Chapter Fifty-Six: Preparations Before the Battle (Part One)

“Huff! Huff!”
A man cloaked in a bamboo hat walked through the corridor amidst a torrential downpour, rain lashing his face and prompting him to clutch the item in his arms even more tightly.

“Halt! Password.”
As he reached the end of the corridor, two armored warriors clad in black suddenly appeared before him, their blades barring his path.

“Crossing the river by leaf boat,” he answered without hesitation.

“Proceed.”
The words had barely left his lips before the blades were sheathed. The two stepped aside, clearing the way.

The man nodded, adjusted the brim of his hat, and continued onward.

Beyond the entrance lay another corridor, flanked on each side by gates belonging to different departments—three on the left and two on the right—while at the far end stood the Seven Sorrows Hall, where the commander resided.

He advanced along the corridor, stopping at the first gate on the left, and pressed a blue brick on the right.
The brick yielded easily, sliding in more than an inch, followed by the grinding sound of gears engaging.

The heavy gate, weighing over a thousand pounds, opened in response.

Within, the scene unfolded before him: three walls lined with forged steel drawers, storing dossiers and intelligence gathered from across the realm. Nearly a hundred staff members were dressed in blue-and-white linen, their hair tied up in black crowns—a clear sign they belonged to the Six Gates’ administration.

They moved like diligent bees, weaving between bookshelves and poring over towering stacks of case files.

His appearance drew no attention; not a single glance was spared, everyone engrossed in their urgent tasks.

He threaded through the busy crowd, heading straight for the last door in the room.

Upon the door was carved a fierce white tiger, its wings unfurled, twin fangs gleaming coldly, eyes piercing the soul. The sight was so imposing that for a moment, he stood stunned.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his right hand and knocked on the iron door.

“Enter.”
The voice was quiet, almost gentle, yet it felt as if the speaker stood right beside him.

Without further delay, he gathered his internal strength in his palm and slowly pushed open the door.

He was about to meet, for the first time, his superior—the White Tiger.

This figure wore a robe of interwoven black and blue, with a half-mask obscuring the upper part of his face. Yet beneath his hair, amber eyes shone with an undeniable charisma. In his hand he flipped through a dossier, seemingly absorbed, though the pile of discarded melon seed husks at his left betrayed a certain inattentiveness...

Seeing the rain-soaked man arrive in haste, White Tiger set aside the file and asked, “Has something happened? Or do you bring critical intelligence?”

“I have obtained reliable information regarding the suppression of the rebel forces.”
The man in the bamboo hat pulled a letter from his chest, stepped forward, and presented it.

White Tiger cast him a sidelong glance; the man seemed unfamiliar, no recollection of him surfaced.

He asked, “Which department are you from? When did you join the Six Gates?”

The man bowed his head and answered promptly, “I entered last year. I’ve been responsible for the selection and transfer of external personnel. It is normal you haven’t met me.”

“Ah, so be it.”
White Tiger nodded, picked up the letter, and with a tap, wiped away the ink.
He unfolded the slightly yellowed paper, his gaze carelessly sweeping over the messenger, seeing no unusual movement, then fixed upon the letter’s contents.

The more he read, the more shock flickered in his eyes; he muttered, “So that’s how it is... If this is true, the task of quelling the rebels will be effortless.”

“Withdraw. This letter must not be disclosed to a second person.”
White Tiger stood, his tall stature imposing, the tone allowing no dispute, betraying a hint of excitement.

“Understood, I shall not utter a word.”
The man bowed even lower, saluted, and left in haste.

“It seems even the heavens favor the Commander’s mission.”
A faint smile played at White Tiger’s lips as he waved; the iron door swung open.

A towering figure appeared before the crowd; instantly, staff set aside their dossiers and greeted, “Sir.”

White Tiger had no time for them, striding towards the gate and vanishing swiftly.

“What urgent matter is the lord attending?”
One asked, curious, as he watched White Tiger’s hurried departure.

“Enough. Don’t ask questions you shouldn’t. If the lord is displeased, he’ll have you spar with him at the training ground.”

The man shivered at the thought, recalling his own frail form being flung about.

Elsewhere—

Six Gates, Seven Sorrows Hall

Only two men sat at the three-yard sandalwood table in the great hall, discussing matters.

The man at the lesser seat seemed barely thirty, his black, glossy hair tied with a ribbon, noble nose, and shining dark eyes exuding the aura of a refined gentleman.

The man at the main seat was unremarkable in appearance, nothing about him to boast, but from him emanated the aura of authority, compelling submission.

The handsome man waited quietly for the other to speak.

After a long pause, the main-seat man set aside his documents and sighed deeply.

“Chief Inspector, what does the Emperor’s secret edict say?”
The handsome man asked carefully.

This ordinary-looking man was the Commander of the Six Gates—Chu Shanhe. He tossed the secret letter over.
“See for yourself.”

The handsome man read it thoroughly, his brow furrowing ever tighter.
After a while, he exhaled. “The earlier instructions are clear enough, but the last line—‘minimize losses as much as possible’—what does that mean? In battle, swords see no eyes, and even with foresight, we can’t perfectly anticipate the enemy’s moves. If we win but are blamed by His Majesty, our efforts will go unrewarded.”

“Enough!”
Chu Shanhe interrupted. “Qinglong, some things can be said, others cannot.”

Qinglong immediately stood and bowed to admit fault.
“I know my mistake.”

“Enough.”
Chu Shanhe was also troubled. “I suspect this is the Embroidered Guards’ doing—tampering with the edict.”

“What? How dare they!”
Qinglong was incredulous. “Our Six Gates communicate directly with His Majesty by secret edict—only this single channel. If the Embroidered Guards meddle, they’re disregarding us!”

“I recall His Majesty has two eunuchs drafting his documents now—his illnesses prevent him from reviewing petitions for long.”

“You mean the Embroidered Guards bribed those old eunuchs?”
Qinglong’s brows knotted. This was a tricky matter.

On one side, affairs in the capital are handled for the Emperor; on the other, the Six Gates monitor the martial world far afield. Clearly, the former has His Majesty’s trust. The capital controls Six Gates’ communication, and though the Embroidered Guards can’t intervene directly, they can act through others.

The rivalry between the two factions has never ceased, and only grows fiercer.

“Let’s handle our own affairs first. This is a rare major operation; we mustn’t sabotage ourselves.”
Chu Shanhe steadied himself and waved Qinglong’s complaints aside.

“Understood, I’ll meet the expedition general to discuss Six Gates’ responsibilities.”

“Go.”
Chu Shanhe nodded and gazed at the silver wolf sculpture behind the table.

The wolf’s fangs bared, the ferocious aura almost leaping from the statue.

“Hua Wenkai, your provocation is truly clever. If I retract the canine teeth, you advance; if I initiate conflict between Six Gates and the Embroidered Guards, His Majesty will favor the latter. He doesn’t want to see the Chu family grow too powerful.”

“Hey, what brings you here?”
As Chu Shanhe pondered how to respond to Hua Wenkai’s maneuvers, Qinglong’s surprised voice rang out.

Turning, he saw White Tiger’s tall figure at his side.

“You’re here.”
Chu Shanhe glanced at him, then resumed thinking.

White Tiger chuckled. “Boss, still worried about suppressing the bandits?”

“Hey, if you have no urgent business, get going. Can’t you see the boss is troubled?”
Qinglong shot White Tiger a look.

White Tiger grinned, handed Qinglong the letter, and declared to Chu Shanhe, “Boss, I’ve just received a frontline report concerning the two rebel leaders. With this intelligence, our operation will be unstoppable, and His Majesty will surely view us in a new light.”

“Oh?”
Chu Shanhe took the letter with interest.

After reading it, his brow furrowed further.
“Who gave you this report?”

“That... I don’t know. He said he joined Six Gates one or two years ago and manages external personnel.”

“Bring him here. I want his background investigated thoroughly. As for the letter’s authenticity... we’ll see once his background is verified.”

Chu Shanhe tossed the letter to White Tiger.

White Tiger looked to Qinglong for help; Qinglong shrugged helplessly and went off to carry out Chu Shanhe’s orders.

Left with no choice, White Tiger drooped his head and went to fetch the dossier on the bamboo-hat man.

“Wait.”
Just as White Tiger was about to leave, Chu Shanhe spoke.
“Have Xuanwu handle this. I have a more important task for you now.”

“Hm?”
White Tiger’s spirits instantly revived, leaping behind Chu Shanhe, expectant.
“Boss, you have... something even more important for me?”

“How many times must I tell you—what are you to call me in Six Gates?”
Chu Shanhe stepped aside from White Tiger’s looming form.

“Heh, Chief Inspector, whatever important task you need from me, just command. I’ll brave any peril—”

“Enough, enough, your mouth never stops.”
Chu Shanhe cut him off, then whispered in his ear.

“Ah—”
White Tiger dragged out the sound, reluctant.

Chu Shanhe’s face darkened.
“What, unwilling? Fine, the Six Gates dungeon happens to need a warden. I think you—”

“Alright, alright, whatever you say, I’ll do it.”
White Tiger acquiesced; he had no desire to listen to the wails of prisoners every day, lest it drive him mad.

“Close the door on your way out.”

“Got it~”
White Tiger rolled his eyes and replied absentmindedly.

“Bang!”
With the closing of the door, only Chu Shanhe remained in the Seven Sorrows Hall.

He shook his head in resignation.
“This fellow is still so clumsy...”

Reflecting on the letter White Tiger had handed him, Chu Shanhe pondered,
“But the letter’s authenticity cannot be faked. I just hope Xuanwu’s investigation won’t disappoint.”

Elsewhere—

Northern Inspectorate

A man with long, ink-blue hair sat on the throne in the grand hall, dressed in simple black robes. Beside him, a young man of about twenty sat on the steps below.

It was Hua Wenkai and Qing Jing, one of the Thirteen Guardians.

Hua Wenkai was carefully examining a steel ball the size of a walnut.

“Marvelous, marvelous. Su Qing, oh Su Qing, who would have thought your wife’s artifact-crafting has reached the master level. Fortunately, I made my move early; otherwise, her unpredictability would be hard to control.”

He produced a translucent jade vial from his robe.

Qing Jing’s breath quickened at the sight. His urgency in delivering the Silken Touch was for the antidote to his poisoning.

“This pill will delay the poison for half a year; consider it your reward for this task.”

Yet Hua Wenkai did not intend to hand over the antidote immediately.

However dissatisfied, Qing Jing could not alter his circumstances. He respectfully accepted the antidote.
“Thank you, Commander, for the medicine. I will do my utmost to bring Su Bai before you soon.”

“Go.”
Hua Wenkai pocketed the Silken Touch and dismissed him.

“Yes, I take my leave.”

Qing Jing bowed and departed.

Half an hour later—

“Have this pill analyzed for its ingredients.”
Qing Jing was cautious; Hua Wenkai’s antidote may contain other effects. He had to be vigilant.

While waiting for the underground pharmacy’s results, Qing Jing pondered Su Bai’s whereabouts.
“Little prince, you are truly adept at hiding. I’ve scoured all of Shengzhou and found not a trace.”

He looked up at the setting sun, anxiety gnawing at him, a vague sense of foreboding slowly growing within...