In the main room of the eastern courtyard, the first faint light of dawn filtered through the windows.
Xiao stood before a bronze mirror, leisurely straightening his cuffs.
Once again, he wore an eye-catching crimson robe. He had donned neither armor nor sword, and his frame still appeared lean and slender. The striking color accentuated his complexion in the morning light, lending him the frail, scholarly air of someone unaccustomed to seeing daylight.
He fastened the silver hair ornament Xia Lanshi had given him into the hair above his ear. Several delicate silver chains dangled from it, which he wove into his hair as he always did.
Judging by appearances alone, anyone would have taken him for a refined scholar serving as a distinguished guest advisor.
Xia Lanshi stood to one side, his brows slightly furrowed, unable to conceal the worry in his eyes.
“Xiao, the forty-eight men His Highness assigned to you were handpicked from among the personal guards, shadow guards, and various armies of the Northern Frontier. Every one of them is arrogant to the bone. They respect only strength. If you go there unarmed and they speak disrespectfully to you, or try to trip you up behind your back…”
He hesitated before continuing, “Why don’t I accompany you after all? With me there, they’ll at least exercise some restraint.”
Xiao fastened his dark-colored belt and attached the little sachet Xia Lanshi had given him. Then he turned around and glanced at Xia Lanshi with eyes as still as a frigid pool.
“Don’t worry.” His tone was indifferent, with even the faintest trace of amusement. “I have considerable experience taming wild horses.”
Xia Lanshi’s brows twitched. He couldn’t tell whether Xiao’s remark about “taming wild horses” carried some deeper meaning.
Xiao leaned over and kissed his forehead before opening the door and walking straight into the thin morning mist.
◆◇◆◇◆
The Northern Frontier Administrative Office, secret training grounds.
Forty-eight elite soldiers were already assembled in formation.
Although they stood perfectly straight, the glances they exchanged betrayed their individual thoughts.
The men came from different backgrounds. Some were veterans of the Northern Frontier Army who had survived countless battles. Others were skilled swordsmen from Prince Su’s personal guard, while still others were shadows from the Shadow Guard Battalion, experts in concealment.
They had all received secret orders to report here, yet none knew what kind of “special operations mission” this unit was supposed to undertake.
When they learned that their future instructor would be the mysterious “Mr. Liuchu,” a man of unknown origins who usually seemed to hover around Chief Secretary Xia, seeds of doubt took root in their minds.
Low murmurs rippled through the ranks.
“I heard Mr. Liuchu is a guest advisor from overseas. His Highness trusts him deeply. Even Chief Secretary Xia and Military Advisor Su treat him with considerable deference.”
“But he has no military achievements whatsoever. As far as I know, he’s never even drawn his sword in the army. If he really has the ability, why has he never demonstrated his skills?”
“Perhaps he’s a strategist who doesn’t make his living with a blade. We’ll see. If he turns out to be an incompetent who doesn’t know how to command troops, I’ll request a transfer back to my camp tomorrow.”
Just then, Xiao entered the training grounds with an impassive expression.
He brought no guards and made no show of ceremony. He simply walked up to the forty-eight men radiating menace and stopped in front of them.
Several men from the Shadow Guard Battalion were secretly astonished. They hadn’t heard his footsteps at all. They could barely sense his presence, as though the figure who had just approached them were a wandering ghost.
The entire training ground fell silent. Dozens of sharp, scrutinizing, and even contemptuous gazes landed on Xiao.
He did not rush to speak. Instead, his eyes slowly passed over each face in the front row.
His gaze held no discernible emotion. He regarded them like objects laid out for inspection—not cold, exactly, but devoid of warmth.
“Put down your weapons.”
Xiao’s voice was not loud, yet it reached every man clearly.
A slight commotion immediately stirred among the ranks.
Some were stunned. Others frowned. A few even wondered whether they had misheard him.
Only after a moment did one or two men hesitantly unfasten their sabers and set them down at their feet.
Xiao looked at those who had not moved, his tone still calm.
“I said everyone. Remove your armor and lay down your weapons.”
At last, He Chongshan, a hundred-household commander from the Northern Frontier Army, could no longer hold back. He stepped forward and cupped his fists.
“Forgive us, Mr. Liuchu. We came here under Prince Su’s orders. If this is training, we will naturally obey. But since this is military practice, soldiers regard their weapons as their lives. Why must we surrender them first?”
His question voiced what everyone else was thinking.
Even the least experienced among them was a veteran of countless battles. What kind of soldier went into battle without a blade?
Xiao glanced at him indifferently.
“Because your greatest problem right now is that you rely too heavily on the weapons in your hands.”
He strolled forward a couple of steps, lowering his gaze to the weapons on the ground.
“Swords are merely tools. You call yourselves elite because you can cut down people better than others, your blades are faster, and your arrows more accurate. But if you cannot function without them, then what truly makes you elite? You yourselves, or these pieces of iron?”
He stopped and swept his gaze across the men like the edge of a blade.
“True special operations aren’t about who is faster or more accurate. They’re about one thing—when you have no weapons left, can you still make it back alive?”
He Chongshan knitted his brows, plainly unconvinced.
“I’m afraid our brothers will find it difficult to accept such an argument. What qualifies you to teach us?”
The training ground fell so silent that a pin could have dropped and everyone would have heard it.
Xiao did not grow angry. Instead, the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
In that instant, an indescribable pressure seeped out of his seemingly frail body.
It was the aura of death possessed only by someone who had crawled through mountains of corpses and seas of blood countless times, someone who had crossed the boundary between life and death again and again.
Several shadow guards in the front row, especially sensitive to killing intent, felt their pupils contract sharply. A cold sweat broke out across their backs despite themselves.
This was absolutely not the presence of an ordinary scholar.
“I selected you not to improve your martial skills. You already possess those. There’s no need to waste more time on them.”
Xiao withdrew that momentary pressure and returned to his usual indifferent demeanor, as though everything that had just happened had been an illusion.
“However, if you want to spar…”
He looked at He Chongshan.
“I don’t mind exchanging a few moves with you outside class. You may challenge me whenever you wish.”
“Furthermore, at this time tomorrow, every one of you will come and try to capture me. If you fail, the entire unit will undergo additional training tomorrow.”
His words left the entire training ground astonished.
Capture him?
Where did this man get the confidence to believe he could escape the pursuit of forty-eight elite soldiers?
Xiao gave them no time to think. He turned and pointed to several wooden crates behind him.
“From this moment onward, you must forget some of what you’ve learned in the past.”
“Forget the formations you once took pride in within the army. You have now been divided into six teams: ‘Eagle Eye,’ ‘Severed Vein,’ ‘Ghost Shadow,’ ‘Head Hunter,’ ‘Formation Breaker,’ and ‘Beacon Relay.’”
Xiao regarded them impassively, his voice low and clear.
“Don’t assume this means you’ll be separated into different branches to perform only one kind of task. In this unit, every single person must know how to reconnoiter, infiltrate, kill, and withdraw. These six team names merely represent each team’s strongest tactical function. They are also the core modules of the entire operational system.”
“Eagle Eye is responsible for ‘seeing.’ You must do more than observe enemy movements and terrain. You must also verify whether intelligence is genuine. You are the eyes.”
“Ghost Shadow is responsible for ‘misdirecting the enemy.’ You must do more than disguise yourselves and infiltrate enemy territory. You must also ensure the enemy obtains false intelligence. You are the shadows lurking in the dark.”
“Severed Vein is responsible for ‘cutting off what the enemy needs.’ It isn’t just a matter of burning grain. The enemy’s water, fodder, carts, roads, and weapons—all the vital channels that sustain warfare—are fair targets. You are the hand closing around the enemy’s throat.”
“Head Hunter is responsible for ‘eliminating what the enemy relies upon.’ Regardless of rank, you target key figures whose removal would paralyze the enemy army. You are the main force for highly mobile strikes.”
“Formation Breaker is responsible for ‘preventing the enemy from advancing.’ Destroy roads, set up obstacles, counter cavalry. Make it impossible for the enemy to move forward or build up speed.”
“Beacon Relay…”
He raised his head and looked at the eight men assigned to this team.
“You are responsible for ‘connecting what we know.’ Don’t think you’re merely messengers running errands. Among these six teams, you are the central nervous system. Rain or thick fog, you are the nerves of the entire unit. You determine when this network is deployed and when it is withdrawn.”
Xiao paused, his gaze razor-sharp.
“The names are only there to help you remember your roles. Don’t let them confine you. The men of Eagle Eye must know how to kill, and the men of Head Hunter must know how to relay messages. If you’re incapable of doing anything once separated from your own team, you aren’t elite soldiers. You’re merely six walking toolboxes.”
“Now, step forward and collect your assignments and supplies.”
Each man received only a small bundle. Inside were a few copper coins, a strip of cloth, a short length of rope, and a water flask.
No weapons. No military identification.
The men were utterly bewildered.
“Your mission locations are the northwestern camp, southwestern camp, and the new camp on the southern side of the Capital Army. You must complete your respective missions and return here before sunset.”
Xiao looked at the elite soldiers, who were still somewhat dazed, and announced the rules without mercy.
“No injuring anyone. No revealing your identities. No asking the army for help.”
“You may deceive, steal, or take a detour.”
“Those who fail their missions will lose points. Those who injure anyone, act without authorization, or expose their identities will lose points. Anyone who returns late will have their mission declared an outright failure.”
Xiao paused, his gaze sweeping over them.
“As for whether you still deserve to remain in this unit, we’ll discuss that after I review the roster tonight.”
Someone could not resist asking, “What if there’s something wrong with the mission itself?”
Xiao shot him a cold glance.
“Then it proves you lack even the ability to recognize that something is wrong with the mission.”
He paid no attention to their still-confused expressions and issued a single command.
“Move out.”
◆◇◆◇◆
The forty-eight men soon disappeared from the training grounds.
They thought this was a test of their martial prowess and infiltration skills.
Little did they know that they had entered a psychological maze riddled with traps.
Xiao understood these men far too well.
He even knew which of the forty-eight would stubbornly force his way through difficulties, which would look for shortcuts, which would believe false intelligence, and which would sacrifice the opportunity to withdraw just to complete a mission.
Outside the northwestern camp, the Head Hunter team lay concealed in the shadows.
Their mission was: Obtain the wooden token carried by Zhou Cheng in the southwestern camp.
After going to great lengths to infiltrate the camp, they finally found a man who claimed to be Zhou Cheng.
They approached him to confirm his identity.
“You’re Zhou Cheng?”
The man nodded. They then found a way to steal his wooden token, congratulating themselves on completing the mission perfectly.
But in Xiao’s assessment, they had failed.
There were two men named Zhou Cheng in the army, and one of them was a deliberate impostor arranged by Xiao.
“Head Hunter exists to eliminate what the enemy relies upon. What you need to confirm isn’t a name, but the person’s actual identity and the function they serve within the army. Intelligence must never rely on a single source.”
This was Xiao’s trap for testing their ability to verify intelligence.
Inside the southwestern camp, the Ghost Shadow team had been assigned the mission: Get the soldier Huang Dezhi to hand you his copper coins.
Some attempted outright theft. Others tried threatening him with force, while still others resorted to bribery and temptation.
But Xiao’s evaluation was mercilessly precise.
“The essence of Ghost Shadow is misdirection and psychological manipulation. All you thought about was, ‘How do we get the copper coins?’ But a true Ghost Shadow operative asks, ‘How do I make him willingly give the coins to me as a gift?’”
Meanwhile, outside the northwestern camp, the Eagle Eye team was lying in the distant grass, carrying out its mission: Record the troop movements in the northwestern camp.
They meticulously recorded troop numbers, shift-change times, patrol routes, armor styles, and even the number of torches. The records were impressively precise, and they were convinced their intelligence was flawless.
Yet in Xiao’s eyes, they had still failed.
The number of heavily armored soldiers never changed. Their shift changes followed a suspiciously deliberate pattern. The wear on their armor was inconsistent: some arm guards were too clean to belong to men who had trained for long, while some boots lacked even the mud marks left by a long march.
Xiao shook his head as he assessed them.
“Eagle Eye is meant to ‘see the truth.’ You recorded the people wearing armor. I recorded the people capable of fighting a war. You only noted what you assumed was important, but never verified whether what your eyes saw was real.”
At the new camp on the southern side, the Beacon Relay team stared at the intelligence points scattered across three separate camps on their mission list and fell into despair.
If all six of them tried to run to every location together, they would never finish before sunset.
It was only when their team leader suddenly realized that Beacon Relay’s role was to provide relay communications and synchronize timing that they found a solution.
They quickly divided their personnel and established temporary communication stations, relaying messages through reflected light and agreed-upon signals while synchronizing their timing. Rather than rigidly traveling everywhere together, they built a communications network.
In a corner of the new southern camp, the Formation Breaker team was drenched in sweat.
Their mission was: Block a small water-transport path behind the southwestern camp for at least one shichen.
These burly men tried digging up the road by hand or cutting down trees to block the path. But without tools, their progress was painfully slow. There was no way they could finish before sunset.
“You’re not military engineers. The essence of Formation Breaker is to prevent the enemy from advancing.”
Xiao’s notes contained a cold assessment:
“There are abandoned wooden frames and muddy ground beside that path. All you need to do is push an empty water cart and a wooden barricade into the narrow passage. That will immobilize enemy cavalry and supply wagons. I want you to learn how to use the environment to counter mobility. Even without tools, you can make the enemy pay a price by exploiting your surroundings instead of relying on brute strength.”
The most disastrous performance came from the Severed Vein team.
They had received an extraordinarily precise target: Obtain a secret letter from the Jia shelf in the third storehouse of the northwestern camp’s granary.
During their infiltration, they had even found a “floor plan of the granary warehouses.” Soldiers passing by had also confirmed the existence of the “third storehouse,” convincing them that their mission was genuine.
However, after searching around the granary for two hours, they discovered that all the so-called evidence had been fabricated by Xiao. In reality, there was no third storehouse in the northwestern camp.
They became trapped in an agonizing dilemma: keep searching or admit defeat and withdraw.
In the end, they chose to waste their time stubbornly searching the same area.
Xiao commented blandly:
“The Severed Vein team is supposed to strike at the enemy’s arteries. But the enemy can also feed you enough false information to protect those arteries. If you suspect that a mission is fake and know the intelligence is unreliable, yet stubbornly remain in enemy territory because you can’t accept failure, that is foolishness.”
Everything had been unfolding under Xiao’s watchful eye.
On the corner tower of a tall building outside the Capital Army’s three camps, the breeze stirred his crimson robe.
Calmly, he took out a strange black device with two tubes and held it to his eyes.
Through its lenses, he could clearly see figures forced to scramble over walls after their disguises were exposed, as well as his own men posing as veteran soldiers beside supply carts to observe and record events.
A squad passing below the tower looked up from a distance and muttered in confusion, “What is that thing Mr. Liuchu is holding?”
Xiao casually put away the binoculars. As his hand passed his wrist, he glanced at the precise timepiece strapped there.
He did not need to follow the men around. He had already woven this entire net.
◆◇◆◇◆
The sun sank in the west, and the dying rays turned red as blood.
One after another, the forty-eight men returned to the training ground.
Some looked supremely confident, clutching the items they had been assigned to obtain. Others were a muddy, disheveled mess. Still others looked utterly defeated, their hands empty.
Xiao stood beneath the setting sun. He did not applaud, offer praise, or scold them.
He looked at the men before him and spoke in a voice that was not loud, yet every word cut to the bone.
“Today, I wasn’t testing whether you could complete your missions. I was observing what you would do when you encountered something you didn’t understand.”
He looked at He Chongshan in the front row.
“Why did you come back?”
Someone answered loudly, “Because you ordered us to return before sunset!”
Xiao shook his head. “Wrong.”
Another answered, “Because we completed our missions!”
Xiao shook his head again. “Wrong.”
Finally, He Chongshan gritted his teeth and said, “Because we didn’t want to lose!”
Xiao looked at him, his gaze so profound it seemed capable of seeing straight into his soul.
“Wrong again.”
He pointed to the ground beneath his feet, his voice echoing across the spacious training grounds.
“What I want is for you to understand when you should come back.”
“You complete your mission, but three people see your face on the way back. That means your identity has been exposed. The team fails.”
“You discover that your target is fake, or that the intelligence is fundamentally wrong, but you stubbornly waste time until the deadline because you cannot accept failure. That is foolishness. The team fails.”
“You nearly get a comrade trapped inside an enemy camp just to obtain an inanimate object. That means you’ve mistaken the means for the end. The team fails.”
His words struck the proud elite soldiers like heavy hammers.
“You are not blades. A blade only knows how to cut forward. You are hands—and, more importantly, you are brains.”
“Hold the blade when it needs to be held. Put it down when it needs to be put down. Think for yourselves.”
Xiao paused. His indifferent gaze swept across every man, driving the soul of the unit he intended to build deep into their hearts.
“Remember this. You are not here to be sent to your deaths.”
“A mission may fail.”
“But the men must come back alive.”
The forty-eight men stood rooted to the spot, deeply shaken.
Only now did they truly understand that the seemingly refined man before them possessed a completely different level of understanding of warfare and soldiers.
No one had ever told them that a mission could fail, but they still had to return alive.
This was not an invitation to cowardly retreat. It was a demand that they never treat sacrifice as the inevitable price of completing a mission.
Xiao slowly closed the roster in his hands.
“Today, I’ve identified the fatal weakness in every one of you.”
His gaze passed over the men, his tone so calm it was almost cruel.
“Starting tomorrow, correct it.”
He added casually, “If you don’t reset your bones now, you’ll be the ones suffering from the pain later.”
Even then, the men still had no idea what kind of demonic instructor they were about to face in the days ahead.
◆◇◆◇◆
Night fell. In the eastern courtyard study, Xia Lanshi watched Xiao sitting beneath the lamplight, carefully organizing the assessment records of the forty-eight men.
Unable to resist, he asked, “How were the results today?”
Xiao’s pen paused. Without raising his head, he answered blandly with two words.
“Not bad.”
Xia Lanshi was momentarily stunned.
He had assumed that, given the temperaments of these troublemakers, the day would inevitably have ended in chaos. He had not expected Xiao to give them such a favorable assessment.
“Not bad?”
“Mm.”
Xiao turned to another page, looking at the familiar names written there. His voice was so soft it seemed almost to dissolve into the night breeze.
“Much better than when I first met them.”
Xia Lanshi’s expression shifted slightly. He immediately understood what Xiao meant: all forty-eight of these men were people Xiao had known in the past.
It was just that they no longer remembered him.
Xiao’s gaze moved down the roster, line by line.
The hand holding his pen paused almost imperceptibly.
The tip of the pen hovered above one particular name for a long time without touching the paper.
Noticing the change in him, Xia Lanshi asked softly, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Xiao’s voice was as calm as still water. He gently turned the page.
Yet beneath his lowered eyelids, a faint shadow of sorrow passed through his eyes.
He still remembered this person.
Last time…
He had died far too soon.
◆◇◆◇◆
At dawn the following day, an iron-gray curtain of mist shrouded the secret training grounds. The cold was piercing.
The forty-eight elite soldiers stood in formation, the atmosphere so grim that even their breath seemed capable of freezing.
In just one night, their posture and expressions had changed completely.
If their gazes had held defiance and scrutiny when they looked at Xiao yesterday, today their eyes were filled with the vigilance of men facing a formidable enemy—and with a fierce, deeply rooted eagerness to prove themselves, mixed with unwillingness to accept defeat.
Xiao wore the same striking crimson round-collared robe that day, his black hair whipping wildly in the cold wind.
He stood on the command platform with his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes as still as a frigid pool sweeping over the tense faces below.
“Yesterday, I observed you.”
Xiao spoke in a tone as casual as if he were making small talk, yet his words made every heart on the grounds tighten.
“Today, it’s your turn to observe me.”
“There is only one mission today—capture me and bring me back to this training ground.”
At those words, forty-eight pairs of eyes lit up like torches igniting in the dark.
He Chongshan, the hundred-household commander, stepped forward and spoke in a voice like rolling thunder.
“Mr. Liuchu, your strategic wisdom is unparalleled. But since this is a practical exercise, the rules must be made clear. If you can freely summon the Prince’s guards or hide inside restricted military installations, then even a thousand troops would be powerless to catch you!”
Xiao lowered his eyes to look at him, the faintest smile curling his lips.
“Then you may set the rules yourselves.”
The men quickly exchanged glances. The team leaders immediately gathered together to confer in low voices.
Within three breaths, He Chongshan’s eyes blazed with determination, and he called out his conditions.
“First, you must not step even half a pace outside Linbei City.”
“Second, you must not enter military camps, the administrative office, or any other restricted military or government area to evade us.”
“Third, you must not harm innocent civilians or damage any property in the city.”
“Fourth, you must not seek assistance from His Highness, Chief Secretary Xia, or Military Advisor Su!”
“Fifth, you may only use ordinary supplies available in the city’s markets. You may not call upon government resources.”
“Sixth…” He Chongshan clenched his teeth and stared fixedly at Xiao. “You must be personally escorted back to this training ground by us. Only then will the mission be considered complete!”
“Agreed.”
Xiao accepted without hesitation, the smile at the corners of his lips turning into an amused curve.
“Everything will be as you say. In return, I’ll give you one more rule: today, I will not use any extraordinary weapons or unusual equipment. I will rely only on this city and everything available to you.”
He Chongshan pressed him further. “What about the time limit?! If you hide in some blind corner of a private residence and refuse to come out, we could search for three days and three nights without accomplishing anything!”
Xiao raised his wrist and lightly tapped the reflective timepiece there with his fingertip, announcing coldly,
“It is now the second quarter of the Mao hour. I will give you one quarter of an hour to ask questions. The rest of the time is yours to prepare. When the Chen hour begins, I will leave the training ground, and the hunt will officially begin.”
“You must bring me back here before the You hour begins. If you exceed the deadline, you lose.”
“Bring you back before the You hour… Fine! It’s a deal!”
He Chongshan cupped his fists firmly, the joints in his fingers cracking.
Xiao smiled faintly, but his smile was cold enough to pierce to the bone.
“You may set ambushes, track me, deceive the enemy—use whatever means you wish, as long as you can bring me back. But remember, the one you’re facing is not prey that knows only how to run for its life.”
This was the first genuine “hunt” the forty-eight men had ever undertaken.
The atmosphere on the training ground was so tense it seemed ready to snap.
The six team leaders gathered around the training ground’s sand table and began planning their operation in meticulous detail.
They had learned from the painful lessons of the previous day, when each team had fought its own battle. This time, they attempted to link all six teams’ functions together.
The Eagle Eye team would seize the tallest towers in the city and the upper floors of teahouses overlooking several major intersections. From these vantage points, they would survey the entire area and monitor the movement of people.
The Severed Vein team would work in secret, identifying every well, eatery, and clothing shop in the city in an attempt to cut off Mr. Liuchu’s sources of supplies and places to rest.
The Formation Breaker team would carry wooden planks and handcarts, ready to establish temporary blockades at key points in the streets and alleys.
The Ghost Shadow team would split into small groups and blend into the crowds, responsible for identifying and tracking the target at close range.
The Head Hunter team, serving as the main mobile strike force, would divide into three groups to patrol the city. Once the target was confirmed, they would launch a rapid assault and surround him.
As for the Beacon Relay team, it was placed at the very heart of the operation. The eight members would spread out across the junctions between the other teams, using hand signals, short whistles, strips of cloth hung outside designated shops, and even the positions where carts and horses were parked to construct an intelligence network covering half of Linbei City—one that would be almost impossible to detect.
As soon as the Chen hour began, the war drums sounded without a sound, and the great net swept open with a thunderous force!