Invasion [Sentinel-Guide] Section 23

The tea was mellow, sweet with a subtle, astringent edge. A faint mist of milk swirled on the surface of the cup, reflecting the faces of Ni Ji and Tan Shu.

Amidst the ethereal vapor rising from the black tea, Tan Shu drifted back to his student days. He remembered a young Ni Ji, his gloved fingers gripping the brickwork, twisting his waist with effortless grace to vault over the towering walls of the Sentinel Academy. He was a rebellious prodigy, squatting on the wall, looking down at him with a grin. "Hurry up, Tan Shu. Are you coming or not?"

Back then, Ni Ji was the unattainable moon in the night sky. If he wanted something, he dared to do it. He dared to defy school regulations to beat up a degenerate who harassed a female classmate. He dared to disobey instructors to retrieve a wounded comrade on the battlefield. He didn’t even fear the headmaster. Such a personality was a legend in every student's heart.

Perhaps it was the warmth of the tea, or perhaps it was Ni Ji’s unexpected compliance, but Tan Shu felt himself beginning to relax. For some reason, he started to drift off; his eyelids grew heavy, refusing to stay open. In his haze, he saw a pair of black-gloved hands reach out to take the cup from his grasp—taking that exquisite, fragile teacup and placing it into the sink to be washed.

*This guy,* Tan Shu thought inexplicably before sinking into a deep slumber, *he isn’t planning on pulling something like he used to, is he?*

Ni Ji steadied Tan Shu’s drooping head and laid him flat, ensuring he would sleep for a long while. He washed the drugged cup in the sink, performing the task with practiced ease, his expression calm, devoid of even the slightest ripple of emotion.

Tan Shu still thought of him as the arrogant, naive sentinel from their school days. In reality, the years spent at the Northern Frontier outposts had forced Ni Ji to grow faster and change more than anyone else. Things he was once unskilled at or unwilling to do had long since become second nature. After securing the drugged Tan Shu, Ni Ji assessed the room and stepped out, locking the lounge door behind him.

He stripped off his coat, shirt, and boots, folding them neatly into a locker. Clad only in a black tank top and tight-fitting trousers, he donned his black gloves, bit a thin dagger between his teeth, and finally wrapped his hair with a dark towel, tying it tightly at the nape of his neck.

Once prepared, he looked up at the ceiling of the pantry, removed the ventilation grate, and, with a powerful flex, slithered into the ductwork like a fish.

The Earl’s mansion was grand, and even the ventilation shafts were built wide. For a sentinel of Ni Ji’s stature, crawling through them was no hardship. The challenge lay in making not a single sound. Countless sentinels were moving about the mansion at this very moment. Sentinels are creatures of acute senses, but fortunately, the boisterous banquet already underway provided excellent cover for his movements.

Ni Ji concentrated his strength in his fingertips and toes, creeping through the dim tunnels as silently as a cat. He pushed his perception to its absolute limit, covering nearly half the mansion. He knew the danger—such intrusive surveillance could easily trigger someone’s defenses and lead to his discovery. He had to give his all, remaining meticulously cautious, probing ahead to avoid areas occupied by the most powerful sentinels.

The overloaded sensory input caused a dull ache in his head. Every step felt like walking on the edge of a blade. But that was fine; Ni Ji licked his lips. This was what made him feel alive.

He held a mental map of the Earl’s mansion, one he had painstakingly tracked down and memorized before arriving. Now, as his extended perception overlapped with that map, he quickly locked onto his target. At this moment, he was a hunter of the deep sea—after lurking in hunger for so long, he had finally caught the scent of his prey. He emerged from the abyss, creeping silently toward his target in the dark.

Along the way, Ni Ji heard many voices and sensed countless people walking beneath him. He moved with extreme care.

Yet, he felt a flicker of surprise. Having traveled this far, inevitably passing over the heads of so many sentinels, he had not detected a single ripple of psychic vigilance. The sentinels guarding the Imperial Capital, dressed in fine, pristine attire and drawing high salaries, were clinking glasses and boasting under the bright lights, lost in the excitement of alcohol and spices, shouting meaningless words. Almost none of them possessed the vigilance a warrior should have. They were nowhere near the standard of the soldiers he had led.

The capital of the Empire was the glittering holy land that frontier sentinels dreamed of. Almost every sentinel living in the bitter cold of the border had longed for this place in their dreams. But they didn’t know that it was nothing more than a hollow, flowery shell—the inside was completely rotten.

In an inconspicuous room nearby, a quiet conversation drifted up. Ni Ji froze, tilting his head to listen.

"Why did you bring me a green gown?" It was likely an officer serving at the mansion, complaining to his wife. "Don't you know the Earl is wearing green tonight? My god, I can't imagine a more embarrassing moment."

"How could I possibly know?" his wife muttered. To avoid making a scene in front of her friends, she reached out to tug at her husband's clothes.

Ni Ji heard the faint sound of fabric being pulled and a hand being shaken off. A friend beside the wife rose to leave, saying, "Yunyun, I’ll wait for you outside," before closing the door.

The words were brief, the voice flat and cold, yet they struck Ni Ji’s mind like a thunderbolt.

*Is it her? She’s here too?*