August 27th, light rain, oppressive.

In the Imperial City, this time of year always brings abundant rain—light showers every three days, heavy rain every fortnight. Sometimes the moat can’t handle the flow and overflows; every year it’s repaired, but the problem never disappears.

At mid-5 a.m., two small palace gates opened, and officials from each Government Office entered in single file. They stepped inside the palace walls to report for duty at their respective offices. Some were young, others old, but all had sharp looks in their eyes; each was deftly skilled, and to serve here, you needed real ability—and more importantly, cunning.

After entering, the various Government Offices were still far ahead; even the nearest took the time it takes to burn a stick of incense by foot. So if you didn’t look at the official robes, you could judge rank by whether someone walked or was carried by sedan chair. Only Senior Third Grade Officials and above could ride a chair inside the palace.

Moreover, Senior Third Grade Officials had the privilege of not squeezing through the main entrance with others—a separate small door at the side was prepared just for these bosses.

Official sedan chairs also differed in color: red for high-ranking military officials, dark green for senior civil servants, orange for Prince’s Mansion.

Besides these three colors, there was also a black sedan chair belonging to the Xuanqing Guard. Pitch-black, matching their brocade robes, adorned with covert Taotie patterns.

Throughout the Xuanqing Guard, only Pang Ban, a Senior Third Grade Official, qualified to ride in a sedan chair within the palace.

And once the black sedan chair arrived, all other chairs would steer clear—either speeding ahead or staying away, never traveling together.

Since its inception, Xuanqing Guard and the various court officials have never been of one accord; even if they wished to mingle, it was impossible.

One group tended the people for the Emperor; the other hunted demons for him.

Speaking of the Emperor, Pang Ban always felt immense pressure as he sat in the sedan chair. This was his twenty-first year as Commander of Xuanqing Guard, and the twenty-fifth year since the Emperor ascended the throne. Their relationship as Monarch and Minister was deeply rooted; Pang Ban always believed he was the one who understood the Emperor best.

Yet in recent years Pang Ban had realized he was wrong—the Emperor was not someone he could fathom.

No Great Court Assembly today, no need to go to the Ten Thousand People Hall. According to the Emperor’s habits, Pang Ban went to wait at the Diligent Governance Hall. Others with business before the throne included several Assistant Ministers from various departments, and also the Right Minister. However, these groups gathered into small circles, unanimously ignoring Pang Ban in his black robe, keeping their distance.

Waiting from 5 a.m. until 7 a.m., he still wasn’t summoned by the Emperor. Most of the others had already departed. The Right Minister went in to see the Emperor and came out smiling, nodding at Pang Ban, his smile barely disguising a gleeful malice.

Once you were favored, so what? Now the Emperor won’t even see you.

As the Imperial hound, it was natural to be unwelcome; Pang Ban was always aware of this. But if the hound falls out of favor with the master, its fate can only be the cooking pot. This was one crucial reason why the Noble System allied with the Cultivation Race dared to reach for Xuanqing Guard.

But Pang Ban would never sit and wait for death. He knew, regardless of how the Emperor viewed him, Xuanqing Guard was indispensable to the Dynasty, and must operate independently outside local administration to function at its fullest. So he wasn’t worried that the Emperor would agree to dismantle Xuanqing Guard. His concern was that, to placate the resentful qi of the Noble System and Cultivation Race, the Emperor might consent to their proposal of installing a Military Supervisor within Xuanqing Guard. That would fundamentally alter Xuanqing Guard.

"Lord Pang, please return. His Majesty is weary and does not wish to see you." The eunuch shuffled over with a beaming smile to deliver the message. For half a year now, it had nearly always been this refrain—the Emperor refused to see him again.

"Eunuch Wang, would you kindly present this dossier? Once His Majesty reviews it, perhaps he will summon me." Pang Ban handed over the dossier Jiang Cheng had brought from Li City Guard Station, his hawk-like gaze fixed fiercely on the eunuch before him.

"This..." Eunuch Wang wanted to refuse, but pressured by the sharp gleam in Pang Ban’s eyes, he didn’t dare. Reluctantly, he nodded, accepting the dossier with a forced "please wait," then vanished again into the Diligent Governance Hall.

After a while, Eunuch Wang emerged again, face oddly colored. His tone was unchanged, but the words were different: "Lord Pang, His Majesty will see you."

Pang Ban nodded, finally able to breathe a deep sigh of relief. The Emperor’s willingness to see him meant the matters in the dossier had alerted the ruler to their gravity.

Entering Diligent Governance Hall, he moved past a landscape of lake stones, finally arriving at a grand study.

The study was dominated by imperial yellow; two walls filled with bookshelves, one wall hung with a Map of the Jing Dynasty’s Territory. In front of the map stood a massive desk, cluttered yet orderly with various items. A man, his hair streaked with grey, sat before the desk, carefully reading a dossier.

"Pang Ban greets Your Majesty!"

"..."

No reply from the front; Pang Ban knelt, not daring to rise. He kept his head bowed, uncertain what to think.

After a long pause, there came a low, husky voice from ahead, worn and rough like the throat of a lifelong smoker.

"What do you intend to do about this matter?"

"Replying to Your Majesty, the current plan is to seize the opportunity and purge both the Wen Family and the Jingbei Army in one move."

"Hmph. The Wen Family, treacherous wolves, have boldness indeed. Yet I did not expect the Jingbei Army to be so rotten. Xuanqing Guard bears responsibility for this as well!"

Pang Ban, who had just barely straightened, bent low once more, head pressed to the floor: "Your subordinate acknowledges guilt and awaits Your Majesty’s punishment."

Xuanqing Guard held oversight roles in every army, akin to observers—with no authority to interfere in military affairs but duty-bound to discover and report errors. The Jingbei Army’s involvement in illicit arms dealings went unreported by Xuanqing Guard; what did that reveal?

"Hmph!"

No specific punishment was mentioned; only a heavy silence followed.

"Explain your plans."

"Your Majesty, your subordinate believes swift action is required, and it is best to begin tightening from the top down..." Pang Ban, word by word, began to lay out the plan he’d devised these past days—broadly similar to what Jiang Cheng had envisioned, but sharper and richer in detail, seasoned and shrewd overall.

"Submit a detailed secret memorial tomorrow. Withdraw."

Once the matter was discussed, Pang Ban was dismissed without further exchange; he felt plainly the Emperor’s cold indifference.

Pang Ban shook his head—the Emperor’s attitude left him uneasy. Still, with the case from Li City exposed, the Emperor’s response was clear as ever, intolerant of the slightest flaw.

With that in mind, Pang Ban urged the sedan chair bearers to hurry. He rushed back to the Public Office, needing to draft the memorial’s specifics today, and even gather others to critique and refine it; time was tight.

As Pang Ban left, the Emperor raised his head, gazing toward the sealed hall doors. A faint, gentle smile emerged on his face. Then, reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a list, turning to the first page and marking a check by "Pang Ban" with the red brush on his desk.