The atmosphere in Spirit Martial Town was thick with tension.

Yesterday, they’d waited all day at the town gate for the Imperial Capital Examination Team. No one showed up. Master Scholar warned the team might come today, so everyone gathered again. Now, nearly noon, still no sign of them.

“Are the Imperial Capital folks playing with us?” Boss Qian fumed. He hated seeing his son suffer. After standing under the scorching sun all yesterday and this morning, his temper flared. “My boy’s going to the Capital to spend money, not beg for it! Why treat them like masters?”

“Boss Qian, watch your words,” Master Scholar cut in sharply. “If you don’t want your son in the Capital, skip it. But if they hear what you just said—you know the consequences.”

“...” Boss Qian fell silent. Master Scholar’s wisdom commanded town-wide respect. Challenging him now would be unthinkable.

“Master Scholar, could something have happened?” Yi Aimin asked. “Trouble on their way here?”

“Possible. But unlikely,” Master Scholar replied, unwilling to repeat yesterday’s reasoning. “If trouble struck, the Capital would send help. We can’t assist. Today’s a lost cause. Dismiss everyone.” He turned and walked away, hands clasped behind his back. No further words were needed—the crowd dispersed as soon as they saw him leave.

“Father, won’t they come today?” Yi Xiuran approached Yi Aimin.

“Master Scholar thinks not,” Yi Aimin murmured. The situation felt off, but he trusted the Capital would handle it.

“Then we’ll wait a few more days.” Xiuran nodded toward Duan Mengqi waiting nearby. “Mengqi’s treating me to chilled sour plum juice at her place. I’ll have lunch there.”

“Go ahead. Don’t trouble ThirdSister.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Those two make a fine pair,” Jiang Zicheng chuckled. “Brother Yi, ever consider Mengqi as your daughter-in-law?”

“Daughter-in-law?” Yi Aimin blinked. “Xiuran told me Mengqi fancies Huor.”

“What?” Jiang Zicheng froze. “Mengqi likes my boy?”

“Yes. Xiuran said so himself. I’d hoped for that match—Mengqi’s kind and dutiful. But when I brought it up, Xiuran insisted she only has eyes for Huor.”

“How did Xiuran know?” Jiang Zicheng pressed. “Did Mengqi confess?”

“No. Girls rarely speak of such things. Those three grew up together. Xiuran’s sharp—he sees what others miss. You know how he solves cases. Remember the East Wall Murder Case? We struggled for a month. Xiuran cracked it in three days.”

“Well...” Jiang Zicheng had no counter. “Time changes hearts. Once in the Capital, Mengqi will meet finer lads. Whether Huor deserves her—only fate knows.”

“Brother Jiang, you insult Huor!” Yi Aimin protested. “He’s earnest and pure-hearted. Truly rare these days. Even Xiuran isn’t so innocent—I caught him reading Golden Lotus the other day. You know what that book’s about. Huor would never touch it.”

“I wouldn’t know if Huor reads it...” Jiang Zicheng thought. Huor loved cannon fire and books, but he wasn’t always around to check. Who knew what his son did alone?

“At least Huor would read it privately,” Yi Aimin added casually. “I only bring out Golden Lotus with my wife to spice things up.” He dropped his guard completely around Jiang Zicheng—a side few saw.

“Uh...” Jiang Zicheng stumbled. Open reading seemed more honorable than sneaking.

“I bet Mengqi will still love Huor after the Capital,” Yi Aimin clapped Jiang Zicheng’s shoulder. “I’ll drink to their wedding. Huor’s the lucky one.”

Top Fresh had five floors—four for business, one attic chamber where ThirdSister lived.

“Good, right?” Duan Mengqi had only invited two boys to her room: Yi Xiuran and Jiang Huoer.

“Delicious,” Xiuran nodded.

“Now you won’t think I favor Huor with chilled sour plum juice.” Mengqi grinned. “More? Plenty left.” ThirdSister had seen them enter and guessed their plan. At this hour, they’d eat here. While lunch cooked, she brought the juice—a whole bucket worth ten taels of silver.

ThirdSister was generous, especially to Huor and Xiuran. Their families were closest.

“No more. Too much chills the stomach. Just quenched my thirst.” Xiuran set down his bowl. “Mengqi, do you miss Huor?”

Mengqi choked, spitting juice back into the bowl.

“As I thought...” Xiuran smiled softly.

“Nothing escapes your eyes.”

“You’ve been distracted all week. Huor’s been gone less than two weeks, and you’re like this. What if we’re in the Capital half a year? Letters won’t ease that ache. Only seeing him will.”

“Sigh... Who knows?” Mengqi sighed. “He refuses to join us. And Huor—once he decides, no one sways him.”

“Tell him your feelings,” Xiuran urged. “He might choose to come with you.” The words felt hollow. For Huor, cannon fire, saltpeter, and sulfur mattered most.

“Should I really tell him...?” Mengqi feared speaking up. She’d hoped he’d notice slowly. But time was running out.

“You should.”

“But what if the Capital team arrives before Huor returns? I might leave before he’s back.”

“Write a letter,” Xiuran said. “He’ll recognize your handwriting. Have Town Chief Jiang deliver it. Share your heart. His choice is his own.”

“Right...” Mengqi nodded. “I’ll write tonight.”

Top Fresh bustled with students dining in groups. Anger made people crave comfort food. Boss Qian urged his son to treat classmates here, building connections.

ThirdSister wished he’d do it daily—earning dozens of taels each time. She silently prayed the Capital team would delay. Longer waits meant more profit.

Master Scholar didn’t go straight home. He wandered Spirit Martial Town, then followed Spirit Stream beyond the gates.

The Imperial Capital team was certainly in trouble. Only one force could delay them this long.

“Invading again...” he muttered. Mongol Troops. Every incursion poisoned the peace of the Great Ming Dynasty. This time would be no different.

Twenty years ago, court and country drowned in bloodshed. Factions clashed. Eunuchs ruled. Empress Wan’s shadow choked the throne. Only Master Scholar and his allies saved Emperor Zhu Youcheng’s reign.

But it seemed heaven’s trials for their Emperor had only just begun...