“Innocent!” I raised both hands high. “I haven’t done anything!”

  Hua lifted his eyelids. “Words like that usually mean you’re seconds away from doing something stupid.”

  Me: “…”

  System: [Detected psychological allergic reaction to the phrase ‘something stupid.’ Recommending medical attention.]

  I scratched my palm and decided… better keep a low profile and try something first.

  That purple jade pendant—Lian always wore it at his waist. It glimmered faintly beneath his red robes, and he’d shield it with his sleeve from time to time, guarding it like it was dearer than his own life.

  Day One, I went with the simplest, most straightforward method—manual labor.

  “Lian has traveled all day without using even one handkerchief. Allow me to carry the water!”

  My voice was sincere, my eyes earnest. I even flicked some water onto my own face to create the illusion of “loyal dog sweating under the sun, serving at your stirrup.”

  Lian glanced at me, expression as calm and unmoving as spring mountains. “As you wish.”

  I jogged off with the buckets—then circled back behind him, bowed respectfully, and murmured, “Lian, your robe hem seems dusty. Allow me to shake it off for you?”

  As I spoke, my hand quietly drifted toward the purple pendant at his waist.

  Before my fingers even brushed it—

  PIA!

  A crisp crack exploded in the air. My wrist snapped back as if struck by lightning; I nearly dropped to my knees on the spot.

  “Hiss—” Grimacing, I clutched my hand. Lian now held a three-foot-long whip, its tail still trembling gently in the air.

  “You reached in the wrong direction.”

  His tone was calm as still water, gaze lightly sweeping over me as though judging a dim-witted bear trying to steal honey.

  “I—I was helping you… dust off your robe…”

  “I don’t gather dust.”

  He said it with absolute conviction, retracting his whip. His clothes were so immaculate even flying sand would detour around him.

  I swallowed half a mouthful of blood.

  Are you a deity? How can nothing dare touch you?

  Day Two, I changed tactics. During dinner, inspiration struck.

  “Lian worked hard today. Allow me to serve—your bowl, your vegetables, I even pre-heated your chopsticks!”

  He gave me a glance, said nothing, and didn’t stop me.

  Hope flared in my chest. Yes—penetrate from daily life, conquer through emotional support. The great strategy of reclaiming the military seal: begin at the dinner table.

  I presented his soup with one hand, served his food with the other, subtly inching closer.

  Finally—while he lowered his head to drink—I extended my pinky toward the pendant—

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Click.

  A chill pressed against my neck. I froze instantly, soul nearly yeeted from my body.

  Hua had somehow appeared behind me, his folded fan resting lightly on my carotid artery. His voice was warm as spring breeze:

  “You think the Lord’s meal is your excuse to put your claws on him?”

  Cold sweat trickled down. “I—I was just straightening his robe…”

  “Straightening requires scraping with your fingernails?”

  He tapped the back of my hand with his fan. “Your fingers are intact. Want to keep them that way?”

  Me: “…”

  Day Three, I wised up. Night raid.

  Hua had knocked back half a jar of wine and slept early. Lian, as usual, sat cross-legged in meditation. When his breathing smoothed, I crept in, softer than a field mouse ashamed of its own footsteps.

  Moonlight spilled in.

  The pendant hung at his waist, swaying with each breath—like a tiny, glittering “key evidence” begging to be stolen.

  Eyes bright, I reached out—

  A faint fragrance drifted past.

  “…Why does it smell so nice?”

  The next instant, the world flipped. I face-planted into the floor with a crisp thud.

  My brain fogged over. It felt like I’d been dragged through a peach blossom grove then kicked headfirst into a latrine pit—dizzy, nauseous, and limp as overcooked noodles.

  System: [Detected traces of Red-Sink Flower toxin. Mild dose causes dizziness. Severe dose… like you: three seconds of instant idiocy.]

  Me, twitching on the ground: “…Why is he carrying poison on him?!”

  [Why wouldn’t he, when he’s carrying you?]

  I staggered up, stumbled back—and smashed my forehead into the bed frame. A large bump rose immediately.

  Lian remained seated, brows unmoving, eyes closed. Then:

  “If you truly wish to touch me, no need to sneak around.”

  My hair stood on end. “I—I’m touching the pendant, not you!”

  “Pendant?”

  He finally opened his eyes. “It is merely a possession.”

  Hope burst in my chest. “Then I can—”

  “If you live long enough to take it, I won’t call it my loss.”

  Hope died instantly. “…Why does that sound like a death trap in exam form?”

  System: [Notice: You are currently attempting a ‘Hell Difficulty: Steal Item from Paranoid, Overpowered Cult Leader.’ Please treasure your intact ribcage.]

  I crawled out of the tent, tears in my eyes, thinking:

  If I’d tossed that stupid pendant into the river the day I saw it, I wouldn’t be living like a doomed carp today.

  Day Four, I squatted in the grass, studying the pendant, preparing my angle of attack. Suddenly—

  “Lord! Urgent news!”

  “WAH—!”

  I flung myself backward, limbs in the air, almost rolling into a thorn bush.

  Lian frowned slightly, turning to see a Deputy Envoy tumble off his horse, face black with dust.

  “Report—Inside Luoyan City, remnants of the Western Altar have taken over the streets! They’re robbing shops, kidnapping people, and waving a token bearing the Lord’s seal—claiming His Lordship ordered: ‘Whoever resists, kill them!’”

  “Didn’t we clear them out days ago?” Hua snapped open his fan. “Where’d these vermin get the courage?”

  “They hold a decree,” the deputy growled. “And they’re shouting it came from the Lord himself.”

  Lian’s gaze chilled. In one smooth motion, he mounted his horse. “Enter the city.”

  I crawled from the grass, patting the back of my head. “Huh? Fighting again?”

  “You staying behind is more dangerous.”

  Hua eyed me, perhaps recognizing the familiar guilty look on my face. His eyes narrowed.

  “Where were you planning to sneak off to this time?”

  I stiffened. “I—I wasn’t running.”

  “Oh?” He raised a brow.

  I shrank like a paper tiger caught red-handed. “I… took the wrong road…”

  “Which road?”

  “Uhh… the one where mountains and waters hide the path… A bit far.”

  “Far enough I couldn’t drag you back?”

  “…Not that far…”

  Before he could interrogate further, Lian spoke firmly, “Move.”

  I grabbed my reins and followed, keeping quiet, heart pounding.

  Five days.

  I had sworn to my elder brother—if I couldn’t retrieve the military token within five days, he would storm the Blood Lotus Cult himself, seize everything, flatten East and West Divisions—and flip Lian’s bed for good measure.

  And now?

  I hadn’t even grazed the pendant’s tassel. Retrieving the token felt farther away than Heaven’s Gate.

  Hua glanced at me again. “Your face looks awful.”

  “I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “The wind… damaged it.”

  System: [Status: Guilt 80%, Fear 90%. Survival rate? Not currently available.]

  I slumped over my saddle. “One more day… one more day… I can do this…”

  Ahead, Luoyan City loomed—closed gates, rising smoke, chaotic shouting.

  Lian’s pendant swayed at his waist—taunting me:

  Come on. Try stealing me again.

  I swallowed hard.

  More urgent than entering the city was the real challenge:

  How does one, in broad daylight, steal a jade pendant from the waist of a paranoid, deadly, impossibly beautiful warlord who commands ten thousand men?

  I murmured, “Ancestors above, please don’t let me die in this city…”