“Who’s that guy in charge? Damn, he’s brutal!”

Though Xia Chen’s swift strike ended the fight fast, it left a deep mark.

Not a word—pure action!

Too fierce, too cold!

“That commander’s downright gorgeous—who knew the capital hid such a heartthrob!”

In the lofts, noblewomen’s eyes sparkled. The gore had faded—Xia Chen’s looks reignited their fervor!

“Find out whose son he is—married or not!”

A young lady gazed dreamily, cheeks flushed rosy.

White Moon Tower, third floor!

In the prime-view box, a refined young man sipped tea with a captivating, alluring woman.

Even amid the chaos, they sat unruffled, perched above like spectators to a grand play—everyone below mere actors.

“Xu Buliu, how’s that commander’s skill?”

The poised youth chuckled, not turning to the sword-bearing figure lurking silently in the shadows.

“His qi and blood mastery’s flawless—each slash channels all his force to the blade’s tip. He’s grasped blade intent, pure and fiery. Few in Seventh-Rank could match him!

“That’s all I saw—can’t tell if he’s holding back.”

Xu Buliu, maybe twenty-seven or eight, eyes glinting, sized Xia Chen up.

“If you were at the same realm, could you take him?”

The youth’s interest piqued.

“Fight to find out!”

“Oh? You, the capital’s famed sword prodigy, lack sure odds?”

The youth blinked, surprised.

“I’m peak Fifth-Rank, nearing Fourth. Dropped to Seventh, I’d win easy. But back when I was Seventh? We’d have to clash to know!”

Xu Buliu spoke sparingly, yet patiently answered.

The youth’s curiosity deepened.

“Intriguing. Dig up who he is—bring him to me. Didn’t expect a gem like that in the guard!”

He smiled, nodding to attendants. Xu Buliu, a sword genius tipped to hit Third-Rank in a decade or two, now faced a rival from his past prime.

Taming such talent as a hound? Deliciously fun!

“No need to snoop—if I’m right, he’s tied to us!”

The silent beauty turned, lips curving seductively. Her mere presence radiated charm.

Roughly thirty, her plain attire belied a regal air.

“Oh, Aunt knows him?”

The youth raised a brow, unsurprised—his aunt, restless and ambitious, meddled in court with a daughter’s guile, her network vast.

“He’s likely Andong’s eldest—Xia Chen, betrothed to Yaoguang lately. My scouts say he’s a stunner, topping the capital’s Four Handsome Men. Seeing him today, he outshines them all!”

“Lucky niece of mine!”

Princess Pingyang sighed. Wen’s youngest sister, not full-blooded but raised by his mother like a daughter.

<Princess Pingyang: mature beauty, stirring allure, power-hungry, lifelong unwed, lonely yet unwilling to settle, yearning for love…>

Wen reigned fifty-plus years, doting on her like a child. Grown, she craved politics—Wen never blocked her, tacitly letting her play.

Thus, her royal status stood apart.

The Third Prince gaped—his would-be hound, a guard commander, linked to him like this?

“Aunt’s intel solid? I recall Xia Chen’s a famed flop—Andong ignored him. How’s he this fierce now?”

“Days ago, the Xias snagged him a Feathered Forest Commander post. Status, looks—it’s him, no doubt. His strength, though? A shock!”

Princess Pingyang mused, propping her delicate chin, lost in thought.

Xia Chen didn’t know White Moon Tower’s top box—Princess Pingyang and the Third Prince—watched his raid unfold.

He raced nonstop to another spot: an inn.

This inn, an Inspectorate intel hub in the capital, likely sent that defense map out.

Resistance flared again, but under armed guards’ crossbow barrage, the innkeeper fell fast.

“Search thoroughly—no file slips through, take it all!”

Xia Chen’s voice sank.

Then he sped to the next site—Shanyang Hall, near North Street.

Akin to an orphanage or old folks’ home.

But arriving, he found it deserted—only a few kids and immobile elders remained.

“Sir, it’s empty—no papers either!”

Xia Chen fell silent, staring at the worn “Shanyang Hall” plaque.

From the guard office to White Moon Tower, the inn, then here—under an hour.

Yet it stood vacant—later sites likely cleared too.

“Word travels fast!”

His eyes flickered.

“Sir, where next?”

A guard whispered—Xia Chen had shared zilch all along.

They still didn’t know who they nabbed.

“Back to the office!”

He waved. The snake was spooked—more sweeps were pointless.

Returning to the Feathered Forest Guard Office, Qin Mu stood at the gate.

Seeing Xia Chen, he strode up.

“I got here this morning and heard you took two hundred men out—what’s this? So many hauled back?”

Qin Mu was lost. Guards had arrest rights, but snagging this many without his say? The capital buzzed by now.

“Inspectorate spies—urgent this morning, no time to report, sir. I’ll explain to the general myself later!”

Xia Chen knew he’d overstepped—leading so many without clearance. For a lesser man, Qin Mu might’ve had him seized at the door.