Without Zhu Qiyue’s command, and facing attacks from both front and rear, the military formation crumbled like dried weeds within moments.

The Tiger Guard and Phoenix Guard surrounded the府 troops of Zhu Zhaowei and Zhu Qiyue.

Tiger Guard Commander Shi Fei reported to Zhu Nanxian: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, the府 troops of the Seventh Prince and Twelfth Prince are all here. This subject has not yet had time to count the numbers, but estimates approximately eight hundred casualties, with about one thousand three hundred remaining. This general has already inquired about the whereabouts of the Seventh Prince and Twelfth Prince—they are said to have gone in the direction of the享 Hall.”

The narrow pass defended by Zhu Qiyue’s formation had two branch paths—one leading to the Pivot Star Gate, the other a dead end leading to the Ascension Bridge, Ascension Road, and the享 Hall known as the Ascension Hall.

Just as Zhu Nanxian was about to ask why Zhu Qiyue and Zhu Zhaowei had gone to the享 Hall, a soldier rushed toward him in panic, kneeling to report: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, disaster! The享 Hall has caught fire, and the Twelfth Prince and Seventh Prince are still inside!”

Upon hearing this, Zhu Nanxian immediately raised his eyes toward the享 Hall.

In the distance, billowing smoke indeed rose skyward, though it dissolved into the new night’s darkness, making it difficult to discern clearly.

The blade in his hand clattered to the ground. Zhu Nanxian froze for only an instant before breaking into a sprint toward the享 Hall.

Shi Fei beside him shouted to the soldiers: “Quickly, send men to fight the fire!”

Zhu Nanxian ran all the way to the end of Ascension Road, only to see the entire Ascension Hall engulfed in a sea of flames.

The towering firelight was so fierce that no one dared approach. Though palace attendants were already attempting to extinguish the fire, each bucket of water they threw had no effect whatsoever.

Two guards came forward to pay respects: “Your Highness the Crown Prince.”

Zhu Nanxian urgently asked: “Where is Twelfth Brother? Where is Zhu Qiyue?!”

The two guards immediately knelt to beg forgiveness: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, the fire is too fierce, and the hall doors have been locked from inside. We… had no way to enter the hall to check on the Twelfth Prince’s safety.”

“Useless!” Zhu Nanxian rebuked angrily, then stepped around them, striding forward as if to rush into the Ascension Hall.

Shi Fei and Qin Sang, who had followed, saw this scene and hurriedly pursued, kneeling to block Zhu Nanxian’s path: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, please reconsider! With such fierce flames, if anyone is inside the hall, they likely suffocated from the thick smoke before the fire even reached them. Even if Your Highness goes in, it will be futile!”

“…Then what should we do?” Zhu Nanxian asked blankly. “Twelfth Brother is still in the hall.”

If Zhu Nanxian had asked about someone else, Shi Fei and Qin Sang might have led troops to search.

But he was asking about Zhu Qiyue. Earlier, when the two of them led troops to break through the formation, they had indeed seen Zhu Qiyue heading toward the Ascension Hall.

Shi Fei and Qin Sang’s heads simultaneously knocked against the ground: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, please accept our condolences.”

At this moment, a Phoenix Guard led a soldier forward, reporting: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, this soldier says he carries your ‘Cuiwei.'”

Zhu Nanxian shifted his gaze.

He recognized this soldier—he was one of Zhu Qiyue’s personal guards who always stayed by his side, one of the people Zhu Qiyue trusted most.

The personal guard unwrapped the black cloth bundle, revealing a blade entirely ink-black, inlaid with gilded dark patterns.

“The Sword Pavilion towers steep and崔嵬, one man guards the pass, ten thousand cannot force through.”

His “Cuiwei.”

The personal guard knelt, holding “Cuiwei” above his head with both hands: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, the Twelfth Prince always commanded me to safeguard this ‘Cuiwei’ for you. He had me keep it with me at all times, because he hoped that one day, he could personally return it to you.”

Zhu Nanxian remained silent for a long while before reaching out to grasp “Cuiwei” and take it back.

A desolate wind suddenly swept through the night.

From this desolate wind, Zhu Nanxian seemed to hear Zhu Qiyue’s hearty, cheerful laugh, just as in the past.

He said: “Thirteenth Brother, since you’ve accepted the ‘Cuiwei’ I’ve been safeguarding for you, from now on you and I are even, still good brothers!”

He also said: “Thirteenth Brother, draw your ‘Cuiwei’—let’s have another match!”

The fire at the Ascension Hall had diminished somewhat. Following Shi Fei’s command, soldiers rushed to douse the hall with water.

The desolate wind became bitter, whipping at people’s robes and crowns.

That personal guard bowed once more to Zhu Nanxian, then rose and stepped back, turning toward the direction of the Ascension Hall.

In the night wind, he gazed at the hall trapped within the firelight before him.

The Twelfth Prince had said that delivering “Cuiwei” to the Crown Prince would spare his life.

But he had followed the Twelfth Prince since he was eight years old—seventeen years now. With the prince gone, what use was his life?

This personal guard thought: Twelfth Prince, the Crown Prince has accepted “Cuiwei.” Your final wish is fulfilled—you may rest at peace.

Facing the direction of the flames, he knelt, bowed, and solemnly kowtowed three times. Then he drew the dagger hidden at his waist and suddenly slashed it across his throat.

When Zhu Miner arrived with the assembled officials, this was the blood-splattered scene that greeted them.

The personal guard’s lifeless body pitched forward. The imperial clan and officials all knelt in unison.

Just then, on the Ascension Bridge, two Tiger Guards led a palace eunuch rushing toward them. Zhu Nanxian recognized this eunuch—he usually attended Minghua Palace, one of those by his father the Emperor’s side.

Upon seeing Zhu Nanxian, the eunuch threw himself to the ground, tears streaming down his face: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, His Majesty, His Majesty… has passed away!”

The bitter wind seemed to pierce into his very core, sharp as a blade, sweeping up again from his heart.

Zhu Nanxian asked blankly: “What did you say?”

The eunuch wept: “It was at the hour of You today. When this servant was feeding His Majesty medicine and couldn’t get him to take it, this servant discovered something wrong. When the Imperial Physician came to take his pulse, he said His Majesty had already passed during the hour of Shen.”

The hour of Shen—precisely when Zhu Minda and Shen Jing were being buried, precisely when Zhu Zhaowei and Zhu Qiyue raised their troops.

Zhu Nanxian shifted his gaze toward the palace complex of the随 Palace in the distance.

His father the Emperor, who had bestowed upon him a lifetime of favor and honor—with that aged, decrepit body, had he held on until this very day, held on until he returned with his troops, until the path to the throne had no more obstacles, and only then finally breathed his last?

Zhaojue Temple had become an ill-omened place. With the Emperor’s death, though the twelve drumbeats of national mourning had not sounded, horns should still have been blown at the随 Palace.

The Imperial Mausoleum was not far from the随 Palace—why hadn’t he heard the horn sounds earlier?

Zhu Nanxian quickly realized—yes, even if the horns had sounded, they would have been drowned out by the sounds of warfare.

Zhu Nanxian turned around to look at the imperial clan and assembled officials kneeling across the ground.

If these people had previously regarded him with mostly respect, now their eyes were filled with fear as they looked at him.

Come to think of it, these people had witnessed with their own eyes how he raised troops against his two blood brothers, watched him drive Zhu Zhaowei and Zhu Qiyue to a dead end, trapping them in the Ascension Hall to burn alive.

And now, with his father the Emperor’s death, he had become the legitimate sovereign of this dynasty.

Who would care what a lonely figure at those lofty heights truly thought?

So-called history would probably only record a few speculative lines after the “eyewitness accounts.”

The fire at the Ascension Hall had been extinguished. Palace attendants carried out two charred corpses from within.

Their clothing and features were unrecognizable, but from the fire-cracked, priceless white jade on their crowns, these two bodies could be identified as Zhu Zhaowei and Zhu Qiyue.

Shortly after, a guard returned from searching the Ascension Hall, kneeling to present a sword whose blade remained sharp despite the burning.

Zhu Qiyue’s “Qingya.”

Qingya, Cuiwei, and Shishiying were originally divine weapons that survived the Battle of Huai River, forged through flames, indestructible even by fire.

Soft sobbing came from among the officials.

Zhu Nanxian looked over—it was Jue’er lying in Qi Huan’s arms.

Zhu Jue was Zhu Qiyue’s son, born last winter, not yet one year old.

He seemed to have just woken, yet as if somehow sensing the surrounding awe and grief, though too young to understand, he kept his crying muffled, eyes red with tears.

Qi Huan raised her eyes, meeting Zhu Nanxian’s gaze. She paused, as if making some determination, gritted her teeth, rose from the crowd still holding Zhu Jue, and knelt before Zhu Nanxian again: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, this subject-wife has a request that may be presumptuous.”

Zhu Nanxian said: “Imperial Sister-in-law, please speak.”

“Please grant permission, Your Highness, to bestow the surname ‘Qi’ upon my son Zhu Jue, letting him become a member of the Qi family from now on.”

Zhu Nanxian looked at Qi Huan. After a moment, he lowered his eyes: “Imperial Sister-in-law, you worry too much. I actually wouldn’t…”

Wouldn’t what?

Wouldn’t eliminate all threats or pursue total extermination?

But hadn’t he never wanted Zhu Qiyue’s life either?

Qi Huan said: “Your Highness the Crown Prince misunderstands. This subject-wife only pities that my son lost his father so young. If raised in the prince’s manor, he would surely be lonely. Better that this subject-wife take him back to the Qi residence, to grow up with his cousins, to learn martial arts and join the army like his father, protecting home and country.”

Never born into an imperial family, a lifetime in military armor protecting home and country—this was probably what Zhu Qiyue had come to wish for as well.

Seeing Zhu Nanxian give no answer, Qi Huan held Zhu Jue with one hand, pressed the other to the ground, and bowed deeply: “Your Majesty—”

Zhu Nanxian had not yet ascended the throne and should not properly be called Your Majesty, yet at these words, not one of the surrounding officials dared object—they only bowed their bodies lower.

“Very well.” Zhu Nanxian finally spoke. “This Prince grants permission.”

At this moment, Minister of Rites Luo Songtang, Minister of Works Liu Dingliang, and Minister of Revenue Shen Xi stepped forward together from the crowd, bowing in unison to Zhu Nanxian: “We ministers—humbly request that Your Highness the Crown Prince return to the palace to take charge of the situation.”

Zhu Nanxian’s gaze swept across the three of them, finally settling on Shen Xi. His throat moved, and he said: “This Prince…”

According to the Great Sui’s customs, when the Emperor passed, the Crown Prince would, from the following day, assume the name of the new Emperor as the succeeding sovereign.

The new Emperor would observe mourning for the late Emperor for forty-nine days. After forty-nine days, the enthronement ceremony would be held.

During the mourning period, all the new Emperor’s protocols would follow imperial standards—even his mourning garments would be plain white cloud-dragon robes.

Zhu Nanxian knew he should rush back to the palace, should hasten to his father the Emperor’s bedside, personally wash his face, dress him, change his robes. He should, in the name of Crown Prince, even in the name of Emperor, bring peace to the hearts of these officials who had just experienced a great upheaval and were filled with anxiety.

But where was his Ayu?

Seeing his silence, the three men led by Shen Xi knelt together.

Everyone was kneeling. Only he stood alone accompanied by the vast wind.

Zhu Nanxian suddenly recalled the counsel Shen Xi had given him years ago when he was powerless to protect Su Shiyu:

“If you truly wish to protect someone, either you must be strong enough, or she must be strong enough. Otherwise, before that time comes, loving from afar may not be the worst form of preservation.”

He had truly fought desperately, step by step, whether without choice or with all his might, and was now about to ascend to this pinnacle above all others, this position beyond all reach.

But where was his Ayu? Could he still not go save her?

The kneeling Shen Xi seemed to sense something. He raised his eyes to meet Zhu Nanxian’s gaze and gently shook his head.

Zhu Nanxian’s eyes suddenly became extremely quiet and sorrowful. Zhu Qiyue’s death and his father the Emperor’s passing had already made him feel unbearably burdened. He only wanted now to confirm that Su Jin was still alive—as long as she was safe, he would still have the strength to carry on.

But he knew he could not.

“Prepare the imperial carriage. Return to the palace.” Zhu Nanxian finally spoke.

The imperial clan and officials rose and withdrew to both sides of Ascension Road, then knelt again in prostration, clearing a path that should be walked by an emperor.

From tomorrow on, these people would have to address him as “Your Majesty.”

Zhu Nanxian walked silently along this path, his steps seeming to tread through blood.

Reaching the Pivot Star Gate, just as he was about to board the imperial palanquin, a Phoenix Guard came galloping urgently through the main gate from the distance.

This Phoenix Guard was one of the personal guards he had dispatched this morning to escort Su Jin and the Annan envoy.

Upon seeing him, Zhu Nanxian released the carriage shaft, strode forward quickly, and asked urgently: “How is it? Are Minister Su and the Annan envoy safe?”

“Your Highness the Crown Prince, when the escort party reached the vicinity of White Screen Mountain, explosives detonated simultaneously on both mountainsides and the mountain road. Many of the soldiers following were killed—we don’t know how many—and even Commander Zhao was severely wounded. The horses pulling Minister Su’s and the envoy’s carriage were frightened by the explosives and fell off a cliff. We still don’t know if they’re alive or dead.”

Zhu Nanxian stared at him blankly: “Since they fell, why didn’t you search?” After a moment, he flew into a rage: “You couldn’t stop one carriage?! This Prince sent six hundred soldiers—not one of you could save anyone?!”

The guard said: “Your Highness the Crown Prince, forgive us, forgive us. It was because the explosives caused rockslides—many of those who went to rescue encountered falling rocks on the way, either unable to proceed or wounded and killed. On my way back, I encountered Lord Liu. He had me report this matter to Your Highness the Crown Prince, then quickly requisition more medicinal supplies from the palace. The Imperial Physicians who went may not be enough—we also need to summon physicians from the capital area.”

The guard continued: “There is one more thing.” He paused. “Commander Zhao ordered me to report to Your Highness the Crown Prince. He said Minister Su’s fall from the cliff this time was also because she had ordered everyone to hurry this morning.”

“Hurry?”

“Yes. Minister Su said there was something extremely, extremely important, and she wanted to return to the palace early. Actually, after the explosives startled the horses, Guard Tan riding alongside the carriage could have stopped it. But the carriage was moving too fast, and falling rocks were everywhere, so it plunged off the cliff.”

Something extremely, extremely important.

Did she want to rush back early to marry him?

Zhu Nanxian was frozen in place.

Though night had fallen, the blazing sunset from dusk—vivid as weeping blood—suddenly flooded his eyes.

The bitter wind spiraling up from his heart, sharp as a blade, shattered this blood-red fiery scene in his vision.

Shattered into pieces that scattered and drifted down.

Zhu Nanxian swayed where he stood, then suddenly collapsed to his knees and coughed up a great mouthful of fresh blood.