“To follow one’s capacity, one’s capacity comes from one’s knowledge. Thus, to deepen one’s virtue, one must broaden one’s capacity. To broaden one’s capacity, one must expand one’s knowledge…”

The wind raged like mountains being torn apart, the waters poured like the Milky Way crashing down.

In the dim darkness of the imperial palace, only the grand and solemn Sutra Repository flickered with a few candles.

The clear reading voice fell silent.

Jiang Zirou set down the ancient book in her hand, picked up the long saber resting on the desk and slowly walked outside.

At the main doors.

A young eunuch in a grey robe was listening so intently that he had forgotten himself.

He only snapped awake when Jiang Zirou reached his side.

Hurriedly, he bowed deeply.

“This servant greets Your Highness the Princess.”

“No need for excessive ceremony.”

He was about the same age as Jiang Zirou—features proper, complexion fair. If not for having been castrated, he might even be considered handsome.

The young eunuch was named Jiang Cheng, assigned by Emperor Heng six months ago to care for Jiang Zirou within the Sutra Repository.

Originally, the repository had two young eunuchs.

But the other one had fled for his life just a few days earlier.

Jiang Zirou picked up an oil-paper umbrella from the rack by the gate. Seeing the eunuch standing there all alone, she grew curious and asked, “The rebel army is already at the city gates. These past few days many eunuchs and palace maids have fled. Why didn’t you leave?”

“His Majesty Heng has not treated this servant poorly. Even though I am just a eunuch, I cannot lose my backbone.”

“Good.”

Jiang Zirou nodded.

“But where is Your Highness going tonight?” Jiang Cheng asked curiously.

He knew Jiang Zirou was the late emperor’s daughter—the rightful Eldest Princess of Great Xia. He also knew she was learned, brilliant and heavily favored by the current emperor, but the Jiang Zirou standing before him now… saber in hand, killing intent swirling, too sharp to look at directly… this was something he had only seen in the past half-year.

She opened the oil-paper umbrella in one hand, the Great Xia Dragon Sparrow saber in the other and walked into the heavy rain.

Her slender white silhouette disappeared into the darkness.

Only when she nearly vanished from sight did Jiang Cheng shudder violently.

He ran out into the rain.

But no matter how he searched, Jiang Zirou was nowhere to be seen. Only a drifting voice echoed through the empty courtyard before the Sutra Repository, “This journey—shall be to quell the chaos.”

* * *

The imperial capital.

Wind and rain crashed like a waterfall, yet the chaotic streets were still packed with people.

Vendor stalls, shattered carriages, mutilated corpses lay scattered across the wide bluestone road.

Children’s cries, women’s screams, soldiers’ shouts and the roar of the storm all clashed in a suffocating uproar.

Jiang Zirou’s white robes remained spotless.

She stepped lightly through the waterlogged street, brushing past panicked refugees desperately fleeing for their lives.

“Young lady—are you crazy!? The rebels are everywhere outside the south gate! Run toward the north gate or east gate! Run now and you might still survive!”

Someone shouted frantically.

Then disappeared into the fleeing crowd.

* * *

South Gate.

Inside a chaotic shop, Jiang Zirou put down her umbrella.

She took a bamboo hat from one shelf, placed it on her head, then, after glancing around, picked up a blue-faced fanged demon mask from another shelf and put it on.

At that moment a crisp blade-song resonated from the saber in her hand.

Reverberating through the empty shop.

“Alright, don’t rush. I will keep the promise I made to you.”

She gently tightened her grip.

Only then did the trembling of the Great Xia Dragon Sparrow slowly subside.

* * *

Outside the South Gate.

An endless military camp stretched out—banners like the sea, blades like a forest, murderous aura soaring to the heavens.

In the largest tent at the center of the camp a dozen men sat drinking and feasting, tearing meat with their teeth. Even the storm outside did nothing to dampen their indulgence.

“Hehehe… Old Fourth, tell me—after we butcher that bastard Jiang Heng, who do you think gets to sit on the throne?”

The men laughed as they ate.

A pig-like, massively fat prince squinted his eyes and asked with drunken cheer.

The raucous atmosphere froze instantly.

“Why talk about that now? You really think we’ve already won? And not that Jiang Heng will chop off our heads and hang them on the walls?”

The Fourth Prince, tall and worn-looking, said coldly.

“Are you joking? We have three hundred thousand soldiers. The capital only has a hundred thousand imperial guards at best. Plus, with the martial grandmasters from five Holy Lands helping us—if Jiang Heng manages to kill me, I, Jiang Wei, will swallow this whole table on the spot!”

The speaker was a short, ugly prince with shifty eyes.

His exaggerated tone drew laughter from the entire tent.

“What Seventh Brother says is true. We are confident of winning, but we cannot let down our guard. After all, Emperor Heng still has the Great Xia Academy supporting him. And the city walls of the capital still have the formation left by our ancestors—its power is immense. We must be cautious.”

The Crown Prince spoke with a faint smile.

The other princes fell silent. The Crown Prince’s mother was a legitimate daughter of the Nangong clan and he himself was a core disciple of the Taixuan Sect.

Two of the five Holy Lands present had strong ties to him.

The old Grand Chancellor Wang Cijiu stroked his long, thin beard and added lightly, “The city walls do not necessarily need to be breached. Formations may block armies, but they cannot stop martial grandmasters. A few grandmasters acting together could easily take the little emperor’s head, considering the palace’s current state.”

“Indeed. This operation went smoothly thanks to Mr. Wang’s assistance. As agreed, no matter which of us becomes emperor, we shall fulfill our promise to you.”

The Crown Prince patted his chest.

“…If the old prince truly no longer lives, then we have nothing to fear. But if he still lives, none of us may escape intact.”

A Taixuan Sect elder hesitated.

The skeletal elder from Dead Man Lake—named Raksha—laughed hoarsely.

“There is no need to worry. I can assure you—the Old Prince is already dead.”

“What worries me is something else…”

“What is it?”

Everyone looked on curiously.

But at that moment—

Swish!

The heavy tent flap was suddenly lifted.