The Emperor’s bedchamber was brightly lit, with imperial guards standing densely around, so tightly positioned that it seemed not even a moth could fly in.

But when one man approached, without saying a word, the bronze walls and iron barriers automatically parted for him, allowing him to pass freely.

Seeing him stride into the hall, the eunuchs in attendance all bowed their heads in respect: “Grand Tutor.”

Deng Yi passed by them and walked to the bedside.

The Emperor was reclining with his eyes closed, seemingly asleep.

“Your Majesty,” Deng Yi knelt and said softly, “the heir of Prince of Zhongshan requests to enter the palace to protect Your Majesty.”

The Emperor, with closed eyes, chuckled.

“So he managed to catch up,” he said, then laughed coldly again. “It seems he poured quite a bit of oil on tonight’s fire.”

Deng Yi said: “Long ago, this subject received money from the Prince of Zhongshan, a substantial amount.”

The Emperor opened his eyes and looked at him, his expression somewhat surprised, but then laughed again: “This brother of mine, with one leg broken, now jumps higher and more joyfully.”

Saying this, he became somewhat dejected.

“The Empress Dowager should never have broken his leg back then. With a broken leg, his heart only grew more ambitious.”

“A woman’s thinking indeed, not knowing that to truly destroy someone, one doesn’t destroy their limbs, but their heart.”

“Unfortunately, I was still young then. If it had been a few years later, I would have had countless methods to obtain a good brother.”

But there was no chance now. The Emperor looked around the hall—the hall was brightly lit, but to him, everything was dim and blurry.

“What did he ask you to do?” the Emperor asked.

Deng Yi replied: “He asked this subject to open the palace gates for him.”

The Emperor looked at the man before him. Although he had entrusted him with important national responsibilities, to him, Deng Yi was a stranger—he could barely remember what Deng Yi looked like.

The reason he employed Deng Yi was that earlier, Eunuch Qi had pushed this man forward, someone who dared to challenge the Crown Prince’s people, showing he was ambitious.

In times of crisis, such ambitious people were most suitable to be pulled out and used.

Was this Deng Yi’s ambition also arranged by someone else?

“What will you do?” the Emperor looked at Deng Yi and asked deliberately, word by word.

Deng Yi knelt with a straight back, his gaze neither avoiding nor hesitating: “This subject will keep his promise and open the gates for him.”

The Emperor smiled, as if not finding this particularly frightening, and said: “Go ahead and open them. Since he has long harbored these intentions, you are not the only one he can use. If you don’t open them, someone else will.”

Deng Yi nodded: “This subject thinks the same. The situation outside is already chaotic. If the Prince of Zhongshan takes action again, it would not be good for Your Majesty. Moreover, Your Majesty now has no other choice. The Crown Prince is dead, and as for the Third Prince—”

He looked at the Emperor.

“Could Your Majesty tolerate allowing a prince who killed his brother to inherit the throne?”

The Emperor laughed suddenly, but his laughter quickly turned into violent coughing. He had to cover his mouth with his sleeve.

Deng Yi, was he advocating for the Prince of Zhongshan?

The eunuchs standing on both sides couldn’t believe it—was he pressuring the Emperor?

“Your Majesty—” two eunuchs rushed forward with tears in their eyes.

Two others were ready to fight Deng Yi to the death.

Deng Yi remained calm and continued: “However, this subject has one condition for the heir of the Prince of Zhongshan.”

The Emperor covered his mouth with his sleeve, suppressing his muffled cough, and looked at him.

Deng Yi smiled.

“This subject will give the heir of the Prince of Zhongshan an imperial edict,” he said. “In his name, to execute the Prince of Zhongshan. Then he may enter the palace gates and remain at Your Majesty’s side.”

The Emperor was stunned, then burst into laughter, coughing and laughing at the same time.

“Good, good,” he exclaimed. “Well done, Deng Yi, well done, Grand Tutor. Truly worthy of being the person I recognized.”

Whether Deng Yi was first recognized by him or pushed before him by the Prince of Zhongshan no longer mattered.

This Deng Yi belonged to no one but himself.

He looked at Deng Yi, his eyes full of admiration and even envy.

“You are exactly the kind of person I mentioned, capable of destroying a person by destroying their heart.”

You, Prince of Zhongshan, want your son to become Emperor? Very well, you die first, and it will be by your son’s decree.

This son of yours, stepping on his own father’s life to ascend the throne—will he be happy or unhappy?

The eunuchs lowered their heads and respectfully retreated without a sound.

Deng Yi sat upright, his face expressionless, but a moment later his expression changed slightly because the Emperor removed his sleeve, revealing spots of blood.

“Your Majesty!” Deng Yi rose to his feet.

The Emperor, however, was unconcerned. He spread out his sleeve and leaned back on the dragon bed, allowing the blood from the corner of his mouth to drip onto his body.

“Let me answer you. I can tolerate a son who killed his brother, but I cannot tolerate a son who attempts to kill his father,” he said. “That vile concubine, the Noble Consort, has been poisoning me.”

Those delicious pastries—no wonder they tasted different from what the imperial kitchen made. Little by little, over the years, it accumulated.

Deng Yi stepped forward: “Your Majesty, quickly summon the imperial physicians—”

The Emperor smiled, wiped the corner of his mouth with his hand to clear the blood: “It’s useless. I am dying, but—”

His expression showed despair and sorrow, but even more so, manic excitement.

“With Grand Tutor Deng here, my good nephew will surely be a fine Emperor.”

“Even if I die, the one who sits on the throne will never know peace.”

“I can die with ease.”

After saying this, he laughed heartily, coughing and laughing, with more blood splattering.

The surrounding eunuchs all knelt, weeping.

Deng Yi’s face and clothes were also splattered with blood. He did not try to support the Emperor again but knelt once more: “This subject will not fail Your Majesty’s high expectations.”

…

…

Throwing the imperial edict on the ground was not enough to vent his anger. Xiao Xun raised his foot to kick it, then wanted to pick it up and throw it into the fire.

This was the first time in his life he had lost composure so badly. Tie Ying was shocked and didn’t know what to do. Ning Kun rushed over and grabbed the edict, holding it to his chest.

“Your Highness,” Ning Kun called out, “calm down!”

Xiao Xun stopped his actions and coldly looked at Ning Kun: “Calm down? Why should I calm down? Do you want me to deliver this thing to my father?”

The deep affection between the heir and the Prince—Ning Kun, who had watched the heir grow up, naturally knew this well.

This was also the first time he had seen Xiao Xun like this. The young heir no longer had his usual calmness; his entire face was filled with anger, like a raging beast.

“Young Master,” he said with a trembling voice, dropping to his knees, “right now, it shouldn’t be about what I think, nor what you think, but what the Prince would think.”

Xiao Xun’s eyes were red with fury. He kicked Ning Kun and cursed harshly: “How dare you speak like this! How dare you think like this! You shouldn’t even think about it!”

Tie Ying stood nearby, shocked to the core, unsure whether he should join the heir in kicking Ning Kun.

This Ning Kun, how could he try to persuade the heir to send his father to his death?!

Ning Kun neither dodged nor avoided the kicks, allowing Xiao Xun to strike him. He struggled to grab Xiao Xun’s leg and shouted: “Young Master, think about it! For you to become Crown Prince and ascend the throne—that is the Prince’s greatest wish!”

Xiao Xun pointed outside: “What is there to think about? He has no choice. The Crown Prince is dead, the Third Prince is a madman, and the Imperial Grandson is doomed. He only has me. He must choose me!”

“But the Third Prince is not yet dead!” Ning Kun shouted. “The Emperor is also a madman! He’s crazy enough to enjoy watching his two sons fight each other, and he’s naturally crazy enough to let the Third Prince continue as Crown Prince. Moreover, the Emperor is still alive. This time, all of the Prince’s plans have been exposed. We have no choice—it’s either seek life or seek death!”

Xiao Xun kicked Ning Kun away: “My father is no longer the weak child he once was. If he wants to kill us now, it won’t be so easy.”

Ning Kun fell to the ground and did not try to grab Xiao Xun again. He anxiously said: “The Prince has schemed for so many years, not to bear the name of a traitor! Young Master—”

He knelt and held up the imperial edict.

“Ning Kun is not asking the Young Master to kill his father, but only asking the Young Master not to make decisions on behalf of his father.”

“Such a significant matter, the Prince must know about it.”

“Such a significant matter, Young Master, you cannot decide on your own!”

All this talk, and it still came down to having him deliver this damned edict to his father.

Xiao Xun’s face was cold, his body trembling.

What would his father think? What would he do upon receiving this edict?

He dared not, could not, even think about it.

What he should do now is take this edict and throw it into the fire, making it disappear from this world.

But—

He stood in place, looking at the edict Ning Kun was holding up. In all his years of life, he had never truly decided on his own; every step, every action had been arranged by his father.

This time, would he make his own decision?

What if his father had a better solution?