Three days had passed since the assassination attempt, and though the blood had been scrubbed from the stone, the stains remained—deep, silent, and insistent.
The Gu estate had returned to a semblance of normalcy, but the undercurrent of fear and suspicion remained palpable. The heavy air of apprehension had settled like dust in every corner, and though the courtyards had once again filled with flickering lanterns and distant music, the joy had vanished.
It was in these moments of careful silence that the greatest dangers were often hidden. The voices of the past had a way of whispering in the spaces where peace should reign. And the Gu family, despite its wealth and its power, was no stranger to such whispers. Gu Yan Chen, sitting alone in the war chamber, understood that.
The war chamber, long abandoned in favor of more modern pursuits, had become a place of reflection and strategy once again. The walls, stained by the passage of time, seemed to carry with them the weight of past conflicts—conflicts that had shaped the family into what it was today. The dark lacquered table, now covered with maps and reports, was a reminder of the bloodshed and the power struggles that had once been a constant companion.
Gu Yan Chen sat still, his gaze fixed on the maps before him, each one outlining the family's holdings, trade routes, and strategic points. The ink on the pages was fresh, but it was not the ink that held his attention. No, it was the name—the sigil—that had caught his eye.
A black feather, tattooed across the shoulders of the assassins. It was a symbol he knew well.
"The Golden Vulture Guild," Captain Hou had said grimly, as if reading the dark thoughts in Gu Yan Chen's mind. "They've been active in the region for years, but their methods have become more... subtle, of late."
Greed. That was the currency of the Golden Vulture Guild, and it was their thirst for it that had brought them to Gu Yan Chen's doorstep. The assassins had been hired only days before the Lantern Festival, their tattoos still fresh, marking them as mercenaries of the guild.
"Fresh ink," Captain Hou had murmured, his voice low with dread. "They were hired less than a fortnight ago."
Gu Yan Chen didn't respond immediately. He knew that the Golden Vulture Guild was no ordinary group of assassins. They were known for their ruthlessness, their efficiency, and their willingness to do whatever it took to turn a profit. But that wasn't what troubled him. It was the fact that they had come for him—that they had been hired to kill him—and that they had succeeded in slipping past the estate's defenses without anyone realizing it until it was too late.
"I know who sent them," Gu Yan Chen murmured, almost to himself.
He didn't look up as he spoke. His eyes were fixed on the window, where the soft light of the lanterns danced across the courtyard. He watched as Mu Lian moved gracefully, her wooden staff slicing through the air with purpose and precision. She was training again, her every movement calculated and deliberate. There was no hesitation in her actions. No fear. Only focus.
Captain Hou's expression tightened, his gaze shifting between his lord and the report in his hand. "You believe it was someone within the family?"
Gu Yan Chen did not answer immediately. He had considered the possibility, but it was not something he was prepared to voice aloud—not yet.
The Gu family, for all its wealth and power, had always been a house divided. The first branch—the branch to which Gu Yan Chen belonged—held the sword, the land, and the military might. The second branch, headed by his uncle Gu Jian Heng, had long operated in the shadows of commerce and trade.
It was an old story—one branch wielded the sword, the other, the coin. And in times of peace, it was always the coin that held sway.
His uncle Gu Jian Heng had long been an incubator for ambition. Through commerce, Gu Jian Heng had built a fortune, and in the process, he had gained more influence than any man in the family should have. And there, beneath the surface, was a slow burn of resentment, something Gu Yan Chen had sensed even as a boy.