The long night and storm gradually passed, and the sky began to brighten slightly.

Heavy footsteps awakened the child from her slumber. Two hands quickly retracted, blocking the pried-open hole before her eyes could even open. Black-felt boots stepped into the dust-filled imperial prison, one after another, accompanied by the continuous crisp sound of keys colliding.

With a sharp “crack,” soldiers wearing light cyan armor covered with earthen yellow cloaks entered. At least fifty of them, filling the not-so-large prison inside and out. The prison guards followed carefully behind them, bowing and scraping with caution. Chu Qiao sat in the corner, coldly watching these imperial guards, her heart gradually sinking.

Yan Xun sat on the ground, his back to the door, eyes not even open. He had shed his gentleness, wrapping and arming himself layer by layer with sharp edges. Like an old monk in deep meditation, he paid no attention to the visitors.

The guard leader glanced at the Yan Bei Crown Prince, whose veins carried the golden blood of the Great Xia royal family. His cold face showed not a hint of flattery or respect. He took out the imperial edict from his bosom and recited mechanically: “By order of the Sheng Jin Palace, Crown Prince Yan Xun of Yan Bei is to be brought to the Nine Abyss Platform to await judgment.”

Another guard stepped forward, a contemptuous cold smile at the corner of his mouth: “Prince Yan if you please.”

The youth slowly opened his eyes, with piercing light surging within them. Just a slight glance from the corner of his eye made the guard’s spine involuntarily go cold. He seemed to understand something, but still maintained the proud air on his face, stubbornly standing up and walking toward the prison door first. The crowd of imperial guards, holding prepared shackles, hesitated for a while, but still kept them behind their backs. They exchanged glances and then collectively surrounded him.

The snow-white fur coat swept across the floor of the imperial capital’s prison, which hadn’t been cleaned for who knows how many years. The filthy dust flew up lightly, falling on the youth’s white deerskin boots. There, the dark embroidery of the imperial five-clawed golden dragon shone even more brightly in the morning sunlight, standing out extraordinarily even in such a destitute environment. It seemed to remind everyone that once upon a time, the Yan Bei line was also a member of the Great Xia royal family.

The wind blew slowly from the long, dark corridor, bringing in fresh air from outside, but also the bone-chilling cold.

A hand suddenly reached out from the prison bars—pale and slender, like fine porcelain, giving the illusion that it could be easily broken with just a bit of force. But it was this delicate little hand that blocked everyone’s path, grabbing Yan Xun’s leg and firmly holding onto his trouser leg, stubbornly refusing to let go.

“What are you doing? Tired of living?” A guard raged, stepping forward and shouting angrily.

Yan Xun raised an eyebrow, turning his head to coldly look at the guard’s face. His gaze was so frigid that it immediately forced the soldier’s next words back down his throat. The youth crouched down, gripping the child’s thin fingers, applying slight pressure to pry them loose, but immediately felt an obstinate resistance at his fingertips. He paused in confusion, frowning as he looked at the skinny child, saying softly: “A-Chu, don’t make trouble.”

“You break your promises!” The child’s eyes were bright, stubbornly looking up, enunciating each word: “You said you wouldn’t leave me behind.”

Yan Xun frowned. From the moment he saw the imperial guards, the youth, who had long been at the center of power in the capital, keenly sensed that things couldn’t simply develop in the direction he had hoped. Something uncontrollable must have happened without his knowledge. Whether this journey would bring fortune or disaster was hard to calculate—how could he bring her along to face the risk? The youth’s brows tightened as he scolded in a low voice: “I won’t abandon you. Stay here and wait obediently for my return.”

“I don’t believe you,” the child said stubbornly, her grip not loosening a bit. “Take me with you.”

A guard immediately became furious, shouting: “How dare you, slave!”

“Who are you calling a slave?”

Yan Xun suddenly turned his head, his eyes fiercely looking at the soldier, saying coldly: “Since when does imperial law allow a commoner like you to shout in front of me?”

The man’s face immediately turned crimson. The guards on both sides grabbed him, fearing he might do something extreme in his anger. Yan Xun ignored him, turning back to look at the child’s small, pale face, frowning: “A-Chu, be good. I’m doing this for your own sake.”

“If it’s for my sake, then take me with you,” Chu Qiao looked up, holding tightly onto the youth’s trouser leg with unwavering stubbornness, repeating softly: “Take me with you.”

Time passed rapidly. A low wind blew between them. The youth silently observed the child’s eyes, where sharp and resolute light flickered softly. He knew that with her intelligence, she must realize the danger of this journey. The youth’s lips moved slightly, wanting to say something, but finally stopped under the child’s stubborn gaze. After a while, Yan Xun stood up and said solemnly to the guards behind him: “Open the door.”

“Prince Yan, the imperial edict only summons you alone…”

Before the man could finish, Yan Xun suddenly turned and strode back toward his cell, saying coldly as he walked: “Then carry my corpse to Sheng Jin Palace to report back.”

“Prince Yan!” The guards were greatly alarmed. After deliberating for a while, they still opened Chu Qiao’s cell door.

After all, she was just a little slave.

Outside the skylight, it was already bright. Yan Xun walked to the front, ahead of everyone else, and grabbed the child’s hand, not allowing any ropes to be put on her small body. The youth’s eyes were sharp and decisive. Looking at the child who was a head shorter than himself, he asked solemnly: “Are you afraid?”

Chu Qiao looked up and suddenly grinned, smiling brightly: “How do you write the word ‘afraid’?”

“Haha!” Yan Xun laughed loudly, holding Chu Qiao’s hand and leading the way out.

Outside the prison, armored soldiers stood in formation, their swords glinting coldly. The cold armor reflected the pristine white snow on the ground, stabbing at people’s eyes. The soldiers stood in ranks, their expressions solemn, as if facing a great enemy. Commoners stood far away in the outer circle, tiptoeing to secretly observe, their eyes full of undisguised curiosity and fear.

What kind of figure would require the personal guard of the Sheng Jin Palace’s Golden Guards?

However, when a tall and short child emerged from the end of the prison’s dark corridor, everyone’s eyes momentarily widened in shock. The north wind blew up the snow accumulated on the eaves, sprinkling it down as if another heavy snowfall had begun.

That morning, the people of Zhen Huang City would never forget. When the court historians of later generations opened that dust-covered volume of history, they could only hold back their exclamations and heave a long sigh.

No one knew why two seemingly harmless lambs, when pushed to the edge, would suddenly transform into fierce tigers, driving their sharp claws deep into the heart of the empire. The situation changed from this moment on. A magnificent scroll was unfolded. The children, fallen in the mire, held hands, destined to fight their way out through blood beneath the nine-layered inferno, shoulder to shoulder.

The long wind rose, and the wings of a great eagle swept across the sky of Zhen Huang City. A sharp cry suddenly came from the sky thick with clouds. The commoners all looked up together. At that moment, they seemed to hear the first crisp sound of the imperial edifice collapsing.