As fireworks bloomed in the sky, Deng Yi was walking out of the Emperor’s bedchamber.

He had intended to stay, but the Emperor had sent him away.

“Though I’ve been poisoned, I won’t die so quickly,” the Emperor reclined, his face stained with blood yet full of smiles. “I will certainly wait until my dear brother dies first.”

He pointed at Deng Yi.

“Now I only need you to do this one thing. Accomplish this, and you will be my finest Grand Tutor.”

Deng Yi bowed and took his leave without hesitation.

As he walked out this time, the eunuchs were even more respectful and fearful. One eunuch approached with concern, trying to curry favor.

“Grand Tutor,” he said softly, “is this truly wise?”

The Emperor was poisoned and wouldn’t live much longer. The Crown Prince was dead. The Third Prince was destined to become a cripple, or a dead man. The heir of the Prince of Zhongshan becoming Crown Prince and ascending the throne was already a certainty.

That would be the Emperor! Even if Deng Yi didn’t try to please him, was it necessary to kill his father?

This would create an unforgivable blood feud.

This was no longer a question of whether Deng Yi wanted to continue as Grand Tutor, but whether he wanted to live at all.

Deng Yi walked slowly. A eunuch held a lantern, while imperial guards carried torches, illuminating his surroundings as bright as day.

“I intend to be the Grand Tutor of Great Xia,” he said, “not Xiao Xun’s Grand Tutor.”

He glanced at the eunuch.

“Besides, it is not I who bears a blood feud against him, but he against himself.”

The Emperor was still the Prince’s father. It was the heir of the Prince of Zhongshan’s own choice—what right would he have to blame others?

Just then, fireworks exploded in the night sky.

Everyone looked up. The imperial guards and eunuchs were on alert—they wouldn’t think this was for amusement. At a time like this, it must be some faction transmitting a secret signal.

Deng Yi said: “If not the Third Prince’s people, then the Crown Prince’s people—or rather, the Xie clan’s people now—and also the Prince of Zhongshan’s people.”

What were they planning?

Were they about to attack the city?

Were they planning to assassinate the Emperor?

The eunuchs and imperial guards grew tense, but Deng Yi remained calm, even observing the fireworks with interest.

They were quite beautiful.

No matter how beautiful the fireworks, if anyone dared approach the imperial city, he would make them look ugly before the world.

…

…

After Deng Yi left, the Emperor closed his eyes. Despite the imperial physicians, eunuchs, and guards standing all around, it was as if there wasn’t a single living person—deathly silent.

Suddenly, the Emperor opened his eyes, his gaze somewhat confused as he looked toward the window.

“Your Majesty?” Those surrounding him came to life. The eunuchs and imperial physicians hurried forward.

The Emperor waved them away, pointing at the window: “Something is bright outside.”

Bright?

The eunuchs and imperial physicians looked over. This night had been bright outside all along—the entire capital was burning. Of course, the high walls and deep palace isolated those chaotic flames.

The deep night was almost over, indeed brighter than before.

Was His Majesty anticipating daybreak, hoping for this wretched situation to pass quickly?

“Yes, Your Majesty, dawn is approaching,” they hastily replied.

But the Emperor was not pacified. Instead, he tried to rise, weak and powerless, nearly falling from the dragon bed. The eunuchs hurriedly supported him, urging him to lie down. The Emperor wouldn’t listen and lost his temper, insisting on going outside. The eunuchs dared not defy him and supported him to the doorway.

The Emperor no longer had the strength to step over the threshold. Propped up by the eunuchs, he barely stood, gazing at the night sky.

The eunuchs and imperial physicians also saw it—fireworks in the distant night sky. By now, the bursts were dissipating, the embers like twinkling stars, vaguely outlining a shape.

What was it?

“Flames,” the Emperor said.

His voice was weak, and the eunuchs initially didn’t hear clearly.

“What do you want, Your Majesty?” they asked hurriedly.

The Emperor looked at the sky and suddenly smiled. He raised his voice: “Flames!”

Flames? The eunuchs were confused. What did he mean? Did His Majesty want to light a fire? To make the surroundings brighter?

…

…

“Flames!”

Xie Yanlai stood on the city wall, looking up at the distant night sky, sneering.

“Who knows which fool came up with such a ridiculous display?”

“Isn’t it just killing people, letting wolves loose, and colluding?”

The imperial guards standing on the wall neither found the dissipating fireworks beautiful nor amusing—they only felt frightened and unsettled.

“What’s this now?” “Who is it?” “Have the Third Prince’s forces increased again?” “Yanlai, are they about to attack the city?”

Xie Yanlai carried a long sword on his back and held a crossbow in his hand. In the torchlight, his expression was mocking.

“Attack the city—they should have attacked long ago,” he said. “The first thing to do is attack the city. To capture the bandits, first capture their leader. If you’re going to be a rebel and a beast of a son, why kill your brother? Just finish off the old man and be done with it.”

At this point, he laughed coldly.

“A bunch of useless cowards.”

“They only think about surrounding the city to prevent people from entering. None dare to charge in and cut down the Emperor.”

The imperial guards listened with shocked expressions.

What terrifying things was Xie Yanlai saying!

“Yanlai, never mind whether they’re useless or not,” they shouted. “If they attack, we’re finished.”

Just as these words were spoken, the forward watchtower erupted in chaos, like a calm bonfire doused with a bucket of oil, suddenly blazing forth.

The sounds of fighting, weapons clashing, and screams all merged into one, sweeping toward them like a fierce wind, suffocating.

The surviving imperial guards all rushed out, standing on the city wall, listening to the fierce battle with fear and uncertainty.

It didn’t seem like an army assembling to charge; it was more like fierce combat and chaos.

One imperial guard said: “Could it be the Crown Prince’s people attacking?”

Hearing this, everyone looked at Xie Yanlai with excited expressions.

“Yanlai—”

Could they go meet the attackers? Work together to eliminate the Third Prince’s forces—

Xie Yanlai still stood on the battlement, his expression cold: “No matter who comes, without summons, at night, leading troops, carrying weapons, storming the imperial city—they are rebels and traitors, and should be killed.”

An imperial guard was stunned.

“Yanlai,” he reminded in a low voice, “those coming might be your family.”

The Crown Prince’s largest and most reliable force was the Xie clan!

Had Xie Yanlai forgotten his surname?

Xie Yanlai smiled: “So what? We are His Majesty’s imperial guards. Anyone who comes, if not summoned by His Majesty, is a rebel—”

His voice rose higher, stretching out, scattering in the fierce wind.

The imperial guards looked up at the young man standing on the battlement, watching him smile to reveal snow-white teeth. In that moment, he resembled a wolf.

What did Xie Yanlai mean? He meant that even if it wasn’t just the Xie clan’s forces, but Xie Yanfang himself who came, he would still fire his crossbow.

Kill his brother.

Had Xie Yanlai gone mad!

No matter who it was, tonight, anyone who approached would be killed by him—he would kill them all.

The young man’s phoenix eyes flickered with manic light, his nose catching the scent of blood—his own and others’.

Let them all die!

Die together!

The fierce storm at the front finally tore open a gap. The watchtower gate opened, and horsemen galloped toward them, getting closer and closer.

The thundering hoofbeats drummed like heartbeats in the chests of the city gate guards.

“Prepare for battle—” Xie Yanlai howled.

The previously unsettled imperial guards, like wooden figures, all returned to their posts, aiming their crossbows at the city gate below.

“Halt, or face execution!” Xie Yanlai, still standing on the battlement, projected his voice.

…

…

The galloping Chu Zhao pulled off her cloak and wrapped the child in front of her more tightly.

“Young Highness,” she said, “hold onto me tightly. Don’t be afraid.”

Despite the protection of the Dragon Authority Army, charging the city was still dangerous. She needed both hands free to ride, hold her shield, and wield her sword.

The Young Highness could only hold tightly to Chu Zhao to avoid being thrown from the horse.

Hearing Chu Zhao’s words, the child actively wrapped himself in the cloak, binding himself to Chu Zhao. This girl was quite small and thin, so he wound the cloak around several times—

Even in death, they would not be separated.

He pressed against the girl’s front, looking up at her face, seeing in the firelight the girl’s small chin, with a red streak on it—either someone else’s blood that had splashed on her, or her blood from a cut.

He couldn’t help wanting to reach up and wipe it, but just as he raised his hand, the galloping girl reined in her horse. She raised her head, and her chin disappeared from the child’s view.

Chu Zhao looked up toward the city gate ahead. On the battlement stood a solitary figure. In the darkness, his face wasn’t clear, but that voice just now—

“A-Jiu—” she couldn’t help calling out loudly.

…

…

The ferocity in Xie Yanlai’s eyes froze. Damn it, he thought.