While the salt merchants and canal gangs hesitated, caught between doubt and caution, whispers began to ripple from the Salt Commission. The gossip claimed that the Wei family had secretly pledged allegiance to the Crown Prince, even going so far as to hand over detailed accounts of their illicit salt dealings.

The Crown Prince, it was said, had already begun a second round of inspections on these records in the past two days.

Over the years, every family involved in the illegal salt trade had meticulously maintained detailed ledgers. These records served a double purpose: a death warrant should they fall into the wrong hands, but also a tool of mutual leverage to keep one another in check.

So long as everyone remained bound together by mutual risk, no one dared to expose these secrets. Yet now, word had spread that the Wei family had betrayed them—information that allegedly leaked straight from within the Salt Commission itself.

The betrayal struck like a knife to the back, igniting outrage among the other heads of the families.

The Wei family, now under the stewardship of Ke Shouxin, found itself under immediate scrutiny. With tensions high, Cao Feng, wary of drawing attention, only brought along Liu Xu of the Liu family and Yan Chuhe, the head of the Luosheng Gang, to confront Ke Shouxin directly.

Ke Shouxin, already uneasy over recent events, thought their visit might bring news. He hurriedly invited them into his study, only to be met with a fist to the face from Yan Chuhe the moment he stepped through the door.

Yan Chuhe slammed him against the wall, gripping his throat with a feral glare. “You dare sell us out?!”

Ke Shouxin clawed at Yan Chuhe’s hand, his expression a mixture of shock and rage. “What nonsense are you spouting?!”

The other two quickly intervened, pulling Yan Chuhe back as Ke Shouxin gasped for air, looking genuinely bewildered.

Cao Feng, donning the mask of a mediator, spoke with a measured tone. “Old Ke, we’re all in the same boat here. If you jump ship and drag us under, don’t blame us for being ruthless.”

With that, he pulled a copied account ledger from his sleeve and handed it to Ke Shouxin. “Take a good look. Isn’t this your family’s record?”

Ke Shouxin’s face darkened, and he snatched the paper. “Why would I do something so idiotic?! I’ve been worried these past two days that some fools might fall for a divide-and-conquer scheme and turn themselves in!”

He scanned the ledger carelessly at first, but when his eyes fell on the distinctive bookkeeping style, his expression froze.

The others immediately noticed his hesitation. “Is it really yours?”

Ke Shouxin’s mind reeled with waves of panic, though he kept his face composed. “Of course not,” he said sharply, though his forced smile betrayed him.

Internally, he was scrambling. How could these accounts have leaked? Since taking control of the Wei family, he had kept those records locked tightly under his control. No one else should have known about them—

Except one person.

A chill coursed through him as he remembered his eldest son, teetering on the edge of death.

Dismissing the trio with some hastily made excuses, Ke Shouxin rushed off toward the west courtyard.

There, Wei Xihe had just finished packing his belongings.

After twenty years in the family’s mansion, his departure required nothing more than a simple bundle. His loved ones were long gone, the Wei family under new management, and only his wet nurse’s son, his childhood companion, remained by his side.

He looked up at the towering walls of the Wei estate, letting out a soft laugh. Turning to his companion, he said lightly, “Ah Xuan, I’m finally leaving this place.”

Zhou Xuan took the bundle from his hands and gave a quiet “hmm” in acknowledgment. “Young master, will you visit the Old Master and Madam’s graves before leaving?”

"It’s not time yet." Wei Xihe’s gaze locked on Ke Shouxin as the man stormed toward him. His voice was soft, almost mocking. “How can I think of paying respects when blood vengeance remains unsettled?”

“You insolent wretch—it’s you, isn’t it?!” Ke Shouxin lunged forward, hand outstretched to seize his collar.

Zhou Xuan instinctively stepped in to block him, but Wei Xihe raised a hand, halting him mid-motion.

“Who else could it be but me?” Wei Xihe’s lips curled into a wicked smile as he peeled Ke Shouxin’s fingers off him one by one, his eyes gleaming with malice. “This is only the beginning. Not just you, but your wives, your sons, your daughters—every last one of them—will follow my Wei family to the grave.”

The chill in his voice, the venom in his stare, made Ke Shouxin falter. He took two steps back, teeth clenched. “If I’d known this day would come, I’d have killed you without hesitation back then!”

Wei Xihe sneered. “Regret? Too late for that now. With Qingming around the corner, I’ll bring your severed head as an offering to my grandfather and mother.”

With that, he dusted the dirt off his robes, straightened his spine, and, supported by Zhou Xuan, strode out of the prison that had caged him for five years.

The news of the Wei family aligning with the Crown Prince spread like wildfire among the prominent houses. When Cao Feng and his men returned empty-handed after probing Ke Shouxin and subsequently feigned illness to avoid visitors, suspicion rippled through the ranks.

Whispers began to circulate, doubt creeping into the minds of many.

The unease deepened when, within five days of Wan Youliang’s arrest, word came that the Tianjin military commander, Guan Haishan, had also been taken into custody.

Guan Haishan, who had sought refuge in the Wei garrison, thought himself untouchable. Yet the Crown Prince dispatched elite soldiers from the Four Camps to apprehend him. Guan resisted, only to lose an arm in the process before being thrown into the Tianjin dungeon.

As a second-rank official overseeing Tianjin’s defense, Guan Haishan’s arrest was no minor affair. The Crown Prince’s bold move was a clear indication: ironclad evidence was in hand.

Panic began to grip Tianjin.

At the same time, Yin Chengyu’s strategy to sow discord bore fruit. One by one, individuals came forward in secret, offering evidence of illegal salt trade spanning years. They begged to turn state’s witness, desperate for leniency.

Crates of incriminating account books poured into the hands of Fang Zhengke, the appointed investigator. The evidence—both material and testimonial—was damning.

A month after Yin Chengyu’s arrival in Tianjin, the illicit salt case was officially brought to trial, with Fang Zhengke presiding as the lead judge.

But Yin Chengyu had no time to bask in this success—he had another battle to prepare for: the looming threat of pirates at Dagu Port.

According to the confession of a captured pirate lieutenant, their mission was to aid Guan Haishan in a diversionary scheme. Afterward, they were to station themselves at Dagu Port, preparing to welcome a larger fleet of raiders two days later.

Tianjin’s coastal defenses were lax, the troops slothful. Guan Haishan had colluded with these pirates, allowing their ships to come and go freely. Over time, the raiders had made a habit of landing ashore to loot and plunder. Worse, they sold their stolen goods to Tianjin merchants, who distributed them across the empire for enormous profits.

The lure of wealth had corrupted many—merchants and locals alike became informants for the pirates. To prevent news of Guan Haishan’s arrest from leaking, Yin Chengyu discreetly requested reinforcements from Guangning by waterway and evacuated all civilians from Dagu Port.

What remained of Dagu was a ghost town, its streets populated only by soldiers in disguise.

Now, they waited. The trap was set. Let the pirates come ashore.

*

Two days later, everything was meticulously prepared.

Xiao Tongguang, the commander of Guangning Garrison, sat alongside Yin Chengyu, overseeing the situation at Dagu Port.

"Your Royal Highness. Are you certain those sea bandits will make landfall today?" Xiao Tongguang asked, his tone heavy with doubt.

This deployment had been a calculated risk for Xiao Tongguang. Normally, he would never have dared to move troops without official authorization from the Ministry of War. But Yin Chengyu’s earnest plea, combined with Xiao Tongguang’s respect for the man’s character, had swayed him. For anyone else, such a request would’ve been flatly refused.

Tianjin Garrison already had 5,000-6,000 stationed troops, bolstered by smaller units scattered across the region. Moreover, nearby Liaodong and Shandong offered additional protection. Under normal circumstances, a minor bandit incursion would hardly require outside help.

But Yin Chengyu’s letter told a different story—one of corruption and collusion. He claimed that Tianjin's garrison officers had allied with the pirates and that there was no one trustworthy within the command. To avoid alerting the enemy, reinforcements had to come from outside.

After much deliberation, Xiao Tongguang had decided to take the gamble.

"I'm not certain," Yin Chengyu admitted with a casual shrug, his expression calm despite the stakes. "The intel came from a captured underling. There’s always a chance the situation could change. But these bandits have been running wild for far too long. I can’t just sit back and ignore the threat."

Yin Chengyu placed a firm hand on Xiao’s shoulder, flashing him a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, Commander Xiao. If this all goes south, I’ll take full responsibility."

With that, he turned, hands clasped behind his back, and raised a telescope to survey the sea.

The waters were serene, not a single ship in sight.

They waited. And waited. By dusk, there was still no sign of the pirates.

Xiao Tongguang began to fidget, his patience fraying. "Could the information have been wrong?" he muttered.

"If they don’t come today, they might come tomorrow," Yin Chengyu replied, unperturbed. "If three days pass without any sign, you’re free to withdraw your troops."

Reluctantly, Xiao Tongguang nodded and settled back into uneasy waiting.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the silence was finally broken. A scout rushed in with urgent news: five large ships were approaching from the sea.

Two were 500-ton warships, while the other three appeared to be smaller cargo vessels.

Xiao Tongguang’s nerves snapped to attention. With renewed energy, he began issuing orders, orchestrating his troops with precision.

The scene at Dagu Port, however, remained deceptively ordinary. Nothing seemed out of place.

As the ships drew closer, they signaled with flags—codes extracted earlier from the captured pirate leader. Soldiers onshore responded flawlessly, sending a message back: all clear.

The ships docked at the modest pier, and the pirates disembarked with high spirits, hauling cargo off the vessels.

Most of them sported distinctive half-shaven hairstyles and wore foreign clothing from Fusang, yet their speech was fluent in the native Great Yan tongue.

In less than half an hour, they’d unloaded a mountain of goods onto the dock.

Satisfied with their progress, the pirates grouped together, planning to head into the city for some wild entertainment and to fetch more laborers for the remaining cargo.

The leader, a hulking brute with a broad-backed blade slung over his shoulder, stood apart from the merrymaking crowd. His mismatched clothing and sharp, calculating eyes marked him as someone who didn’t let his guard down easily.

He kicked a subordinate, his brows furrowed. "Stay sharp. Something feels off."

"What could possibly go wrong?" laughed his second-in-command, brushing off the kick. "You’re just too cautious, boss. We’ve scored some prime loot this time. Once General Guan sees it, we’ll be swimming in gold!"

The leader didn’t respond, his gaze sweeping the area with an uneasy intensity.

They had been envious of the private salt trade for ages. The salt business in Tianjin, however, had long been carved up by others, leaving them without an opening. Latecomers like them could only scrape by with the scraps. But tonight, they finally had a chance to line their pockets at Guan Haishan's expense.

The burly man said nothing to dispute this, though his furrowed brows betrayed unease. That persistent sense of looming danger lingered like a dark cloud over his mind.

Meanwhile, atop the drum tower, Yin Chengyu watched the man closely. Handing the spyglass to Xiao Tongguang, he said sharply, “The bandit leader is getting suspicious. Have them act ahead of schedule.”

Xiao Tongguang took the spyglass, observing the man’s restless glances. He nodded grimly and issued the order. Flags atop the tower fluttered in a rapid, coded sequence.

As twilight deepened, the heavy gates of Dagu creaked shut, their groaning hinges echoing ominously.

"Something's wrong! It’s a trap!" the burly man barked, reacting immediately. He bolted toward the gate with astonishing speed. Despite the gate's massive weight and slow closure, he managed to slip through.

Several other swift-footed pirates followed, clashing with the city guards near the gates. Chaos erupted in an instant.

Spotting the leader’s escape, Xiao Tongguang cursed, “I’ll lead a pursuit. He can’t be allowed to get away!”

Yin Chengyu, however, waved him off, his voice cold and confident. “No need. My men are already on him.” His sharp gaze locked onto two figures clashing near the gates.

As the bandit leader dashed for freedom, Xue Shu was hot on his heels. The man’s ferocity was unmatched; realizing he couldn’t shake his pursuer, he spun around, drawing his broadsword for a fight.

The pirate’s heavy blade cleaved through the air with terrifying force, each swing howling like a gale. Xue Shu, wielding twin blades—one long, one short—moved with an eerie fluidity, effortlessly closing the gap between them.

Recognizing the man’s brute strength, Xue Shu avoided direct confrontation. Instead, he relied on nimbleness, darting in and out of range, his short blade carving shallow wounds into the pirate’s flesh. Within moments, blood streaked across the man’s body.

Snarling, the bandit leader spat on the ground, his eyes blazing with fury. He swung his sword harder, faster, the blade slicing the air like a whirlwind. But Xue Shu was relentless, a cunning predator circling his prey. Each of the pirate’s wild attacks was narrowly dodged, met with swift, punishing counterstrikes.

Frustrated and reckless, the leader finally saw what he thought was an opening—a gap in Xue Shu’s defense. He lunged, his broadsword aimed for the left shoulder.

The blade connected. Blood sprayed as it tore through flesh. Xue Shu staggered back, his face twisting in pain.

But the bandit’s triumphant sneer froze on his lips.

In one fluid motion, Xue Shu’s long blade lashed out, biting deep into the man’s leg. A sickening crunch followed as the pirate’s right leg was severed clean at the knee.

This time it was Xue Shu's turn to smile sinisterly at him.

The man collapsed with a guttural scream, blood gushing from the gaping wound.

Xue Shu wiped the blood splattered on his face with an almost casual air, planting his blade in the ground. He turned his head, his sharp gaze cutting toward the drum tower.

Through the spyglass, Yin Chengyu took in the brutal scene. Yet his focus lingered on the red stain spreading across Xue Shu’s left shoulder, a sharp ache twisting in his chest.

“I’m going down,” Yin Chengyu said abruptly, tossing the spyglass to Xiao Tongguang before descending the tower.

By the time he reached the gates, the battle was nearly over. The disciplined soldiers of Guangning had subdued the remaining pirates, capturing over a hundred of them alive.

Five ships, laden with stolen goods, now sat anchored under heavy guard. Victory was theirs—but Yin Chengyu’s thoughts were elsewhere, his steps quickening toward the wounded figure waiting amid the carnage.

By the time Yin Chengyu stormed to the city gates, the thief leader—his leg snapped like a dry twig—was already bound and shoved onto the prison cart. Behind it all, Xue Shu followed, upright and steady as ever, though his pale face betrayed the truth. If it weren’t for the dark, damp red blooming across his shoulder, one could almost believe he was entirely unscathed.

“Call the army physician—now!”

Yin Chengyu’s chest tightened at the sight of that fresh crimson. He didn’t bother with formalities, barking orders while rushing to support Xue Shu.

Xue Shu frowned, trying to shake him off. “I can walk—”

“Behave!” Yin Chengyu’s sharp glare cut through any protests.

For once, Xue Shu obeyed, letting others help him limp back to the government office without another word.

The army physician arrived in a flurry, medical kit in hand, only to freeze at the sight of Xue Shu’s shoulder. His expression twisted in alarm. “Any closer, and you’d have lost this arm.”

The physician quickly directed his apprentice to prepare anesthetic decoctions, needles, and thread.

Beads of sweat rolled down Xue Shu’s face, but his voice was icy and defiant. “It’s nothing—just a scratch. I know my own body.”

The physician hesitated, clearly wanting to lash out, but one look at Xue Shu’s steely gaze silenced him. Huffing, he began cleaning the wound in moody silence.

Yin Chengyu, however, was far less forgiving. “If you ‘know your own body,’ how the hell did you end up like this?”

Xue Shu’s lips pressed into a thin line. He didn’t argue, but the fire in his eyes said everything.

Soon enough, the apprentice returned with the sedative. Xue Shu downed it, his sharp retorts fading as sleep overtook him. The physician worked swiftly, cleaning and stitching the wound. Nearly half an hour passed before he finally stood and wiped his brow.

“How bad is it?” Yin Chengyu demanded.

“He’ll need at least half a month of rest,” the physician replied. “Thankfully, the injury avoided vital tendons. Otherwise, recovery could’ve taken over a year.”

Yin Chengyu’s brows furrowed, his tension refusing to ease. Dismissing the physician, he stayed by the bedside, watching as Xue Shu lay there, pale from blood loss.

The fiery grip of Ma Fei Tang still clung to him, keeping Xue Shu locked in a deep, unrelenting coma.

———TN: 麻沸汤 (Mafēi Tāng): This is a traditional Chinese medicine formula, often translated as "Mafei Decoction" or "Mafeisan." It was a famous anesthetic used in ancient Chinese ———

Without his usual cutting edge, Xue Shu’s face looked young, vulnerable even—a stark contrast to his relentless ferocity in battle.

Yin Chengyu found himself studying the man more closely. It hit him then, like a stone sinking into deep water: Xue Shu was no older than himself, just a boy forced into a world of blades and blood.

Reincarnated memories had warped his perception, making him see Xue Shu as the all-powerful shadow of his past life—a peerless executioner, invincible and untouchable. But he’d forgotten what it took to forge such sharp steel: countless trials by fire, leaving scars that even time couldn’t erase.

Xue Shu wasn’t just a killer’s blade. He was a man who had bled for every ounce of his strength, shaped by battles that would break most. Yin Chengyu had never asked—never even considered—how Xue Shu had honed his lethal skills.

He sat there, unmoving, thoughts swirling like a storm, until Zheng Duobao arrived with freshly brewed medicine.

“Drink this.” Zheng Duobao gently fed the concoction to Xue Shu before turning to Yin Chengyu. “You should rest too, Your Highness.”

Yin Chengyu didn’t budge, his dark eyes unreadable.

Assuming it was worry, Zheng Duobao sighed inwardly, retreating with the empty bowl. He thought to himself, 'The prince really does care about Xue Shu.'

Two moments later, Xue Shu stirred awake, his lashes fluttering before his sharp gaze returned. His initial confusion melted into surprise when he noticed who was sitting beside him.

“Your Highness?” His hoarse voice carried an uncharacteristic hint of vulnerability.

Yin Chengyu glanced down at him, his voice low and steady. “Awake? Does it hurt?”

Xue Shu hesitated for a moment, wanting to deny the pain, but in the end, he nodded and admitted, “It hurts.”

Yin Chengyu snorted coldly at his response, unable to suppress the smoldering fire in his chest. “You know it hurts, but you don’t know how to value your life?”

“He can’t kill me,” Xue Shu argued back, then added, “Besides, Your Highness wants to capture him alive.”

That bandit leader was no amateur. If Xue Shu didn’t show some vulnerability or take a hit, the man wouldn’t let his guard down.

Yin Chengyu fell silent, his expression settling into calm detachment.

For a long while, there was nothing but stillness. Then, his lashes trembled ever so slightly as he leaned in, fingers tilting Xue Shu’s chin upward. Their noses almost brushed, and his voice, laced with barely contained frustration, had a biting edge to it. “So loyal. Tell me, is this because… you’re in love with me?”

The abrupt question stole Xue Shu’s breath for a moment. But then, without hesitation, he nodded.

“And what kind of love is it?” Yin Chengyu asked, his smile sharp and knowing. His gaze bore into Xue Shu, lingering with intent. He tapped a finger against Xue Shu’s chest lightly. “This kind?”

Xue Shu’s breath hitched, a storm brewing behind his steady gaze. His uninjured hand shot out, gripping Yin Chengyu’s wrist. Veins bulged under the strain of his restraint, as if he were barely holding himself together.

Yin Chengyu casually swatted at the back of Xue Shu’s hand, his reprimand more tease than threat. “Bold.”

But the lilting, drawn-out tone he used betrayed him, turning his words into something dangerously alluring. It lacked any real force and carried a heat that made the air crackle.

Xue Shu didn’t let go. Instead, he softened his grip, carefully folding Yin Chengyu’s hand into his palm, cradling it as if it were something precious.

“And Your Highness?” His gaze lifted, piercing and unwavering, as if trying to reach the depths of Yin Chengyu’s soul.

Yin Chengyu didn’t answer. He cast Xue Shu a sidelong glance, his smile faint and enigmatic. Then, with an air of indifference, he pulled his hand free, leaving behind a cryptic, “I’m still angry,” before walking away.

Xue Shu’s eyes followed his retreating figure, his fingers absentmindedly brushing against his palm. The softness of that hand lingered, putting even the finest silk to shame.

———Author’s Note: Xue Shu’s inner thoughts: His Highness teased me again. His Highness must love me.

Yin Chengyu: …

———TN: His Highness still has the dog in his heart.