"Once inside, the operative would use a concealed explosive talisman to shatter the array core from the inside, dropping the shields so we could storm the compound."

Ji’an’s eyes narrowed, processing the tactical logic. It was a classic, high-risk, high-reward honey trap.

"Just do it," Ji’an demanded, gesturing to the squad of shadow guards. "Put the cuffs on one of your guys, have him act pretty, and send him in. I don’t care about anything else, I’m getting my brother back in one piece, and if a hair on his body gets harmed, I’ll make sure to peel off all of your skins alive!"

Commander Mo stared at her. He slowly swept his hand across the clearing, gesturing to his elite squad of royal assassins.

Ji’an followed his hand.

The shadow guards were a terrifying, highly effective fighting force.

They were also built like brick walls, covered in horrifying facial scars, missing ears, possessing broken noses, and radiating the grim, hardened aura of men who killed people for a living in the dark.

"Look at them, Martial Uncle," Mo sighed, a profound sense of tactical despair in his voice. "We are an infiltration squad of imperial executioners. Tu is a predator with refined, aristocratic tastes. If we send ’Big Ox’ Wang in there pretending to be a delicate tribute, the bandits will laugh us out of the ravine before executing us."

Ji’an stared at ’Big Ox’ Wang, a man who was roughly seven feet tall and had a neck thicker than Ji’an’s waist.

"Right," Ji’an muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. "The honey-trap requires honey."

"Precisely," Mo nodded. "We needed a maiden. A young, beautiful, distressed girl to play the part of a kidnapped noblewoman. But His Highness... suddenly accelerated the timeline, not allowing us enough time to get one. Right now, we are in the middle of a muddy, desolate jungle. Where are we supposed to find a peerless beauty in a wasted place like this?!"

The clearing fell silent.

The only sound was the drip of condensation falling from the pine needles into the mud.

Lin Ji’an stood perfectly still.

She stared down at her own mud-splattered boots.

She looked at her gray, soot-stained apron, felt the gentle beating locket on her chest beneath her white Inner Sect tunic.

’Where are we supposed to find a peerless beauty?’

The words echoed in Ji’an’s mind, triggering a massive, agonizing internal war.

She was a girl.

Beneath the Yin-Yang Void Locket, the supreme artifact that perfectly projected the aura, voice, and physical dimensions of a young man, she was a flawlessly beautiful, aristocratic young woman.

But even with the illusion active, her male persona was undeniably striking.

She possessed the sharp, delicate jawline, the long, dark eyelashes, and the elegant, silver-flecked eyes of the Lin family.

As a girl, she was a peerless maiden. As a boy, she was a breathtaking, delicate young master.

And Blood-Hand Tu didn’t care either way.

’I could do it,’ Ji’an realized, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead as the horrifying tactical reality set in. ’I don’t even have to drop the illusion. I can just play the part of a weak, distressed, beautiful noble boy who got lost in the woods. They’ll take one look at my face, slap the Null-Stone cuffs on me, and carry me straight to the pervert’s bedroom.’

But the sheer, absolute humiliation of the plan made Ji’an want to physically vomit.

She was the Head Chef of the Drunken Peak! She was a Third Generation Martial Uncle!

She had just spent the last week compressing her internal meridians so she could shatter boulders with her bare hands!

Her entire personality was built around being arrogant, untouchable, and aggressively violent!

’Act like a weeping, fragile little boy?’ Ji’an’s pride shrieked in protest. ’Cry and beg while a bunch of grimy bandits carry me around like a sack of potatoes?! I’ll look pathetic! What if Wangchen finds out?! He’ll never let me live it down!’

But then she thought of Lin Xuan.

She thought of the thirteen-year-old kid who had offered her a peeled orange to break the tension.

The kid who had bravely hidden in a flour barrel just to see the world.

Ji’an closed her eyes. She took a deep, shuddering breath, forcibly swallowing her towering, chef-sized ego.

’Fine,’ Ji’an resolved, her dark eyes snapping open, blazing with a terrifying, sacrificial determination. ’I’ll do it. I’ll wear the cuffs. I’ll bat my eyelashes and play the damsel-in-distress-slash-pretty-boy. But I am not suffering this humiliation alone.’

She slowly turned her head.

Her gaze bypassed Commander Mo, bypassing the scarred shadow guards, and locked squarely onto the Imperial Second Prince.

Xiao Yichen was standing by the ruined carriage, watching her internal struggle with intense, dark amusement.

He looked immaculate. His skin was pale, flawless porcelain. His lips were a natural, alluring shade of crimson. His dark hair cascaded like spun silk down his back.

He was, objectively, the most devastatingly beautiful man Ji’an had ever seen in her life, ranking after Xie Wangchen, Gu Zhiwei, Mo Wuchen, General Lin, and 100+ others, but still, it was fine.

A slow, wicked, entirely unhinged smile spread across Ji’an’s face. It was a smile that promised absolute, petty, vindictive retribution.

"Commander Mo," Ji’an said softly, her eyes never leaving the Prince. "You need a high-value tribute to bypass the guards. A beautiful, helpless noble."

"Yes, Martial Uncle," Mo nodded eagerly, hope blooming in his chest. "But as you can see, we lack the personnel—"

"I’ll do it," Ji’an interrupted, her voice ringing with absolute authority.

Guard Mo gasped. "You, Martial Uncle? But... you are a man of profound martial prowess! Can you truly feign the fragility required to fool Golden Core sentries?"

"I am a classically trained chef, Commander. Acting like the customer is always right requires Oscar-level acting skills," Ji’an sneered. "I will play the part of the tragic, beautiful young master whose caravan was ambushed. They will take me straight to Tu’s inner sanctum."