Inside the Palace of Embroidered Splendor, the scent of burning agarwood filled the air, yet it failed to mask a sliver of chilling killing intent.
Noble Consort Zhao leaned lazily against her gold-threaded soft couch, her long, decorative nail guards lightly unfolding a letter. She cast but a single glance at it before her lips curled into a playful, mocking arc.
"Chu Zhaoning..."
Until tonight, she hadn't even bothered to remember that name. Now, because of this girl, her son had been publicly reprimanded by the Emperor and confined to his estate. The letter was written in blood and tears, accusing Chu Zhaoning of conspiring with the Third Prince to set a trap, humiliating the Imperial family and dragging their dignity through the mud.
Noble Consort Zhao folded the letter with elegance and handed it to the lady-in-waiting behind her.
"Go," she said, her voice soft yet carrying an undeniable authority. "Set the date for this spring's Flower Viewing Banquet."
The lady-in-waiting blinked in surprise. "Your Ladyship, hosting a banquet at a time like this...?"
The Consort gave a faint smile, a cold glint flashing in her eyes. "Invite the families and daughters of every official above the fifth rank in the capital. Especially—the future Third Prince's Consort, Miss Chu."
She slowly sat upright, her fingertip tracing the exquisite carving of the side table.
"I want to see for myself what kind of girl can drive my proud son to such a state of madness."
The General's Manor: The Backyard.
The wind brushed past the eaves, making the bells chime crisply.
Crimson Nine was precisely sliding a silver needle, as thin as a hair, into a hidden pocket in her sleeve. Although this body hadn't returned to her past peak condition, her reaction speed was steadily improving under the repairs of the medical system.
From outside, Xiao Xi's nervous voice announced, "Miss, an envoy from the Palace... Noble Consort Zhao has sent an invitation!"
Crimson Nine's fingers paused, her dark eyes narrowing.
"That was fast."
The invitation was red with gold-leaf edging, the Noble Consort's seal glinting coldly in the sunlight at the corner.
A Flower Viewing Banquet.
She took the invitation, and the system in her mind immediately triggered an analysis interface:
[Risk Assessment]: High.
[Environmental Analysis]: Group social setting, psychological siege.
[Enemy Intent]: Humiliation, testing, denial of legitimacy.
A cold smirk played on Crimson Nine's lips.
This wasn't an invitation; it was a trial. Xiao Yu couldn't break her, so he called in the most powerful woman in the Inner Palace. This was a "Social Encirclement"—throw her into a room full of powerful young noblewomen, force her to lose face, isolate her, and finally, the Consort would only need to say a single phrase like "This girl lacks the virtue for her rank" to utterly destroy her.
"Trying to bury me in a woman's game?" Crimson Nine murmured, her gaze turning cold. "You've picked the wrong person."
She had survived far more brutal underground auctions and political galas. In those places, a wrong look cost you a bullet. Compared to that, these high-society girls were just amateurs using rouge as their daggers.
Returning to the inner courtyard, she walked through a corridor where a mottled longbow hung on the wall and pushed open the doors to Chu Zhaoning's bedroom.
The room didn't smell of the heavy perfumes favored by most noblewomen. Instead, it carried a faint, cool scent and the dry crispness of polished metal. Crimson Nine casually swung open the massive rosewood wardrobe.
What greeted her wasn't so much a lady's closet as a miniature armory.
There were no flowing "Immortal Skirts" or silk waistbands that choked the breath out of you. Instead, the wardrobe was filled with various combat suits—sharp cuts and sturdy fabrics. Ink black, blood red, deep thunderous purple—every piece radiated the lethal aura of someone ready to ride into battle at a moment's notice.
"This Chu Zhaoning's taste is exactly to my liking," Crimson Nine said, her fingertips brushing over the rough but solid fabrics. "But all the noblewomen in the capital love 'Red Makeup' (feminine attire). Did she never think of following the trend?"
Beside her, Xiao Xi was holding a pale pink silk dress originally prepared for such banquets but long left untouched. Hearing this, she couldn't help but giggle. "Miss, did you forget? You used to say that the wind of the saddle flows in the blood of a Chu daughter, not the flowers of a garden."
Xiao Xi walked to the wardrobe, lightly touching a black outfit with narrow sleeves, her eyes turning red. "You said that while red makeup is beautiful, it cannot protect the General's Manor, nor the people of the world. Only by putting on combat gear and picking up a spear did you feel you truly lived up to the name of Chu."
Hearing this, Crimson Nine's finger stopped on a snow-white combat suit.
It was a minimalist outfit, with only a single, proud red plum blossom embroidered on the collar. The original host had prepared this for the day her father and brothers returned in triumph. She wanted to show her father that she had grown into the "Tiger Daughter" of the military family he expected.
"Heroic and spirited, huh?"
Crimson Nine took down the white combat gear and held it up against herself. In her eyes, there was now both the sharpness of an agent and the lingering obsession left by the original host.
"Since they want to see flowers, I'll show them what a 'Winter Plum with Thorns' looks like."
Crimson Nine tossed the white gear to Xiao Xi, her tone decisive and unquestionable.
"Xiao Xi, throw that pink one away. Help me change into this. I'm not attending this Palace banquet to be someone's fragile fiancée."
She turned around. The woman reflected in the mirror had eyes like brilliant stars, her entire being resembling a peerless sword finally cleansed of its sheath.
"I want the people of this capital to see exactly what 'heroic spirit' means for a daughter of the Chu family."