Whether you’re an assassin or a politician, you can’t explain away your failure by saying "I didn’t expect it." Failure is failure—no amount of excuses can change that. And a single failure is enough to cost them their lives or destroy them forever.
For Commander Harold Han, his two "I didn’t expect it" moments were enough to cost him his life. As the Brocade Guard’s overall commander, his reckless pursuit of glory—riding out alone to ambush Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan in the countryside—was a fatal mistake.
As the head of the Brocade Guard, Harold Han only cared about the credit for capturing Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan, never considering what chaos would erupt in Westlyn’s secret-police once their commander was gone.
Maybe in Harold’s mind, personally capturing Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan was a sure thing—he simply didn’t expect an accident. But that accident was exactly what killed him.
At first, Nolan and Zane Shore’s teamwork was awkward and rough. But after thirty exchanges, with deliberate cooperation from Nolan, Zane found his own moves suddenly infused with deadly force.
Zane was a bit surprised—not at his own technique, but at the fact that Nolan could actually set aside his pride and edge to work with him. It didn’t fit the image of Nolan he had in his mind.
But surprise aside, with Nolan’s cooperation, Zane fully unleashed his aura as the continent’s number-one assassin. His arrogant killer’s pride was on full display, making Serena Feng cheer with excitement—and satisfaction.
Ten moves.
With Nolan’s help, Zane needed only ten moves to drive his sword into Harold Han’s throat. In that instant, not only Zane but even Harold himself couldn’t believe he’d die so pitifully—at the hands of a young assassin.
"Impossible." Harold’s blade was still mid-swing, but at that moment, he could no longer bring it down.
Harold Han lowered his head, staring at the sword piercing his throat. Even now, he couldn’t believe he was really dead.
"I can’t believe it either, but that’s the reality." Zane snapped out of his shock, coldly twisting his wrist to make sure Harold was truly dead before pulling out his sword.
Thud...
The moment the sword came free, Harold’s broadsword crashed heavily to the ground. He still stood firm, and if not for the blood gushing from his throat, Nolan and Zane might have doubted he was dead.
Westlyn’s greatest intelligence chief, head of its darkest department—Harold Han—died just like that. Even though his death was part of the plan, Nolan still felt it was a pity when it actually happened.
This was a man who’d been active in Westlyn’s bureaucracy for over twenty years, holding countless secrets and dirty dealings. Yet he died without spilling a single one.
If the Westlyn Emperor knew, he might actually be pleased—at least Harold Han kept Westlyn’s secrets to the very end.
With Harold dead, the biggest obstacle to Nolan and Serena Feng leaving Westlyn was gone. Both of them breathed easier, knowing they wouldn’t have to worry about Westlyn’s pursuit for a while.
After Harold’s death, both the Brocade Guard and Westlyn’s bureaucracy would be thrown into chaos for a while. No one in Westlyn would have the energy to go after Nolan and Serena, making their escape much smoother.
"Let’s go." Nolan and Serena shared a horse, while Zane had his own. Once the three mounted up, they tacitly fell silent, riding off toward the main road.
They needed to get out of Shangjing as fast as possible—the farther away, the better. As for the corpse crashing to the ground behind them, none of the three were interested in dealing with it. A dead man couldn’t cause any more trouble.
The dead can’t stir up trouble, but the living can. Early that morning, the Westlyn Emperor received word that Ninth Royal Uncle Nolan had escaped Shangjing and Harold Han had been killed. Furious, he smashed his swallow-nest tonic and immediately ordered the general guarding the Eastlyn–Westlyn border to seize Nolan and Serena Feng—dead or alive.
You think you can just stir up chaos in Westlyn and run? Life’s not that easy.
An Imperial Express Dispatch raced eight hundred li to deliver the news to the general guarding the Eastlyn–Westlyn border. But Nolan received word even before the general did.
So the Westlyn general sat at the border, waiting bitterly for Nolan to arrive. He waited a whole month and never saw anyone who even looked like Nolan. Helpless, he could only write a report to the Emperor: Nolan never came.
Meanwhile, Nolan, Serena Feng, and Zane had already changed course, heading toward the Westlyn–Southlyn border. They borrowed Southlyn’s road to return to Eastlyn. It cost them some extra time, but kept them much safer.
No matter how skilled Nolan and Zane were, neither wanted to face an army head-on. Charging into a hundred thousand troops alone might be brave, but it was also foolish. Even if they won, it’d be a miserable victory. Nolan and Zane were obviously lazy—they didn’t want trouble. Besides, taking Southlyn’s road didn’t add much distance, and they had contacts waiting for them there.
The three of them openly crossed the Westlyn–Southlyn border into Southlyn. To be safe, they avoided the bustling cities, sticking to border trails and riding hard day and night, finally reaching the Eastlyn capital just before Lunar New Year’s Eve.
Staring up at the towering city gates, Nolan and Serena both breathed a sigh of relief. Their time away from the capital had been fraught with danger, but they’d made it back alive. Even this not-so-likable gate looked better than usual to them.
"Let’s go in." Nolan spurred his horse forward, signaling Zane to follow.
Zane wasn’t surprised at all that Nolan could get the city gates opened in the middle of the night. After all, he’d already witnessed Nolan’s power along the way.
Nolan’s reach was long—throughout the journey from Westlyn to Southlyn, there were people waiting to help them, providing clothes and fresh horses at every stop.
Even someone as experienced as Zane was stunned by Nolan’s meticulous planning and influence. How long did it take to set up such a perfect escape route, with everything prepared in advance?
Not long—just three years.
Three years ago, Nolan secretly decided to infiltrate Westlyn to pave the way for Ouyang Cheng’an. He’d spent all this time preparing, and he hadn’t just set up one escape route.
What Zane saw was only a small part, and once a route was used, it was scrapped and never reused. So even knowing it didn’t help Zane much.
In the dead of night, Nolan didn’t reveal his identity—instead, he presented a Divine Tactics Corps token. The gate guards, recognizing its authority, hurriedly opened a side gate and let the three inside.
Once inside, Nolan originally meant to escort Serena Feng home, but as soon as they entered, palace staff were waiting. The Emperor had issued an urgent summons for Nolan to enter the palace immediately.
Obviously, the Emperor was well aware of Nolan’s movements—otherwise, he wouldn’t have caught him the moment he entered the city.
Nolan wasn’t surprised at all. If the Eastlyn Emperor couldn’t track his whereabouts in his own capital, he wouldn’t deserve the throne.
Nolan nodded to Serena Feng, assuring her that everything would be fine and she should go home without worry.
Though still worried, Serena nodded and returned to Feng Manor with Zane.
In this matter, she couldn’t help Nolan. Back at Skyvault Palace, Nolan had caused Eastlyn to lose thirty thousand troops—the Emperor was bound to settle the score. She just hadn’t expected him to be so impatient, dragging Nolan into the palace for a reckoning the moment he entered the city.