Chapter 801 --801

Chapter 801: Chapter-801

The moment she was out of sight of the crowds, the polite grocery-store owner vanished entirely.

Heena broke into a dead sprint. Her heavy black cloak billowed behind her like bat wings as she navigated the claustrophobic alley, her boots kicking up dirt and discarded vegetable leaves. The carriage was moving fast toward the upper rings, and if she stayed on the ground level, she would lose it in the maze of the market district within minutes.

She needed the high ground.

Ignoring the sharp, agonizing protest of the healing scabs on her back, Heena locked her eyes on a stack of empty wooden crates piled against a stone wall. She didn’t even slow her pace.

With a burst of explosive, kinetic energy, she vaulted onto the first crate, using her momentum to push off the adjacent brick wall. She launched herself upward, her pale fingers hooking over the edge of the low, curved tiled roof of a nearby teahouse. Her shoulder muscles screamed in absolute, tearing agony as she hauled her body weight over the ledge, but the sheer adrenaline completely drowned it out.

Rolling seamlessly across the clay tiles to absorb the impact, Heena sprang instantly back to her feet.

She was now sprinting across the rooftops, her dark silhouette blurring against the morning sky like a hunting hawk. Below her, through the gaps in the buildings, she tracked the gilded roof of the Lu family carriage as it rattled toward the inner city gates.

Her heart pounded a frantic, violent rhythm against her ribs, her jaw set in a ruthless line.

If that man was who she thought he was, this entire "peaceful" slice-of-life dimension was a massive, orchestrated lie. .

Heena had the reflexes and the mindset of a veteran assassin, but she was not completely delusional.

Vaulting across market teahouses was one thing; attempting to parkour directly over the fortified perimeter of a high-ranking noble estate in broad daylight was pure suicide. The Lu family, like all upper-ring aristocracy, employed highly trained shadow guards. She wasn’t going to risk finding out how fast they could shoot a trespasser full of arrows.

Instead, she dropped down into a narrow, overgrown back alley that ran behind the estate’s outer wall. Sifting through the original owner’s fragmented childhood memories, Heena pinpointed a hidden, crumbling dog hole concealed behind a patch of thick weeds.

She dropped to her knees, shoved the weeds aside, and wedged her head and shoulders into the gap.

She made it exactly halfway before her hips caught violently against the jagged stone.

Damn it, Heena cursed silently, gritting her teeth as she tried to force herself forward. It was useless. The hole hadn’t shrunk; the original Lu Heena’s body was simply fully grown.

Panting with frustration, Heena aggressively wriggled backward, dragging herself out of the dirt. She stood up and violently rubbed her sides, wincing as the scraped skin around her waist throbbed in absolute agony.

She glared at the dog hole with pure, murderous irritation, but she didn’t have time to be angry.

Scanning the trash-littered alleyway, her eyes locked onto a discarded rain barrel and a stack of rotting wooden buckets. Moving quickly, she dragged the heavy barrel directly under a low section of the stone wall, stacking three precarious buckets on top of it.

She placed her boot on the first bucket, hesitating as the rotting wood let out a terrifying, ominous creak under her weight.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. If this makeshift ladder collapsed, two things would immediately happen: first, she would shatter her leg and die of ancient, pre-industrial tetanus. Second, the Lu guards would find her bleeding in their trash pile.

Swallowing her fear, Heena shifted her weight, ignoring the groaning wood, and reached up to grip a protruding stone drainage spout. She hauled herself upward, her biceps burning, until her eyes just barely cleared the top of the boundary wall.

She had found the blind spot. The carriage was just pulling into the inner courtyard.

Heena held her breath, her eyes locked on the lacquered door.

First, a male servant in a crisp blue tunic stepped down, respectfully lowering his head and raising a hand toward the carriage interior.

And then, the agonizingly dramatic entrance began.

A single, shockingly fair hand emerged from the shadows of the carriage, resting lightly on the servant’s forearm.

What are you doing, moving in slow motion? Heena mentally screamed, her fingers digging into the stone wall. Come out faster!

Slowly, the heavy silk curtain was pushed aside. A second hand appeared. Then a satin-slippered foot gracefully touched the paving stones. The man finally stepped out, using his free hand to elegantly gather the folds of his flowing, cerulean-blue robes so they wouldn’t brush the dirt.

Heena stared, completely bewildered by the sheer vanity of it.

The man’s jet-black hair was absurdly long, cascading completely past his waist. The front sections were woven into delicate, intricate braids pinned at his crown, while the rest was left entirely open, flowing down his back like a waterfall of ink. Even with her modern sensibilities, Heena couldn’t fathom it. She hated having hair on her neck when she was sweating, yet these ancient men paraded around in layers of silk with heavy, open hair just to look ethereal.

And he was beautiful. Even from a distance, the elegance of his posture was undeniable. His fingernails were painted a flawless, striking red, his hands completely unblemished by a single day of hard labor.

It made Heena’s stomach turn. It was terrifying that a creature who looked so delicate and fragile could harbor a mind vile enough to orchestrate a brutal beating and exile.

But she still couldn’t see his face. A sheer, pale veil obscured everything below his piercing blue eyes.

Come on, Heena prayed to whatever gods were listening, her eyes burning from refusing to blink.

As if answering her, a sudden gust of autumn wind swept through the courtyard. The cerulean robes fluttered, and the bottom edge of the pale veil lifted, exposing the sharp, aristocratic line of his jaw.

Heena leaned forward, her heart completely stopping. Just a little higher—

Suddenly, a heavy, cold hand clamped firmly onto Heena’s left shoulder.

A startled, half-strangled gasp violently ripped its way out of Heena’s throat. Panic and pure survival instinct overrode every ounce of her stealth. She violently clapped her own hand over her mouth to muffle the scream, but the sudden, jerky movement completely shifted her center of gravity.

The rotting wooden buckets beneath her boots gave way with a deafening CRACK.

Heena plummeted backward, crashing down into the alleyway dirt in an explosion of splintered wood and suffocating dust.

Inside the courtyard, the sharp, violent noise echoed like a gunshot.

The elegant man paused, his blue eyes snapping toward the stone boundary wall. "What was that sound?"

"Intruders!" a servant shouted.

"Check the outer perimeter! Now!" the captain of the shadow guards roared, the sound of heavy boots immediately sprinting toward the wall.

Down in the alley, Heena didn’t even check to see if anything was broken. She scrambled wildly to her feet, throwing her black cloak over her head, and bolted down the narrow alleyway like a bat out of hell.