Shen Qingzhu’s fingertips hovered over the keyboard. On her laptop screen, the infrared thermal image clearly displayed the horrific scene inside the Qianqing Palace.
Not dead.
What she wanted was a clean, decisive beheading.
To make this murky water boil completely in the shortest time, and then settle thoroughly.
Her gaze swept calmly across the screen, recalculating wind speed, altitude, and the structural strength of the side hall, preparing for a second strike.
At that moment, a highly incongruous red dot at the edge of the screen caught her attention.
The dot came from outside the palace walls, moving at an incredible speed across the blue-glazed roof tiles that represented low temperature.
It ignored the slope and obstacles of the roof, its trajectory smooth like a meteor streaking across the night sky.
Shen Qingzhu’s pupils constricted ever so slightly.
Instinctively, she controlled the drone, zooming in and locking focus on the high-speed moving light.
The pixels on the screen reorganized, gradually becoming clear.
It was a person.
A thin figure in a gray monk’s robe walked across the palace roofs as if on flat ground, covering in a few leaps what normal palace guards would take an incense stick’s time to traverse.
That was not human speed.
That was not a movement explainable by the laws of physics.
Martial arts?
A word that existed only in novels and films of her previous life, and in that instant, she felt the foundations of all her knowledge—built on modern science and experience—shake.
Here, a force existed beyond current understanding.
Her drones, her firearms, her proud technological advantage… perhaps were not absolute.
She did not panic. Quietly, she raised the drone fifty meters higher, hiding it deeper in the clouds, leaving only a pinhole-sized camera to continue monitoring everything below.
Caution—must be even more cautious.
Before fully understanding the “rules” of this world, even a hint of arrogance could be fatal.
…
Inside the side hall, the atmosphere was so oppressive it seemed to solidify.
“His Majesty’s body… the spine is dislocated and fractured, the heart and lungs bruised, and the lower limbs… the meridians of the legs are completely severed, with no sensation.”
The chief imperial physician knelt on the ground, voice trembling.
Paralyzed.
The Emperor was paralyzed.
The eunuch supervisor Li Fuan felt darkness before his eyes and almost collapsed, holding onto the doorframe to stay upright.
At that moment, the hall door was pushed open by a gust of wind.
The gray-robed monk Huiren appeared at the doorway. He glanced inside, eyes sweeping over the emperor lying unconscious on the dragon bed, then pressed his palms together and slightly bowed to Li Fuan.
“Supervisor Li, the Master will arrive soon.”
Li Fuan, as if finding a pillar of support, scrambled forward and grabbed Huiren’s sleeve, voice hoarse: “Master Huiren! This… what exactly happened? The assassin? In the heavily guarded palace, how could…”
Huiren frowned, shaking his head: “I came straight from outside the palace and saw no suspicious person. The imperial guards and secret units have sealed off the entire city, yet found nothing. This matter… is extremely strange.”
Silent infiltration, a single successful strike, then silent departure.
This did not sound like the work of humans.
Just as confusion filled everyone’s minds, a calm, steady figure appeared at the doorway.
The man wore a moon-white monk’s robe, hair and beard all white, face gaunt, but his eyes shone like cold stars, as if capable of seeing through the heart.
It was the current Imperial Tutor, Deqing.
“Master!” Huiren immediately bowed.
“Imperial Tutor!” Li Fuan, as if seeing a lifesaving Bodhisattva, rushed forward in tears. “You must see His Majesty! His Majesty—”
Deqing ignored him and walked directly to the dragon bed, placing two fingers on Emperor Zhao Yuan’s wrist.
Moments later, he took a small porcelain bottle from his sleeve, poured out a crimson pill, and, without consent, shoved it into Zhao Yuan’s mouth.
In just a few breaths, the once-unconscious Zhao Yuan groaned in pain and abruptly opened his eyes!
“Ah—!”
Pain and terror made him roar inhumanly.
“What’s happening! What happened! My legs! Why can’t I feel my legs!”
He struggled wildly, but found his lower body like a piece of dead wood, unmoving.
“Protect the Emperor! Where are my guards! Zhou Wei! Get in here!”
The chief guard Zhou Wei rushed in, kneeling in blood, shouting: “Your Majesty! I… I am to blame! We searched the entire Qianqing Palace, and found… found no trace of any assassin!”
“Worthless!” Zhao Yuan’s eyes blazed. He turned his head sharply, staring at the calm white-robed monk beside the bed, voice grinding from his teeth: “No assassin? Then what was that? Heaven’s Thunder?!”
His gaze full of towering hatred, he shouted: “Imperial Uncle! Tell me! What happened!”
Deqing, facing Zhao Yuan’s roar, remained unmoved, speaking calmly: “Your Majesty, that was not Heaven’s Thunder.”
He lifted his gaze, as if piercing the hall roof and staring into the pitch-black night sky.
“Earlier, I was at the observatory, and saw with my own eyes. A strange ‘iron bird’ silently flew over Qianqing Palace. It dropped something from the air.”
A trace of seriousness and confusion flashed in Deqing’s eyes.
“That object, though small in size, contained a violent force I have never seen before.”
“Iron bird?” Zhao Yuan froze.
Huiren also looked up sharply, urgently: “Master! Outside the palace, I heard a strange buzzing in the night sky. It was neither a bird’s cry nor an insect’s chirp—I thought it was an illusion!”
Their words hit the crowd like massive stones, rippling through every heart.
Even Shen Qingzhu, far away at the Shen residence, felt her heart sink.
They had seen it.
She could not let them continue speaking.
She had to create greater chaos now, erasing the fragile understanding they had just formed!
In that instant, Shen Qingzhu’s gaze became icy cold.
Her fingers pressed the final command on the keyboard without hesitation.
“Fire.”
On the screen, the last mounted point under the drone’s wing released a small, metallic-cold miniature bomb.
…
Inside the hall, Deqing’s words had just ended.
Everyone was still stunned by the “iron bird dropping an object.”
Suddenly!
“Whoosh—”
An extremely faint but sharp, piercing whistling sound came from the hall roof!
Everyone looked up!
The glazed tiles on the roof were torn open, as if pierced by an invisible giant finger, forming a gaping hole!
A black, egg-sized metal lump fell from the sky!
Targeting Emperor Zhao Yuan on the dragon bed!
“Your Majesty!!”
Li Fuan and Zhou Wei’s pupils constricted!
Without thinking, they lunged forward, trying to use their bodies to shield the Emperor from the deadly strike!
However, someone was faster!
In a flash, the Imperial Tutor Deqing, standing silently by the bed, moved!
He pushed off the ground with his toes, his entire body shooting upward like a white bird!
In the stunned gazes of everyone present, and under Shen Qingzhu’s incredulous watch through the screen!
He extended his right hand, directly at the rapidly falling bomb, and…
Caught it!
He actually tried to catch a falling bomb with his bare hands!
Madness!
This thought exploded simultaneously in Shen Qingzhu’s mind and in everyone else’s in the hall.
The next second.
Time seemed to slow countless times.
Deqing’s hand precisely gripped the metal lump.
No one had time to react.
“Boom——!!!!!”
Blinding white light instantly consumed everything!
An explosion far more violent than the one previously in Qianqing Palace detonated in Deqing’s palm!
Shen Qingzhu’s eyes stung from the sudden brightness on the screen, and she squinted instinctively.
When she opened them again, the thermal image displayed a hellish scene.
The white heat source representing Imperial Tutor Deqing was torn apart at the center of the explosion!
His right arm was completely severed at the shoulder!
The entire body, like a broken ragdoll, was violently thrown against the hall’s golden dragon pillar, then tumbled to the ground.
The white heat source on him quickly dimmed and cooled, almost merging with the icy floor.
“Master——!!!”
Huiren screamed, rushing to drag the bloodied, unconscious Deqing to a corner.
Meanwhile, Emperor Zhao Yuan, pinned safely under Li Fuan and Zhou Wei, was unharmed.
But when he lifted his head from the trembling servants, saw the golden pillar stained red with blood, and saw the Imperial Uncle nearby, right arm severed, life uncertain…
Two explosions, two brushes with death.
In the eyes of the Son of Heaven, there was no imperial majesty or anger left—only the most primal, utterly shattered… fear.