The city gate loomed, a dark void.

The city gate was desolate and quiet.

It had long been cleared, with the residents of Kyoto held back behind a security cordon, their faces etched with shock as they watched the procession approaching from the south. They saw the blood on these people, the bodies slumped on horseback, and the young master, his back straight, riding the lead horse.

A collective gasp arose!

After a year's absence, Lord Fan had finally returned to Kyoto. But no one had expected that he would be accompanied by so many corpses and bloodstains, along with a dilapidated, all-black carriage of the Supervisory Council that looked ready to fall apart.

The onlookers whispered and murmured, their shock evident. They guessed that Lord Fan had encountered something dangerous on his way back to Kyoto, but no one imagined that such danger could exist so close to the peaceful and prosperous capital.

The soldiers of the Kyoto garrison silently led their horses, guarding the flanks of the procession.

The people watched with fearful expressions, confirming that the court was not arresting Lord Fan. Then, they began to speculate, recalling Fan Xian's earth-shattering origins, the rumors of the past year, and the sensitive topic of the Internal Treasury. Even the most simple-minded among them realized that someone within the court wanted to harm Lord Fan.

While Fan Xian's actions in Jiangnan had slightly tarnished his reputation, he still enjoyed immense prestige in Kyoto. The Spring Examinations case, Duyi Inn, the palace poetry, the journey to Northern Qi—in the hearts of the people of Kyoto, he was their greatest pride and the last vestige of conscience in the court.

…

…

"Lord Fan!"

"Lord Fan!"

The people, seeing the injured Fan Xian, didn't know how to express their concern and support, nor how to pay their respects. They could only shout from a distance, their voices rising and falling.

Qin Heng glanced at him, a hint of envy flashing in his eyes before quickly returning to composure.

Fan Xian looked at the dense crowd, nodding slightly, his expression softening somewhat. He couldn't help but feel touched. He knew that this second life hadn't led him to do anything truly significant for these people from the bottom of his heart. Yet, even the smallest good he brought seemed to be remembered by them forever.

Kyoto might be dark, but the hearts of its people still yearned for the light.

Some timid citizens suddenly cried out, pointing at Fan Xian's procession.

Without turning around, Fan Xian knew what had shocked them.

Behind the horses, a door panel torn from the carriage was being dragged along. Tied to the panel was a barely alive, bloodied figure. The bleeding had stopped, and the blood that had flowed earlier had turned black, gluing his clothes to his body. Even more terrifying, both of his arms had been severed at the shoulders, leaving only bloody stumps. One of his eyes had collapsed, covered in blood and pus.

Two severed arms were haphazardly tied to the edge of the door panel with cloth strips.

This was the sole survivor of the Xuegu assassination, dragged all the way to the gates of Kyoto by the Supervisory Council. The constant jolting of the journey had left him in a wretched state.

Fan Xian, without a trace of emotion, flicked his whip and rode into the city gate.

Passing through the dark city gate, he was immediately met by the deep winter scenery of Kyoto, and he took a deep breath. Dozens of Supervisory Council officials in black lotus-patterned uniforms came forward. One silently took the reins of Fan Xian's horse, while the others went to the rear to assist their heavily wounded colleagues.

The official who took his reins had a dark complexion and said in a somber voice, "This subordinate has failed in his duty." He glanced at Qin Heng beside Fan Xian. "The city gates were temporarily closed after the signal flares, so we were unable to come out of the city to meet you."

Fan Xian nodded, saying with some fatigue, "Mu Tie, don't blame yourself. This has nothing to do with you."

He continued, "Mu Feng'er!"

Mu Feng quickly ran forward from the rear, standing obediently beside the horse, his face showing anger and unease. "Mu Feng'er is here."

Fan Xian lowered his head slightly and said, "Take some men and bring these brothers to heal their wounds. We'll discuss the funeral arrangements tomorrow."

"Yes," Mu Feng'er responded and left.

Fan Xian said to Mu Tie, "Take some men and come with me to a place."

Mu Tie was puzzled, wondering if the palace wouldn't be in a hurry to summon the seriously injured master. Why was he in such a hurry to go somewhere? But he knew that this was not the time to ask, so he bowed his head and obeyed, signaling to the liaison officials on the street.

Fan Xian looked at Qin Heng and asked, "After entering Kyoto, does anyone still dare to kill me?"

Qin Heng thought for a moment and said, "No."

Fan Xian said, "Then why are you still following me?"

Qin Heng thought again, saying awkwardly, "I'm afraid you're going to kill someone."

Fan Xian was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm not killing anyone today, because I don't know yet who to kill."

…

…

The Supervisory Council officials who had returned to Kyoto with Fan Xian were taken away to heal their wounds. He was replaced by his original subordinates from the First Bureau, and they walked quietly and solemnly towards the depths of Kyoto, soon reaching Tianhe Avenue.

The dilapidated carriage and the horrifying bloodied figure were still being dragged along at the rear of the procession.

As they proceeded, they attracted the attention of the people of Kyoto. The crowd of onlookers on both sides of the road grew larger and larger, and involuntary gasps could be heard. By this time, it had spread throughout the city that Lord Fan had been ordered to return to Kyoto to report on his duties, but had unexpectedly been ambushed by strongmen outside the city. The Supervisory Council had suffered heavy casualties, and Lord Fan had narrowly escaped death.

Since the Kyoto Bloodbath of fourteen years ago, Kyoto had been immersed in peace and tranquility. It had been many years since such a shocking event had occurred.

Fan Xian sat upright on his horse, moving forward. More and more people from the Supervisory Council's First Bureau joined the procession behind him. The procession grew longer and longer, but remained silent and grim.

Watching this scene, the people of Kyoto felt a chill in their hearts, wondering if Kyoto was about to be awash in blood. No one dared to underestimate Fan Xian's courage and ruthlessness.

Most of the Supervisory Council officials in Kyoto belonged to the First Bureau, and Fan Xian was the patriarch of the First Bureau. The patriarch had been attacked—this was a major event. Without much prompting, the secret agents of the First Bureau in Kyoto began to take action. Those who accompanied Fan Xian joined the procession, while those who secretly investigated began to notify the spies lurking in various residences.

Fan Xian suddenly pulled on the reins, stopping his horse. He looked back at his subordinates, their faces filled with determination, and frowned slightly. He slowly said, "There are nearly two hundred people here. Our First Bureau only has three hundred and ten in total. Are you not going to do your jobs?"

Mu Tie thought that judging by the current situation, they were going to kill people for revenge. How could they manage with so few people? Killing people grandly in Kyoto, even with justification, would likely be suppressed in the end. Today, the First Bureau was betting everything on Fan Xian. He gritted his teeth and replied, "We will follow your orders, Lord."

Fan Xian closed his eyes and thought for a while. "No more people should come. I'm not going to kill people."

Qin Heng, who had been following him closely, felt a tremor in his heart upon hearing these words.

Then, the procession continued, under the horrified gazes of the people of Kyoto, slowly heading towards the distant imperial palace along the usually quiet Tianhe Avenue, with its flowing water on both sides.

…

…

Yan Bingyun stood by the window, watching the road below through the glass, watching the procession below, full of murderous intent yet incredibly silent. The crowd of onlookers had been dispersed by the constables of the Kyoto Prefecture, making Tianhe Avenue even more desolate.

He looked at the man riding in the front and sighed slightly.

A subordinate knocked on the door and entered, kneeling on the ground to report, "We have sent someone to inform Chen Yuan. Security has been raised to the highest level. The Sixth Bureau has been fully activated and has controlled the streets and alleys near the Censorate."

"Have the Second Bureau drop any non-essential work and fully investigate the ambush in the valley." Yan Bingyun didn't turn around, but kept watching Fan Xian on the road.

The subordinate acknowledged the order, then looked up and asked, "Director is heading that way. Should we provide assistance?"

Yan Bingyun thought for a moment, then said, "Prepare yourselves. If Director really takes action…" His expression changed slightly, and he smiled wryly. "Don't worry, Director won't take action. He can endure even more than we can."

The subordinate looked up in astonishment, looking at Yan Bingyun, wondering why Young Master Yan was so calm despite Director being attacked? Why wasn't he rushing out of the Council to welcome Director or… stop Director?

…

…

Between the imperial palace and the gray Supervisory Council, there was another building, with a coiled azure dragon above and stone lions guarding the gates below. The yamen was wide open, and the stone steps below it looked extraordinarily imposing.

Fan Xian rode his horse silently, advancing towards that building.

The door panel he was dragging behind him bumped against the stone threshold at the end of Tianhe Avenue and finally broke apart. The bloodied figure's feet were still tied to the horse's tail. It bounced on the ground and was dragged along again, but the severed arms fell to the ground.

Supervisory Council officials had already picked up the severed arms.

The bloodied figure was jolted awake, moaning in pain, but half of his jaw had been shattered, and he was in a semi-conscious state, unable to say anything at all.

As this person was dragged along the ground by Fan Xian's horse, blood spurted out again, leaving a long trail on the snow.

A trail of blood.

The end of the trail of blood was that building.

Fan Xian narrowed his eyes, looking at the yamen on the stone steps, looking at the imposing stone lions on both sides of the steps. He sighed in his heart, realizing that in Kyoto, due to the emperor's pressure and his own introspection, he had deliberately distanced himself from this place. Now, this was actually the first time he had come here.

This was the center of the Qing Kingdom's military power, formerly the Ministry of War, later renamed the Military Department in the New Policies, and now restored to its ancient name, the Censorate.

The Censorate, by order of His Majesty, controlled all military deployments in the Qing Kingdom and was responsible for all foreign wars. In the past decades of war, countless famous generals and marshals had emerged, acquiring vast lands and wealth for the Qing Kingdom.

The Qing Kingdom's army was the strongest army in the world, and the Qing Kingdom's Censorate was the brain of this strongest army.

…

…

The people in the Censorate had learned of this shocking news when Fan Xian entered the city. When Fan Xian and his party headed towards the Censorate, all the generals felt a sense of surprise and unease. Many military officials had already run out of the Censorate, standing on the steps, watching Fan Xian and his party.

Fan Xian sat quietly on his horse, neither dismounting nor lowering his head, but only looking at the closed gate on the stone steps.

The gate slowly opened, and five or six ministers of the Censorate walked down in hurried steps. Behind them, the soldiers of the Censorate also gripped their swords and spears, watching the group of black-clad Supervisory Council members at the yamen gate with vigilance.

The atmosphere seemed tense.

But Fan Xian was not tense. He recognized that those who had come out to greet him were the two deputy ministers of the Censorate and the deputy director of the Third Division. Now that the Qin family patriarch was claiming illness at home, these high-ranking officials were in charge of the Censorate.

He flicked his whip, stopping the right deputy minister of the Censorate from speaking, not giving the other party a chance to express any emotions such as concern, anger, tension, or pity.

Fan Xian slowly spoke.

"I know that many of you don't want me to return to Kyoto, at least not to return alive," Fan Xian said coldly. "But… I have returned anyway."

The right deputy minister of the Censorate hesitated, his eyes looking at the bloodied figure being dragged behind Fan Xian, at the horrifying scene. This high-ranking official, who had clawed his way up from blood and fire, only frowned slightly.

Fan Xian lowered his head slightly and said, "This official was attacked on the outskirts of Kyoto. I believe all of you lords are aware of this matter."

The right deputy minister of the Censorate began to speak, saying, "It's truly shocking…"

Before he could finish speaking, Fan Xian interrupted, "I don't want to care who wanted to kill this official. I only know… it was your people."

Your people.

This set the tone for the conversation!

The right deputy minister of the Censorate was shocked, frowning and refuting, "We, your colleagues, all feel the same pain at Director Fan's attack. However, the matter is still unclear, so please don't be too…"

Fan Xian ignored him, gently stroking the smooth riding whip, and said from atop his horse, "Why bother explaining anything?"

"Do you recognize the person I'm dragging?" Fan Xian glanced at the bloodied figure behind the horse and said with a smile, "Of course, you definitely don't recognize him, even if he must be the personal general of some great figure in the military."

"This person is the only survivor left from the attack on this official today," he sighed. "A very good soldier. What a pity."

Fan Xian flicked his whip backhandedly, the tip of the whip, which was very long, struck the bloodied figure's face on the snow behind him with a crack. However, that person was already on the verge of death and had no reaction at all.

Soldiers had their own aura, and the people in the Censorate had already learned from the Kyoto garrison that the small force that had ambushed Fan Xian had actually used city-defense crossbows. In this way, the military could not escape responsibility.

At this time, the people in the Censorate were fully considering how to face the Supervisory Council's anger, Chen Pingping's retaliation, and His Majesty's wrath. Therefore, they only changed their expressions and felt annoyed at Fan Xian's obvious insult to the military with this whip, but they did not dare to express anything too directly on their faces.

From the main gate of the Censorate, another person slowly walked out. This person was not very tall, but he looked exceptionally strong. Especially those eyes, which were inwardly restrained but also aggressive. He had a solemn expression and carried a longbow on his back.

Judging by the purple clothes he wore, he was clearly a first-rank minister.

In such attire, who else could it be but Yan Xiaoyi, the Grand Commandant Conquering the North, who was returning to Kyoto to report on his duties?

…

…

However, Fan Xian deliberately didn't even look at Yan Xiaoyi. He simply flicked his whip backhandedly and struck the bloodied figure's face again, leaving another terrifying scar on this person's already horrifying face.

Then, the tip of the whip flew out, wrapping around this person. With a flash of a blade, the rope tied to the horse's tail was immediately cut.

The bloodied figure flew straight up, passing over the soldiers below the stone steps, and crashed heavily onto the snow in front of the Censorate yamen, kicking up a cloud of snow and a cloud of blood.

It landed right in front of Yan Xiaoyi.

Yan Xiaoyi looked down, but it was impossible to tell if there was any change in his expression.

…

…

Fan Xian raised his right hand.

Mu Tie drew the saber from his side and walked to the only remaining carriage. He held the hilt with both hands and struck downwards with force.

As the blade fell, the last bit of support for the carriage wall gave way, and half of the carriage wall collapsed with a crash.

Countless round objects rolled out of the carriage, rolling over the scattered wooden planks, rolling over the white snow, and rolling under the stone lions of the Censorate. Their momentum couldn't be stopped, and they gradually piled up, submerging half the height of the entire stone lion on the side closest to the road.

They were heads.

Countless heads piled up between the carriage and the stone lions.

Specks of dirty blood, countless bloodied eyes, whether open or closed, and the strands of flesh attached to the heads, submerged the chests of the imposing stone lions at the gate of the Censorate.

"The two hundred brave warriors in the military who ambushed me are all here," Fan Xian said calmly, flicking his whip and pointing it remotely at the Qing Kingdom's military leaders on the stone steps. "I've given you the living, and I've given you the dead. I hope you can give me something in return."

Then, he said to Yan Xiaoyi, who had a detached expression, "Is your son well?"

Finally, Fan Xian lowered his head, moved his lips sarcastically towards the two hundred heads under the stone lion, and said, "Such fine heads…"

Yan Xiaoyi raised his head, and a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.