Chapter 10

Xue Jin'an gripped the Fourth Prince firmly, not letting go until he had dragged him to the abandoned palace he had selected.

The moment he released his hold, he was shoved away with considerable force. Having deactivated his "anti-fall" mode to better play the victim, Xue Jin'an collapsed onto the ground with a fragile, helpless grace.

"Xue Jin'an? Why is it you?" The Fourth Prince, upon recognizing his captor, touched his bruised face and aching ribs, his expression one of pure disbelief.

*No way,* he thought. *How could someone as half-dead as Xue Jin'an have this much strength?* He had struggled the entire way here without managing to break free; he was certain he’d be covered in bruises.

The Fourth Prince felt a mix of panic and cowardice. He retreated a step, masking his fear with bluster. "Xue Jin'an, are you sick in the head? Why are you picking a fight for no reason? I’m busy today; I don't have time to deal with you."

He turned to bolt, but a cold, clipped "Fourth Brother" pinned him to the spot.

Xue Jin'an slowly stood up, his tone calm. "Fourth Brother, you pushed me, so you owe me compensation. It would be better if you stayed for another quarter of an hour before leaving."

He had calculated precisely. The slowest his battery replacement could take was fifteen minutes, and he had allowed plenty of room for error, so there was no need to rush.

"Y-y-you, if you have something to say, just say it! Put the knife down!" The Fourth Prince’s legs went weak. He pointed a trembling finger at the blade Xue Jin'an had produced from nowhere, his scalp prickling with terror.

Seeing Xue Jin'an standing still, the Fourth Prince assumed his words had worked and felt a surge of relief. His mind raced as he forced a stiff, ingratiating smile to save himself. "Little Seven, don’t be rash. Let’s sit down and talk this through. It was wrong of me to bully you; I should compensate you. Tell me what you want—take it, here is my coin purse. It’s full of gold leaves. Consider it a gift of submission. Is that enough? If not, I’ll have Shunde go back and fetch more..."

In reality, Xue Jin'an had not attacked immediately because he was running a high-level scan of his surroundings with his built-in cameras to ensure the environment was safe for extracting his battery. He hadn’t even brought his attendant, Xiao Lu, precisely to ensure the extraction went smoothly.

However, the scan revealed something unexpected.

Xue Jin'an was certain this place was abandoned; he had even checked the original text. In the novel, the Fifth Prince had mentioned it to Chu Wenjing: "I know of an abandoned palace near the Imperial Study. It was built by the late Emperor for Imperial Concubine Hui, but later..." The Fifth Prince had paused, then added vaguely, "After she died, no one ever entered it again. Later, when the Imperial Study was established nearby, the ladies avoided it to stay clear of suspicion. It became completely desolate, no different from a Cold Palace."

The Fifth Prince had described the palace's layout in detail, even noting the flowers and trees in the courtyard. Xue Jin'an, having been torn between several options, had immediately chosen this spot upon reading such a clear description. It was the closest to the Imperial Study and had the most detailed map—a perfect choice!

Yet, upon arriving, he realized that "rarely visited" did not mean "unvisited." This place appeared to be someone’s secret hideout; there were even traces of frequent climbing on the rockery.

As if on cue, footsteps approached. Xue Jin'an frowned. "Looks like I need to hurry."

As he moved toward his beloved battery, his human "spare parts bin" retreated in terror.

The Fourth Prince, already parched from talking, broke into a cold sweat, his eyes welling with tears. "N-n-no, don’t move! If you’re unhappy about something, we can discuss it! You don't know I’d disagree if you haven't asked! I admit my temper is bad, but I’m actually very reasonable. Look at Shunde—he betrayed me right to my face, and I didn't even punish him—ah, ah! Don't move! Don't come any closer!"

Fearing his loud cries would attract more people, Xue Jin'an stopped and flashed a friendly, reassuring smile. "Fourth Brother, don't be afraid. I won't hurt you; I just want to borrow your battery."

Realizing the ancients might not understand what a battery was, he added, "I mean, your heart."

***

*It’s over,* the Fourth Prince thought. *He doesn't think slicing my flesh is satisfying enough, so he’s decided to just cut me open, rip out my heart and liver, and scatter my ashes.*

Panic surging, his voice choked with sobs. "Seventh Brother, m-murder is against the law! Put down the butcher's knife and seek salvation..."

The footsteps outside drew closer. Abandoning persuasion, Xue Jin'an decided to simply take his compensation by force.

"AAAAAAHHHHH! Don't come over here!!!" The threat of death triggered a burst of potential in the Fourth Prince, who scrambled away with startling speed.

Xue Jin'an hadn't expected such a sudden spike in the prince's physiological data; human adrenaline was truly impressive, and machines could certainly use it. Fortunately, he had run various simulations for such contingencies and was able to easily corner the Fourth Prince. He sensed the footsteps outside had stopped, and a moment later, the sound of someone scaling the wall echoed through the courtyard.

Xue Jin'an decided to finish it, driving the Fourth Prince toward that direction while walking at a leisurely, calculated pace.

Forced into a dead end, the Fourth Prince, in a moment of panicked ingenuity, learned how to climb a tree on the fly and scrambled up.

At the same moment, the person outside reached the top of the wall.

"AAAAH!" The terrified Fourth Prince kicked out blindly. Fortunately, the newcomer had good reflexes and stabilized himself just in time.

"Old Four? Why are you here?" The familiar voice was like music to the Fourth Prince’s ears. Tears and snot streaming down his face, he wailed, "Fifth Brother! Fifth Brother, save me! Xue Jin'an has gone mad—he wants to kill me!"

"What?" The Fifth Prince blinked.

No wonder he was so familiar with this palace; it was his secret hideout.

Xue Jin'an stood under the tree, looking up with a calm, well-behaved expression. "Fifth Brother."

The Fifth Prince saw the knife in his hand. He fell silent for a long moment, then turned to jump back over the wall. "I’ve come at a bad time. I’ll be leaving now."

"Ah, ah! Fifth Brother, don't leave me!" The Fourth Prince grabbed the Fifth Prince’s pant leg, holding him fast with a desperate grip.

Bathed in the warm, golden afternoon sun, Xue Jin'an gazed up with a standard, perfectly pleasant smile. "No, Fifth Brother, you’ve come at exactly the right time."

He meant it quite sincerely.

The Fifth Prince felt his own scalp prickle. "What if I said I’m actually blind, that Master Cen gave me leave to go to the Imperial Hospital, and I only ended up here by accident because I couldn't find my way? Would you believe me?"

The Fourth Prince was stunned. "Fifth Brother, you can actually say that many words in one breath?!" He usually only spoke in one or two-word bursts!

The Fifth Prince: "...You’re hopeless. Just wait to die."

*

The Fifth Prince wasn't blind, but he was skipping class.

Today at the Imperial Study was strange, and Master Cen was the strangest of all. From the moment he arrived, he had sat there flipping through a stack of yellow paper covered in writing, occasionally stroking his beard in admiration, and other times frowning and clicking his tongue.

"Master, what are you reading? Let us see, too!" The Second Prince, unable to contain his curiosity, nudged the person next to him, and his attendant took the hint, asking the question aloud.

In truth, everyone was curious. The princes held onto their dignity, but the attendants, unburdened by such concerns, stretched their necks to get a better look.

But clearly, Master Cen had no intention of telling them. He brushed them off with a perfunctory, "Nothing, just an assignment."

He flipped the yellow paper facedown beneath a stack of others and stood up to begin the lecture. "I am substituting for Master Jiang today. Let me see where he left off in the 'Book of Rites'..."

Master Cen was actually telling the truth. It was indeed an assignment—one from several days ago. He didn't know when or how it had appeared on his desk. Even the yellow paper was repurposed from his own talismans. Fortunately, the writer had brought their own ink and brush and hadn't used his cinnabar—cinnabar was expensive and had recently gone up in price.

It was the Festival of the Lanterns, and monks and Taoists were all over the city holding sermons and proselytizing. As a Taoist himself, Master Cen hadn't wanted to miss it. He had stayed in the capital for several days, only returning to the mountain temple just before the curfew the previous night.

It was only when he woke up to practice his calligraphy and draw talismans that morning that he had discovered the assignment.

Master Cen suspected someone had broken into his room, but his disciple had spoken bluntly: "Our temple isn't famous, and you refuse to take money from the officials, Master. We haven't had a single pilgrim in half a year."

"I think it’s a warning from our founder. He wants you to earn more money and maybe build a gold statue like the one at the Wanfu Temple next door."

Master Cen had kicked the disciple out and turned to look at the anonymous essay.

What first caught his attention was the handwriting—so rigorous and upright that it bordered on rigid.

They say handwriting reflects the person. Master Cen was a free-spirited Taoist, and his own writing was wild and uninhibited, especially his cursive script, which flowed like a painting, transcending the mundane. By rights, he should have hated such rigid script, yet this script had reached a state of perfection in its rigidity; it possessed the beauty of order.

Even if it wasn't to his personal taste, he had to admit it was pleasing to the eye. And even more pleasing was the content. The structure was clear and meticulous. While the analysis of the original text was standard, the arguments were fresh and insightful, even if the phrasing occasionally seemed nonsensical or disjointed. It was a brilliant piece of work.

The entire essay was a contradiction, as if a master of Confucianism who had only just learned to read and write had penned it. But how could a master of Confucianism be a novice?

If Xue Jin'an had known his thoughts, he would have shrugged. *Can't help it. We code-based lifeforms don't have a literary style; we just fill in the content using data from our database. It’s good enough if it looks fine at a glance.*

Master Cen had been so immersed in the essay that he’d only remembered he had to substitute teach when his disciple reminded him. He’d grabbed the unfinished essay and rushed to the palace. He hid it from the others simply because the essay was too bold; some of its content was truly not suitable for public display.

Master Cen had spoken the truth, but no one believed him. While they acted as if they were focusing on their textbooks, their eyes were glued to the desk where the "assignment" lay. Under the master's nose, they exchanged glances, trying to pick a scapegoat to sneak over and take a look at the yellow paper.

In the end, as expected, the role of the scapegoat fell to the Eighth Prince, even though his seat was hardly the most convenient for the task.