"Huh?" I watched Hilriad bent like a willow, my mind a mist.

"Mr. Eli, to shield myself like a cloak in rain, I can't share my name. Please don't let it weigh your heart like a stone."

I glanced at the iron-wall lineup behind him, mouth crooked like a hooked fish. "Then, Your Highness, can you tell me your true name?"

"Hilriad Osborn, ninth son of the fourth king of the Miter Empire." His smile was a thin crescent, goodwill soft as dawn.

Ninth Prince? The word dropped like a pebble, ripples running through my chest.

I remembered Tengger saying only the first three princes had a shot, like hawks over the field. So what storm was Hilriad chasing?

I flung a puzzled look at Tengger like a paper kite seeking wind.

The old fox just shook his head, a wry curve like a weathered tree, and pointed at Hilriad with his lips.

"I know this feels strange, Mr. Eli." His voice trembled like a bowstring. "I don't seek the throne. I just... want to live while my brothers wage their war."

Well now, this crown fight is a thicket of thorns, not just a neat duel.

I’d thought you pound till someone yields, then they bow out, clean as rain. From Hilriad’s face, his brothers are wolves that won’t let go.

I raised a brow like the edge of a blade. "Your Highness, why did I find you in a demon bear’s territory?"

"My third brother..." His words were heavy as lead. "He doesn’t want me alive. He tricked me, sent me far from the capital into that lair. You saw it, Mr. Eli—my guards and servants fell like cut wheat. Only Jim survived." He glanced at the black‑robed man like a sparrow checking the sky.

I looked at the guy too, my gaze a thrown pebble. He felt our eyes, hesitated like a cat at a door. "Three of the Third Prince’s guards tangled me up. I slipped free only moments ago."

"Mr. Eli, can you help me?" Hilriad’s plea came like hands reaching from cold water.

Honestly, I don’t need this risk; the princes’ knives can be snow on kin, cold and silent. But if I can meet the old emperor, maybe I can touch that buried truth like a flame under ash.

In my dream, Birand drew his sword at the coalition, a shadow flickering in river water—what was that?

My heart stalled like a kite snagged in branches as I looked at my companions.

Liqianyu still couldn’t read the room. She dashed inside and fetched a roasted sweet potato. She plopped down like a carefree sparrow to watch. Feeling my gaze, she blinked those black eyes like wet ink.

I rolled my eyes and let it drift like a leaf downstream.

Edlyn stood quiet behind me, mind turning like hidden gears. Had the girl finally lit up? Would she help yours truly untie this knot?

...

Mm. I was probably chasing clouds.

Angela stepped to Edlyn’s side and stood prim as a lamb. Her lively eyes skimmed the soldiers like dragonflies over a pond.

Suddenly I saw it clear: I had no choice, like a boat caught in the current.

Since that’s the tide, I’ll bend like bamboo and compromise.

I shrugged, shameless as a stray dog flicking off rain, then offered Hilriad my hand. "Pleasure working together."

His eyes flared like stars; he rushed in and clasped it. "Pleasure working together!"

Edlyn slipped from behind me like a shadow. She walked straight to the black‑robed man. She studied him inch by inch like a painter before a canvas. When his skin crawled, she finally returned. She tugged me close and whispered in my ear like a bee in clover.

I blinked, saw she wasn’t joking, and nodded, a small stone sinking. I told the black‑robed man to disperse the troops around us like seeds on wind. Then I dragged Hilriad aside. "Hey, little faux‑maiden, lemme ask you something."

Hilriad’s cheeks flushed like ripe peaches—excitement, or something else. "Ask."

"First, okay—how many soldiers under you?"

Hilriad lifted his eyes, counting like beads sliding on a string. "Shouldn’t be more than five hundred."

My mouth twitched like a snapped bowstring. What the hell are we even playing at, with smoke for swords?

That shy, moon-clean smile on the Ninth Prince made me feel I was doing backstroke in a cesspit.

We’re up against tens of thousands of imperial guards. If they truly want you dead, how do I shield you? My head’s just a reed before a flood.

I said, "What about this city? Don’t we have people here like grains in a granary?"

Hilriad scratched his head like a rooster in dust. "Uh, I don’t have the right to conscript."

"…"

"I believe Mr. Eli can smooth this little wrinkle, so I’ll leave it to you." He smiled like sunshine. "An Archmage’s call spreads wide as thunder."

Heh. A little problem, dropped in my lap like a hot coal.

Drop it on your grandpa, why don’t you. Keep teasing and I’ll flick your pinky till it cries, like rain tapping a drum.

Seeing me about to snap like dry bamboo, Hilriad laughed. "Easy, Mr. Eli. I was kidding. We did have some, back then."

Thank the heavens it’s a joke; there’s at least a... thousand, like a flock behind a hill.

...

What a joke. GG.