The Emperor was not much of a fighter. Though he had studied martial arts from childhood, understanding from an early age that because he was an imperial prince he must be capable of protecting himself.

But people are not born with equal gifts. Some take up martial arts, observe a technique once, and memorize it — when the moment comes to use it, it flows out naturally, without any awkwardness.

Others must drill a single technique a hundred times before they remember it, and when the moment comes their mind may still be half a step behind.

Even so, the Emperor stood in the doorway of the main hall and did not retreat a single step.

In that moment he did not think of himself as the Emperor. He only remembered that he was a husband — and a father.

The Empress was still lying inside the sleeping chambers. Not wanting to make her husband worry any more than he already did, she had bitten down with all her might to keep from crying out, until the cloth clenched in her teeth was marked with blood.

So the Emperor asked himself: what right did he have to retreat?

Huchi’er had taken several arrows, but his skin was thick and his flesh was like iron — the same arrow that drove deep into another man’s body might barely penetrate the dense muscle on him.

He had once trained himself by simply standing and letting his men beat him across the abdomen with staves during practice sessions — and they were not permitted to stop until several staves had snapped. This kind of resistance to injury looked, to ordinary eyes, like something monstrous.

His arms were thicker than an ordinary man’s thighs. A crossbow bolt that could punch clean through an ordinary man’s arm would lodge itself in the bulging muscle of his without passing through.

Huchi’er spotted the Emperor. The blood that was already thick in his eyes grew darker.

He was here to avenge the Tianming King — his uncle.

In his view, Prince Wu deserved to die, and the Emperor deserved to die even more — because he believed the whole affair had been the Emperor’s design. If the Emperor had not offered to abdicate, why would Yang Xuanji have entered the city? If the Emperor had not laid his schemes in secret, how could Yang Xuanji have been deceived?

When all was said and done, Huchi’er hated the Emperor — more than he hated Prince Wu, more than he hated the men of the Liangzhou Army.

Kill the Emperor first. Then kill the Emperor’s wife and children. That, too, would count as vengeance for his uncle.

If he still had breath left after that to escape, then the one remaining desire for the rest of his life would be to kill Prince Wu, Yang Jiju.

Looking at the Emperor — that slight and slender figure who still dared to stand in the doorway holding a saber — Huchi’er felt a furious rage rise up from his core.

He strode forward, sweeping the door panels left and right as he went.

The courtyard was still filled with Imperial Guard soldiers, but not one of them could hold back this savage force.

Even without that heavy suit of golden armor, he was still the rarest of warriors in this mortal world — a golden-armored deity.

Each sweep of the door panels across a man’s skull would instantly cave it in. A sweep across the chest would cave that in as well.

Several Inner Palace Guards saw Huchi’er charging toward the Emperor and immediately came sweeping through the air toward him.

In mid-air they shook concealed weapons from their hands — the projectiles came streaking in. Huchi’er raised a door panel before him and they all embedded themselves in the wood.

Annoyed by the darting, nimble movements of those guards, Huchi’er held a door panel with one hand and bent down to pry a blue stone slab from the ground with the other.

The stone slabs laid here in the palace were thick and heavy — it took two men to lift one of ordinary size.

But he snatched one up with a single hand and hurled it. The stone slab spun through the air and struck one Inner Palace Guard dead-on, instantly caving in his chest and sending him spitting blood.

The other Inner Palace Guards used the opening to close in, and several long swords stabbed toward Huchi’er’s back.

Yet Huchi’er did not even bother to dodge. He tensed — the muscles across his back surged and knotted — and though the blades did pierce his skin, they were no more than superficial wounds.

Huchi’er spun around and swept the door panel through a wide arc. Three Inner Palace Guards had their skulls caved in almost simultaneously.

He charged forward alone. The Tianming Army men swept in behind him. The Imperial Guard fell back step by step until they were nearly at the foot of the main hall’s steps.

At that moment, the wounded Imperial Guard General Commander Zhang He clenched his jaw and rose once more. While Huchi’er was occupied cutting men down, Zhang He forced himself into a roll and thrust his spear from behind at Huchi’er’s lower back.

No matter how powerful a man, the lower back is a lethal point.

But it was as if Huchi’er had sensed what was coming — at the last instant he sidestepped. The spear found only air, and Zhang He, whose thrust had carried too much momentum, pitched forward face-first onto the ground.

Huchi’er’s fury surged. In one motion he crouched, grabbed Zhang He by the scruff of his neck, and lifted him up. He glanced toward the Emperor’s position — then hurled Zhang He straight at him.

The Inner Palace Guards before the Emperor scrambled to intercept and were knocked off their feet, six or seven of them, all at once.

“You wretched Emperor!”

Huchi’er bellowed as he charged forward. “Give me back my uncle’s life!”

The Emperor still had not moved — but his hands were trembling. He had never before seen a man of such savage fury. The man seemed to feel no pain whatsoever, his body drenched in blood yet every bit as ferocious.

Huchi’er, seeing the Inner Palace Guards thrown into disarray, took one enormous stride up onto the steps and drove the door panel crashing down toward the Emperor with all his force.

The Emperor seemed to freeze with terror — or perhaps simply could not react in time — and still had not moved.

Zhang He, spending his absolute last reserves of strength, shoved the Emperor aside. The door panel came crashing down on Zhang He’s head instead.

A sickening crack — Zhang He’s skull shattered. Shards of bone and flesh, blood and brain matter, sprayed outward in every direction.

The Emperor hit the ground, and the shock of it jolted him back to his senses. He swung his saber at Huchi’er — but Huchi’er kicked it flying.

“Wretched Emperor — die!”

Huchi’er lifted the door panel again.

At that very moment, Liangzhou Army General Jiang Qihai came bursting in. His eyes went instantly to that colossal figure about to kill the Emperor — they went wide and round.

He did not hesitate for a single breath. He hurled the long cavalry lance in his hand with all his strength.

Huchi’er’s full attention was on the Emperor and he had no time to dodge. The cavalry lance was heavy and its tip came fast — it punched through his right shoulder with a dull sound.

The agony sent Huchi’er’s downward swing off course. The door panel grazed the Emperor’s face and smashed into the ground beside him.

A thunderous crack — the door panel shattered. A strip of skin was scraped from the Emperor’s face.

Splinters flew like needles, stabbing into the Emperor’s face.

The Emperor let out a cry of pain.

Huchi’er glanced aside at the lance embedded in his body. His killing intent erupted. He reached out, grabbed the lance’s tip, and hauled it forward — dragging the massive lance clean through his own body until it flew out the other side.

A group of Inner Palace Guards threw themselves at him, latching desperately onto both of his legs. Huchi’er roared and drove the remaining half of the door panel downward in a smashing blow.

One strike, one death — every skull it found was shattered.

Two Inner Palace Guards pulled the Emperor back and retreated. The Emperor’s face had gone white as paper.

Seeing the Emperor being pulled to safety, Huchi’er glanced at the hall doors — then let out a thunderous roar, kicked off the Inner Palace Guards clinging to his legs, and charged into the main hall like a man gone mad.

In that moment the Emperor’s eyes looked as though they might split open.

“Save the Empress!”

The Emperor screamed.

Huchi’er forced his way through the hall doors. Several Inner Palace Guards threw themselves before him — he did not care whether he took cuts, he simply walked forward, driving his fists out one after another.

One punch, one kill. Every man he struck died on the spot.

After killing several more Inner Palace Guards, Huchi’er’s body had taken several more sword cuts — but he did not care in the slightest.

Through the doors he could see a great many maids, midwives, and imperial physicians gathered inside. Huchi’er shouted that all of them would die, and stepped in.

Jiang Qihai led his men rushing in from behind. At this moment he had no time to think — he leapt and threw his arms around Huchi’er’s neck from behind.

Both hands locked around Huchi’er’s throat. In his desperation, Jiang Qihai even bit down on Huchi’er’s ear.

Huchi’er was furious and flustered at once. Both hands reached back to try to grab the man off him — but his arms were too thick and powerful, and reaching someone on his own back turned out to be strangely difficult.

Perhaps this was Huchi’er’s one weakness.

Jiang Qihai clamped down with all his life on Huchi’er’s throat. Huchi’er suddenly pivoted and slammed his back against a pillar.

That impact — Jiang Qihai felt as though he had been crushed from every direction simultaneously.

Never mind bones — his very organs might have been pulverized.

Men rushing up from behind swung their sabers furiously. In their panic they accidentally struck Jiang Qihai’s arms twice.

That, however, loosened his grip. Huchi’er, who had already been nearly unable to draw breath under the choking pressure, felt the hold on his throat suddenly release. Air flooded back — and with it, a good deal of his strength.

Both arms swung out like pillars battering in all directions. Every man struck died instantly, without even the chance to draw another breath.

Jiang Qihai lay on the ground, blood welling from his mouth with every breath — he could no longer move.

Huchi’er glanced at him once and paid him no further attention. He charged directly into the inner chamber.

A group of palace maids screamed in terror at the sight of this blood-soaked giant, and not one of them dared step forward to stop him — even if they had stepped forward, what good would it have done?

The Empress by this point was nearly unconscious from the pain. Seeing that murderous figure come through the door, she cried out, “Protect His Majesty’s bloodline!”

The child was halfway into the world. The midwife was so terrified she wanted to flee.

The Empress called out, “If any of you dare run now, I’ll come back as a spirit and never let you go. Take my child with you.”

One midwife finally managed to complete the delivery — with shaking hands she cut the cord and took the child in her arms and ran.

Huchi’er moved forward, striking down the maids and imperial physicians one by one.

He had killed until his eyes were red. He no longer distinguished between men and women — anyone before him had to die.

The Emperor, ignoring all attempts to hold him back, came charging in. He scooped up a saber from the ground and hacked at Huchi’er with it.

Huchi’er saw it was the Emperor. He had been about to drive his fist down onto the Empress — but by reflex he turned and caught the Emperor by the throat with one hand instead.

He lifted the Emperor with one arm. The Emperor, in desperation, struck out with both fists and both feet.

Huchi’er called out, “You — you killed my uncle, and now I’ll send you down to make amends!”

Even as he spoke, blood was still dripping from his mouth.

Just then, the head steward Zhen Xiaodao threw himself forward — just as Jiang Qihai had done before him, latching onto Huchi’er from behind.

He did not have Jiang Qihai’s strength, but still he locked his hands around Huchi’er’s throat and refused to let go.

Huchi’er was by now also close to the end of his strength. He was exhausted and his irritation surged again.

One arm was finished — the cavalry lance had severed the sinews, and he could no longer raise it.

He had no choice but to drop the Emperor and with effort pulled Zhen Xiaodao off him. And this was where fate turned against Zhen Xiaodao — he stretched his head forward, apparently trying to bite off Huchi’er’s nose.

A eunuch so frail, driven to such desperate fury — like a wolf.

But Huchi’er grabbed him down and threw him to the ground, then stamped his foot down onto his throat — crushing it flat.

Zhen Xiaodao’s mouth welled with blood, and he could no longer speak.

Several Inner Palace Guards rushed forward and hacked — one blow caught Huchi’er across the throat, and blood immediately came pouring out.

Huchi’er stood there. The ferocity in his eyes was gone. Only grief remained.

“Uncle… I did my best.”

—