Lace Glory Universe King GL - Chapter 12

Leaving the Bailan Inn, Hua Mulan headed straight for Changle Ward with practiced ease. On the way, she thought that she must stop Sun Shangxiang from going to the Bureau of Works before tomorrow. What they really ought to do now was immediately return to Eastern Wu to investigate the matter of the coastal battleship.

It was already past eleven, nearing midnight. Chang’an was entering the zi hour, and though the streets still had a few stragglers—likely just dispersing from feasts and entertainments—the city was largely quiet. Outside Changle Ward only the orange glow of the main signboard remained lit. Inside, two attendants were sweeping between the tables. Clearly, Sun Shangxiang and her group had already left.

“Hey, fellow, I heard someone fainted after the performance. What happened after that?” Hua Mulan leaned against the doorframe and asked.

One of the attendants straightened, resting his hands on the broomstick. “Nothing much. The physician came, said it wasn’t serious. Later, some woman led them away.”

“Fainting after watching a dance—now that’s a first.” Hua Mulan posed as a gossiping bystander.

“Don’t even mention it. That was nothing—just a small scene. In these past months, I’ve seen—” The attendant stopped himself abruptly, lowered his head, and resumed sweeping.

“You’re busy, I won’t bother you.” Hua Mulan turned to head upstairs, planning to pack up and check out.

But just as she reached the upper floor, hurried and heavy footsteps sounded outside.

From her third-floor window, she cracked open a shutter and peered down: weren’t those men from the Bureau of Works? About twenty of them, clad in the bureau’s black battle uniforms, surrounding Changle Ward in a tight formation. One squad rushed up the stairs.

Could it be that Gongsun Li had reported to Sikong Zhen the moment she left?

She had thought that with Sikong Zhen’s caution, using a single line of contact through Gongsun Li—keeping intermediaries in a purely transactional relationship—would make it impossible to contact him afterward.

From the hallway came the sounds of soldiers knocking on doors, questioning each room. They were searching. Some of them entered the tavern below, leaving six soldiers stationed on the street.

She gathered her strength, leapt from the windowsill in a state of invincible force, shaking the soldiers senseless. Landing, she switched to dual-wielding swords, stabbing left and right in rapid strikes.

Her balance between both hands let her fight multiple foes at once. Breaking through with speed, she clambered up the eaves, darted around several crooked corners, and soon the soldiers lost her trail.

Looping around west, then north, she circled back toward the inn. Chang’an under midnight stars slept quietly, yet beneath that stillness raged hidden storms.

But the Bureau of Works had already moved on both fronts. Before dawn, Sun Shangxiang was taken away. By the time Hua Mulan reached the inn, her little princess was long gone.

Messy footprints marked the ground, and an arrow pierced the lantern over the doorway.

No wonder they called the Grand Minister “King of Thunder.”

That final night at the inn, Shangxiang hadn’t yet fallen asleep when pounding fists on the door awoke her. They told her the Bureau of Works was here to take her.

In the darkness, the black-clad soldiers showed no restraint in their menace. She scanned them—twenty or more.

Her Thousand-Catty Heavy Crossbow was immensely powerful, but only if she could gain distance. Close quarters were her greatest weakness.

Even after a rolling counterattack, she was still trapped inside their encirclement. The bureau’s men seemed to know her flaws intimately.

Before she could fire her ultimate crossbow cannon, her weapon was already confiscated.

They brought her to the Bureau of Works, holding her in a side chamber to await Sikong Zhen’s arrival.

The bureau’s lamps burned low but steady, shadows crawling over every corner. The walls bore ink paintings of ancient mountains: mist-shrouded cliffs, jagged rocks, and fierce beasts—giving the room a faintly sinister air. High-backed tables and chairs gleamed black under the flicker of wavering light.

Her elder sister had once told her: the Bureau of Works oversaw all military supplies and weaponry in Heluo, also smelting coinage and procuring copper and lead mines. Its funds never dealt in sums less than millions. Half a secret institution, it commanded its own troops and weapon stores. The Grand Minister had even fostered a cadre of hidden experts.

Now, though the chamber seemed empty, she could sense the breaths held in ambush all around.

A faint crackle of current hissed.

Shangxiang turned—and Sikong Zhen was already inside.

A tall man, clad head to toe in black armor and battle robes. Both hands were covered with metal gauntlets. Blue lightning danced across his fingertips, flaring sparks that vanished instantly—a mage’s skill. His silver hair was slicked back, eyebrows long and sharp like black feathers sweeping into his temples.

Shangxiang resolved not to speak, only watching him steadily.

Sikong Zhen’s eyes swept across her. Finding her silent, he showed no impatience. In the quiet, both exchanged first impressions. He had seen Sun Ce and Sun Quan before in Eastern Wu, but never their sister.

Seating himself at the head of the hall, Sikong Zhen lifted his right hand and gently waved. A bolt of the gentlest lightning arced forth.

Shangxiang felt her limbs jolted, body convulsing backward until she collapsed into a chair behind her.

“Princess, sit,” Sikong Zhen said, retracting his hand as the blue current curled back, its sparks extinguished.

Catching her breath, she steadied herself, saying: “If the Grand Minister wants to spar, you ought not to have seized my weapon first.”

“I examined that Thousand-Catty Heavy Crossbow before entering. A late-game weapon, but unfortunately…” He stopped, gaze heavy, as if to say: too bad she would never reach the late game.

Indeed, the weapon required kills to build power, only unleashing its true might later. But stripped away now—it was infuriating.

“Such a dangerous thing is better kept in the bureau’s custody.”

Shangxiang forced a mocking smile. “First a midnight raid, then confiscating my weapon. What does the Grand Minister plan to do with me next?”

“No rush. I have a few questions for the princess first,” Sikong Zhen said coldly.

A bad feeling prickled at her.

“Tonight, what were you and Hua Mulan doing at Changle Ward?”

!!!

“I’ve just arrived, I don’t know this person you mention,” Shangxiang lied stiffly.

“She took down the guards watching you. Where did you go after that?” He ignored her denial.

“Why did you set men to watch me?” she shot back.

Sikong Zhen shook his head, eyes unwavering. “I had no need to. But on those two guards, traces of a skill were detected—Whirling Blossom Dance.”

Yes—that was Hua Mulan’s twin-blade technique. But Shangxiang had never heard of “trace detection.” Even Old Jin, who had built her crossbow, never mentioned it.

“The bureau is full of hidden talents. Don’t be surprised. What I want to know is: how did you two cross paths, and why go to Changle Ward?”

“Changle Ward was just for fresh air. As for that person—I don’t know them. My movements here are restricted, how could I possibly connect with anyone?”

But of course, they knew each other, and long before coming to Chang’an. That was why the little princess concealed so desperately, Sikong Zhen thought.

His face darkened as he fell silent. Shangxiang, worried only for Hua Mulan’s safety outside, realized: if he had dragged her here for the trace of Whirling Blossom Dance, then surely Changle Ward and Bailan Inn were already in chaos.

Since the princess refused to speak, Sikong Zhen waved a hand. His lieutenant entered, bowing at his side.

“Take her away.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shangxiang followed the lieutenant out.

Moments later the lieutenant returned. Sikong Zhen stood, staring intently at the flickering candle on the black high table.

“Did you find her?” he asked without turning.

“She escaped. But we interrogated that dancer. The wound examiner confirmed—besides Whirling Blossom Dance, she bore marks of Hua Mulan’s Sky-Cleaving Slash. I think… she knows about the flyer.”

Sikong Zhen’s brows furrowed. “I already told Sun Quan not to meddle. Summon our informant at once and bring word.”

The lieutenant withdrew. Sikong Zhen crafted a sound-transmission paper.

“Boss Sun, the princess is staying under my care now. Rest assured, she won’t interfere with our project. Another matter—Hua Mulan may go probing into the amusement park. Post more men.”

His low, powerful voice vanished into the darkness, sealed within the paper like magic.

Folding it away, Sikong Zhen thought of Mulan having obtained information about the coastal battleship. An ill omen loomed before him.

For years, the Great Wall army had stood in the open, while the Bureau of Works hid in shadow. Even after guarding Chang’an so long, commanding all Heluo’s forces, his name was still overshadowed by Mulan’s renown. Everyone said the Wall’s defenders were the finest heroes. To him, Hua Mulan was a thorn lodged in his throat.

And with the Ziwei Palace always balancing his power against Di Renjie’s, his frustration deepened. The empress wanted the two forces to counter and restrain each other. But for ambitious Sikong Zhen, this was nothing but suppression.

His alliance with Eastern Wu was to shatter this balance. Sun Quan wanted to unify the divided lands; Sikong Zhen wanted absolute power.

Removing Hua Mulan from the board would let him seize the Wall, plant his own men, and divert vast funds toward Boss Sun’s side.

Yes, Hua Mulan was his most troublesome subordinate. Last year she had annihilated that group of assassins—just one of many incidents—killing a leader he’d intended to recruit. Whether she’d done it deliberately or not, the fact remained: the Bureau’s control over the Wall grew weaker.

That wound examiner was someone he’d brought from Thousand Cavern City. And when the man reported traces of Whirling Blossom Dance, Sikong Zhen’s first thought was: her again!

She was no longer on duty, yet still clung doggedly to his affairs. Sikong Zhen steeled his resolve: this time, while she was out of position, he would quietly eliminate her.

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