The golden scroll arrived at noon.
Its seal bore the emblem of the Military Bureau, but its message came directly from the palace.
"By imperial directive, Shen, disciple of General Li, is hereby assigned leadership of a border caravan escort. Location: Long Forest Ridge. Objective: ensure safe passage of tributes from southern lords to the capital."
It sounded simple.
Too simple.
Shen knew better.
"First real command," he murmured. "And they're sending me through outlaw territory. Interesting."
General Li said nothing when he read it. He simply laid the scroll down, poured Shen tea, and asked:
"Do you trust anyone going with you?"
"…Not yet."
"Good."
By dusk, Shen was ready.
Ten elite soldiers assigned to him — none familiar.
A covered wagon. Sealed crates. A merchant noble's mark. It all looked legitimate.
But Shen noticed it immediately.
"Too much silence. Too little weight. This isn't tribute."
They traveled for two days.
Through winding cliffs and mist-choked forests. The soldiers spoke little, always in pairs. Shen let them think he was relaxed — even bored.
But every step, he mapped.
Every glance, he measured.
By the time they entered Long Forest Ridge, he knew who would betray him.
It happened at twilight.
The soldiers halted beside a shallow ravine.
One called out, "Wagon wheel stuck!"
Another offered, "We'll lift it together."
And the third — the quiet one with the hawk tattoo — subtly shifted his blade from its sheath.
Shen sighed.
"Finally."
The ambush was clean.
Too clean.
Two went for the reins. One jumped from behind with a curved blade aimed at Shen's neck.
But before any blade could draw blood—
Three were already unconscious.
Two bleeding.
And one screaming with a shattered wrist.
The hawk-tattooed man stared, wide-eyed. "W-what are you?!"
Shen stepped forward, grabbed the man's collar, and whispered:
"The one they should've feared from the start."
He tossed him into the wagon.
Opened it.
Not tribute.
Scrolls. Poison vials. A forged decree marked for General Li's signature.
It was a setup.
The plan: kill Shen in the wild, forge a rebellion order, and frame his master.
"They want the Iron General out of the game," Shen muttered. "And I was their excuse."
He rode back alone.
The wagon burned in the cliffs behind him.
And the six surviving soldiers? Bound, gagged, and sent down the river in a locked cage, floating toward the imperial outpost — with a letter pinned to the lid:
"Try harder next time. —S"
By the time he returned to the capital, word had already spread.
"Shen survived.""Shen fought off seven assassins.""Shen exposed a plot against the general."
The court buzzed.
And behind the curtains, the Crown Prince raged.
"Who told him? WHO WARNED HIM?!"
No one answered.
But far away, in a dim tavern near the outer city, a woman in plain robes sipped wine by the window.
She smiled slightly.
And murmured,
"The dragon doesn't need saving. He just needs space to fly."