Chapter 42: The Empress's Worries

By the window stood a figure draped in a black cloak, his face hidden behind a sinister black mask.

“Assassin!” Zhang Qian shouted sharply.

Zhang Qian was well-endowed, but by no means brainless. This was the Ministry of Works—if anyone came, the assassin would surely flee. Her duty was to protect Long Chen, not to seek a duel, so she raised the alarm first.

The assassin’s cold gaze fixed on Long Chen. Without a word, he suddenly leapt forward, his black cloak billowing with a sharp sound. Zhang Qian stepped in front of Long Chen, charging to meet the attacker. The assassin’s limbs were concealed beneath the cloak; their length and any hidden weapons were unclear—uncertainty was the greatest danger.

But Zhang Qian did not hesitate or dodge; she confronted the threat head-on. Her dagger aimed straight for the assassin’s throat. The assassin did not evade but rushed directly at her. Just as they were about to collide, a crossbow bolt shot from beneath the cloak.

Zhang Qian’s face filled with alarm, but it was too late to dodge. With Long Chen behind her, she gritted her teeth and resolved not to move—if the bolt struck her, she could still kill the assassin. A life for a life!

Clang!

A split second before disaster, an iron spear deflected the bolt, piercing the cloak. The assassin recoiled in shock, retreating to the wall three meters away. The black cloak was torn, revealing a short crossbow hidden beneath.

The bolt struck a bookshelf, its tip buried deep in the wood.

Long Chen leveled his spear at the assassin, grinning, “Did you forget about me?”

Through the mask, the assassin’s eyes studied Long Chen with suspicion—clearly, this outcome was unexpected.

“Assassin!” Zhang Qian shouted again.

At last, the guards outside heard and burst into the room, but the assassin vaulted through the window, vanishing into the night.

“Where’s the assassin? Where?” the leading officer called out, glancing around but seeing no trace.

Long Chen put away his spear and waved dismissively, signaling these useless fools to leave.

“Have you lost your mind? You saw the crossbow bolt and still charged forward?” Long Chen had seen everything clearly.

Zhang Qian exhaled slowly. “My duty is to protect you. I must die before you do.”

Long Chen felt a sudden warmth in his chest. Though it was her responsibility, her willingness to die for him—so resolute and without hesitation—deeply moved him.

“Don’t talk nonsense. I’m a man—I’d never let a woman die in my place.”

“It seems I did too good a job checking the accounts and angered that bastard.”

There were many who wished Long Chen dead—Nan Liang, for example—but he was certain this time it was Jing Heng.

“I’ll report to the Fourth Princess at once!” Zhang Qian declared.

Long Chen replied, “Forget it—just follow procedure and report to His Majesty. If you tell the Fourth Princess directly, she might storm the Jing residence herself, and then no one will be able to fix the mess.”

Zhang Qian nodded. “You’re right. The Fourth Princess and you…”

She trailed off, finding her words too strange. A dignified princess at odds with the Grand General’s household for the sake of a eunuch—how ridiculous.

“Come on. The paperwork’s done—let’s go get some sleep.” Long Chen hefted his iron spear.

Lately, he’d been wary of assassins and always carried the spear with him.

“Don’t say you’re sleepwalking again tonight,” Zhang Qian teased.

“Ah, what can I do? I’m so busy during the day that I end up working in my dreams. Before I know it, I’ve climbed onto your bed—I can’t help it,” Long Chen replied, looking aggrieved.

“Then what’s with your hands? Sometimes up, sometimes down?” Zhang Qian retorted, unimpressed.

“I’m reviewing documents! This is how I write and review; this is how I pull out files from under the table. Sometimes the documents are in the folder, so I reach in—just work, really,” Long Chen gestured, somehow making it all seem plausible.

“You use two fingers to get a file?” Zhang Qian said, blushing.

“Yes, some files are wedged in the middle. I use two fingers to pull them out. Isn’t that reasonable? You saw it yourself!”

“You have to believe me—I’m just a eunuch. What evil intentions could I possibly have?” Long Chen’s explanation was perfectly logical, entirely in line with his duties.

Zhang Qian was left speechless.

These days, Long Chen always ended up crawling into her bed at night. She’d go to sleep dressed properly, but wake to find everything in disarray. Even the bedsheets had to be changed every morning. Xiang Ning had even teased her about wetting the bed.

“I don’t believe a word of it! Eunuchs are the worst!” Zhang Qian said, utterly exasperated.

…

The Jing Residence.

Jing Heng lay sprawled on his couch, two scantily clad dancers curled up against his belly. His snores could be heard from outside the door.

A man in black landed nearby and said coldly, “I failed.”

Hearing the voice, Jing Heng slowly opened his eyes and, upon seeing Mo Yu, was startled. “How many times have I told you—stop appearing out of nowhere!”

“What? You failed? I thought you said it would be easy?”

Mo Yu replied icily, “Long Cheng’en has broken through to the King’s Realm.”

Jing Heng was astonished. “Impossible! Last time you said he was only at the early Master stage!”

Mo Yu answered coldly, “He was last time. Now he’s not.”

Jing Heng shoved the dancers aside, disbelief on his face. “Don’t tell me he went from Master to King’s Realm in just a few months!”

“That’s right,” Mo Yu replied coolly.

Jing Heng scratched his head and cursed, “With talent like that—damn, even geniuses can’t compare! Why be a eunuch? Is he crazy?”

To advance from Master to King’s Realm in mere months was beyond genius. With such gifts, why become a eunuch? Jing Heng thought Long Chen must be insane.

Mo Yu paid no mind to Jing Heng’s complaints and only said, “I failed. What are your orders, Young Master?”

Jing Heng waved him away in frustration. “Can’t even kill a eunuch.”

Mo Yu melted back into the shadows.

Bang!

The door burst open. Assistant Minister of Revenue, Chen Hanying, stumbled in. “Sir, the assassination failed. Yingfeng has escorted Zhao Min into the palace.”

“Useless!” Jing Heng was furious—both assassinations had failed.

The two dancers, now awake, slipped out tactfully. Chen Hanying lowered his head and said nothing.

“Get out!” Jing Heng hurled something at him, and Chen Hanying scurried away.

…

Phoenix Song Palace.

The Empress, clad in black nightclothes, sat atop her bed in the sleeping chamber.

Yingfeng was reporting the details of the assassination attempt on the road. The Empress nodded slightly. “Such boldness—silencing witnesses, exacting revenge, striking on both fronts at once.”

Yingfeng was startled. “Minister Long was also attacked?”

The Empress smiled. “Just now, the Ministry of Works reported that an assassin attempted to murder Long Cheng’en, but was repelled by him.”

Yingfeng was astonished. “Long Cheng’en was able to fight off the assassin?”

Anyone bold enough to sneak into the Ministry of Works must be formidable. That Long Chen could drive them off was truly impressive.

“His cultivation has reached the King’s Realm,” the Empress said with meaningful amusement.

Yingfeng was dumbfounded. “How can that be? Wasn’t he just at the Warrior’s level?”

The Empress sighed. “Yes—last year he was a mere Warrior. This year, he’s at the King’s Realm. A genius is a genius, after all.”

Yingfeng nodded slightly. “He reached the Martial Emperor level at twenty. Now, retraining… Could he have been hiding his true strength from the start?”

The Empress shook her head. “Impossible. He was truly crippled last year. It took him just a year to return to the King’s Realm.”

Outside, Di Xingwan entered, and the conversation ceased.