Night has fallen, please close your eyes.

Isn’t it true that everyone has this flaw? The long-term goals and carefully crafted plans we resolve to pursue are always slowly forgotten in the passing of time, while a sudden idea that springs up in our mind compels us to act on it without delay. Certain someone was now itching to ask Lance a question that had unexpectedly popped into her head, a question that had always made her curious. She cleared her throat, preparing to speak.

But as the author, how could I possibly let her ask it so easily? No sooner had she uttered a vague syllable than a deep male voice interrupted, choking her words in her throat.

“It’s the middle of the night. Why are you two in here instead of patrolling outside?” A blurred figure emerged from somewhere in the garden. The commanding tone and the barely discernible cut of his clothes made it clear this was no minor character, not someone to be dismissed easily.

Lance, without a hint of emotion, stepped in front of her, shielding her face and her slightly lacking height.

In short, stall if you can, avoid making a scene if possible. Lance silently reminded himself not to act rashly, yet his left hand had already slipped behind his back, quietly gathering electric energy.

The flicker of electricity was starkly visible in the darkness. She subtly shifted to the side, using her clothes to cover the glow.

“State your names and numbers,” the voice drew nearer, and the figure gradually became clearer. With their similar eyesight, if they could see the figure approaching, it meant he could also see their faces—barring any special circumstances. Lance lowered his head slightly, not wanting the man to spot anything amiss at first glance.

Shielding her behind him didn’t mean Lance wasn’t afraid of being recognized himself; it was simply that she was far too easy to identify. After so many days working at the Marshal’s residence, anyone with normal intelligence and no face-blindness, tasked with recognizing people, would be a disgrace to their profession if they couldn’t distinguish the real colleagues from impostors at a glance.

“My name is…” Lance began, deliberately slow, allowing the man to draw closer. She understood Lance’s intention to lure the man in and eliminate him, so she quietly summoned wind magic, preparing to muffle any screams that might follow.

The man approached cautiously, and the more suspicious the two appeared, the more determined he became to investigate—they absolutely could not allow any suspicious individuals into the Marshal’s residence.

“Is that Fitz and Victor?” Suddenly, a voice from deep within the residence cut off the impending confrontation.

“Yes!” she answered quickly. Lance cast her a puzzled glance but did not contradict the summons.

“The master told you to find two sparring partners—what took you so long? Now that you’re here, why are you still standing in the yard? Don’t want to train? Trying to slack off?” The voice was impatient, urging them over.

Though she had no idea who this new man was, she was in no mood to fight the interrogator before them. They had more important tasks, and the further and deeper they could go, the better. She looked up at Lance, her radiant eyes shining with the unmistakable message: Don’t let this chance slip by—it’s a rare opportunity.

Lance hesitated briefly but made no objection. He gave a slight bow to the interrogator, then followed her deeper into the Marshal’s residence.

The interrogator clearly wanted to detain them for further questioning, but the command from his superior weighed on him, and in the end, he had no choice but to let them go, though he did so grudgingly.

She felt like a prisoner granted amnesty, her smile growing more sincere as her spirits soared, completely forgetting the unknown danger they now faced.

Lance, trailing behind, couldn’t help but ask, “Do you trust the person who called us in?”

“Not at all,” she answered nonchalantly. “I have no idea who’s calling us. I’m just happy to see that guy outside frustrated.”

Lance had nothing more to say.

She glanced at Lance, thinking he looked worried about their uncertain fate. Generously, she fell back a few steps to match his pace, patting his shoulder in reassurance.

Lance was even more at a loss for how to respond.

They hadn’t walked far before she saw someone waiting by the roadside. His attire was entirely different from the outer guards, and his expression was not as anxious as one might expect. He stood ramrod straight at the edge of the path, his severe expression blending into the night. The old scars on his face and the well-maintained sword at his waist spoke of a hardened, battle-tested soldier.

“Were you the one who called us?” Lance asked, taking the initiative since she was not in a position to speak.

“No, it was the master’s orders,” came the curt reply. Though his tone was different from the earlier urgency, she could still tell he was the same man. He turned and strode ahead without hesitation, forcing them to follow.

After a short walk, he led them to the entrance of a taller building, knocked on the door, and announced, “Master, they’re here.”

After a moment, a dignified voice came from within: “Let them in.”

The door opened slowly. The spacious room was lit only by a small candle. The one who had summoned them sat upright in a wooden chair at the front of the room, waiting for them.

She glanced at Lance, seeking his opinion, and he offered a comforting look in return.

Well, a blade awaits whether you move forward or shrink back; at worst, it’s just death, and after all, a scar on the neck is just as wide as a bowl. In eighteen years, I’ll be a hero again! Stirring martial music played in her mind as she imagined herself as heroic as Jing Ke on his way to assassinate the King of Qin, the roadside lined with weeping maidens, her heavy steps carrying the hope of saving the world.

The cold wind swept over the River Yi, and the young girl would never return.

In those few short steps, she experienced a sense of noble mission and grave responsibility she had never felt before, and, for the moment, had not the slightest thought of escape. Truly, a cause for celebration.