Inside the royal palace of the Karosen Kingdom, patrol squads ran back and forth like a kicked-open hive.

A tide of bodies rushed for the East Wing, then veered toward the West, then scattered north and south like startled fish. The whole palace buzzed like a street market. Yet the suspect stayed unhooked, a shadow slipping the net.

In a secluded corner, the usual calm shattered like thin ice.

“Help! The old king got shoved into the pool by intruders!” A young maid shrieked, panic fluttering like trapped sparrows. She’d seen two figures in black cloaks rush in. The old king had stepped up to block them, to scold them—this was where he soothed his mind and spirit.

They ignored him. They shoved him aside. The aging king wobbled and toppled into the water like a cut reed.

The captain of the guard heard her out. He stood thinking, a rock under rain, then nodded. “Pursue. We must seize the one who harmed the old king.”

The maid exploded like an upturned basket. “Idiots! Pursue what? Fish the old king out first!” The king was still soaking in the pool.

“Cough… cough…” The old king didn’t wait for the patrol. He hauled himself out, drenched like a drowned rooster. “Forget me. You must catch those two bastards!”

His hatred burned like a hot brand.

“Understood!”

The patrol answered as one, a blade of voices. They lunged toward where the black cloaks had vanished, hounds on a cold trail.

Elsewhere, when Jelinka and Queyas opened the room set aside for Ouyang and Lagu, chaos hit them like a market overturned. What in the world? Queyas’ thoughts snagged like cloth on thorns. He tugged Angsester’s sleeve.

“Ang, can you tell what went down here?”

Ang and Shuo had come after hearing Ouyang was here. They wanted a look at the great scholar who had once dared rap the Demon King on the head. But when the door swung open, there was no scholar, only wreckage. Fruit, vegetables, soup, meat, shattered plates—debris flung like a storm. Vases and pillows lay tossed like fallen petals.

“It… looks like a fierce fight,” said Shuo, the bald man, after a sweep. Scratches scored the door and windows like claw marks. The conclusion settled like dust. Everyone nodded. From the scene, what else could you say?

“I cleared the nearby staff so we wouldn’t disturb the scholar,” Jelinka said, guilt biting like frost. “Who knew, with no one around, we’d never know what happened inside…”

Queyas paced the room, eyes sifting like sieves, and found no more clues. “I do have a question. Who exactly fought in here? The scholar and the other man were badly hurt. They shouldn’t have had the strength. So we can rule out them waking and fighting. And if a third party broke in, a fight between the scholar and that third party doesn’t fit either…

“That leaves one answer. A third party and a fourth party came. They fought over taking the wounded scholar away.”

In truth, Queyas’ first answer was on the mark, but he never imagined two fellows with divine bodies could be bouncing around after a single day out cold. Many times, the truth stands a step away like a door ajar, yet that one step trips ninety-nine of a hundred.

As Queyas wrapped up, Ang crouched. He studied the heap of food like a hunter reading tracks.

“Don’t you think these colors are off?” Ang held up a split apple. “Exposed flesh will darken in air, sure. But not to this pale violet.”

He scooped up a banana. “If it were just the apple, I’d blame other juices. But the banana’s tinged the same. Not just fruit—look close at the vegetables, the meat. It’s all there.”

“Lili, bring the palace’s chief physician,” Jelinka ordered, her voice taut as a drawn bow.

“Yes, Your Highness!”

Ten minutes later, a gray-haired elder reached the scene. He lifted a chunk of meat with tweezers and set it on white cloth. From that scrap, pale violet bled outward like ink in snow.

He pondered, brows knotted. “Your Highness… I’ve never heard of this toxin. But one thing’s clear. Its venom is terrifyingly strong, and it spreads like wildfire.” The elder glanced at Queyas and went on. “Even a Sky Knight—if he’s poisoned—dies within ten breaths. Even with a Light Priest, you’d only buy ten minutes.”

The air turned strange, heavy as a storm before noon. A poison that could fell a Sky Knight within ten breaths. A poisoning inside the royal palace. No one here could find joy in that.

Karosen’s royal household got busy. Ouyang and Lagu knew nothing. Even if they knew, they wouldn’t care. In a corner dense with growth, the two started brawling again.

“Remnant… I’ll… kick you to death!”

“Idiot…” Lagu snarled, voice thin as a saw.

They wanted each other dead, but their bodies had nothing left to give. Pain knotted their guts like boiling cauldrons. They curled on the ground, rolling and clutching their bellies. “Don’t… let me find… who poisoned us… I’ll… kill him…” Sweat rolled from Ouyang’s pale face, heavy as beads.

“My stomach… where’s the latrine?”

Ouyang staggered up, eyes hunting like a fox. There was no latrine in this forgotten corner. He gave up thinking and squatted where he stood, decisive as a blade.

“Much better…”

Once Ouyang and Lagu purged the toxins, their brows eased like clouds parting. Their limbs felt light, as if reborn on a spring wind. “Brother Ouyang, got any paper?” Relief came, but reality tapped like a stick. Lagu had a problem.

They had no paper.

“Paper? With what? Here, use these.” Ouyang grabbed broad leaves from nearby plants and handed them over, casual as a river stone. “Don’t fuss in a crisis. We still need to find the poisoner. Time is life…”

Lagu hesitated a breath, but Ouyang made sense. This wasn’t the time for ceremony.

Lagu snatched the leaves. Ouyang’s grin tilted like a fox’s. He slipped a fat roll of paper from his space ring, quiet as a shadow.

“Ahhh!” Lagu howled. Ouyang flicked him a glance, wiped, and took off like a gust.

“Ouyang, you bastard!”

The leaves Ouyang had handed him were studded with tiny spines at the center, fine as hairs. Lagu had gripped the edges and never noticed. Only when he actually wiped did the truth bite like nettles…

For now, Ouyang had shaken him. In this window where neither of them had strength, Ouyang couldn’t kill Lagu, and Lagu couldn’t kill him. So the winner would be the better trickster. On the road, they set traps for each other like boys tossing stones.

But as royalty raised high, Lagu was no match for Ouyang at this craft. Ouyang had once spent time in a “con artists’ camp.” He wasn’t on par with those masters, but pranking Lagu was easy as flicking a pebble.

Keeping to the grass, Ouyang moved and watched, wary as a cat and reading the land like a map.

He slipped past the garden and came to a pool. “This pool feels familiar…” The thought brushed him like a breeze.

No time to dwell. He slid into a lush clump of plants as footsteps approached. By the pool lay a green lawn like jade. A few big trees shaded a small house. No glazed tiles. Plain as unvarnished wood.

Ouyang sniffed. The trays in several maids’ hands sent out waves of aroma like smoke.

“Roast whole leg. My favorite…” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes gleaming green like a hungry wolf. In the little house, an old man shivered as if a wind passed. He looked around. Aside from the retreating maids, no one.

“Am I imagining things?” The elder scanned the area, patient as a crane. Minutes flowed by. Nothing moved. He let himself relax, breath sinking like a stone.

He lifted an iron lid. Meat fragrance surged like a tide.

As he raised a fork to spear the roast leg, a hand shot from behind, quick as a snake, and whisked the leg away. At the same time, a palm patted his back.

“Old-timer, relax. I don’t eat for free. From now on, this continent’s under my protection!”

What? A voice now? The old man spun, heart thudding like a drum. A young fellow in his twenties chomped the roast leg, face shiny with grease. The old man’s thoughts jammed like a cart in mud. This exceeded his frame for sense.

“Your protection?” The elder almost laughed. He had passed the crown to his eldest daughter to seek some quiet. But the boy’s posturing was comic. In the Karosen Kingdom, did he need someone to cover him?

The plants nearby rustled like rain. A figure in a black cloak burst out.

“Kid, you tricked me and still dare to feast here?”

Lagu saw Ouyang’s leisurely chewing and his temper flared like dry straw. “You really don’t put me in your eyes. Leave the food!”

Honestly, the line “you don’t put me in your eyes” should have belonged to the old king. He was the one with the right to say it.

Staring blankly as two black-cloaked men scattered his lunch across the floor, the old king remembered…

“Ah, it’s you two. You’re the ones who shoved me into the pool!” Goddess of Light above, the old king almost died of rage on the spot. These bandits had pushed him into the water, and now they were stealing his food. What were the patrols doing? Eating dung?

The old king clutched his chest, breathing deep like a bellows. He calmed himself before the fire burned him out. He was about to use a royal-only signal to call the troops, when both black cloaks grabbed their bellies…

“Damn… this food’s poisoned too…” Ouyang doubled over, face white as paper. It felt like fate had thrown a brick. “Old man… why’s the palace food… poisoned everywhere?”

Poisoned? The old king jolted, eyes going cold like steel. He cut off a small piece of meat with his fork and eyed a listless little black dog nearby. He tossed the morsel. The dog wagged, happy as a child. Three seconds later, it flopped over dead, skin flushing violet like bruised plums.

Clang. The old king’s fork hit the floor. He steadied himself quickly. After all, he hadn’t worn the crown all these years for nothing.