The October sun shone brightly, but though it fell upon Prince Gao, he felt his back grow cold, cold sweat breaking out on his forehead, and a chill penetrating to his teeth.

The moment he saw this figure, everything became clear.

He stared at his nephew standing before the hall steps, pointed at him, gritted his teeth, and laughed coldly.

“When all birds are killed, the good bow is put away. Third Prince, you little whelp, do you remember when you were small and this old man taught you archery by hand? Now, with your milk teeth barely dry, you dare scheme against your uncle! My fate today—am I not driven to this by you!”

Dappled tree shadows fell across the young man’s face opposite him, half bright and half dark.

He did not respond to these words, only said calmly: “Imperial Uncle, if my calculations are correct, your confederates among the guard captains at the Marquis Wu’s residence in the city should have been executed by now. I respect your position and acknowledge your early years of meritorious service. You may take your own life to avoid humiliation. After your death, as long as your clan’s descendants remain law-abiding, I will ensure their honor and wealth remain undiminished.”

A guard stepped forward and knelt before Prince Gao, holding up with both hands the bloodied dagger that had just been pressed to his throat, saying respectfully: “Prince Gao, please.”

Prince Gao’s face was ashen. “…I am the High Ancestor’s son, your direct imperial uncle, holding an iron certificate that can exempt me from ten deaths—”

The young man’s expression remained indifferent, as if he hadn’t heard.

Prince Gao’s facial muscles twitched continuously. His eyes withdrew from his nephew’s face and fixed on the blade held before him. Finally, with trembling hands, he struggled to reach out bit by bit, grasped the dagger, raised it, and slowly brought it to his chest. Closing his eyes, as he made to desperately stab himself, he suddenly opened his eyes, sharply reversed his wrist, and the dagger shot out, flying toward the person standing before the steps.

With his skill, if this throw had succeeded, the Regent Prince would have been instantly splattered with blood on the spot!

In that split second, the guard who had been kneeling before him leaped up, his form swift as an ape and fierce as a tiger or leopard, instantly striking down with the dagger.

Immediately after, another man drew a rope noose from his sleeve, slipped it around Prince Gao’s neck in one motion, and the two each grasped an end, pulling left and right. The slip knot tightened and was immediately secured firmly.

But Prince Gao was no ordinary man. His reaction was extremely quick—how could he submit without resistance? He managed to insert both hands into the noose and struggled mightily to pull it outward. Though he was certainly brave, these two guards’ skills were beyond ordinary people’s reach. Even with all of Shu Hui’s abilities, with his neck noosed, there was nowhere to display them.

The rope around his neck tightened more and more, his palms sank deep into his own throat, his eyes bulged, his face reddened, and he made sounds like a struggling wild beast.

“Heaven’s gifts not taken…bring retribution upon oneself…I blame myself for not being ruthless enough. Your worthless elder brother never had the right to inherit the throne…”

Imperial Grand-Uncle Prince Gao struggled with all his might, his feet kicking wildly at the ground, dirt and leaves flying. His massive body twisted like a catfish on a chopping block.

“…Third Prince, you little whelp…you plot to kill me…dare you say a word…that you have no treasonous ambitions whatsoever…”

The rope tightened more and more. Prince Gao used his last bit of strength to make his final, mumbled words.

“…Don’t think you’ll have a good end…my today is your tomorrow…”

This voice was filled with venom, like a curse from the abyss.

The two guards looked toward the Regent Prince together.

He still stood quietly, slightly lowering his gaze to look at the imperial uncle who stubbornly refused to die, his eyes seeming to carry some compassion. The two guards exerted force again, Prince Gao’s throat bone completely shattered, and this former fierce general of Great Wei finally stopped struggling, his body becoming a mass of soft flesh, his head hanging powerlessly to one side.

The two guards continued. After a moment, confirming the man was dead, they withdrew the rope and retreated to the corner, quietly waiting.

The Regent Prince continued standing on the steps.

The wind suddenly rustled, stirring the pine needles lodged in the roof tile gaps above, falling silently on his shoulders before dropping at his feet.

He walked to the side of the now-lifeless Prince Gao, looked down at this already-distorted face, and after a moment, bent down, slowly extended his hand to smooth those eyes that refused to close, then rose and walked past.

He returned to the sermon hall and, under the covert gazes of countless eyes from both east and west sides, entered and calmly sat back in his chair.

Empress Dowager Lan, using her feather fan as cover, glanced at the figure in the eastern hall who had inexplicably left and returned a moment ago. As she withdrew her gaze, her peripheral vision caught sight of a crimson figure standing at the end of the western hall, and her lips curved almost imperceptibly.

Outside the hall, when Liu Xiang was led to the rear hall and saw the stern face of Prince Consort Chen Lun, he awakened as if from a dream, knowing something terrible had happened.

The several dead men lying side by side on the ground all had faces he knew all too well. One of them was even a squad leader he had entrusted with important duties, responsible for protecting the Regent Prince’s movements today.

He had never dreamed that his imperial guards, which he had always thought were managed as tightly as an iron barrel, had long since become like a sieve.

Prince Gao had planted men when Liu Xiang first took command of the imperial guards. This wasn’t frightening in itself—what was frightening was that they had escaped the routine purge when he first took office. Prince Gao had never activated these men over all these years, so he had been completely unaware.

Prince Gao planned to use the moment when the Buddhist ceremony ended and everyone was leaving, when all parties’ vigilance was most relaxed, to throw down his cap as a signal for these dead warriors to strike together and assassinate the Regent Prince.

These were all warriors chosen from hundreds, and they were close to the Regent Prince. Though archery and horsemanship were required studies for imperial clan members, he was primarily known for literary accomplishments and carried no defensive weapons. Once they struck, he would surely die.

It was also at this moment that Liu Xiang finally understood completely.

The Regent Prince must have long planned to eliminate Prince Gao. To pressure him and force him to panic and expose himself, he had deliberately spread the news about seeking to marry Jiang Zuowang’s daughter.

When the Sage-Martial Emperor of this dynasty was alive, he naturally commanded awe throughout the realm, with everyone bowing in submission. But by the Bright Emperor’s time, the monarch’s prestige had greatly diminished. Instead, figures like Jiang Zuowang, who commanded heavy troops stationed permanently at the borders, leading from the front and loving their soldiers like sons, often earned more loyalty from their subordinates than the emperor in the capital. From this perspective, they posed a hidden danger. This was probably why countless capable generals throughout history rarely met good ends.

But conversely, if used well, they were like national treasures, pillars stabilizing the realm.

If Jiang Zuowang were won over by the Regent Prince and became completely loyal to him, the Regent Prince would naturally gain wings like a tiger.

Prince Gao must have also sensed this threat and understood the implications behind it.

Before this, he might not have had immediate plans to rebel. But undoubtedly, he was an old hand well-versed in political struggle. He would understand better than anyone that once both sides reached a point of narrow encounter, whoever could laugh last depended on who could seize the opportunity faster to deal the opponent a fatal blow. That’s why he had activated men he had planted under Liu Xiang years ago, taking the risk to strike first today.

But he didn’t know that his every step was on the path his opponent had preset for him, walking further and further until he was finally trapped in the net.

Not only that, with Prince Gao’s downfall today, the Regent Prince could use this to intimidate all military officers who held military power, including Jiang Zuowang.

The young Regent Prince was the archer. Prince Shu Hui, Jiang Zuowang, and those others were merely a flock of old eagles he aimed to shoot.

This marriage proposal was truly killing two birds with one stone.

Liu Xiang stared at the corpses at his feet, the horror in his heart like massive waves, indescribable.

He dared not imagine what would have happened if Prince Gao had succeeded today and such a bloody scene had truly occurred. What kind of tragic fate would have awaited him?

The blame would have been placed on his head, along with some random mastermind, while Grand Marshal Prince Gao would have transformed himself to take over the regency in place of Lord Qi.

Having served in the northern territories in his early years, he had experienced bloodshed more than once, but never like this time had he felt such bone-deep fear and chill.

Gradually, his legs went weak, and he finally collapsed to his knees, drenched in cold sweat.

Suddenly, the sound of ceremonial music drifted to his ears.

The sermon in the front hall had ended. Amid melodious ceremonial music and deep Buddhist chanting, two lines of attendants in colorful robes each carried bowls filled with flower petals, scattering them into the air. In the falling rain of flowers, the Regent Prince escorted Empress Dowager Lan and the Young Emperor out of the great hall.

The atmosphere was harmonious.

It seemed no one noticed that the line of princes following behind was missing one person. Or perhaps some had noticed, but would never imagine that just moments before, in a secluded corner of this sacred ground, such a heart-stopping scene that could affect the empire’s future direction had occurred.

The entire group exited through the mountain gate.

The Regent Prince helped Empress Dowager Lan and the Young Emperor into their palanquins, while the inner and outer court ladies and various princes and officials returned to their respective formations, boarding palace carriages or mounting horses.

But the Regent Prince did not accompany them.

He stood respectfully to the side, bowing as he saw off the palanquins. After they departed, he slowly straightened, standing beside the mountain gate, still watching the procession of canopies winding away until they gradually disappeared from view.

Behind him, Liu Xiang dropped to his knees with a thud and kowtowed heavily.

“Your Highness! This subordinate deserves death! Ten thousand deaths cannot absolve my guilt! Your Highness—”

This veteran, who had once made his name on battlefields, kowtowed continuously, blood soon seeping from his forehead.

Shu Shenhui turned around, his cold, indifferent eyes falling on Liu Xiang’s face.

“Loyal and upright in abundance, wisdom and foresight are insufficient.”

After a moment, he said coldly.

Liu Xiang kept his head deeply bowed, not daring to raise it even slightly: “This subordinate is utterly incompetent! May the Regent Prince punish me!”

“Go clean up your territory for me. I don’t want similar incidents to happen again in the future.”

Liu Xiang was stunned, quickly understanding. He was being pardoned.

For a moment, he could hardly believe it, almost thinking he was dreaming. When he came to his senses, he was moved to tears, beyond words.

At this moment, even if asked to dig out his heart and soul for this young Regent Prince, he would do so willingly. He trembled slightly with excitement, a determination to be completely loyal to him arising in his heart. With reddened eyes, he kowtowed forcefully again, gritting his teeth as he said word by word: “Please rest assured, Regent Prince. If there are any more oversights, this subordinate will end his own life first!”

Unexpectedly, hearing these words, the Regent Prince smiled. His frosty expression turned gentle as he pointed at him, “Ending your life is a small matter, but delaying my affairs again is unacceptable.” Having said this, he stepped through the mountain gate and headed inside.

“Yes, yes, this minister will remember…”

Liu Xiang could sense that the Regent Prince’s final words to him seemed to carry no great censure, and even the eight-character evaluation he’d given seemed, to some degree, like a form of affirmation.

He felt his blood boiling even more. His face flushed as he remained kneeling, following that figure with his knees, watching the retreating, respectfully kowtowing again. After a moment, he slightly raised his eyes—the dark-robed figure had already disappeared.

He knew the Regent Prince must have gone to handle the aftermath of what had just occurred.

Since Prince Gao had chosen to act here today, there must also be confederates at places like the Marquis Wu’s residence guard posts in the capital, probably holding positions no lower than his own. However, since the Regent Prince had taken down Prince Gao, the remaining problems were presumably minor.

But once today passed, for certain people in the capital, there would probably be earth-shaking changes no less than a major earthquake.

He felt tremendous fear, for the first time thinking that the capital’s wealth and splendor were inferior to the battlefield. At least on the battlefield, even in death, one died with understanding and heroism.

A wind came, and the sweat-soaked clothes clung tightly to his back, cold and clammy.

He steadied himself, wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, and was about to rise from the ground when suddenly he froze.

He remembered something he had completely forgotten.

Hanyuan!

Where was she?

With such a major incident having just occurred, where was she now? Had she already left, or was she still hiding inside?

Liu Xiang became extremely anxious, peering inside for a moment, pondering.

Never mind. With her abilities, she should be able to handle herself.

The Young Emperor’s procession had already traveled some distance. Unable to attend to both matters at once, he could only rise and hurriedly depart.