Xia Chen donned his martial officer's uniform and stepped out of the courtyard.
Xia Qian waited at the gate, behind him three men brimming with vigorous qi and blood.
Xia Chen saw at once they were no ordinary folk—killing intent coiled around them, a rugged fierceness radiating from their mere presence.
"Young Master!"
The four spoke in unison.
Xia Chen wasn't surprised. These were house guards, assigned to every departing marquis heir—protectors and a foundation to swiftly command troops.
"Let's go!"
He nodded, sparing few words. The five crossed the household quietly, exiting through a side gate.
The Marquis's residence stood at the capital's core, mere steps from the palace. Its front gate opened onto Central Avenue, crafted 800 years ago at the dynasty's dawn. Though named a street, it spanned like a grand plaza, broad enough for twelve carriages side by side.
Though early, the avenue already bustled—vendors lined its edges, peddling livelihoods.
Pedestrians and carriages flowed like rivers, dawn igniting the vast capital into motion.
Xia Chen and his group grabbed a quick breakfast roadside, then headed straight for the Feathered Forest Guard Office.
Tasked with the capital's safety—and sometimes royal escorts—the Feathered Forest Guard didn't camp outside but held a fixed office in the inner city.
"Halt! Who approaches?"
Nearing a stately office by the palace, Xia Chen was stopped.
Armored soldiers stepped forward, courteous yet firm.
"Xia Chen, here to assume my post today!"
He wasted no words, nor hid his identity for some theatrical reveal of a noble playing humble.
He was here to work!
"Commander Xia!"
The guards snapped to attention, saluting crisply.
They'd been briefed—a new commander had landed among them.
A legitimate son of the Marquis of Zhendong, no less.
Xia Chen nodded, his face stern, exuding an unapproachable air.
"Commander, sir, I'll guide you in!"
A squad leader hurried to his side, bowing with a broad smile, ushering Xia Chen inside.
As Xia Chen vanished beyond the gate, the remaining guards exhaled, whispering among themselves.
"Good grief, when's our boss ever grinned like that? His face practically wrinkled up!"
The Feathered Forest Guard's standards were strict—mostly hereditary posts, merit-born heirs, or the fiercest from frontier camps.
As the Emperor's own, they carried swagger. Commanders were common, generals routine. New ones got politeness, not groveling.
But this was different.
"No kidding! Look who it is. A famed crippled physique, sure, but that status? Untouchable!"
"Dropped into our guard—good or bad, who knows?"
"Hah! Our Feathered Forest's a den of tigers and dragons—princelings galore. Just another marquis heir. We'll watch the show!"
A soldier chuckled, eyes glinting with anticipation.
…
"Commander, sir, here's the barracks!"
Li Xi led Xia Chen to the rear courtyard—an unassuming facade hiding a vast plaza within.
Teams drilled across it.
"Where's my unit?"
Xia Chen asked calmly. New and unfamiliar, he needed a guide—this sharp-eyed squad leader fit perfectly.
"Commander, over there, but right now…"
Li Xi hesitated, teeth clenched. Xia Chen pressed, brow furrowed, but Li Xi clammed up.
"Commander, sir, see for yourself!"
Xia Chen said nothing, pressing no further.
He strode toward the barracks' depths.
At the right rear, laughter hit him as he neared.
"Haha, another win! I'm treating you all to drinks at Deshun Building at noon, brothers!"
Outside a tent, Xia Chen heard slaps and guffaws—card games in a crowd!
He understood instantly. This world had word cards, a rare leisure pastime, but the barracks banned them—especially with money at stake.
His face stayed blank, unnerving Li Xi, who watched sidelong.
This new commander's mind was hard to read.
Li Xi knew the situation—had hoped for a spectacle—but saw no fury on the commander's face.
"Seems this commander's got no spine—just born lucky!"
Li Xi shook his head inwardly.
"I'll call them!"
Xia Qian, behind Xia Chen, bristled with anger. Morning drills elsewhere, yet this unit gambled openly!
"I'll do it!"
Xia Chen stopped him. His gaze pierced the thick tent, glimpsing inside.
Since waking, he'd noticed his eyes' shift—catching the extraordinary.
Seeing through mere fabric? Child's play.
He lifted the flap, a gust waking two drowsy guards at the entrance. They shivered, glaring.
"Who are you, barging into the barracks?"
Half-asleep, brains foggy, they'd seen every guard face—hence their bold bark.
Their shouts drew eyes inside. Card-playing clusters leapt up.
"Xia Chen!"
He remained calm, his voice ringing again.
"Who's in charge here?"
Silence fell. Some tensed, stuffing cards into armor; others smirked, unfazed.
"So it's Young Master Xia! Quite eager—appointment yesterday, on duty today!"
A snide, mocking voice rose from within, fearless of Xia Chen!