bit by bit.

The further he went, the more his feet felt like they were sinking into mud.

He could lift his legs and land steadily, but each step required three times more effort than usual, as if the ground of the entire yard was sinking.

"You've crossed the line," was all the tall, thin man said.

Then he turned his head slightly and glanced into the shadows behind him.

That glance was very light, as if confirming something that had already been determined.

He then raised his hand and pressed his palm down.

Dozens of dark figures disappeared into the night along the path they had come from, like the receding tide.

They left as silently as they came. Some climbed up from the eaves, some slid along the corridor pillars, and some crouched down and crawled into the moon gate from the base of the wall.

In just three or four breaths, the entire front yard was empty.

All that remained was a scene of devastation: the corpses of two servants, half a broken wooden door, and Su Yuanyi standing alone in the center of the courtyard, clutching the now-darkened official seal, panting heavily.

He chased after them for a few steps, but his legs suddenly gave way, and he had to grab the door frame to avoid falling.

The righteous energy surged through the meridians and then dispersed, like a well that had run out of water; once the bucket was pulled up, the bottom of the well was empty again.

He lowered his head, panting heavily. The golden light on the official seal dimmed completely, and the warm seal surface was cooling inch by inch, like a piece of iron just taken out of the fire finally losing its residual heat.

He slowly raised his head.

The yard was a complete mess.

The broken wooden door hung crookedly on the frame, wood chips and ice shards were scattered on the ground, and the two servants' corpses remained in the same position when they fell. The moonlight shone on their open eyes, like two old lenses that no longer reflected light.

The wind picked up again, and snowflakes swirled and landed on his shoulders.

He tucked the official seal back into his sleeve, walked back to his study step by step, and sat down in the official hat chair.

As he sat down, his knees bent slightly, as if something had suddenly been pulled away from his support.

He sat in the chair for a long time.

On the table, the document detailing the river works funds had been tampered with.

The account book that was originally open on the third page was closed and moved to the corner of the desk, and a letter was placed on top of it where the account book used to be.

The envelope had no heading or signature, only a family crest.

The ink is deep and dark, and the patterns are simple and ancient.

Above is a bronze tripod, with thunder patterns leaping on its surface.

When he reached out to touch the letter, his fingertips trembled and he didn't immediately touch the paper.

He withdrew his hand and placed it on his lap. After a while, he reached out and picked up the envelope again.

He didn't dismantle it.

The sealing wax was untouched, but he knew what was written inside without even opening it.

He recognized the family crest.

The Li family of Jinyang has the "Fire Virtue Hanging Needle".

A mark that hadn't appeared directly on official court documents for a long time was now resting on an unsigned, untitled, and unsigned letter on his desk.

He slowly closed his eyes.

He leaned back against the chair, the wooden back pressing against his shoulder blade, but he let the hard surface press against him without moving.

He knew this was more than just a threat.

This is a warning.

Warn him, warn him of the reform winds blowing behind him, and warn everyone in the court who has just taken a step forward.

Those men came tonight, but did not kill him.

They could have.

They deployed men at every point in his mansion, guarding the passageways to the second gate and the kitchen, and there may even be men crouching on the walls of the backyard.

They saw right through him, calculating his rank, his cultivation level, the layout of his residence, and even the positions of his night watchmen.

The real purpose was the four words they said to him today, "You've crossed the line."

Those four words weren't meant for him, but for everyone who can see this "boundary line".

After tonight, everyone in the capital who needs to know will know that the residence of Su Yuanyi, the Minister of Works, was visited at night, his servant died, and he was warned.

Su Yuanyi slowly opened his eyes.

He looked down at his hands resting on his knees.

The hand was trembling slightly, an uncontrollable, fine tremor, like a leaf being constantly blown by the wind.

He slowly clenched his fist, tightened it, and dug his nails into his palm. The trembling gradually subsided.

Then he loosened his fist, picked up the river works funds list, turned to the third page, looked at the line of figures for "transportation losses" that he had circled, picked up his pen, emphasized the circle, and wrote three words next to it: "To be verified."

He closed the ledger and put it back on the corner of the table.

He didn't open the letter; he put it back in the envelope as it was.

Then he stood up, walked to the window, and opened it.

The cold winter wind blew in through the window, dissipating most of the remaining warmth on his face.

He gazed at the faint outline of the palace walls in the distance, visible only in the night, and suddenly remembered something.

His name was seventh on the list of seconders to Mingdao Ke's memorial.

When Pei Du sent someone to ask him, he thought for a moment and said, "If someone who can repair the river can truly be selected, what reason do I have not to support him?"

A copy of that folded book is still at the bottom of his bookcase, piled up with the archives of river works from previous years.

He stood by the window, looking at the palace walls illuminated by the moonlight, and suddenly chuckled very softly.

The laughter was short and cold, like a handful of sand sprinkled on a sheet of iron.

The next morning, he acted as if nothing had happened, changing into his court robes and going out as usual.

The steward was waiting at the second gate. When he saw him, he hesitated to speak.

Su Yuanyi glanced at the steward and said, "Don't make a fuss about what happened last night. Give those two people a proper burial and send them to the mortuary outside the city. Don't let them stay in the manor."

The butler bowed in agreement and stepped aside.

Su Yuanyi paused as he stepped over the threshold, then turned back and added, "Also, tell the kitchen to add two more people to the night shift from now on."

He got into the sedan chair, which swayed and wobbled as it walked toward the palace gate.

When he arrived at the Cabinet office, he sat down as usual, reviewed the documents sent by the Construction Department as usual, and nodded and greeted his colleagues as usual.

However, he didn't mention it again in the several memorials submitted by the Ministry of Works to the Cabinet.

Those folds were drafted a few days ago, concerning the repair plan for the northern border dikes next spring. One section mentioned "whether the construction costs next year can be based on the new system of practical sciences, and a special test on river engineering can be set up separately."

He stared at that passage for a long time, then drew a horizontal line across it and wrote two words next to it: "Postponed."

He closed the book, placed it on the corner of the table, picked up the next book, and opened it.

Outside the window, the December wind is getting stronger again.

When he lowered his head to write, his right hand, which had trembled the night before, was as steady as a stone statue, each stroke neat and proper, showing no sign of anything amiss.