Night. The night in the Thang Long Imperial Capital was long and heavy. In the firmament, the seven brightest stars of the Big Dipper constellation seemed to have aligned into a single, straight line, radiating a cold, eerie light. This was the rare astronomical phenomenon known as the "Grand Alignment of Seven Stars." To ordinary mortals, it might merely be a beautiful spectacle. But to practitioners of heretical arts, this was the moment when the yin energy between Heaven and Earth reached its absolute zenith—a once-in-a-millennium opportunity to execute the most wicked of secret arts.
Within an abandoned manor in the western district of the city, a place the Marquis of Vinh An had secretly purchased long ago, a makeshift altar had been erected. Over a hundred black silhouettes clad in dark robes and wearing demonic masks sat cross-legged, their mouths incessantly murmuring ghostly incantations. In the center stood a middle-aged man wearing a black robe embroidered with silver clouds. His face was cold, his gaze as sharp as a blade. He was none other than the Huyen Envoy, the strategist of the Sacred Dynasty. He did not look at the altar. He gazed toward the distant imperial palace, a cruel, malicious smile curling the corners of his mouth.
"Tran Kien... descendant of Lac Viet..." he murmured. "Did you truly think you were the chess player? You do not know that this entire capital has long been my chessboard."
Simultaneously, at An Lac Temple. The atmosphere was incredibly solemn. The Eighteen Arhat Monks were no longer in cross-legged meditation; they stood in a horizontal line before the main hall, tightly gripping their Zen staffs, their expressions stern. Grandmaster Phap Chan remained seated, but his sutra chanting had grown deep and resonant. Each syllable struck like a mountain, suppressing the yin aura that was growing increasingly dense in the air.
Inside the meditation room, Lam Vy sat opposite Uncle Sword. The young girl no longer bore a trace of fear; within her large, round eyes remained only absolute resolve.
"Uncle Sword, Big Brother Tran... will he arrive in time?"
"He will," Uncle Sword replied with a single word, yet it carried an iron-clad conviction.
The exact Hour of the Rat.
"MOVE!!!" A chilling command was issued from the abandoned manor. Over a hundred Sacred Guards—puppets at the Foundation Establishment Realm nurtured by the Sacred Dynasty—opened their eyes in unison. They did not rush out onto the main streets. They followed the labyrinthine network of subterranean sewers, like a horde of rats, silently advancing toward the imperial palace.
But they did not know that their every move was under absolute surveillance. In an obscured corner near An Lac Temple, Tran Kien, Uncle Sword, and the Blood Fiend Guards had been lying in ambush for a long time.
"They are not attacking An Lac Temple head-on," Thiet Phu whispered. "This subterranean sewer leads to a dried-up well in the Imperial Gardens, right next to the walls of An Lac Temple. They intend to launch a sneak attack from the rear!"
"No," Tran Kien shook his head, his eyes shining like stars in the darkness. "This is merely a feint. The Huyen Envoy's true target is not Lam Vy."
"What?!" Uncle Sword was also shocked.
"He is a strategist," Tran Kien analyzed. "He would never put all his eggs in one basket. He knows I will come to rescue Lam Vy. He knows you and Grandmaster Phap Chan are there. An Lac Temple is the hardest of traps. He would not be so foolish as to throw himself into it."
"The attack on An Lac Temple is merely to draw our complete attention. Meanwhile, the Huyen Envoy will undoubtedly lead another elite squad to strike at a place far more crucial!"
Tran Kien unfurled a map of the imperial palace. His finger did not point to An Lac Temple. It pointed to the place that housed the Dragon Veins of all Dai Viet. The Imperial Ancestral Temple! The sanctuary where the past emperors were worshipped!
"He does not want to capture Lam Vy," Tran Kien said, his voice as cold as glacial ice. "He intends to defile the Dragon Veins, completely severing the destiny of the current dynasty, and creating a true grand chaos! This is his true stratagem of 'Extracting the Firewood from Beneath the Cauldron'!"
"Then what must we do?"
"Beat them at their own game," Tran Kien said. "Uncle Sword, I must trouble you to lead ten brothers and head immediately to An Lac Temple. You need not fight; simply project momentum, making them believe we have fallen for the trap."
"As for myself and the remaining men," he looked toward the Imperial Ancestral Temple. "We shall go catch the true big fish."
The war during the longest night in the capital erupted on two battlefields simultaneously. At An Lac Temple, just as the Sacred Guards crawled out of the dried-up well, they were welcomed by Uncle Sword's heaven-piercing sword-light and the Arhat Array of the monks.
And at the Imperial Ancestral Temple, the most sacred of places, normally guarded by only a few squads of Imperial Guards. The Huyen Envoy, leading the five most powerful Protectors, silently materialized before the main gates like phantoms. He was feeling incredibly smug, preparing to shatter the doors and enter.
Then, from the shadows, a placid voice rang out.
"Huyen Envoy of the Sacred Dynasty, venturing to this place in the dead of night, what business might you have?"
The Huyen Envoy froze. He snapped his head around. Tran Kien, alone with a single saber, had been standing there, blocking his path for an indeterminate amount of time.
"You..." The Huyen Envoy narrowed his eyes. "How did you know of my plan?"
"This chessboard," Tran Kien sneered. "Was not laid out by you alone."
The Huyen Envoy looked at Tran Kien, then toward An Lac Temple, where the sounds of slaughter faintly echoed. He finally understood. He, too, had fallen into a trap.
"Excellent! Truly excellent!" he clapped his hands. "It seems I have underestimated you. Since that is the case, let me see exactly how much capability the inheritor of a crippled legacy possesses."
The game of chess had finally reached a direct confrontation.