She set aside the ledger and drew out several letters from the box, breaking the wax seals and unfolding the pages.
The first two were secret orders from the Crown Prince, instructing Ji Huai’an to secretly “win over” key commanders of the *Jinwu Guard*, *Yulin Guard*, and *Palace Guard*.
The last letter was thicker than the others, bulging with contents, and notably lacked a wax seal.
Baili Jun pulled out the stack. The top was a letter: “This arrangement of Brother Huai’an as Zhonglang General of the Yulin Guard is the fruit of my careful planning. The Yulin Guard protects the palace gates, a critical post. You must use it well. Two matters require immediate action: First, within six months, replace the commanders of the Xuanwu Gate and Zhuque Gate with reliable men. Second, every ten days, rotate one hundred guards, under the guise of recruiting new palace sentries, gradually inserting shadow guards. This is vital to the grand plan. Proceed with utmost caution.”
“The Crown Prince wants to replace the entire palace guard…” Qingluan gasped.
“So that’s it.” Baili Jun sneered.
Ji Huai’an’s demotion from general to Zhonglang General of the Yulin Guard had seemed like the Emperor’s distrust of the Xiao clan’s military power. In truth, it was the Crown Prince’s design. The post was neither high nor low, inconspicuous yet critical—controlling palace entrances. Combined with his concurrent role in the Ministry of War’s Division of Military Affairs, it was tailor-made for monitoring military intelligence.
To the Emperor, these were executor roles, not decision-making ones. This dual disguise lowered suspicion completely. The Crown Prince had indeed laid a grand game of chess.
Baili Jun steadied herself and unfolded a sheet of silk as thin as cicada wings. On it were densely recorded names and positions. At a glance, over a thousand palace guards had already been replaced. Each name bore marks like “Grade A” or “Grade B”—likely denoting ranks of shadow guards.
Qingluan pointed: “Commander Zhao of Xuanwu Gate just left office last month due to mourning his mother. His replacement is the Crown Prince’s man?”
Baili Jun sneered, tapping another spot. “Not just Xuanwu Gate. Look at Zhuque Gate’s roster—every guard from the Hour of the Dog to the Hour of the Tiger has been replaced. That’s exactly when Father travels to and from the Imperial Study.”
The *Jinyi Guard* was absent from the list, of course—they were the Emperor’s personal troops, beyond the Crown Prince’s reach.
Baili Jun continued reading and found a copy of the palace defense map. It marked every gate, guard post, patrol route, rotation schedule—even hidden sentries and emergency passages. Seven posts were circled in red, annotated: “Double the manpower required.”
“The Crown Prince is preparing for a coup…” A chill raced up Baili Jun’s spine.
Replacing guards, hoarding defense maps, and embezzling vast payroll funds. This was not mere corruption or framing loyal generals. This was preparation to overthrow the throne. Feeding private troops and controlling palace gates required immense silver. The Youzhou treasury was his war chest. At the bottom of the map, a tiny note read: “Act by the command token, obey orders not edicts.”
Command token… replacement list… act by the token…
Suddenly, lightning struck Baili Jun’s mind. She snapped her head up, gaze blazing toward the desk corner. There lay the black command token. Its golden character “Zhang” gleamed in the candlelight, piercing her eyes.
The command token… the replacement list… “act by the token”…
All the fragments connected at last. So that was it!
This unassuming black command token was not merely a symbol of the Crown Prince’s authority—it was the key to mobilizing the “shadow posts” secretly embedded within the palace guard.
Ji Huai’an, as Zhonglang General of the Yulin Guard, was the crucial executor of the replacement plan. The token was his proof of command.
The Crown Prince had entrusted it to him to control the palace gates when needed. But Ji Huai’an had kept a duplicate record—and now it had fallen into her hands.
The Crown Prince’s panic in court suddenly made perfect sense. This was no ordinary leverage. This was ironclad proof of treason—enough to nail him to the pillar of rebellion.
The candlelight flickered across Baili Jun’s calm face, but in her eyes gleamed a blade’s edge. She could not fathom it.
Baili Zhang was already the rightful heir, destined for the throne. Why risk everything with such schemes? Was it impatience? Or had other factions already begun their own games?
Beside her, Qingluan felt inside the envelope and found more. “Your Highness, there’s something else!”
Baili Jun unfolded the paper. It was a more private record: Replacement Progress: Four palace gates replaced: Xuanwu Gate (complete), Zhuque Gate (complete), Shenwu Gate (complete), Meridian Gate (in progress).
Next stage: Within one year, control all nine inner gates. Within two years, replace half the palace guard.
The paper was creased from frequent handling. A watermark revealed the Eastern Palace’s seal.
She quickly checked other letters and found, hidden in the third, a more detailed roster. Arranged by rank, each name carried notes of family background and incriminating evidence.
For example: Right Lieutenant of the Jinwu Guard, Feng Zheng—father is Youzhou grain commissioner, corruption evidence secured. Or: Left Lieutenant of the Gate Guard, Zhou Yan—affair with a court lady, letters as proof.
“Well played—fear and favor both.” Baili Jun’s fingers chilled. “No wonder these commanders obeyed Ji Huai’an without question.”
Qingluan pointed at the end of the list. “Your Highness, look here!”
The final lines listed names marked specially: ‘Dead men, usable as pawns.’One name was circled in red: ‘This man resembles Princess Zhaohua by five parts. Can serve as a substitute if needed.’
The chamber froze.
Baili Jun stared at the words, realization dawning. That was why the Crown Prince had ordered Ji Huai’an to “take her heart alive” and then destroy the body. They didn’t just want her dead. They wanted a double to impersonate her after death.
The evidence formed a web, intricate and suffocating, ensnaring her. Her mind flashed to the Crown Prince’s gentle smile—the mask of brotherly affection hiding a venomous scorpion’s heart.
“Special heart meridian…” Baili Jun laughed softly, eyes cold as frost.
“You want my heart? Then let’s see whose heart is carved out first.”
The candlelight cast jagged shadows across her face. Her smile was twisted, sharper than steel.
“Your Highness…” Qingluan’s voice trembled with worry.
“Shh…” Baili Jun raised a bloodstained finger to her lips, eyes blazing with murderous intent. “Listen—the Shenwu Gate’s drum is sounding.”
One beat, two beats… Like a death chant, or the opening gong of a new play.
The board was set.
Now—it was her turn to play.