In the still night, when even the grass and trees slumbered, a butterfly danced.
It was a blue butterfly. If butterflies graced the daylight and moths the twilight, perhaps this was a moth.
Jin walked across the rooftops of the Spring Palace, guided by the butterfly. Clouds drifted like veils across the distant moon, but Jin needed no lantern light to tread with unerring surety. Viewed from the tower, the crimson-lit corridors of the palace resembled blooming peonies.
(It’s like a courtesan’s quarter. Call it the Emperor’s flower basket, no matter how poetically you try to dress it up as “the blossoming inner palace.”)
Moments ago, Jin had passed the ox-drawn carriage carrying the Emperor. Protected by feng shui barriers, the carriage left no gap large enough for even the tiniest venomous creature to infiltrate.
(The poison that afflicted Li Xuemei was undoubtedly crafted by a poison master. But it wasn’t me.)
The targets Jin was ordered to assassinate by the Empress were not concubines of the inner palace but high-ranking officials and nobility—those tied to state affairs. Whether this was the Emperor’s will or the Empress’s independent scheme, Jin did not know.
(There’s another poison master. If it were just that, it wouldn’t matter. But only someone of my kin can create such a poison.)
To uncover the identity of the poison master, Jin employed a scout butterfly. Once the butterfly absorbed poison, it could trace it back to its source.
The butterfly slipped through the lattice window and disappeared into a chamber within the Spring Palace. Jin followed silently, leaving no trace in the snow. Like a serpent, he climbed from the roof to the window and slipped inside.
The chamber was dimly lit.
A man stood with his back to the window, mixing poisons. Scattered around him were mineral-based ingredients. Alchemy. Though he did not look up, he must have sensed Jin’s intrusion.
“So, another survivor of the Qiongqi clan,” Jin said.
The man—Guaran —finally turned, his gaze dark and suspicious, his brows furrowed.
“Scout butterflies and swarms of venomous insects… a human poison trap?”
“You recognize it?”
“Only the main family of the clan could handle forbidden poisons. You… are you the son of that girl from back then?”
“Who knows?”
Jin’s words were as elusive as smoke.
“That night, the village burned to the ground. The freezing darkness extinguished even the moonlight. The clan was devoured by hellfire and eradicated—down to the last bone. The grudge from that night likely still burns in your chest, no matter the fall of the previous Emperor. Isn’t that right?”
Guaran ’s eyes wavered for a moment, like a flame flickering in the wind.
“…I could never forget.”
After a heavy silence, Guaran growled low in his throat.
“Even now, in my dreams, the flames burn.”
Jin curled his lips into a smile.
“Join me in seeking revenge.”
“The previous Emperor is dead.”
“But the imperial bloodline still reigns.”
Jin spat the words, dripping with disdain.
“This is a grudge against the imperial family, isn’t it? After relying so heavily on our clan’s poisons, they severed ties the moment they won a millennium of war and united the continent, burying us in the darkness of history. Hundreds of lives snuffed out.”
Jin’s words dripped poison onto Guaran ’s unhealed wounds.
“What was it that burned that night? Your kin, your family, your women—what did you lose?”
Guaran faltered. Memories of the past, softened by time, were carved open anew. From the ashes of despair, a flicker of flame reignited.
“…I can’t forgive them. But…”
Guaran shook his head, as if shaking off a spider’s web.
“I have no intention of pursuing revenge now.”
A flash.
Who drew their blade first—Jin or Guaran —or was it simultaneous?
Two blades tore through the veil of darkness.
Clash. The wind howled from the impact.
A second strike followed. Their weapons clashed again, neither landing a blow.
“You’re skilled. So, you weren’t just making poisons but also guarding the concubines?”
“And you’re strong. For someone so slender, your strikes are heavy.”
Talking as they clashed, Guaran pressed back with his sword. In raw strength, Guaran held the advantage. But Jin was faster, his swordplay elusive. Dodging scattered poison ingredients and cauldrons, Jin danced like a whirlwind.
Jin wielded a short sword of obsidian, its blade laced with deadly poison. Even a graze would deliver instant death. Guaran ’s weapon was a thick-bladed machete-like sword.
The air rang with the shriek of their weapons.
“…”
Jin’s short sword slipped through the tempest of steel and struck Guaran ’s ever-present mask, knocking it away.
