Seven-year-old Charles Carter was just the same as when he was six: except for eating, he never spoke. No matter how others teased or provoked him, he always responded with silence, not even a change in his expression, leaving his would-be tormentors bored and disappointed.

Rumors gradually faded and were eventually forgotten by most people, but Charles Carter had heard them so often that they were deeply engraved in his heart. When he finally spoke at the age of thirteen, joining everyone in reciting the classics of the sages, he still occasionally recalled those two sentences.

Keep your mouth shut in times of peace; open it in times of chaos. He had opened his mouth, but chaos did not immediately arrive—he would have to wait another five years.

Chapter One: Name and Reality

What can or should one do at eighteen? For the vast majority of subjects in the Tiancheng Dynasty, the answer had been fixed since birth: farming, business, joining the army, serving, becoming an official... Whatever the path, eighteen was supposed to be an age of accomplishment. There were even a few lucky ones who, before the age of ten, inherited noble titles thanks to their fathers’ or grandfathers’ achievements, and at thirteen or fourteen received prestigious and leisurely official posts. Barring any accidents, they would hold real power before turning eighteen, participating in state affairs, and if they performed outstandingly, would sooner or later be promoted to pillars of the nation.

As the son of the current Grand General, Charles Carter was not among the lucky ones. He held neither title nor office, and his eighteenth birthday passed in utter ordinariness—even he himself only remembered what day it was close to noon.

Charles Carter didn’t really mind this; he merely sighed inwardly at how swiftly youth passes, how time flows on endlessly like a river. He feared his whole life would drift along with the current, never changing, and at such a young age, he already felt a touch of world-weariness.

It was with this mood that, when someone suggested that afternoon that he join in an assassination attempt on the current emperor, Charles Carter did not immediately agree aloud, but was inwardly stirred, thinking that perhaps life was not so unchangeable after all.

Charles Carter’s name was a bit of a tongue-twister, but there was no helping it. The Lou family had dozens of brothers, and the Grand General had no energy to come up with meaningful names for each one. So, with every new son, he simply picked a character with the “stone” radical, hoping his sons would be as hard and solid as stone. But he couldn’t remember too many names, and always called them whatever came to mind.

Charles Carter was now eighteen. Life was neither particularly good nor bad. This year marked the twenty-sixth since the dynasty had been named “Cheng.” The founding emperor had personally led the campaign to eliminate the last local power nineteen years ago. Twelve years before that, the old emperor died and the new one ascended the throne. After the mourning period, the new emperor immediately added the character “Tian” (Heaven) to the country’s name, making it “Tiancheng,” to show that this dynasty was different from all previous ones, and that its rule was divinely ordained.

Indeed, looking around, within the borders of Tiancheng, no one else dared call themselves emperor. The surrounding lands were all small barbarian states, posing little threat. Even so, the emperor maintained an enormous army, ready to strike at any enemy, large or small, open or hidden.

In these times, the emperor’s safety was the top priority of the entire realm. Thus, any plan to assassinate the emperor sounded utterly unbelievable. As soon as the idea was voiced, both the proposer and the invitee laughed. Only after another cup of wine did Charles Carter begin to take it seriously.

The whole affair began with a trivial dispute that morning.

Back when the dynasty had just been established, the founding emperor decreed the creation of the Imperial Academy, which included the Grand Academy for the sons of nobles and seven other schools for talented commoners. In addition, there was a special “Inducement Academy” for wayward young lords who had little interest in the proper path but were still deemed salvageable, to demonstrate the emperor’s grace in not abandoning anyone.

Charles Carter was one such “wayward young lord,” sent to the Inducement Academy a few years ago. After attending a few lectures, he was secretly delighted and became even less interested in the “proper path.”

That morning, Edward Reed was to lecture on the study of names and reality. His classes were always dry and dull, and most students attended only under compulsion. The only thing that interested them was guessing the scholar’s surname; everyone thought the compound surname “闻人” was deliberately mysterious, and that it was ironic for a scholar teaching “names and reality” to have a name that didn’t match reality.

There were more than twenty students, each arriving later than the last. Edward Reed arrived even later, not showing up until the sun was high. The few who came early either chatted idly or stared into space, until “Black-haired Dog” Lucas Wright appeared.

Lucas Wright’s skin wasn’t dark, nor was his hair particularly thick. He was the third son of Marquis Zhou An of Dongyang. As the saying goes, “A tiger father has no dog sons.” Zhou An had spent half his life at war and was famed for his bravery—a true “tiger father.” His first two sons were decent enough, but the third was thin and small, truly a “dog son.” In the army, the marquis was nicknamed “White-browed Tiger,” so his son became “Black-haired Dog.”

“Black-haired Dog” Lucas Wright was small in stature but had a big temper. As soon as he entered the classroom, he shouted, “I’m furious! Absolutely furious!”

No one paid him any mind, but Lucas Wright didn’t need a response and continued to grumble about his misfortune.

Just the previous evening, Lucas Wright had gone out incognito with a servant, intending to mingle with the common folk. Unexpectedly, he ran into a troublemaker and was given a sound beating for no reason.

When they heard Lucas Wright had been beaten, everyone’s interest was piqued, and they crowded around to see. All they found was a slight bruise on his right cheek.

The injury wasn’t serious, but Lucas Wright couldn’t swallow his anger. “This is outrageous! For something like this to happen right under the emperor’s nose! Such a troublemaker’s whole family ought to be executed.”