The six imperial guards began their work with a level of care that bordered on absurd when compared to the violence they were trained to deliver, because instead of drawing blades or forming killing formations, they were now crouched in front of a sealed stone structure, carefully dismantling it piece by piece as if they were craftsmen rather than executioners.
The entrance of the stone house had long been buried under a deliberate pile of rubble composed of large rocks, packed soil, and compacted debris, and every movement required coordination, because even the slightest sound carried the risk of exposure within a military encampment that was already operating under heightened alert.
Each guard worked in silence, lifting heavy stones together with controlled breathing, slowly transferring them aside, then returning for the next layer, while smaller debris was removed using baskets and improvised tools, the entire process unfolding with a strange combination of discipline and greed.
They had removed their armor to maximize efficiency, leaving their bodies exposed to the cold air, their muscles straining under repeated effort, yet none of them complained, because the motivation driving them forward was not duty, but profit, and within that motivation, hardship became acceptable.
The two young eunuchs, lacking the strength of trained fighters, assisted by carrying smaller stones and loose soil, their movements clumsy but persistent, and for perhaps the first time in their lives, they experienced labor that demanded physical effort rather than positional authority.
Time passed without clear measure, because in that confined and focused activity, the outside world ceased to exist, replaced entirely by the immediate goal of reaching whatever lay behind the sealed structure.
Eventually, one of the guards lowered his voice and spoke with restrained excitement.
"We are close. This section feels hollow. There is space behind it."
The statement immediately shifted the energy of the group, because uncertainty had now been replaced by confirmation, and confirmation transformed effort into anticipation.
All six guards gathered around the identified section and coordinated their movement, carefully lifting the largest stone among the pile, applying equal force to prevent imbalance, then slowly setting it aside with controlled precision.
As the stone moved away, a dark opening was revealed.
The air inside was still, dense, and completely silent.
Greed surfaced instantly.
"So this is it," someone whispered. "The hidden treasury is open."
Gao Qiqian stepped forward without hesitation, holding a windproof lantern that had been prepared in advance, because unlike the guards, he had never doubted that there was something valuable hidden within.
He raised the lantern and directed its light into the darkness.
What the light revealed was not gold.
It was a face.
A face filled with hostility, compressed rage, and the kind of focus that only appeared in a man who had already accepted death.
Ajige stepped forward in the same instant, closing the distance with explosive force, and before the guards could process what they were seeing, his blade had already pierced through the chest of the nearest man, driving cleanly through unprotected flesh.
He withdrew the blade immediately and followed with a second strike, this time cutting across another guard's face, the force and angle ensuring that the victim never had the chance to react.
The lack of armor turned the ambush into slaughter.
The imperial guards, who had removed their protection for the sake of labor efficiency, had unknowingly converted themselves into the most vulnerable targets possible.
Shock lasted less than a moment.
Then survival instinct activated.
Gao Qiqian reacted first, his voice breaking into a panicked shout as he stumbled backward, abandoning any pretense of control.
"Damn it, retreat, retreat!"
The remaining guards instinctively turned toward where their weapons had been placed earlier, but that moment of hesitation created an opening that Ajige exploited without mercy.
He stepped forward again, cutting down another guard before the man could even reach his blade, then shifted his position to intercept the next, forcing close combat where unarmed resistance became meaningless.
One guard attempted to counterattack using a shovel, swinging it with desperate strength, but Ajige adjusted his body slightly, allowing the tool to pass by, then delivered a decisive strike that brought the man down instantly.
The confined space amplified the speed of death.
Gao Qiqian screamed for help, his voice rising into a sharp and continuous cry that spread beyond the immediate area, but outside the tent, the soldiers who heard it hesitated, because earlier instructions had explicitly forbidden interference regardless of noise.
The system of obedience, which had been designed to maintain order, now delayed response.
Inside, Gao Qiqian turned and ran.
Ajige followed without hesitation.
He already understood his situation with absolute clarity.
He was inside enemy territory, surrounded by hostile forces, with no viable escape route.
Survival was no longer the objective.
Exchange was.
If he was going to die, then the value of that death had to be maximized, and within his line of sight, Gao Qiqian represented the highest possible target.
Killing ordinary soldiers would not balance the scale.
Killing a high-ranking eunuch would.
"You will die with me," Ajige said, his voice steady despite the chaos.
Gao Qiqian could not respond with anything coherent, because his fear had already overridden his ability to maintain composure, and he could only scream for help as he ran through the camp, pushing aside fabric partitions and stumbling toward occupied tents.
A young eunuch tried to block Ajige's path, but the attempt ended instantly as the blade cut through him, and another guard rushed in from the side only to be struck down in the same motion, because Ajige no longer conserved energy or technique.
He had entered terminal combat.
At this point, his body began to operate under extreme stress response, pushing speed and strength beyond sustainable limits, trading longevity for immediate output, and every movement he made carried the singular purpose of advancing toward his chosen target.
Gao Qiqian burst into a tent occupied by capital troops and shouted for assistance, his voice breaking as he demanded protection.
The soldiers inside had just woken from sleep, their awareness incomplete, their equipment unprepared, and before they could fully understand the situation, Ajige had already entered behind him.
The first soldier lost his head before he could raise his arms.
The remaining three attempted to fight back with bare hands, but the disparity in combat readiness made the outcome inevitable, and within moments, all of them fell.
Gao Qiqian continued running.
He moved from one tent to another, repeating the same desperate call for help, and each time, more soldiers emerged, more confusion spread, and more bodies fell, because Ajige maintained relentless forward pressure, cutting through resistance without pause.
However, repetition began to change the environment.
The earlier order to ignore noise no longer aligned with the escalating pattern of screams and violence, and soldiers began to respond not as individuals, but as a collective.
More troops emerged.
This time, some carried weapons.
Spears.
Even without armor, the presence of reach-based weapons altered the engagement dynamic, because it introduced distance into a fight that Ajige had been controlling through proximity.
Within a short time, he was surrounded.
The encirclement formed quickly, driven by numbers rather than coordination, but it was sufficient.
Spears pointed inward from all directions, creating a layered barrier that restricted movement and reduced the advantage of individual skill.
Ajige felt the first strike enter his side.
The armor absorbed most of the impact, but the tip penetrated slightly, enough to draw blood and confirm that continued engagement would only accelerate his end.
He understood immediately.
There would be no further advancement.
No further exchange.
Only conclusion.
He let out a roar, not as an act of defiance, but as a final release of accumulated force, and in that moment, he made his last decision.
He threw his blade.
The motion was precise despite exhaustion, driven by focus rather than strength, and the weapon cut through the air, passing over the heads of multiple soldiers before reaching its target.
It struck Gao Qiqian in the chest.
The impact stopped him mid-movement.
He looked down at the blade embedded in his body, then lifted his head slowly, disbelief overtaking fear, because even at this moment, he had not expected to die.
Ajige laughed.
The sound carried both satisfaction and exhaustion, because the exchange had been completed.
In the next instant, the surrounding soldiers thrust their spears forward simultaneously, and multiple impacts drove into his body, overwhelming even his remaining strength.
His voice stopped.
His body followed.
Both men fell.
The battlefield, which had erupted into chaos, suddenly paused at the point of resolution, as if the system itself had reached a temporary equilibrium.
Then recognition spread.
Shock turned into alarm.
"The eunuch is dead."
The message propagated through the camp with increasing speed, because the death of Gao Qiqian was not an isolated event, but a disruption of command structure.
When the news finally reached Dao Xuan Tianzun, the reaction was neither surprise nor concern.
It was quiet acknowledgment.
"Those who accumulate wrongdoing inevitably create the conditions for their own destruction," he said calmly, as if observing a completed calculation rather than a human death.