Mo Yuan gnashed his teeth so hard that he drew his sword and approached the bed. “You bastard....”

  He charged at the bed, his sword about to land on Jian’s body. The apprentice gasped, but another steel blade clashed with his, totally blocking the attack. Mo Yuan hopped backwards to see Han Yu’s “weak”, curved body straighten up; his eyes changed from those of a simple, humble doctor to those of a sharp veteran, thirsty for battle. His blade was concealed inside his cane. He chuckled, pointing his sword at Mo Yuan, “I always wished for the opportunity of fighting a marshal. Seems that today is my lucky day.”

  Mo Yuan was still puzzled, unsure how to proceed. He took a battle pose, his voice a low hiss, “Who.... Who are you?”

  Han Yu turned his vision to Jian. “Master Yang, should I tell him?”

  Jian chuckled as he sat straight without help. “Go on. Marshal Mo is “family” now.”

  Both of them looked at the stunned Mo Yuan as Han Yu did a cinematic bow, “Greeting, Marshal Mo. My name is Liang Jin; you might know me as the head of the red dragon’s sons.”

  Mo Yuan took several steps backwards, as the room suddenly turned ice-cold for him.

  Every soldier in the Yang dynasty knew the legends of the underworld, but the names were usually whispered in dark alleys, never spoken in the light of the palace. Qing Cang was a name of greed—a man who ruled through gold and steel. But Liang Jin... his name was written in the scars of the veterans.

  He wasn't just a criminal; he was a ghost of the military's own making. A rogue general who had mastered the art of war on the battlefield, only to turn that brilliance against the very Empire that trained him. To the soldiers, he wasn't a bandit; he was a traitorous master of slaughter.

  "Liang... Jin?" Mo Yuan’s voice cracked, the word tasting like ash.

  He looked at the "doctor" again. The stooped back was gone. The hand gripping the cane-sword was steady as a mountain. Mo Yuan realized that he wasn't trapped in a room with a burnt steward and a physician. He was trapped in a cage with a supreme strategist and a monster who had forgotten more about killing than Mo Yuan would ever learn.

  "The Deserted General," Mo Yuan breathed, his eyes flicking back to Jian, who was watching him with a wide smile and excited eyes.

  "You didn't bring me here to guard you," Mo Yuan whispered, his sword arm finally dropping to his side in a gesture of total defeat. "You brought me here to recruit me. Or to bury me. You... orchestrated all this."

  Jian’s voice came out as a cold order, “Sit down, Marshal. We have a lot to talk about.”

  In Xian Shang’s mansion, he and Wen Zi Shan locked themselves in a sealed room. Xian Shang started by pointing at the grand marshal, “Wen Zi Shan, don’t tell me you actually did something so stupid?”

  Wen Zi Shan hit the table with his fist. “Do you really think I would do these hours after I clash with him?”

  Xian Shang waved his arm. “I won’t neglect this option. You aren’t a man who knows how to hold his temper.”

  Wen Zi Shan’s eyes turned red, his fist clenched, “Xian Shang. Don't mess with me. I may be hot-tempered, but I am not a fool. Can it be... that one of those who witnessed the briefing today tried to... help us or clear the way for us?”

  Xian Shang shook his head violently, “No No... Most of them won’t even think of it, and such a reckless movement couldn’t be passed without my knowledge.” He put his hands on his head, shouting, “Then who the hell would have the courage to torch the palace of a member of the imperial family?”

  Wen Zi Shan took a step back, his teeth gnashing hard. He had never seen Xian Shang so disoriented and nervous. For years, he had been the one with the stone face and the calm demeanour. He extended his hand to him, “Xian Shang, what...happened to you?”

  Xian Shang hit the table with both his hands, his voice dripping with malice and venom. “Ever since his father died and he stepped forward to oppose me, Yang Jian has turned the tables on me time after time after time. I can’t know what he is thinking of.”

  Wen Zi Shan rested his hands on Xian Shang’s shoulders. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. That rat is crazy and unpredictable.”

  The last 2 words seemed to ring in Xian Shang’s mind. He kept repeating them to himself, looking at the ceiling, “Crazy? Yes, he is crazy... Crazy enough to burn himself?”

  Wen Zi Shan’s eyes widened as he took some steps backwards. “Xian Shang, you are hallucinating. His wife and son were in the house. I refuse to believe that there is a man who can sacrifice his wife and son like that.”

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Xian Shang used the table to support his trembling body, his face drenched in sweat, his voice barely above a whisper “All guards were injured but no fatalities, Yang Yan and her son were completely safe even when being in a flaming building, “Han Yu” who appeared out of nowhere, his dismissal of Zhang Wu to leave the emperor no option but to mobilize Mo Yuan, a lot of things aren’t adding up. Could he really... have orchestrated all of this? Orchestrated burning his own flesh?”

  Wen Zi Shan’s knees seemed to betray him as he collapsed on a chair, his face white as chalk. He, the veteran who led countless battles against the most ruthless enemies, was opening his eyes to the biggest monster he had ever seen. “Could he really... risk all this?”

  Xian Shang’s face was of pure terror, his body trembling like crazy. “We are no longer playing a game of chess. We are trapped in a cage with a madman who would burn himself and his family just to smoke us out.”

  Wen Zi Shan looked at his hands, the hands that had killed hundreds, and found them shaking. "If he is willing to set fire to his own blood for a tactical advantage... then there is no line he won't cross. No bridge he won't burn."

  Back at Jian’s room, the apprentice poured 3 cups of tea for Jian, Liang Jin, and Mo Yuan, whose sword was taken as a precaution.

  Mo Yuan’s foot tapped the ground continuously. “If anyone came in suddenly, you won’t be able to explain why the doctor is holding the marshal’s sword.”

  Liang Jin drank his tea. “What an amazing quality. I am bored with the tea mixed with ash that I always drink. Anyway, don’t worry. I hang my sign on the door, and no one would enter suddenly while the doctor is examining the steward.”

  Mo Yuan stood up, pointing at Jian, who was drinking and moving his body without any help. “Yang Jian, before we talk about anything, you need to answer me. Were you the one who started the fire?”

  Jian finished his tea, and the apprentice poured him more as he replied simply “Yes...”

  Mo Yuan’s face was pale. “And your family...”

  Jian interrupted, “I poured them something to make sure they are unconscious.”

  Mo Yuan’s voice was trembling, “And the guards...”

  Jian interrupted again, “They injured themselves for me before the fire.”

  Mo Yuan got closer, his eyes wide as Liang Jin stood up in defence. “There was a risk...”

  Jian nodded, “It would all fail, and we would burn to death? Very high risk.”

  "You bastard..." Mo Yuan hissed, his shadow stretching long and jagged over Jian's pale face. "You think a few layers of cotton and an Emperor’s decree can hide what you are? You burned your own house for what? A seat at a table with me? What kind of a man are you?”

  Liang Jin stood in the middle, his eyes cold. “Marshal Mo, mind your words. I am still here.”

  Jian replied with the same simple tone, “What I want from you far exceeds all this.”

  Mo Yuan pointed at his injuries, “Are those even real? Were you so heartless that you would burn your own flesh?”

  Jian smiled and began to remove the bandages with his healthy arms. The skin beneath was cherry red with some bubbles. “I splashed water on myself before the spark ignited everything. Is it burned? No, just a little boiled. Will it be restored completely? It might leave a scar.”

  Mo Yuan was speechless. He was always taught as a soldier that a man’s body should stay fully functional the whole time, yet he was standing in front of a man who boiled his own flesh just to earn 5 minutes with him without suspicion. He spoke up, his voice shaking with a mixture of fear and nervousness, “Yang Jian... You devil... what do you want from me? The thing you risked your life for to be passed without suspicion.”

  "You are a smart man, Mo Yuan," Jian began, his voice devoid of the steward's usual humility. "Smart enough to be bored by Wen Zi Shan’s bluster and Xian Shang’s transparent greed. You’ve been looking for a reason to care about this Empire again, haven't you? Something beyond the rot and the tea ceremonies."

  Jian gestured vaguely to his red side. "The fire tonight wasn't just a spectacle. It was a funeral. The Steward died in those flames. Who sits before you now is the man who is going to decide who lives and who dies in Lijiang for the next fifty years."

  He leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Mo Yuan with a terrifying intensity. "I am going to give you a choice, and I will only give it once. You can remain the loyal marshal, waiting for the day I decide your name is on Liang Jin’s list. Or you can become the blade that cuts the rot out of the military from the inside."

  Jian tilted his head, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Tell me, Marshal... do you want to keep guarding a bed, or do you want to start winning a war?"

  Mo Yuan’s eyes widened, and he gnashed his teeth. “You are underestimating me, steward. What makes you so sure I won’t just sprint outside now and tell the grand marshal everything? There is no way the old ‘doctor’ would run after me.”

  Jian’s expression didn’t change, clearly unamazed by his threat, “Mo Yuan, you don’t care about who rules and who doesn’t. You just want to wage wars and fight, but you hate the way Wen Zi Shan leads the military. You would rather fight under Zhang Wu instead, right? In addition, you won’t cause any more domestic disputes for the dynasty you fight under its banner. Also...”

  He flicked his finger, and the apprentice took out a small pipe quickly and blew on it. A green-tipped dart flew out, striking the wall. The green liquid on the tip hissed slightly against the wood, a toxic reminder that in this room, even the children were weapons. Mo Yuan walked to the dart, but Jian’s voice stopped him. “I won’t touch that dart if I were you, Marshal. The rogue marshal injured the poor steward’s guards and set his house on fire. When he couldn’t kill the steward by fire, he used his duty to attempt to assassinate him again, but the young apprentice prepared a defence beforehand to protect her master now that he is a target. What a loyal servant I have... What do you think, Marshal? A good story, isn’t it?”

  Mo Yuan turned to him slowly, his eyes red, his neck veins bulging. He knew he was done. And it is (Submit or die). He walked slowly, approaching the bed, as his knees hit the floor hard. "You aren't a man. You're a plague. But Wen Zi Shan is a fool, Xian Shang is a snake, and the emperor is a child. If this Empire is going to burn anyway, I’d rather be the one holding the torch for the devil than the one standing in the way of the fire."

  Jian smiled, “That is what I want to hear, Marshal. Ready for your first task?”