"Can you handle such a delicate flower, hmm? Royal uncle?" Xiao Yichen was being sarcastic on purpose, hoping to make Ji’an mad and order him to change back, but what to do, Ji’an was too clever to fall for his little schemes.

Ji’an slapped his hand away, her face flushing a brilliant, angry red as she stepped back.

"I am going to handle you by shoving you into the nearest mud puddle if you don’t stop flirting with me!" Ji’an barked, turning her back on him and marching toward Commander Mo. "Commander! Get the Null-Stone cuffs! And dig through the royal luggage! I want the frilliest, most obnoxious pink silk dress you can find!"

Commander Mo looked at the Prince, who was still smiling like a man who had just been handed the keys to the kingdom.

"Yes, Martial Uncle," Mo gulped, turning to his men. "You heard the Chef! Find a dress!"

***

Thirty minutes later, the transformation was complete.

Deep in the shadow of the dense pine trees, Lin Ji’an stood inspecting her own disguise.

She had rolled her white tunic in the mud, tearing the sleeves to make it look as though she had been dragged through the underbrush.

She used a handful of crushed soot from her cooking kit to smudge her cheeks, enhancing the pale, exhausted, "tragic young master" aesthetic.

The heavy, cold iron of the Null-Stone Cuffs was locked securely around her wrists.

The moment the metal closed, she felt the terrifying, suffocating sensation of her Dao of the Iron Wok Qi being violently suppressed, locking her cultivation base away and reducing her to the physical strength of a mortal teenager.

She felt incredibly vulnerable. Thanks to her finding a scapegoat quickly as a solution, or else, what if they told her to dress up like a woman after seeing her delicate looks? Wouldn’t her identity have been at a huge risk?

But as she looked up, her anxiety was instantly, entirely replaced by a profound, overwhelming urge to burst into hysterical laughter.

Stepping out from behind a makeshift privacy screen constructed by the shadow guards was Xiao Yichen.

The Imperial Second Prince had shed his dark, imposing sapphire robes.

He was currently draped in a flowing, multi-layered silk dress of brilliant, eye-searing peach and gold, a spare garment originally packed for one of his female cousins back at the estate.

The dress was exquisite, but on a man of Yichen’s height and broad shoulders, it was a sartorial disaster.

The delicate silk strained against his biceps. The low-cut collar, designed to accentuate a maiden’s assets, merely exposed his defined, masculine collarbones.

However, despite the ill-fitting garments, the sheer, undeniable beauty of his face carried the disguise.

The shadow guards had hesitantly applied a light dusting of rouge to his cheeks and a pale pink tint to his lips.

His long, dark hair was pinned up in an elaborate, elegant style, leaving a few stray strands to frame his flawless jawline.

He didn’t look like a woman.

He looked like a devastatingly beautiful, ethereal, cross-dressing immortal who was one minor inconvenience away from murdering everyone in the room.

The heavy Null-Stone cuffs were locked around his wrists, resting against the delicate peach silk.

Ji’an slapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking with suppressed, violent laughter.

"I didn’t know... my Royal nephew was... such a delicate, flowery beauty. Ahem, I have to admit... it’s truly... pleasing to the eyes... pfft...!!!"

"Not a single word," Yichen warned softly. His voice was calm, but the murderous aura radiating from his dark eyes promised a slow, agonising death to anyone who so much as giggled.

Shadow Guard Commander Mo was visibly sweating, staring fixedly at a tree to avoid looking at the Prince. "Y-Your Highness... you look... incredibly convincing. Blood-Hand Tu will not be able to resist such a... unique... tribute."

"If I survive this, Mo, I am demoting you to stable duty," Xiao Yichen promised with a terrifyingly sweet smile.

"Yes, Your Highness, I shall accept my punishment right after we return," Shadow Guard Mo was screaming and crying internally, feeling extremely wronged but not daring to show outside.

It wasn’t his idea, he didn’t force the Highness to wear these women’s clothes, he didn’t even laugh after seeing His Highness!

So why was he the only one to get punished and not others?!

He turned his dark, resentful gaze toward Ji’an, who was currently biting her lip so hard it was bleeding to keep from howling. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

"Are you satisfied, Royal Uncle?" Yichen purred, stepping forward, the peach silk rustling awkwardly around his boots. "The peacock has been plucked. Are we ready to enter the tiger’s den?"

Ji’an took a deep breath, forcing her face into a mask of stoic, tragic determination.

"We are," Ji’an nodded, stepping up beside him. Despite the ridiculousness of his outfit, the sheer, towering height of the Prince still made him an imposing figure. "Commander Mo. You know the plan. Tie us to the horses. Disguise two of your men in the armor of the fallen bandits, and lead us into the ravine. Once we are inside Tu’s bedchamber, I will shatter the array core."

"And your brother?" Mo asked urgently.

"I’ll find him," Ji’an stated, her eyes darkening. "And then I am going to cook Blood-Hand Tu."

Mo bowed deeply. "May the Heavens protect you both."

As the heavily disguised shadow guards tied ropes around their waists, tethering them to the back of a captured bandit horse, Ji’an felt Xiao Yichen step close, his shoulder brushing against hers.

"You look terribly fragile, Royal Uncle," Yichen whispered, slipping flawlessly into character, though his tone was laced with mocking amusement. He leaned his head against her shoulder, playing the part of a terrified, clinging sister. "Do try to keep me safe from the bad men."

"Stop trying to take advantage of me and stay away," Ji’an groaned, closing her eyes as the horse began to walk, dragging them toward the mist-shrouded entrance of the Blood-Iron Syndicate’s subterranean labyrinth.