The great fire at Jingfu Palace burned on, not yet having reached the inner hall. Yang Zhen, having set the blaze, walked to the side door, kicked it open, and stepped inside step by step.

Two young palace maids hiding in the shadows tried to flee, but he swiftly blocked them, snapping both their necks with one hand each. The poor souls fell without a sound, and Yang Zhen’s mouth twitched as if in a spasm, both scornful and unmoved.

He walked straight into the bedchamber, where he saw the woman said to be Father Emperor’s favorite—Consort Xiao wore a thin robe of pale red, sitting there without a trace of fear on her face.

Seeing him enter, Consort Xiao smiled, giving a disdainful cold snort, her eyes looking at him as one might look at an animal.

Outside, the great fire raged, and the bedchamber grew hot; she kept fanning herself slowly with her palace fan, indifferent as ever, that same air of disdain toward everything.

Yang Zhen looked at this woman and finally said, “This attitude of yours—Yang Zao is quite fond of it, isn’t he. But it’s useless on me. You’re too old! Heh heh~ Your Highness? Nothing to say to me?”

Consort Xiao frowned, then smiled again, reaching for the teacup on the small table beside her, sipping and shaking her head.

At a moment like this, whether one laughed, cursed, or mocked, one had already lost. She had no wish to indulge him; her only worry was for the pitiable child hidden beneath the floor panel below her, that he might not be able to bear it and make a sound—that would be truly worthless.

Yang Zhen looked at this beautiful woman; she said nothing, but he had things to say—he had a bellyful of words stored up for years, always wanting to say them to someone in this palace.

So he looked at Consort Xiao and sincerely apologized, “Today’s business is truly unfair to you. In the past you never treated me poorly, in fact you were quite good to me. But, I still have to be unfair to you. It’s fine—from now on, you’re my creditor of karmic debt. Whether I become man or demon in the next life, I’ll acknowledge this debt. When the time comes, I’ll wait for you to come collect it.”

He had come from a temple, and even now he believed in karma and retribution—yet the evil he had to do, he would still do.

Consort Xiao smiled, tapping the bed frame with the lid of her teacup, and said with a smile, “If one does evil, the retribution needn’t wait for the next life. Heaven has eyes—you won’t escape it in this one!”

Yang Zhen looked utterly carefree, saying indifferently, “I’ll take that bet! Depending on that son of yours who wants to ascend to immortality, or that four-sided-enemy fool of a husband of yours? They can’t even look after themselves right now. I won’t boast, but—who knows who’ll be alive to see tomorrow’s sun? It certainly won’t be you.”

He laughed too, poured himself a cup of tea, and drank it despite the fire growing larger outside.

Hearing his words, Consort Xiao’s heart stirred. In the light of the room, she studied Yang Zhen’s profile carefully, and suddenly said, “Listening to your tone, this disrespect—you don’t seem to be from my family’s… bloodline?”

The Second Prince spat out a mouthful of tea and burst into laughter.

His laughter grew louder and louder; once he finished, he gave Consort Xiao a thumbs up. “No wonder it’s you—ah, you really are the clearest-eyed one in this whole backyard. It’s been suffocating me, I admire you!”

Consort Xiao’s face showed shock; she suddenly picked up her teacup and smashed it on the ground, pounding the bed and cursing, “You, you dare, you brazen impostor of imperial blood…”

The Second Prince leapt up, cursing back, “Shut your mouth! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up… who wants it! Who wants your family’s filthy blood!”

Shouting for her to shut up, he strode over to Consort Xiao’s face and struck her, then cursed, “You think I wanted to be part of your family? I was living just fine with my father and mother at home…”

His tears suddenly fell; after choking for a while, he glared at Consort Xiao and shouted, “I have a family, a father! A mother! They thought I’d forgotten, but I remember—remember it clearly!”

Consort Xiao covered her face, glaring furiously at him.

The room was hot; Yang Zhen wiped sweat pouring down as he waved his sleeve. “Whew~ I feel better! Heh heh, you know, one day, my home suddenly had a group of people show up in the middle of the night…”

He seemed to have returned to that fire-lit night, his expression turning wild as he stared at Consort Xiao with pure hatred. “That night, my father had shot a stag and gotten a fine set of antlers. Before bed he told my mother that tomorrow, once they had money, they’d go into town and find a good teacher to give Shan’er a proper name—I was already four and still didn’t have one.

Back then I didn’t understand what a good name was, I thought it was something good to eat, and I was quite happy, my little sister was happy too, bouncing around on the kang… oh, I had a sister too, I don’t often think of her, that’s right, I had a sister…”

Consort Xiao wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, slowly straightening up, watching him coldly.

Yang Zhen, holding it in too long, didn’t wait to be asked before pouring it all out. “Those bad people knocked, asking to spend the night. My parents kindly took them in, even apologizing that our home didn’t even have a proper bowl for water. But who could have known—who could have known that in the middle of the night they’d burst into the house, kill my parents and sister, and set our home on fire… and! Take me.”

A child who witnessed such tragedy back then still didn’t understand much sorrow.

But Yang Zhen wept—wept for all these years of his fate, pushed about by others without understanding why. He rambled on, complaining, “Those bastards fed me some mute-inducing drug, calculated it perfectly—children forget easily, so sooner or later I’d forget what happened that day. Heh heh heh, ah… how could people be so vile?

Later I learned that the group escorting the young master had been sent because he was frail, to be delivered to South Huguo Temple for care. But this group, disdaining that he was born of a concubine, failed to look after him properly on the road, and he died of illness. They couldn’t explain that away—and just then they happened to see me playing outside my house, thought I was about the same age, and got an idea. Heh, Buddha bless.”

Consort Xiao looked at Yang Zhen with eyes full of sorrow.

Yang Zhen just laughed, unconcerned. “I’m not sad, don’t look at me like that either. The temple didn’t teach these things—only letting go. But, I can’t let go, you know? A child at three is a three-year-old, at four the memories of a four-year-old. A poor hunter’s child, never eating his fill growing up, thin and gaunt—not even as tall as some rich lord’s sickly three-year-old.

But my mind was fully grown! I watched them kill people, watched them toss that Yang family brat’s corpse into the fire pile, I was scared to death, ran a fever, was drugged mute, and by the time I recovered… I was already at the temple, heh heh heh…”

He stood up laughing wildly, swaying as he walked toward Consort Xiao. “And those foolish monks at Huguo Temple, who knew nothing, thought I was just slow to speak. They too looked down on a concubine’s child, didn’t even bother getting a good master to check my pulse at first, just waited and waited, until I could finally speak—only then did they patiently start teaching me.”

He tilted his crooked head to the other side, saying with great mockery, “People are snobs, monks no exception. As your man’s power grew greater and greater, I kept being passed to different monks to raise, until finally the abbot himself raised me personally.

At first I thought they were good people too, but… who could have guessed, they merely wanted a puppet. You know, aren’t these monks quite something? And they still dare compare themselves to the masters at North Huguo Temple? Not even fit to carry their shoes!”

Consort Xiao’s lips trembled as she asked, “You, what exactly do you intend to do? Aren’t you afraid this will reach His Majesty’s ears?”

Yang Zhen’s eyes flickered with confusion for a moment, then he shook his head with a bitter smile. “I don’t know, truly I don’t know. It was all what they told me. You know, this secret has been torturing me to death. I never knew where I was headed. I suppose I was meant to seek revenge, but I grew up in a muddle at the temple, and my master was too good to me. One day I couldn’t hold it in and told him… and then, guess what happened?”

The room was too hot; Yang Zhen licked his cracked lips, his features twisting together, smiling with an eerie, demonic grin.

“Then, then… my master went out. One day he came back and told me, your revenge is done, all those who killed your whole family are dead, no one in this world can prove you’re not Yang Zhen anymore—you are Yang Zhen! So all these years of effort by South Huguo Temple couldn’t go to waste—for this debt of gratitude, I had to arrange for someone to become emperor, had to make it happen!

You think I wanted to get mixed up in this mess? Even that fool of an emperor-husband of yours can’t recognize his own son—what choice did I have? Ah! What choice did I have? Who could prove I’m not myself? Ah? No one… tell me, who am I? Don’t fool yourself with wishful thinking. You still think tonight is just some ordinary **? Hahaha… hey, heh heh…”

He grinned viciously. “Tonight, all of this is just him fearing the noble clans’ revenge, using his whole family as bait—it’s the retribution he deserves. Just accept your fate. Did you think you were really some pitiable, beloved A’Duo? Tsk tsk…”

Consort Xiao’s teeth chattered with fury; she looked at this wicked man, and thinking over everything he’d said, felt utterly despairing.

No wonder. So she was A’Duo after all.

Yang Zhen, not knowing what this poor woman was thinking, let it all out in a venting howl: “In this world! Who isn’t at the mercy of others! Heh, loyalty is a joke! So is fidelity, we’re all a joke, don’t you think? Even those around him—who knows how many harbor ill intent? What is he supposed to do about it?

You can rest easy! Those people all support me—this is what your Yang family owes me. So, this is the blessing my Buddha’s mercy has given me? Even if I didn’t want to be emperor, others wouldn’t allow otherwise. Your whole family exhausted their efforts raising a cuckoo’s chick—heh, and now I’ve come to take the nest.”

He laughed, pushing his face close to Consort Xiao’s. “So, I’ll be the emperor… don’t you think that’s good… eh? You wretch!”

Consort Xiao’s neck snapped, and she slumped down, dying with her eyes open, never imagining death would come so quickly.

Yang Zhen pulled the short blade from his arm, tossed it to the ground, spat, and looking at Consort Xiao’s face, said very earnestly, “Since you’ve wronged me, you’re no longer my creditor of karmic debt, agreed? Good!”

With that, he turned and left, dragging in tung oil from outside, smashing the wooden bucket before turning to walk away…

The fire grew larger and larger. Consort Xiao’s body twitched a few times. The Sixth Prince, knowing those people outside hadn’t left, sat on the kang in utter despair, holding Consort Xiao and weeping silently.

Guan Si’er’s journey had been difficult; even dodging as well as he could, he’d still been ambushed twice. When, covered in grime, he finally arrived near Jingfu Palace and saw the raging fire grow even larger, he cried out in anguish, “Sixth Prince!! Your Highness!!”

He rushed forward quickly. Just as he entered Jingfu Palace, someone swiftly slipped away from the side corridor of the palace.

Meng Dingchen, watching the blazing fire, felt a surge of anger, and paying no mind to the senior uncles beside him, reached out and slapped Yang Zhen across the face.

He hated him for strangling Consort Xiao—that woman should have burned to death, a seamless death. Instead, Yang Zhen had gone in like a madman and said all sorts of things. His senior brothers said a man held in too long would lose his composure, that he needed to be allowed to vent—but that didn’t mean he should be allowed to cause trouble.

If tomorrow the body were examined, it would only bring needless complications.

Yang Zhen, indifferent, spat out a mouthful of blood, gesturing rudely at his own neck. Meng Dingchen, helpless, glanced around, and along with the disguised monks, took Yang Zhen off toward Consort Liu, the Shun Consort’s quarters.

The cuckoo had taken the nest—every other egg had to be pushed out!

Inside Jingfu Palace, the fire blazed too fiercely. Guan Si’er, blade in hand, tried several times to charge inside but was driven back each time by the searing heat.

He ran to the palace wall, looking for the large water vats usually kept full, but they had all been knocked over…

With no other option, he could only cry out in helpless anguish, “Your Highness! Consort Xiao… Sixth Prince… Fatty Liu… you dead fatty…”

Just as he sank into utter despair, a figure wrapped in something suddenly burst out from inside the building, rolling on the ground like a small fireball.

Guan Si’er’s heart leapt with joy; he rushed over and beat at the figure frantically, not caring that his hands were badly burned in the process. After a long struggle, he finally found, in the innermost layer of thoroughly soaked bedding, the fat sixth prince he’d been so worried about.

Overjoyed beyond measure, his lips trembling, he said, “It’s, it’s you…”

The Sixth Prince coughed several times, his teeth chattering, and finally, face full of smiles, said to Guan Si’er, “It’s you, you idiot, are you a fool? Cough cough cough…”

Guan Si’er, his ash-covered face grinning wide, patted his back and said, “That’s right, that’s right! I’m no fool—I abandoned the emperor himself to come rescue you, you dead fatty, how’s that for foolish?”

The scout’s signal whistle rang up into the sky. Guan Si’er, overjoyed, looked up and said, “Good, our outer brothers have arrived. Come with me…”

He tried to pull the Sixth Prince up to run, but was shaken off. The Sixth Prince looked at him seriously and said, “Little Seven, promise me something.”

As he said this, the Sixth Prince’s eyes turned grave and fierce.

Guan Si’er’s heart trembled; he wanted to ask what was wrong, but the Sixth Prince pressed him, “Promise me!”

Flustered, Guan Si’er, sensing something was wrong, nodded hastily, “I promise, I promise, what is it, let’s hurry and go, it’s not safe here.”

The Sixth Prince didn’t answer his question, instead throwing the quilt he’d wrapped himself in back into the fire.

Thankfully, his mother had liked keeping goldfish—otherwise he truly wouldn’t have made it out today.

Once the brocade quilt caught fire, the Sixth Prince came over, took Guan Si’er’s hand, and knelt facing the palace hall.

Guan Si’er stood frozen. The Sixth Prince looked up at him, pleading, “Can you kowtow for my mother with me? My mother is gone. I beg you!”

His eyes were red, but no tears fell.

So it was true—Consort Xiao hadn’t made it out… Guan Si’er, dazed, knelt with him, then was pulled up and led running, toward places with no one around.

He and the Sixth Prince had once been the mischief-makers of this palace, always wandering to places others avoided, exploring everywhere—no one knew this place better than the two of them.

As Guan Si’er ran, he thought, how carefree they had been back then.

Later, they arrived at a place very familiar to Guan Si’er—the pond where General Tan Er’s head had once been thrown.

The Sixth Prince let go of Guan Si’er’s hand, and turning to him in astonishment, said, panting, “Little Seven, I beg you, one thing.”

Guan Si’er was stunned; looking around, he said, “Uh, Consort Shun’s palace is on fire too…”

But Sixth Prince Yang Qian’s expression had gone numb. There had been a hole beneath the platform, through which he could hear every word between his mother and that villain. Now his ears rang with it all—he and his mother had been bait all along… the entire harem was bait.

These people didn’t care at all whether they lived or died—after all, an emperor with three palaces, six courtyards, and seventy-two consorts could always sire more; their deaths as bait meant little, since he wasn’t even old yet.

Yang Qian gave a mocking laugh, and as if abandoning his former self, jumped straight into the pond.

Guan Si’er heard the splash, turned to see the Sixth Prince had jumped into the water, and crouched down like a complete fool, staring, “Six, Sixth Prince?”

The Sixth Prince, soaking in the water, pointed toward a rockery far off in the flower pond. “I’m going over there.”

Under the pavilion by that rockery was a hollow that could fit two people—a place where he and Guan Si’er used to hide forbidden picture books and other secrets belonging to young men.

Guan Si’er nodded, somewhat flustered. “Uh, alright! That’s a good spot, go on.”

At least it would be safe there.

Another whistle shrieked into the sky. The Sixth Prince shuddered all over, yet grabbed Guan Si’er’s hand once more, urgently instructing him, “Little Seven, remember what I say! If you don’t want to bring trouble to your family, go back at once. Say no one saw anything—that when you arrived, Jingfu Palace was already ablaze, and there were no survivors there. Remember, understand?”

Guan Si’er was confused, but he wasn’t foolish; he nodded repeatedly in agreement. “Oh, alright. Should I not tell my brothers either?”

The Sixth Prince nodded firmly. “That’s right, if you don’t want to burden them, you mustn’t say anything. Remember this above all.”

Guan Si’er’s heart clenched; he grabbed the Sixth Prince’s hand and said, “Sixth Prince, can, can I help you?”

The Sixth Prince opened his mouth silently, laughing without a sound—a laugh unlike that spirited, radiant young man from before, more like… Guan Si’er didn’t even know what to compare it to anymore.

He could only plead, as if clutching at something vitally important to his life, “I can help you, truly, Sixth Prince! You have to believe me!”

Yang Qian only smiled, but wouldn’t agree, saying, “Ah, I understand. Go! I beg you~ go! If you don’t want me to die, if you don’t want to bring trouble to your family, then go, just go!!”

Guan Si’er finally stood, walking dazedly toward the corridor, walking faster and faster… Yang Qian watched him go until he was out of sight, then turned and swam beneath the rockery.

Later, he crouched in that hollow, picked up a forbidden picture book, and began reading—in it, the verse spoke of a rake saying: sister, let’s go play over there…

The Sixth Prince had never understood the meaning of those words before. Today, he suddenly understood—so that’s what the rake meant by “play,” this and that sort of thing. What an interesting world this was, wasn’t it? No wonder the sister in the story hadn’t been willing. He gave a soft, bitter laugh, tears streaming as he watched the distant palace fire, murmuring, “Let’s go play… everyone, play well…”

Guan Si’er walked on, ran on… encountering ambushes along the way, but this time he didn’t bother with words—striking down anyone in his path like a soul unmoored from its body, cutting them down without hesitation… until no one dared block him, no one dared stop him, fleeing at the mere sight of him from afar…

By the time he arrived back near the corridor, covered head to toe in blood, his brothers and the reinforcements had already surrounded His Majesty in protection.

So many people here—why couldn’t they save the people back there?

Guan Si’er couldn’t understand it.

Seeing Guan Si’er return, his face numb, his body covered in blood, everyone crowded around, talking over each other, but Guan Si’er heard none of it. He walked stiffly to His Majesty, knelt stiffly, and said, “Your Majesty~ this subject… this subject went. Jingfu Palace~ there’s nothing left… nothing… it’s all burned down.”

Everything!

Nothing left at all.

His Majesty’s eyes went wide; he set down the blackfeather crane and raised his blade to charge toward the harem, but was seized by the arms and waist by everyone around him. The ministers pleaded, wailing filled the ground… Guan Si’er felt numb, neither joy nor sorrow.

Hu Yougui watched his younger brother with great worry… before he could think further, a meat pastry was pressed into his hand.

He turned in shock—it was Yuwen Xiaoqiao, giving him a small, coaxing smile, whispering, “Shh… Yougui, my father and I are heading to the back. You must be hungry, right? Eat a little first.”

At a time like this?

Hu Yougui, annoyed, tried to fling the pastry away, but Yuwen Xiaoqiao held his hand down, pleading softly, “Don’t, don’t, I worked so hard to bring this in, aren’t you hungry?”

Yuwen Chongde, unable to bear his daughter’s lack of composure, walked over and pulled her firmly, scolding under his breath, “Ah, girl, what time is it, let’s go, let’s go!”

Reluctantly, Yuwen Xiaoqiao pretended to eat as she was pulled away, carrying her weapon as she led people to reinforce the rear palace.

Chen Dasheng looked his younger brother over carefully, and seeing no serious injury, finally let out a slow breath, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how.

Everyone knew he and the Sixth Prince were close as brothers; with Jingfu Palace burned, the Sixth Prince’s odds looked grim.

In the end it was His Majesty who stood, patting Guan Si’er’s shoulder, pulling him up, and walking with him to higher ground to look out toward the harem…

His Majesty said, “Rest assured. My little immortal Sixth is protected by the gods, he’ll surely be fine!”

Guan Si’er said nothing.

At this moment, the palace seemed to have reached a temporary safety, but the remnants unable to breach Yanjing City had finally settled on a new plan.

A group of men in black conferred briefly and decided to raid Quanhou Street by night—if they couldn’t seize the families of high officials as hostages, the lower-ranked officials’ families in Liubu Lane would do just as well.

Moreover, with the current favor enjoyed by the Marquis of the city gate riding high, seizing the wives and mothers of these men would surely be effective too.

So these men gradually gathered, converging on Quanhou Street from all directions.

But no sooner had they entered the mouth of Quanhou Street than they were stopped by a group of short-statured women.

Deep in the night, dogs barking through the narrow lanes—a group of men wasn’t frightened by that, but entering the street to find a group of women in blue embroidered blouses was rather unsettling.

The two sides sized each other up for a moment.

The one leading them said, “Looks like they were prepared for us.”

Someone asked, “What should we do?”

The leader sneered coldly. “Look at you lot, no backbone—just women. We’ll spread out and go in—leave this to us!”

With that, they quickly scattered—some climbing onto roofs, others slipping into side alleys.

Once positioned, the rest drew their weapons and charged at the women together. But just as they closed the last few steps, before they could react, they watched in shock as the women suddenly dropped and began rolling on the ground.

They rolled with astonishing speed, and at seven or eight paces from the men, a woman’s voice rang out, sharp and decisive: “Draw blades!”

That voice cut like iron, and immediately after came the sound of chains and weapons being unleashed. Before the two sides even faced each other properly, the feet of the fastest runners among them were suddenly separated from their ankles…

In an instant, agonized screams tore through the sky above Quanhou Street!