072 The Rise of So-and-So

Thinking of this, based on countless television dramas filling her mind with predictable plots, she “involuntarily” twisted the vase in her hands from the center to a precise forty-five degree angle.

The door, which had previously seemed jammed like a plank wedged into the bed, suddenly swung open as if lured by some unseen force.

The young soldier’s mouth dropped open, unable to close. He looked at her as though he’d just witnessed the reincarnation of Chaos, Venus, Prometheus, and Nike (though it seemed something unusual had sneaked into the mix)—shock, reverence, and disbelief all mingled in his gaze.

She could not explain herself any further. At this point, any words would only make matters worse, while silence would imply everything without saying a thing. She decided to conserve her breath and energy.

The two approached the entrance to the secret passage with utmost caution. Embracing the spirit of “being the first to eat the crab,” she eagerly prepared to descend, but before she could take a step, the young soldier stopped her.

“I’ll go down first and check the situation. If it’s safe, you can follow,” he said, his face grave.

“Alright.” She thought of her forever subpar close combat and improvisation skills and wisely stepped aside, clearing a Roman avenue for him.

Without hesitation, the young soldier jumped down. She kept her eyes fixed on the spot where he disappeared until his voice called her to follow.

Only when she descended herself did she realize what a hidden world awaited below. The surface, which had appeared to be a thin bedboard, was in fact a slab of heavy, smoothed stone. Clearly, this had once been the main entrance to a large secret chamber. Later, someone had patched it with stone, carved out a small opening, and covered it with bedding to disguise the exit.

The tunnel was not deep, and soon she landed safely.

Looking around, she found the cave, which ought to be pitch-dark, illuminated by bright lamps. The room was fully furnished and divided, leaving her momentarily speechless. This broken place was a perfect haven for thieves and fugitives; the not-so-large secret chamber was separated into three areas: the first had a table, chairs, food and drink; the second contained a bed and a small wardrobe; and the third was even more peculiar—not only a bed and stool, but also a collection of legendary torture devices she’d only seen on TV, along with a toppled beauty of a king sprawled on the bed.

“This one should be real, right?” she asked, pointing at the sleeping king on the bed, his expression one of vulnerable allure.

The king looked much like the one she’d seen days ago: dark green hair, exquisite features, but with his eyes closed, his eye color could not be verified.

The young soldier answered her not with words, but actions. He strode forward, hoisted the king onto his shoulder, and gestured for her to prepare to retreat.

Of course, things could not possibly go so smoothly. (The author covers their face and laughs.)

Just as she was about to follow the young soldier and rescue the king, a noise echoed from the entrance to the secret chamber.

Oh dear, it seemed the mastermind behind the kidnapping had arrived.

The sudden turn of events left her mind blank. She could only stare, panicked and helpless, at the young soldier. His nerves frayed under her gaze; after all, before entering the chamber, they’d knocked out all the guards outside the royal quarters, leaving chaos inside, and the door to the secret room was wide open—it was impossible not to attract attention.

The commotion quickly reached the chamber’s entrance, followed by several heavy footsteps. The newcomers were clearly deliberate, their quick, decisive steps ringing out as they marched straight into the final room, not even bothering to inspect their surroundings.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Take care of him,” a man’s voice reverberated through the chamber. Strangely, there was something oddly familiar about it.

She slowly opened her eyes. She and the young soldier were hidden beneath the bed, wind magic weaving a protective shield that masked their presence entirely. Her earlier closing of her eyes had been instinctive, but now, as she looked, she regretted it deeply.

From her vantage point under the bed, she could see at least four people in the room, all their shoes neatly pointed in her direction. It seemed they intended to finish off the real king once and for all!

She poked the young soldier, her gaze asking what they should do next.

He responded with his eyes: can you take on those outside?

She immediately shook her head, then asked in return: can you?

He thought for a moment, then hesitantly shook his head.

…

If you were about to face a battle where you had neither advantage of timing, terrain, nor numbers, what would you do? She provided a clear answer: she quickly buried her head in her arms, believing that if she couldn’t see, it didn’t exist. Pretending not to see might just work.

But those with nefarious intentions toward the king would not be deterred by her feigned ignorance. They stepped forward, ready to seize the king.

The young soldier could bear it no longer. The companion at his side seemed to have lost all combat ability for the moment. He certainly couldn’t take on four by himself, but if he did nothing, he’d have to watch the king fall into enemy hands. Gritting his teeth, he rolled out from under the bed, the wind magic shield shedding from him. The sudden presence of an enemy startled those approaching the king, giving him a brief advantage. He pulled a small dagger from his waist and lunged at the two men about to attack the king.

Despite his initiative, their skills were clearly superior. One dodged and landed a punch to his abdomen; he managed to avoid the worst, but still took a hit to his side. The other’s hand flashed with metallic silver, aiming straight for his throat.

Unable to dodge in time, he was about to be wounded in the artery by the sharp metal.

At last, she moved. Though her face was buried and her vision dim, she could still draw a magic circle. She grabbed the wand hidden in her clothes—this time a high-quality piece provided by Summer Sun, not just a rag—and with a sweep of her right hand, a small wind-based magic circle activated beneath the bed. A stream of air formed a cushion of resistance between the young soldier and his enemies, separating them. She quickly pulled him back, placing herself protectively in front of the young soldier and the king, and, with a flourish of her wand, adopted the commanding presence of a queen.