Just as the third drumbeat of midnight sounded, the Ye residence in the east of Yingzhou City was shrouded in an eerie mist.

The cicadas had fallen silent sometime earlier, leaving only a few faded lanterns swaying in the night wind under the eaves, casting the "Integrity and Uprightness Passed Down Through Generations" plaque on the wall in a flickering light.

Inside the study, Ye Qing was rubbing his aching temples.

A thick layer of candle wax had accumulated on the celadon candlestick on the desk. The candlelight cast the old man's hunched figure onto the bookshelves that covered the wall. Among the exquisitely bound books, several military treatises with curled edges could be vaguely seen—the very books prepared for that student who was not good at reading.

"This kid..." The old scholar shook his head and smiled bitterly, taking out a letter sealed with wax from a hidden compartment.

The parchment bears a vermilion seal in the lower right corner, clearly indicating it is a letter of recommendation addressed to General Shen Yi, the General Who Guards the North.

The letter praised Xin Yunzhou, saying that although he lacked literary talent, he had unique insights into classics such as "The Art of War" and "Six Secret Teachings," and even more remarkably, he often had ingenious ideas on military strategy.

The words, “If this child receives guidance from a renowned teacher, he will surely achieve great things in the future,” are written with such force that they penetrate the paper. The last drop of ink spreads at the end of the character “器” (qi, meaning vessel/equipment), as if it were the old man’s hand trembling with excitement at that moment.

Suddenly, a soft "click" came from outside the window, like the sound of a tile being stepped on.

"Cloud Boat?" Ye Qingzheng suddenly looked up, his eyes lighting up beneath his gray eyebrows.

Since receiving that inexplicable letter severing ties with his master three days ago, he has been unable to sleep at night—although the handwriting tried its best to imitate Xin Yunzhou's crooked strokes, it lacked that unique recklessness.

The old man, supporting his aching back, got up, and the rosewood armchair groaned under its strain.

"Have you figured it out? Come in."

"This student has come to apologize to my esteemed teacher."

The familiar voice trembled slightly.

Ye Qingzheng's hand paused on the door latch, and his dim old eyes suddenly sharpened—his tone was too deliberate, like a clumsy recitation on a theatrical stage.

The latch slid off silently.

A flash of cold light, and a dagger coated with snake venom plunged straight for the heart! The dark green glow on the blade shone like a snake's forked tongue in the candlelight.

"You—" Ye Qingzheng staggered backward, knocking over a bookshelf, bamboo slips and silk scrolls fluttering down like snowflakes. His withered fingers gripped the assassin's wrist tightly, and he finally saw the gentle, jade-like face clearly, "Qi... Huaiyu?"

"Sir, you have a good eye." Qi Huaiyu chuckled, increasing the pressure in his hand by three points. The dagger pierced through the faded white robe, cruelly twisting within the aged chest. "That good-for-nothing Xin Yunzhou, does he even deserve to be your last disciple?" He said this with a smile still on his lips, as if discussing today's tea and snacks.

Ye Qing slumped into the armchair, making gurgling sounds in his throat. Blood seeped from between his fingers, dripping onto the letter of recommendation on the desk, obscuring the words "Yun Zhou is exceptionally gifted." The old man's trembling fingers traced across the table, spilling pine soot ink that mingled with the blood, soaking the forged letter of severance.

"Don't waste your energy." Qi Huaiyu took out a jade pendant with a coiled dragon pattern from his pocket—a personal item he had taken from Xin Yunzhou three days ago when he got him drunk at Zuixianlou. He deliberately half-hid the jade pendant in the pool of blood, making the Xin family's hidden patterns on the rope clearly visible. "Your most beloved student will soon..."

He suddenly fell silent, his ears twitching slightly—the sound of an old servant dragging his cloth shoes could be heard coming from the backyard.

"Master, would you like some more lamp oil?" A hoarse voice came from behind the door.

Qi Huaiyu's eyes narrowed, and he twisted the dagger hard against Ye Qingzheng's heart. The old man's pupils contracted sharply, and his withered hand dug five bloody finger marks into the table before finally falling limply. Cloudy tears slid down his cheeks, whether for his unfinished work or for the student he had framed, it was unclear.

"Master?" Footsteps stopped under the eaves.

Qi Huaiyu quickly blew out the candle and took out a packet of incense ash from his sleeve, sprinkling it evenly around the corpse.

This was specially taken from the incense burner in the main hall of Lingyin Temple—Xin Yunzhou has been going to the temple frequently to draw lots and ask for divination recently, and this will serve as important evidence.

Before climbing out the window, he didn't forget to turn to the "Espionage" chapter of "The Art of War" on his desk and press his bloodied finger next to the sentence "Dead spies are those who deceive others."

With a creak, the study door was pushed open.

"Ah—!" The old servant's scream pierced the night sky, startling the crows that filled the trees at dusk.

Qi Huaiyu had already climbed over the back wall and disappeared into the night like a ghost.

He deliberately took a detour to the tavern in the west of the city and discarded his blood-stained outer robe—a straight indigo robe similar in style to the one Xin Yunzhou often wore, with the Xin family's unique cloud pattern embroidered on the cuffs—within the watchman's sight.

At dawn, news of Ye Qingzheng's murder spread like wildfire throughout the streets and alleys of Yingzhou.

"Have you heard? The great scholar Ye was stabbed to death in his study!"

Granny Wang, who ran the breakfast stall, yelled at the queue of people as she fried dough sticks. The sizzling oil in the pan seemed to echo her horrifying description, "What a tragedy! The young master Xin's jade pendant is stuck in his heart! The blood! It's stained all the Confucian classics in the room red!"

In front of the silk shop, several scholars wearing square headscarves stood indignantly.

The leading youth slammed the Analects onto the ground: "Xin Yunzhou, that heartless bastard! Last month at the poetry gathering, Ye Gong personally straightened his clothes, praising him as 'wise in disguise'!"

The short scholar beside him suddenly lowered his voice: "I heard... it's because Lord Ye wants to sever his master-disciple relationship with him..."

"Nonsense!" an old man selling firewood suddenly interrupted. "Yesterday at noon, Lord Ye came to my stall to buy pine firewood, saying he wanted to roast the newly acquired venison for Young Master Xin!"

His rough hands traced the cracks on the carrying pole. "When the old man talked about that child, his eyes were always smiling..."

In a private room on the second floor of the teahouse, Zhou Zhuo leisurely savored a pre-Qingming Longjing tea.

He winked at the man in plain clothes opposite him, who immediately understood and rushed into the street, raising his arms and shouting: "The Xin family, relying on their noble status, disregards human life! Ye Gong's disciples and associates are everywhere in the court and the countryside; let's go to the yamen to demand an explanation!"

The crowd surged forth like boiling water. By the time the first rays of sunlight shone on the grievance drum at the prefectural government office, hundreds of people had already gathered.

Someone started smashing a rotten egg, and thick, yellow liquid immediately dripped from the stone lion in front of the Xin family mansion.

Behind the crowd, several furtive figures were quietly distributing white banners that read "A life for a life."

"Bang!"

Xin Jiuwei was awakened by the sound of banging on the door. Her jade earring slipped from her fingertips and broke in two on the blue brick floor.

She studied Qi Huaiyu's account books until the wee hours last night, the hidden numbers coiling in her mind like venomous snakes—in her past life, he had used these very tricks of falsifying accounts to devour the Xin family's century-old foundation.

"Miss! Something terrible has happened!"

Wang Qing stumbled in, her hair half-undone, her almond-shaped eyes filled with terror. "Master Ye has been murdered, and the authorities say... they say it was the eldest young master..."

She suddenly choked, staring at the gleaming dagger peeking out from under the young lady's pillow.