The Crown Grandson knelt in the hall, unshaken and immovable. Prince Yan, who had moments ago felt reasonably confident, now sensed that something had gone badly wrong.

He understood the Emperor’s temperament all too well. When the Emperor trusted a person, he was perfectly easy to manage. But once the Emperor turned—he turned completely, without sentiment or mercy.

He had no idea what was written in that stack of letters, but whatever it was, it had unsettled the Emperor.

A shadow settled over Prince Yan’s heart.

For the past six months, he had been convalescing at Prince Yan’s residence. Once recovered, he had wasted no time returning to the palace to accompany the Emperor. Since the Crown Prince had been confined to recuperating and could not attend court, and the Crown Grandson had been leading troops in the field, the Emperor had naturally allowed Prince Yan to attend court sessions, and had even assigned him oversight of the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Works.

He had quietly cultivated alliances and built up his own network of loyalists.

Everything had been proceeding smoothly.

But the Crown Grandson’s triumphant return from suppressing the rebellion had wiped away in an instant every small advantage he had managed to gain. Yesterday’s grand victory banquet had already stirred in him bitter resentment. And now, without any warning at all, the Crown Grandson had launched a devastating strike against him here in the imperial court.

“Father Emperor, I swear before heaven—I have never exchanged written correspondence with Prince An, and I could not possibly have been the mastermind behind the assassination.” Prince Yan turned his face toward the Emperor with an expression of righteous indignation: “If there is a single false word in what I say, I am willing to be put to death by ten thousand cuts!”

Prince Yan’s fervent and terrible oath gave the Emperor’s expression a degree of relief: “I never said I didn’t believe you—why swear such an oath?”

The painstaking efforts of these past years had not been in vain after all.

The Emperor’s trust and partiality still leaned toward him.

Yet Prince Yan did not allow himself to relax. The Crown Grandson had chosen this moment to press his attack—the assault was fierce and deliberate, and his methods could not possibly end here.

Indeed, the Crown Grandson’s clear voice rang out: “Imperial Grandfather, when I first read through these letters, I too was disbelieving. But Prince An spoke with certainty, insisting that Prince Yan was the mastermind. Right and wrong, black and white—we cannot take only one man’s word for it. Prince An has already been brought back to the capital. Why not summon him before the court and allow him to confront Prince Yan face to face?”

That was not an unreasonable approach.

Things having reached this point, there was no dignity left worth preserving.

The Emperor’s gaze was dark and cold: “Very well. Summon Prince An before the court—immediately.”

Compared to the Crown Prince and Prince Yan, both of whom possessed striking looks, Prince An cut a far less impressive figure. He was heavyset, with small eyes, and his appearance gave an overall impression of dullness and incompetence.

It was largely because of this that the Emperor had never held much affection for this particular son. Once Prince An came of age, the Emperor had packed him off to a distant territory.

After so many years, Prince An had grown even heavier than in his youth. Having traveled to the capital in a prisoner’s cart, he was, predictably, far from clean or presentable. His gaze was vacant and unfocused, his bearing that of a man frightened and at a loss.

Once inside the Golden Hall, Prince An moved with a hesitant, shuffling gait, and knelt before the Emperor: “This son greets Father Emperor!”

The Emperor let out a cold, contemptuous sound: “I have no such son. Plotting to assassinate me and the Crown Prince, then raising an army in open rebellion—I never imagined you had this degree of audacity and ambition.”

Prince An trembled from head to foot, kowtowing in desperate entreaty: “Father Emperor, please hear your son out. Everything I did was at Prince Yan’s instigation and direction. I alone could never have worked up this kind of courage. There are letters as proof—please, Father Emperor, examine the evidence clearly. I beg Father Emperor, in the name of the bond between father and son, to spare this son’s life!”

He knocked his forehead against the floor again and again—heavily, resoundingly—until it was quickly streaked with blood.

The Emperor’s heart was unmoved, not by a fraction. He gave a cold laugh: “What a fine scheme you have devised. On the strength of a few letters, you imagine you can throw all the blame onto Prince Yan. Do you take me for a senile old man, to be fooled as you please?”

“These letters are clearly forgeries—you had someone imitate Prince Yan’s handwriting to fabricate them!”

Prince An burst into wailing cries: “I have reached this point—I dare not deceive Father Emperor any longer. These letters were written to me by Prince Yan. Every one of them is real.”

“I left the capital so many years ago and have never once returned. I am not at all familiar with Prince Yan’s handwriting—if I wanted to find someone to forge it, there would have been no way to do so! Father Emperor, please do not wrong your son and let the true mastermind go free!”

Prince An’s cries were heartbreaking in their desperation, tears and mucus streaming together, an utterly wretched sight.

Prince Yan glared at him with cold fury: “Prince An—you committed assassination against Father Emperor, raised an army in treason, and both of these are undeniable facts. Now that you are cornered and without recourse, you resort to this vile attempt to frame me. A man like you—what face do you have left to show before Father Emperor, before the civil and military officials of this court, or to go on living in this world at all?”

He then turned his gaze to the Emperor, his expression one of fierce and resolute determination: “Father Emperor, I stand upright and without shame. I have never done a single thing that was contrary to your interests. If Father Emperor does not believe me, I am willing to prove it with my death!”

With that, he rose and hurled himself toward one of the pillars of the Golden Hall.

A blow like that to the head, aimed squarely at the forehead, would maim if not kill outright.

The Emperor’s expression changed sharply: “Someone—stop Prince Yan, at once!”

The imperial guards inside the hall moved with swift reflexes, intercepting Prince Yan just before his forehead struck the pillar.

The assembled officials, struck speechless by this rapid sequence of events, hardly knew what expressions to wear.

The Crown Grandson watched Prince Yan’s theatrical display with cold eyes. A faint, sardonic smile touched the corner of his lips. Unhurriedly, he said: “Since Prince Yan insists on his innocence, there is no need to be so agitated as to speak of life and death. Allow Prince An to finish what he has to say.”

Prince An dragged his sleeve across his face, wiping away tears and mucus in a haphazard smear. His eyes were bloodshot. The look he turned on Prince Yan was thick with hatred: “Prince Yan, there is no use in this performance of yours any longer. If it had not been for you, I would never have harbored such ambitions—and I would never have been brought step by step to where I am today.”

“And since I am here to testify against you, my evidence is certainly not limited to these few letters.”

Prince Yan’s heart lurched. The sense of foreboding deepened. He kept his face utterly blank: “Whatever evidence you have, bring it out before Father Emperor and the full assembly of officials. I have nothing to hide.”

He had always acted with meticulous caution. He was confident he had left behind no evidence of any kind.

These letters were clearly forged by Prince An. What other so-called “evidence” could Prince An possibly produce?

Prince An knocked his head against the floor once more in deep prostration before the Emperor, his face filled with remorse: “These letters were written to me by Prince Yan. I wrote a reply to every single one. Knowing Prince Yan’s cautious nature, he has almost certainly burned my replies long since—not even ash would remain.”

“However, I was shrewd enough to take precautions at the time. To guard against any future change in circumstances, I wrote two copies of every reply. One I sent to Prince Yan in secret. The other—I sent to my mother.”

“My mother hid all these letters in a concealed location within her sleeping quarters—a place known only to me. It is beneath the floor of her bedchamber, under the fifth floorboard counting from right to left.”

“I ask Father Emperor to dispatch someone to my late mother’s chambers immediately, to retrieve these letters. Compare the two sets side by side, and you will see that every word I have spoken is the truth.”