“We request an audience with Her Majesty the Empress.”

“Your Majesty the Empress, we subjects have been wronged!”

Many people had come to the outer perimeter of the hunting grounds.

Besides some Surveillance Bureau soldiers, most were officials.

Their expressions were angry as they said something, and some were even weeping. So although it looked noisy, there was no threat.

Two black-clad men walked over from the darkness, looking at the officials blocked outside by soldiers.

“What’s going on?” they asked in low voices, their eyes somewhat wary. “Have they… detected something?”

If they had detected something, just kill them all directly and don’t waste time.

The darkness rippled as several hidden black-clad men emerged.

“No,” they said. “It’s that Zhu Yong from the Surveillance Bureau who’s caused trouble.”

The two black-clad men’s gazes focused, seeing that the group of officials wasn’t actually mixed together but clearly divided into two sides.

On one side, official robes glinted in the torchlight—those were python patterns on the robes.

At this moment, before the hunting ground soldiers could shout them down, the Surveillance Bureau people spoke first.

“Lord Qiao, by inciting everyone to make such a disturbance,” Zhu Yong said, “even if you see the Empress, your crime will be compounded.”

Hearing his words, the officials grew even more furious.

“Zhu Yong! Stop intimidating us here,” one official shouted. “My conduct is upright and proper!”

Another official with graying beard, his voice hoarse, pushed away the official supporting him. “Even if the Empress wants to charge me with crimes, this official must first impeach you, Zhu Yong! You abuse your authority, frame and entrap others, torture to extract confessions, use power for personal gain—”

Zhu Yong was different from soldiers like Ding Dachui. Coming from a civil official background, even with all this commotion, he didn’t fly into a rage.

“Lord Huang, words require evidence,” he said softly. “I arrested Lord Qiao because I have evidence—he has been corresponding with the Wei clan of Han Commandery.”

As his words fell, the officials across from him reacted like water splashing in a hot oil pan.

“You’re lying—” “This is forged by you—” “Zhu Yong! You colluded with someone to seize Lord Qiao’s family heirloom treasures—”

“That person has already confessed. You forged the documents and personally planted them in Lord Qiao’s study.”

“You wanted to silence witnesses, but fortunately heaven has eyes and we discovered it in advance—”

Amid so many officials’ roars, Zhu Yong’s voice was drowned out.

The black-clad men inside understood.

He knew Zhu Yong had been investigating the Wei clan in Han Commandery together with Ding Dachui. After the case was settled, Ding Dachui had returned first. Now Zhu Yong had also returned and apparently was investigating Wei clan associates in the capital, getting besieged by officials.

The black-clad man had no interest in listening further.

“Drive them away,” he ordered in a low voice.

Black-clad men accordingly transmitted the message toward the soldiers ahead, but before it could be conveyed, Zhu Yong suddenly crossed past the soldiers and headed inward.

“I’ll go explain to the Empress myself,” he said, waving to order these soldiers about. “Block them.”

Because these people posed no threat, the soldiers had originally been somewhat casual. Zhu Yong’s movements were also quick, so they momentarily failed to stop him. Just as they were about to give chase, the officials saw this and also surged forward.

“We’re going too—”

“Stop him, don’t let him escape—”

“He’s going to slander and frame people before Her Majesty. Don’t let him get away.”

“I don’t believe the Empress would truly cover for him—”

The soldiers busily blocked these people. These people wore official robes, carried no weapons, and were either frail or elderly. Forget striking them—they didn’t even dare use much force. For a moment their hands and feet were constrained, creating complete chaos.

Taking advantage of this chaos, Zhu Yong ran wildly inward, several Surveillance Bureau soldiers following closely.

“We don’t know the Empress’s location,” they asked urgently while anxiously looking around. “Where is Commander Ding?”

Zhu Yong said, “No need to look for Lord Ding. I know.”

He hadn’t participated in the hunting ground deployment, but he had carefully reviewed these past days’ Surveillance Bureau records and found the approximate location.

There was no time now to find Ding Dachui and the others. As long as he could see the Empress—

Zhu Yong felt he had never run this fast in his life.

Even faster!

Ahead, lamplight was faintly visible—bright tents—but in the next moment, the road was blocked.

Many people, carrying arrows and wearing swords, like a wall.

Zhu Yong stopped abruptly. The others couldn’t stop in time and nearly crashed into him.

What’s wrong?

Zhu Yong watched as the human wall slowly parted and someone walked forward. His heart finally sank.

“Lord Xie,” he said. “So the one imprisoned really wasn’t you.”

In the next moment, the sounds of bows and crossbows rang out all around. The Surveillance Bureau soldiers who had caught up hadn’t yet recovered their senses when they fell one after another. In the blink of an eye, only Zhu Yong remained.

Xie Yanfang looked at him. “It’s you.” He nodded. “Not bad. The Empress didn’t misjudge you—able to detect something wrong and dare to rush in.”

Zhu Yong pressed his hand to the sword at his waist. Though he was merely a civil official and the sword was just the Surveillance Bureau’s emblem—he had never used it.

“Xie Yanfang,” he shouted sternly. “You intend to rebel!”

Xie Yanfang laughed. “The Emperor is my nephew. Half his blood is Xie clan blood. Why would I rebel?” With that he waved his hand. “You’re someone she selected, and you’ve done your work well. I won’t kill you. I’ll keep you so she can use you in the future.”

But before his words finished, Zhu Yong had already drawn his blade and lunged at him, shouting, “Traitor, accept your death!”

Of course he couldn’t kill Xie Yanfang—he couldn’t even get close. Along with his shout, several black-clad men leaped out, striking the blade from his hand and kicking him to the ground. Several blades fell at his neck.

“Since—” Xie Yanfang frowned slightly. Before finishing his words, commotion sounded from behind.

“Young Master,” a black-clad man called out. “It’s from the Empress’s side.”

Xie Yanfang had already turned and strode away swiftly, his robes flying.

The black-clad men also paid no more attention to Zhu Yong on the ground, hurrying after him.

Zhu Yong climbed up from the ground, standing somewhat unsteadily. That black-clad man’s kick had nearly broken his leg. These people were even more formidable than Ding Dachui—

Ding Dachui and his men had probably already met with misfortune.

Zhu Yong looked toward the tents ahead. Over there, sounds of slaughter filled the sky. Weapons collided, sending up sparks. Who had come to rescue the Empress?

He grabbed his blade from the ground. Though one kick could knock him down, he still ran toward that place without hesitation.

—

The long sword and iron whip met in the air. Accompanied by a piercing sound, the long sword broke in two, and the iron whip also flew out.

This strike made both retreat backward—two steps, three steps—sliding grooves in the ground before stopping.

The young man wrapped in black clothing raised his hand to wipe the corner of his mouth, but the blood at his mouth wasn’t wiped away. Instead, half his face was covered in blood.

The tiger’s mouth on his hand had split open—a hand full of blood.

“Not bad, Du Qi,” he said, shaking his hand. “You haven’t stopped killing these past few years, have you? Getting more and more formidable.”

Du Qi looked at the person before him, shock and anger in his eyes.

“Xie Yanlai, you’ve really gained some skill—faking your death!” Having said this, he drew a pair of soft swords from his waist. “That’s fine. Today I’ll let you die by my hand!”

Xie Yanlai spun and dove, avoiding Du Qi. Accompanied by flashing sword light, he retreated urgently—one step, two steps, three steps. Rising again, his hand already held a blood-stained longsword. Cold light flashed, and Du Qi let out a muffled grunt. Blood sprayed from his arm.

The sounds of slaughter around them were like a whirlpool, drawing the two into it.

Rushing out of the tent, still gripping her brush, Chu Zhao only had time to see Xie Yanlai’s back. In the next moment, the back merged with flashing blades and swords, everything before her eyes seeming real yet illusory.

She didn’t hesitate at all. Picking up a blade from the ground, she was about to charge into the whirlpool, but in the next moment it was knocked away by a flying short blade. She also staggered backward, hitting the tent.

Xie Yanfang strode over from the side.

“You don’t need to enter the field yourself,” he said. “So many people are fighting desperately for you. If you die, everyone’s painstaking efforts will be wasted.”

Chu Zhao looked at him and turned to run.

But how could she outrun him? After just a few steps, Xie Yanfang caught her.

“I thought you should at least shout at me to stop fighting, to let them go,” he said with some amusement. “Why did you turn and run instead?”

“That’s because you won’t let them go at all,” Chu Zhao said through gritted teeth, struggling with all her might.

Her struggling had no effect at all. Xie Yanfang steadily held her arm, turning to look at the slaughter in the camp. People were everywhere, blood and flesh flying everywhere, but he still saw that young man’s figure.

“You hid him away,” he said, smiling slightly. “Not bad. Xie Yanlai is dead, no longer connected to the Xie clan. The one alive is your person. Look, he’s come to rescue you now. If he were still Xie Yanlai, he couldn’t have come.”

Chu Zhao laughed coldly. “I have even more formidable ones—”

With these words, the girl who had been desperately trying to break free suddenly pressed close using his pull, one hand firmly embracing his waist, the other hand viciously stabbing toward his neck.

A brush fell against Xie Yanfang’s neck—pale skin, dark blue brush tip. In contrast, there was a strange beauty. If there were just one more drop of red blood, it would surely be even more beautiful.

Unfortunately, the brush tip couldn’t advance another step.

Xie Yanfang held the girl with one hand, gripping her hand with the other, lowering his head to look at his neck.

His gaze seemed as indifferent as before, yet also seemed somewhat surprised.

“Chu Zhao,” he said. “You want to kill me?”

Chu Zhao exerted force. The hand gripping her wrist was like an iron clamp. She couldn’t move at all.

“Of course I want to kill you,” she said through gritted teeth.

Xie Yanfang was still looking at the brush pressed against his neck. “With poison that seals the throat upon contact with blood. You truly want me dead.” His voice held some melancholy. His gaze turned to the girl in his arms. “I never wanted you to die.”