Despite the strange nature of the scene, Qian Ye still took the official appointment order and skimmed its entirety.
This was truly an official document. The texture unmistakably revealed the military department’s specialized paper, the seal itself embedded with an innate power array, easily allowing even a battle general level expert to tell whether it was authentic.
Had Qian Ye not seen her handwrite it before his own eyes, he would never even contemplate its validity.
“This, this appointment …”
“What? Is it fake?” Ji Tianqing asked innocently—clearly pretending she didn’t know how this document had appeared.
Qian Ye had no answer for this absurd situation.
Every perspective indicated the appointment letter was true—more so, that it was an immediate one. Yet, in spite of logic, Qian Ye somehow couldn’t view it as genuine.
An overwhelming sensation lodged in his chest—irritable, stifling. Even if he had been hit by a direct shot from Zhao Yusying’s palm cannon, he would not feel so agitated in his heart.
Thankfully, with prolonged exposure to Song Zining, Qian Ye now possessed sufficient political nous to carefully respond: “See, as an individual who frequently shifts locations while fighting, in terms of auxiliary strategy I naturally should rely upon someone more powerful and holding a higher rank; if the military has any particularly suitable alternatives ready, I, of course, won’t hesitate for one moment to welcome such a transition.”
His tone delicately cloaked intention—a seemingly simple suggestion that was, in practice, difficult to execute due to the extensive chain approvals involved in personnel transfers. There would always appear certain parties wanting to influence affairs with vested interest wherever an appointment or removal occurred. Even presuming Ji Tianqing exercised powerful authority, nothing could materialise within one month. Meanwhile, Qian’s trail would have gone completely cold.
Hence, the art of delay was born—one delaying tactics after another until the original matter naturally died down.
Qian Ye’s cleverness pleased him silently when abruptly—caught by a sarcastic glimmer flashing in Ji Qing’s gaze. Laughing lightly, her fingers snapped.
Instantly, a lieutenant-colonel’s insignia miraculously appeared in her hand, prompting her to ask with innocence, “Will this make you satisfied? Well, what about this—a colonel’s stripe? Perhaps a general officer, like a brigadier?”
With every word, a corresponding insignia manifested in her fingers. From Colonel up through Brigadier General, already higher that Qian’s current rank. Finally appeared, as though by magic itself, a star-adorned Major General’s epaulette fluttered mockingly before his eyes.
Qian could only sigh, bitterly stating, “You’re planning to make me serve under *your* baton?”
“I’m offering to act under *your* command. Now tell me, which ranking do you choose for said assistant?”
Qian instantly recognized that the tide could not be turned, offering reluctant compromise “Fine; Major suffices…the rest, just stop!”
“That was fast! Now shift yourself!” Gloated Ji Qing, shouldering him aside with finality as she strode forward into the courtyard.
Qian could hardly contain his shock as she proceeded through door after door in thorough room inspections, finally selecting a guest room neighboring Qian’s.
Throwing her baggage violently onto his cot—causing a cloud-burst of dust to lift from its dusty depths—declared: “Guess I sleep here tonight!”
“Uh—sleep?” Qian’s brain lagged far behind her swift arrangements.
“Of course—when I say intimate adjutant, surely you understand such a close aide should literally be intimate: sharing lodgings!” replied Ji Qing, shrugging as to something too obvious to mention.
“That… doesn’t feel quite correct.”
“Why ever not?” She frowned at his hesitation as though it were irrational stubbornness.
Qian’s thoughts became a tangled mess of doubt as he carefully framed his concerns: “You understand I must still investigate your circumstances further—”
She interrupted coldly—“None of that’s something for you to question—I am the only one whose comprehension matters!”
A terrifying reply silencing Qian like icy water down his spine even as he struggled for rebuttality: “Consider your status in highborn circles—it would compromise your reputation living so co-sitedly beside a humble like me.”
She laughed at that: “‘Compromise My Reputation?!’ Worried you won’t secure another bride?”
“Not… precisely… it’s not…”
Without allowing response, Ji slapped him heartily on the shoulder—shuddering his very bones in a casual gesture of familiarity:
“Worries are superfluous! As I say, If no one but you desires responsibility—I already have dibs! Don’t overthink things!”
Qian was left speechless—not so much for words themselves, but his mind had just focused upon a far graver issue.
Her casual slap landed with such absolute smoothness. She struck through his defense without him noticing. He barely sensed the movement—not even flaring primal force or a blood pulse. So effortless it blended with the rhythm of wind itself.
However—that slap merely pretended gentleness. In truth, at any second that light pressure held potential to crush steel and shatter bones—an instantaneous, devastating attack. Masters possessed similar mastery techniques; Qian himself was proficient in sudden shifts of power like thunder.
So were Ji’s hands filled with lethal secrets beyond imagination?
A single unguarded moment could result in serious damage—less due to the depth of her primal power—but rather the arcane sophistication within the slap surpassed even Li Kuanglan’s famed blade speed. Beyond even the stillness of Qian Ye’s own void-cutting or his stabilising field “Stabilize Eight Directions”.
Qian sighed. She started unpacking belongings—somehow bringing more furniture than should’ve fit her single traveling rucksack.
She even took odd strolls through the yard carrying her mattress.
Though her strange acts puzzled Qian endlessly, Ji Qian was not the kind to do senseless things. There surely lingered a deeper, hidden meaning behind those actions—he simply couldn’t figure out exactly *what* right this moment.
And then, as golden twilight spilled across Falling City—light spilling crimson on towers and turrets—two silhouettes stood high atop a distant energy tower, facing toward Qian’s courtyard, cloaks billowing like night-streaked sails upon the oceanic breeze.
“Still hasn’t exited. How long does the woman plan on sticking about?” spat a small angry voice—Kong Xuan.
Goddess clad as serving wraith, Kong’s fists clenched white against wind’s caress. “Seriously, would she be so shameless to attempt stealing supper as well? This isn’t some cheap buffet restaurant where guests can just ‘add another plate casually!’”
Beside her, motionless as a statue, Li Kuanglan watched the yard through miles with cold silence.
Her every action had played into view—yet moments had been deliberately veiled when their sight failed to penetrate. They were shown precisely what she wanted them to perceive.
As crimson sun dipped beneath far cliffs—a dual-planetary halo painting night into shimmer—a quiet rage stirred through Kong Xinlan’s body:
“What in the name is that! Now holding her sheets—what… what exactly is her intention! Please don’t tell she has made a ‘permanent move’!”
“It only appears to be room adjustment…” replied Li Kuanglan dispassionately.
“To rearrange beds inside *their courtyard*?!”
“It is for our benefit to see what she shows us.”
“Great joy seeing a madwoman’s interior design choices! She’s really decided this is temporary housing! That detestable woman!!”
“That manner of speech may bring unneeded consequences when discussing the High Lord,” Li warned frostily. “Choose words more wisely in future.”
“Well then—I’ll call her what fits my feelings and leave High Lords out of it!” she hissed angrily. “Answer me directly, Kuanglan—how can you remain like a lake of frozen glass watching *her* do *her* nonsense?”
His gaze remained fixated at one specific courtyard in town where Ji was—surprise!—strolling back into their courtyard—and then—unbelievably!—waved cheerfully toward their distant energy tower perch.
“This issue doesn’t necessitate our intrusion,” Li calmly observed despite rising fury at her wave. “Others will certainly take charge when timing demands it—don’t overlook that Flicker remains within Falling City under Zhao’s auspices. We are not fools—we’d be the foolish ones, should we challenge within Zhao’s domain directly. This issue will undoubtedly travel a natural path into that one known hand soon enough.”
“But Kuai’er may *interpret things unexpectedly*,” Kong whispered darkly, suddenly fearful her voice might awaken slumbering giants below them if she was too blunt.
Li Kuanglan blinked slowly—”You speak meaning Zhao would ignore if she overpowered Qian Ye’s authority?”
“Oh don’t be such a dull sword,” Kong groaned impatiently poking his side. The man was such an *insufferable swordslinger* lately.
Back in Falling City’s capital mansion, Flicker’s domain eyes were *never* blind. As a result of Ji’s peculiar ‘adjustments,’ even mundane room furniture relocation instantly transmitted to the desk of ZHAO JUNDU.
Her rearrangement had taken over an hour anyway—a theatrical procession, bedding dragged repeatedly around courtyard lawns until no shadow or corner failed inspection under solar rays, enough reason to prompt *atleast twenty detailed eye reports* alone within the Zhao surveillance system.
Zhao slowly re-read that document five entire times as if each new viewing might reveal a twist.
Meanwhile Song Zining silently observed him. Studied the man’s shifting mien minute-by_minute.
Five long agonized minutes after the letter finally lowered from his hand Song cautiously probed with a half-joke.
“Have anything you would like to suggest regarding this absurd affair with your good buddy Qian?”
“An appetizer that voluntarily approaches—best swallowed whole,” Zhao remarked casually.
“Hmm, I didn’t quite catch that?”
“To summarize? Even IF he consumed an offered delicacy,” Zhao grinned cryptic, “one cannot imagine he’s actually the one in danger during such feasting…”
Song almost blurted out that biting question—”And what happens *morality wise*?”
Such a challenge, spoken aloud might end up triggering another round of his “favorite” imprisonment exercise—Eight Directions Seal again! So instead he chose to simply whisper with a sigh—
“You… are still fit to inherit heaven’s Mandate?”
“Indeed,” replied Zhao smoothly. “Because your understanding of destiny lags in comprehensions still too narrow.”
As the sun finally vanished fully beyond skyline edges—meal attendants now scurried with silver trays along corridor routes toward courtyard chambers—the roaring of engines broke the calm evening air as luxury four-wheelers rolled into view from the winding street outside, arriving dramatically at courtyard gates like storm.
Each car in the convoy exude prestige—the fleet’s very existence implying someone possessing immeasurable affluence and nobility.
As the convoy slowed and stopped, a distinguished-looking middle-aged man stepped out surrounded by a phalanx of assistants. Wading carefully through courtyard dust, finally standing beside Qian as voice spoke confidently.
“Greetings, esteemed general! May I introduce us, as sent by Lord Zain Bertram on special assignment. Sir desires formal court connection with great honor—his daughter of sixteen has blossomed into an admirable bloom. An impressive Grade 3 adept.”
With practiced smile, the man’s hand extended slightly towards Qian Ye as he suggested softly—”This evening perhaps feels like an awkward invitation…but perhaps dinner company *tomorrow night sounds better*?”
“Errr…?” A shock too sudden for Qian to react properly—at face value, everything was explained clearly in words—but his mind struggled *completely* comprehending being on stage in this romantic plot previously reserved for Wei Patian or Song Zining.
Mistaking Qian’s hesitation for shyness, the man smiled reassuringly once more—
“It already feels prewritten! This young noble beauty clearly harmonizing with your heroic form! Just wait patiently for that dinner date.”
And just as the man ended dramatically, out of nowhere came Ji Tianqing materializing behind Qian Ye. Arms now crossed in disdain—a cold, almost contempt-filled grin curling at once.
“Kindly repeating the entire introduction again,” Ji Qing demanded icily, “because—sir? Somehow I missed your name.”
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