Chapter One: Sudden Upheaval in the Depths of the Palace

In the second year of the Sacred Calendar of Wu Zhou, the empire enjoyed favorable weather, abundant harvests, ample clothing and food, and peace along its borders; there were no wars, and the people all lived and worked in contentment. It was, in every sense, a golden age of peace and prosperity.

Yet beneath this tranquil surface, dark currents swirled. Nearly a decade had passed since the Empress Wu Zetian changed the nation's name from Tang to Zhou, but loyal and upright officials within the court still devoted themselves tirelessly to restoring the Li Tang dynasty. Many other courtiers, however, stood fiercely in defense of the Wu Zhou regime. Thus, the various bureaucratic factions within the court vied for power and advantage, employing every possible stratagem, and their struggles grew ever more intense. For a time, the ancient capital of Chang'an was shrouded in intrigue and treachery.

Deep into the night, within the grand and towering imperial palace of Daming Palace, all was quiet save for the patrolling guards standing in formation. Most had already retired for the night, leaving only the rows of wind lanterns hanging from the eaves to cast dim and wavering light across the corridors, their shadows flickering in the evening breeze.

Within the Hall of Han Yuan, lamps still burned bright. Seated regally upon the dragon couch was a dignified and noblewoman: Empress Wu Zetian of Wu Zhou herself. Standing at her side, hands respectfully folded, was the beautiful Lady Shangguan Wan’er, famed throughout the land as the "female prime minister."

Unbeknownst to those below, two figures clad in black lurked silently upon the roof. As the night wind stirred and the candlelight within the hall flickered, the figures slipped soundlessly across the eaves, curling themselves upon the great beams overhead. Wu Zetian and Shangguan Wan’er remained oblivious. The sound of the night watch’s clappers drifted in from outside. Stretching languidly, Wu Zetian said, “Wan’er, it is already midnight. You may go and rest.”

Shangguan Wan’er bowed slightly and replied, “Your Majesty, you labor tirelessly for the people and the nation. It is only right that I remain by your side. Rather, it is Your Majesty who must take care of your health.”

Wu Zetian sighed softly, “How can I rest? Three years ago, Wang Xiao-jie, as Commander of the Qingbian Campaign, led our troops against Sun Wanrong, the Khitan Khagan, and ventured too deep into the Eastern Gorge of Xieshi. The army was annihilated; poor Wang Xiao-jie, unwilling to be captured, leapt to his death. Now Sun Wanrong believes the imperial might can be challenged, and harbors rebellious intent. Once again, he gathers his forces, and urgent reports from the frontier have arrived again and again.”

As they spoke, the black-clad figure at the front quietly reached toward the sword on his back. The other, behind him, tugged at his sleeve, and the first instantly understood, nodding in response. He released the sword, reached into his robe, and drew forth five steel darts. Taking advantage of a sudden gust that dimmed the candlelight, his hand flicked out, sending five cold stars whistling through the air—three aimed at Wu Zetian, and two at Shangguan Wan’er by her side. The force behind the darts was expertly judged; they flew slowly at first, making no sound as they sliced through the air, but halfway to their targets, they suddenly accelerated, flashing like lightning.

Shangguan Wan’er’s eyes glinted with keen light. In that split-second of crisis, she swept up her gauzy skirts, snapped her right foot out, and flipped the massive nanmu table in front of Wu Zetian upright as a shield. With a series of sharp thuds, three steel darts buried themselves in the table. Without pause, her right leg swept up, kicking the darts aimed at her chest and abdomen up toward the ceiling, while her hand, delicate as jade, sliced through the air, deflecting the dart aimed at her face back toward the assailant in a single, fluid motion.

Hardly had she fended off the attack than Shangguan Wan’er spun around, dived to the dragon couch, and triggered a hidden mechanism. With a metallic clatter, a great golden net fell from above, cocooning both herself and Wu Zetian securely within. The commotion brought the patrolling guards rushing to the scene, shouting, “Assassins! Protect Her Majesty!”

The black-clad figure at the front caught the rebounding dart in his hand, startled and uncertain; he had never expected that the gentle and graceful Shangguan Wan’er would possess such astonishing martial skill. The figure behind him whispered, “There’s no chance now, we must go!” With that, the two activated their lightness skill, bursting through the roof tiles and fleeing across the rooftops of Daming Palace. By the time the elite guards of the Imperial Stable clambered to the roof in pursuit, the two had vanished like shooting stars across the sky.

In the city of Chang’an, the head of the Shunfeng Escort Agency, Ma Youjin, called out, “Mount up!” His escort captains and guards responded in unison, “Safe travels with Shunfeng!” The group rode out, circling around two horse-drawn carriages. The townspeople, upon seeing them, greeted him with respect: “Master Ma!” Ma Youjin replied only with a slight nod—such was the rule of the escort business. Escorting valuable goods was perilous, and so strict discipline was necessary; within a hundred miles of departure, the head escort would not speak needlessly, lest an unguarded word betray their route to scheming ears and invite disaster.

Ma Youjin had escorted goods along the Hexi Corridor for thirty years without a single mishap, earning a sterling reputation in Chang’an. Yet he knew well that success depended less on martial skill—though his was formidable—than on his extensive network. As the saying goes, there is always someone stronger; no matter how skilled, one cannot fight one’s way through every threat. Thus, every year at the start and end of the season, Ma Youjin would send generous gifts to both heroes and underworld figures along the Hexi route. The brotherhood of the martial world valued loyalty, and seeing Ma Youjin’s thoughtfulness, most left him untroubled. If the occasional petty thief caused trouble, the skilled guards of his agency quickly dealt with them. To the common folk, oblivious to these nuances, Ma Youjin seemed a peerless martial hero, undefeated across Hexi. Such praise brought only a wry smile to his lips.

This time, the destination was Anxi, the far western frontier of the Tang. Ordinarily, with his reputation and connections, he would not need to travel in person. But the client had specifically requested his presence. On second thought, he realized it would be a good opportunity—his only son, Ma Beifang, was thirteen or fourteen and had never ventured beyond Chang’an, spending his days idling about the city. This journey would be a chance for the boy to see the world, and for Ma Youjin to introduce him to the heroes along the route. One day, the family business would pass to his son; with the support of these established figures, his future dealings would be much smoother.

Meanwhile, in Chang’an, at the Prime Minister’s residence. Land in Chang’an was as precious as gold, yet the Prime Minister’s estate stretched across six streets from north to south, a testament to his power. The current Prime Minister, Wu Sansi, sat in a grand armchair. Earlier that year, his aunt, Emperor Wu Zetian, had promoted him to this position despite the objections of ministers like Di Renjie and Ji Xiang. Yet the censor-in-chief, Li Shan, relying on his status as a Tang royal, had risked his life to protest, insisting that Wu Sansi’s appointment would plunge the realm into chaos. This infuriated the Empress, who ordered Lai Junchen of the Court of Inquiry to arrest and interrogate Li Shan. Unable to withstand the torture, Li Shan died in prison. Wu Sansi then sent men to eradicate the rest of the Li family; Lady Li hanged herself upon hearing the news, and the thirteen-year-old heir, Li Chongyuan, disappeared without a trace.

Standing before Wu Sansi now was Assistant Censor Zheng Yi, a ruthless and capable aide. Zheng Yi reported, “My lord, I have learned that Li Chongyuan was escorted out of Chang’an that same day by two family retainers, heading northwest toward the Anxi Protectorate.”

“Hmm, the Grand Protector of Anxi, Tian Yangming, was sworn brother to Li Shan. If they’re heading northwest, that’s the only place they could go. But Tian is stationed far out on the frontier and commands a band of fierce soldiers. Once the boy reaches him, he’ll vanish into the wilds, and we’ll never capture him.”

Zheng Yi smiled slightly. “My lord need not worry; I have already arranged for men along the way…” He made a chopping gesture with his hand.

Wu Sansi grunted, “Are these men reliable?”

“They’re all former subordinates of that man. Since his death, they’ve drifted into the underworld. I have old ties with them, so…”

Wu Sansi snorted coldly, “Xue Huaiyi? Just hearing of him and those people from the so-called Myriad Mysteries Palace makes me sick. Best not to associate with them and sully your name.”

“Yes, I will remember your instructions,” Zheng Yi replied, bowing.

A few days later, Ma Youjin and his group entered Suzhou territory. In these peaceful times, banditry was rare, and the road was uneventful. Ma Beifang, having spent his life in the city, was delighted by the open wilderness and mountain scenery. The escort guards, eager to please the young master, would occasionally shoot a few wild hares or pheasants, tossing them onto the carriage. Ma Beifang, his mouth watering, borrowed a bow to try shooting for himself, but his strength was lacking; sweating profusely, he could not even draw the string. Ma Youjin watched from a distance, shaking his head with a gentle smile. His wife had died early, and, fearing his only son might suffer hardship, he had never remarried. Though he had taught the boy a little boxing and kicking, the child was mischievous and restless, never putting in the hard work, and so his skills were mere show. Ma Youjin could not bring himself to be strict, letting the boy idle as he pleased.

After several days of hard travel, they arrived at Qingfeng Fort, a small settlement that had once been a military outpost. Over time, as more civilians moved in and the troops withdrew, it became a modest village, though its name remained unchanged. On the southern edge stood a small inn, its banner bearing the words “Shunfeng.” The old flag, thick with dust, barely revealed the characters.

The inn was run by a husband and wife and their ten-year-old daughter. As it was off the main road, customers were few, and business was just enough to scrape by. Ma Youjin, a veteran of the Hexi route, knew that taking the Qingfeng Fort shortcut saved a hundred miles, and that food and lodging at this inn were cheap. He was well acquainted with the proprietor, Old Huang, and trusted that, despite its remoteness, the place was safe. Moreover, the inn’s name—Shunfeng, the same as his escort agency—seemed an auspicious sign.

From afar, they saw Old Huang feeding the chickens at the doorway, a dozen speckled hens pecking busily at the grain. Spotting the approaching escort party, Old Huang hurried out to meet them. “Master Ma, you’ve had a hard journey! This morning I heard magpies chattering in the branches and wondered if some honored guest might arrive. And here you are this afternoon!”

Ma Youjin laughed heartily. “You old fellow, your tongue grows ever more honeyed with age. This evening, slaughter those chickens and make a big stew to reward my brothers.”

“Certainly!” Old Huang grinned from ear to ear. Every visit from Ma Youjin brought him a tidy profit. Other than hosting the Shunfeng Agency, he rarely saw guests all year. “The usual arrangement: all the best rooms, and the horses get the finest feed. Once you’ve roasted the beans, my men will see to the feeding themselves.”