Futile Devices Scans

Su Ruhan’s horse reached the city gate, but instead of rushing forward, he slowed down. Ahead of him were more than a dozen carriages and sedan chairs—distinguished guests who had attended the wedding banquet. Now that they were leaving the palace, inspection was unavoidable.

When it was Su Ruhan’s turn, the soldiers at the gate visibly changed their expressions. A familiar officer stepped forward, smiled politely, and said, “Guard Su, you may pass. But the person on your horse—his identity is unknown. We cannot let him leave.”

Su Ruhan gave a cold snort. “Unknown identity? He’s just a minor guard. Among the many carriages ahead, which one doesn’t carry servants or attendants? Why single out the one on my horse?”

Mu Xueshi, whether from exhaustion after crying or from emotional shock, lay limp in Su Ruhan’s arms, appearing fast asleep.

The officer who knew Su Ruhan smiled awkwardly, though there was no trace of guilt in his eyes.

“His Majesty has issued orders: those allowed to leave today must have been registered when entering earlier. If someone from the palace wishes to leave, we require an imperial decree. If not for our trust in you, Guard Su, we wouldn’t even have allowed you to approach.”

“And if I insist on taking him out?” Su Ruhan’s voice turned cold.

“Then don’t blame us for turning hostile. Men, surround him! Stop Guard Su’s horse and seize the man on him—without harming a single hair. If anything happens to him, all of you will pay with your lives!”

At that command, dozens of guards immediately surrounded Su Ruhan, their spears aimed straight at him. His horse was trapped in the center—it was clear that leaving would require a fight.

Su Ruhan let out a faint, mocking laugh. Just you people…

He drew the sword from his waist—but did not unsheathe it. Instead, he lightly traced his fingers along the scabbard, completely calm.

The officer leading the group, already angered by Su Ruhan’s defiance, drew his sword and slashed toward Su Ruhan’s horse. Su Ruhan merely hooked his own sword lightly, his movement slow and almost lazy—yet when the officer looked down, his sword had vanished from his hand.

Humiliated, the officer burned with rage. He glared at Su Ruhan, only to see his own sword flying straight back toward him. He hurriedly grabbed the hilt with both hands, but the force drove him backward several meters, crashing into the wall of guards behind him and opening a gap.

The surrounding guards began to feel uneasy. Though no intense clash had occurred, that single move shattered their confidence.

“Attack together!” the officer shouted hoarsely from the side, breathing heavily.

At his command, the guards exchanged glances and charged. The inner circle thrust their spears simultaneously at Su Ruhan and his horse from all directions.

No matter how skilled he is, he can’t dodge everything…

Yet Su Ruhan’s movements did not quicken, nor did the attackers slow down. Strangely, every spear was effortlessly deflected. It was as if multiple invisible layers of space stood between them—though their speed and force remained unchanged, their attacks seemed to take forever to reach him.

The more they pressed, the more frustrated they became—and the more impossible it was to get close. Su Ruhan stood right before them, yet felt impossibly distant.

Soon, every attacker found their weapon knocked away. Even the guards on the outer perimeter began to sweat.

It was as though Su Ruhan was playing with them—he injured no one, yet none could approach him. To an outsider, it even looked like the guards were deliberately letting him pass, dragging things out without progress.

Positioned among the departing guests, Su Ruhan’s standoff blocked all movement. The carriages and sedan chairs behind him were forced to halt.

Inside were nobles and high officials—none of whom had patience for this delay.

A guard from the Ninth Prince’s residence finally snapped. He rushed forward and shouted, “Are you all useless? You can’t even catch one man? Our prince has urgent matters to attend—if you delay him, who will take responsibility?”

His outburst triggered others. Servants of high-ranking officials began to protest as well. With the Ninth Prince’s household leading the charge, the others grew bolder.

After all, the Ninth Prince was the emperor’s own brother—and with no crown prince yet appointed, he held the greatest power in the palace aside from the emperor himself.

The gate descended into chaos.

The officer in charge grew increasingly anxious, shouting for all guards to charge at once.

The more chaotic it became, the more deliberately Su Ruhan stalled. The emperor acts cautiously… If he truly intended this, he wouldn’t want to draw attention.

This operation was clearly meant to secretly intercept Mu Xueshi—so the Third Prince would have no leverage. If things escalated in front of so many officials, the consequences would be severe.

Above, rows of archers stood in formation atop the city wall, bows drawn, awaiting orders.

Their commander, Zheng Qingcang, remained utterly calm—casually drinking wine as if nothing below concerned him.

Only when the officer confronting Su Ruhan climbed up to report did Zheng Qingcang’s gaze flicker slightly.

The officer suppressed his anger and stepped forward. “General Zheng, things are in chaos below—yet you sit here drinking?”

Zheng Qingcang laughed heartily, rising to his feet with ease.

“You’re responsible for guarding the gate. As long as Guard Su doesn’t leap onto the city wall, it’s not my place to intervene.”

The officer’s expression stiffened. Unable to hold back, he retorted loudly, “That’s not right, General Zheng! Guarding this place is our shared duty. Someone is forcing his way out—how can you stand by and do nothing?”

Zheng Qingcang rested his chin on his hand, pondering for a moment before narrowing his eyes and saying, “You make a fair point. But he’s just one man—if dozens of you can’t stop him, doesn’t that say more about you? I also heard what you said earlier: the person on Guard Su’s horse must not be harmed in the slightest. If my archers’ arrows stray even a bit, wouldn’t all the blame fall on me?”

“So you’re just going to stand by?” the officer demanded through gritted teeth, his face dark with anger.

Zheng Qingcang tilted his chin slightly, gesturing toward the scene below. “Isn’t Guard Su still inside the gate? If he actually breaks through, I can capture him later.”

“Fine!!” the officer roared, then turned sharply and stormed down from the city wall.

Below, chaos had already erupted. What had started as Su Ruhan against dozens of guards had now turned into a chaotic standoff. The carriages, no longer willing to wait, began pushing forward toward the gate. Forced by the pressure, the gates were opened. The leading officer stood on a platform, shouting orders: “Ignore the carriages and sedan chairs—just trap Su Ruhan!”

The guards, their eyes red with urgency, rushed at Su Ruhan without hesitation, trying to drag him down from his horse. But since they couldn’t harm the person on the horse, their attacks were restrained. Though they surrounded Su Ruhan, they couldn’t injure or capture him.

Enough playing around… Su Ruhan thought.

He finally drew his sword. A flash of blinding white light streaked across the blade. In an instant, dozens of swords seemed to appear around him—so fast that no one could tell which one was real. A white haze seemed to rise around him, and a powerful force burst outward. The wall of guards collapsed without resistance.

By the time they realized what had happened, Su Ruhan had already withdrawn his attack. Strangely, not a single person was injured, nor did anyone feel pain. Su Ruhan still stood among them—but the person on his horse had vanished without a trace.

“Impossible!” the leading officer shouted, his face contorted. “Search immediately! Stop every carriage ahead—no matter whose it is!”

At his command, the guards scattered from around Su Ruhan and rushed toward the gate. Su Ruhan smiled faintly, spurred his horse forward, and rode straight out through the gate—without brushing against a single person. Like a gust of wind, he disappeared into the darkness.

Inside a red-and-black carriage, an extra person had suddenly appeared. It belonged to Lord Qi, the largest cloth merchant in the capital. Inside sat the lord, his wife, and several maids. Because the carriage’s canopy was black and the top a muted red, it was the least conspicuous among all the vehicles.

Su Ruhan had spotted this carriage. While the guards were distracted by his dazzling swordplay, he had already slipped Mu Xueshi inside.

Once outside, Su Ruhan swiftly retrieved Mu Xueshi from the carriage. The lord and his household hadn’t even realized what had happened—the person had appeared and vanished as if it were an illusion.

After mounting his horse again, Su Ruhan suddenly sensed something. From hidden paths, behind trees, and within the grass, hundreds of soldiers emerged.

So these are the emperor’s real men… he thought. And there must be more lying in wait ahead.

Holding Mu Xueshi tightly in his arms, Su Ruhan drew his bow from his back. Turning in the saddle, he aimed at a figure atop the city wall—and released.

Zheng Qingcang saw the arrow coming straight toward him. He deliberately did not dodge. Instead, he gathered his internal energy, reducing the impact as the arrow pierced his side.

Blood surged out. Zheng Qingcang staggered deliberately and steadied himself against a nearby deputy.

The deputy panicked. “General Zheng, are you alright?”

Zheng Qingcang suddenly roared like a madman, shouting at the archers above, “Fire! All of you—fire at those rebels that just appeared!”

The deputy immediately repeated the order, assuming the attacker must have been among those “rebels.” He wondered how such a group had suddenly appeared—and how the guards below had failed to notice.

Zheng Qingcang’s archers were no ordinary soldiers. As they drew their bows, dozens of arrows flew at once. Each shot found its mark—dozens fell instantly.

The cavalry pursuing Su Ruhan collapsed in rows. The front ranks fell, and those behind—unable to see clearly in the darkness—crashed into them, horses stumbling and men tumbling. The pursuit came to a halt.

“General Zheng, you should rest—I’ll summon a physician,” the deputy said, trying to help him sit.

Zheng Qingcang waved him off, his expression filled with fury. “Keep firing!”

The fallen soldiers, already unable to move, were struck again—many killed, many wounded.

“Stop firing!” the officer below shouted, nearly coughing blood in anger. He clenched his fists and rushed up the city wall.

He was about to curse loudly—but froze when he saw Zheng Qingcang slumped against a platform, blood soaking his chest down to his abdomen. Shock replaced his anger as he hurried forward.

“General Zheng—what happened? How are you injured?”

The deputy spoke bitterly, “It’s that Su Ruhan! Who would have thought he’d gather a group of rebels and storm the gate? While resisting them, the general was struck by an arrow!”

Zheng Qingcang, though not truly in danger, furrowed his brows further and said weakly, “You must capture Su Ruhan—and every one of those people. Report everything to the emperor.”

At those words, the officer’s face turned pale. He nearly collapsed.

The emperor’s ambush had originally been meant to be coordinated between the guards below and the commanders above. But this officer had always disliked Zheng Qingcang. Hoping to claim credit alone, he had secretly cooperated with the hidden troops to intercept Mu Xueshi and present him to the emperor.

He had thought that even if Su Ruhan escaped, he could blame Zheng Qingcang for inaction. But now Zheng Qingcang had ordered arrows—killing their own men—and was even wounded. The responsibility would now fall entirely on him for concealing the truth.

Seeing the ambush troops near the gate either dead or injured, the officer grew desperate.

There’s only one way left…

He would have to personally lead a pursuit—capture Su Ruhan and Mu Xueshi—and present them to the emperor to atone for his mistake.

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