To the scribe Shangfeng and Jiang Huoer’s surprise, that night, the Imperial Guard Officer didn’t utter a single word.

His cold sweat still flowed. He remained unconscious. Yet he stayed silent.

They waited until nearly the end of midnight. Heavy eyelids finally overwhelmed Jiang Huoer and Shangfeng. Both drifted off to sleep.

The next day, birdsong didn’t wake them. Sunlight didn’t rouse them. The Imperial Guard Officer’s shouts did.

“Yuan Troops! Yuan Troops! Yuan Troops!” Three sharp cries jolted the two from sleep.

Jiang Huoer was still groggy. But Shangfeng wasn’t. The moment Xiao Hao yelled the first word, Shangfeng snapped awake and locked it in his memory.

Xiao Hao’s condition was clearly improving. Yet by the time he fully recovered, the crisis he cared about might already be over. Many would regret it deeply.

“Young master, he said ‘Yuan Troops’!” Shangfeng stressed. That phrase mattered.

Jiang Huoer slapped his cheeks hard several times to shake off drowsiness. Anything tied to Yuan Troops spelled trouble—for the Great Ming, at least.

But after shouting “Yuan Troops,” the Imperial Guard Officer sank back into long silence.

“Ugh, his godforsaken way of talking just teases us,” Jiang Huoer muttered, pouting. The matter was grave—linked to Yuan Troops—but key details remained unknown.

“Young master, piecing together his recent words,” Shangfeng stared at the officer, “he’s warning of the Northern Taihang Deception. And the source? Yuan Troops. Should we check the northern section first?”

Jiang Huoer was frustrated but kept his head.

“Sure, we could go. But how many Yuan Troops are there now? What if Xiao Hao’s warning threatens the Great Ming itself? Just two of us charging in would be cannon fodder. Look—he’s a fourth-rank Imperial Guard Commander, and he’s in this state. His men are surely long dead. I don’t have some War God Mark skill. That place is a death trap.”

Jiang Huoer refused to be cannon fodder.

Shangfeng saw his point and stayed quiet. He just watched the officer intently, hoping for more words.

“He only said two words today. Even if he talks again, it’ll be tomorrow. He said nothing yesterday. Who knows if he’ll speak tomorrow? Sigh…” Jiang Huoer felt helpless.

“Young master, patience,” Shangfeng said.

“Fine, fine—patience.” Jiang Huoer picked up a pebble and tossed it casually.

It bounced off the Imperial Guard Officer’s forehead—then ricocheted straight onto Shangfeng’s.

“Young master!” Shangfeng snapped, thinking it deliberate. “He’s injured! How could you?”

Shangfeng was far more mature than Jiang Huoer, despite being five years younger. Whenever he scolded Jiang Huoer, the young master never argued—Shangfeng’s lecturing skills were that sharp.

“I didn’t mean to! I swear to Heaven!” Jiang Huoer sat up straight, raising three fingers of his right hand skyward.

“Capital Interview! Capital Interview! Capital Interview!” Pain seemed to jolt the officer slightly awake. A second keyword emerged.

Capital Interview.

Shangfeng and Jiang Huoer caught every syllable.

“How do Yuan Troops connect to the Capital Interview?” Shangfeng frowned. His neat eyebrows shot up, clinging to his eyelids like startled insects. “And how does that tie to the Northern Taihang Deception?” He couldn’t figure it out.

“Especially since this seems critically important to him—not some small matter. What does it all mean?”

Shangfeng muttered to himself. Jiang Huoer pondered too. The Capital Interview involved Spirit Martial Town. But the Capital Examination Team’s route to Spirit Martial Town didn’t cross the Taihang Mountains. They were separate paths. Why link them?

If the Imperial Guard Officer warned of the Northern Taihang Deception, adding the Capital Interview team meant they’d entered the Taihang region.

“Shangfeng, didn’t you read the Famous Mountains Diary?” Jiang Huoer asked. “Did it note key customs for each mountain?”

“Customs?”

“I think Xu Jing wrote that book,” Jiang Huoer recalled. He’d read it as a child. It was banned now—a cautionary tale. It documented the Great Ming’s famous peaks but also exposed rampant mountain bandits.

Few households kept the Famous Mountains Diary today. Jiang Huoer had a sharp memory; so did Shangfeng. Both remembered its contents.

Xu Jing’s downfall started with his friend Tang Bohu during the Capital Examinations. Gossip mostly blamed Tang Bohu.

Tang Bohu drew too much attention at provincial and metropolitan exams. His boast—“I’ll surely rank first”—was fine back home. Neighbors knew Tang Yin’s talent. But in the Imperial Capital? People were hypersensitive about exams. You could be arrogant anywhere—except there.

Xu Jing met Tang Bohu on the exam journey. That incident dragged Xu Jing down too—though rumors varied.

Someone accused them of cheating. Emperor Zhu Youcheng despised fraud. He banned both from office for life.

Bitter over exams, Tang Bohu became a romantic scholar. Xu Jing turned to travel as a professional wanderer.

The Famous Mountains Diary was Xu Jing’s travelogue. It exposed flaws in the Ming Dynasty’s mountain governance with razor-sharp words. Emperor Zhu Youcheng admired it—but its criticism was too harsh.

Even an emperor deserved some respect. Yet...

So the Famous Mountains Diary became a banned book.