A whirlpool suddenly appeared ahead, swirling with wind, snow, and ice shards. At its very center, due to excessive speed, a black hole formed—like a demon’s eye, brimming with murderous intent, arriving in an instant!
A figure flashed, blood splattered, and the white cloak was suddenly swept into the air with a whoosh, transforming into scattered snowflakes mixed with fine red droplets falling down.
The next moment, screams arose—several voices layered like a chorus, followed by a thunderous explosion.
Accumulated snow along with severed limbs and arms splashed into the air, then fell as red snow covering the ground.
Academy students nearby were caught in the blast, falling in heaps, their heads and faces covered with mud and red snow.
Rong Pu lay prone in the snow, feeling a heavy weight pressing on him. His ears were ringing, his head spinning, his entire body in pain, as if heaven and earth had become a vacuum in an instant.
After a long while, consciousness slowly returned. He smelled thick blood in the air, opened his eyes, and was faced with a severed arm pressed against his nose.
Rong Pu sighed inwardly.
As expected.
At this crucial moment, Xiao Liheng dared to search openly with not many men, acting brazenly rather than hiding—he must have something to rely on.
He relied on boundless ruthlessness and heavy crossbows from Liaodong support.
Liaodong excelled in iron smelting and weaponry, with abundant mineral resources and many ores that Great Qian lacked, so their heavy weapons had always been superior to Great Qian’s.
As for how such things got in, it must have been during the trade war, taking advantage of the massive flow of goods through the capital to smuggle them in piece by piece.
He had brought hostages, and Xiao Liheng shot and killed those hostages right in front of him.
Even though they were his own sons and nephews.
If someone hadn’t blocked for him, he would have died too.
Someone rushed over to help him up. Rong Pu was disheveled, coughing continuously, and looked down.
It was the guard who had always stayed by his side, who had watched him grow up since childhood, whom he had always called Uncle.
The man had thrown himself on Rong Pu and been blown to pieces in his place.
Rong Pu only glanced once, then raised his head.
He didn’t even look at the prison cart.
No need to look—the heavy crossbow bolts had skewered those Xiao family members like grasshoppers on a string, then exploded.
Too horrible to behold.
Several academy students were also injured, their faces inevitably showing panic, but no one retreated. Kong Wanliang, the Imperial Academy’s Director of Studies, whom Rong Pu had insisted on keeping at the rear, now rushed forward and grabbed Rong Pu: “You’re injured! Fall back quickly, I’ll take over!”
Shen Mi, who had been positioned to the side, also rushed over, his face pale.
Xiao Liheng’s ruthlessness had shocked everyone greatly.
Rong Pu gently pushed away Kong Wanliang’s hand: “Please have the Director lead the students back. Brother Shen, you too—don’t let Strategy Deer Academy’s people come forward.”
“Director Rong!”
“Director, bringing students for a sit-in was never meant to stop the Xiao clan. Madmen can’t be reasoned with. Students are precious and cannot be wasted here. Having made my grandfather hesitate is mission accomplished.”
“But… even if the Chief Minister no longer aids the tyrant, he’ll inevitably become a hostage. We can’t stop Xiao Liheng either—wouldn’t all our efforts be in vain?”
Rong Pu was silent for a moment, then smiled: “There’s still a way.”
“What way?”
Rong Pu didn’t answer, turning to look toward the palace: “I originally planned to go see her after resolving matters here.”
Kong Wanliang instinctively wanted to ask see whom, then understood. He sighed inwardly.
“She must be feeling terrible right now,” Rong Pu said.
Kong Wanliang truly didn’t know what to say.
Though all court and countryside knew Rong Pu’s feelings for the Crown Princess, in official settings, whether the Crown Princess toward Rong Pu or Rong Pu toward the Crown Princess, they always maintained proper sovereign-minister etiquette.
This was the first time he’d heard Rong Pu speak of the Crown Princess in such an intimate and melancholy tone.
This filled him with faint unease.
“Director, please go directly to the palace later and attend the Crown Princess well,” Rong Pu said. “Ask her to take good care of herself for the sake of the realm and its people.”
Kong Wanliang thought: with such devastating blows, what meaning do these empty words have?
Rong Pu smiled.
No meaning.
But when family affection and love were gone, and he might even have to deal her a heavy blow shortly, what else could urge her to rise?
For Tie Ci, the realm, duty, and the people had always been most important in her heart.
They were her guiding principles for walking in the world, the supreme stars above her head. They were her destiny from birth, the fate she had long accepted.
Even if heaven and earth collapsed, for these things, she could struggle up and carve out a bloody path.
No matter what, she had to live well first to have more opportunities.
Kong Wanliang probably understood too, sighing and nodding.
Shen Mi beside them sensed something wrong and asked: “You’re not going?”
Rong Pu stood up: “I want to try once more. Our Rong family is not entirely unprepared.”
Kong Wanliang and Shen Mi gave orders, and the black tide slowly retreated across the blood-stained snow.
Xiao Liheng threw back his head and laughed, his voice sharp with hidden anger.
Being forced to personally kill his sons and nephews meant that even if he won today, the Xiao clan would fall apart.
Yet seeing the black tide retreat, infinite satisfaction arose in his heart.
Everyone called Rong family’s unicorn son—in his eyes, just a junior who curried favor with women.
How dare he play mind games with him!
Creaking sounds arose as crossbow tips, much thicker than ordinary arrows, emerged from the wall, with large dark shadows hidden in the darkness behind the wall.
The arrowheads pointed at the street outside and also at the Rong residence’s inner courtyard.
Xiao Liheng turned back to Rong Luchuan: “Chief Minister, let’s go.”
Just then, Rong Pu walked alone slowly onto the street.
Into the crossbows’ range.
Xiao Liheng turned around, watching him expressionlessly.
He didn’t even have guards approach him.
If it were Tie Ci coming, he might be wary, but Rong Pu—everyone knew he had no martial skills and a weak constitution.
Such a body, in such weather, a long-distance dash could cost him half his life.
Moreover, he’d just been injured—one sleeve showed expanding dark red stains. In just a few steps, he walked as if floating.
Xiao Liheng watched him with slightly mocking eyes.
What was there to fear? He wore precious armor, had crossbows at his wrists, collar, and back, heavy Liaodong crossbows protecting from above, and all these fierce cavalry.
Those above had already told him there was currently nothing around that could threaten him.
“Is Director Rong here to live and die with his family?” he asked with a smile.
Rong Pu was silent for a moment: “I’ve come to negotiate a hostage exchange with Master Xiao.”
“Exchange whom?” Xiao Liheng asked knowingly. “Is there another Chief Minister here who can take over court affairs?”
Rong Pu said indifferently: “Though I have no authority to manage court affairs or issue commands to the realm, I have the Crown Princess’s private seal from Ruixiang Hall, and I’m a better hostage than Grandfather.”
Xiao Liheng said nothing.
“Your Xiao family members’ attempts to capture important ministers seem to have all failed, meeting resistance with considerable losses,” Rong Pu said. “But I, at this moment, am a more useful hostage than those ministers.”
Xiao Liheng still said nothing.
Because it was irrefutable.
Everyone knew the Crown Princess’s regard for Rong Pu. The hard-won Leaping Carp Academy she had handed entirely to Rong Pu without question, trusting him completely.
In the Crown Princess’s heart, ten ministers combined might not equal one Rong Pu.
After a long moment, he tilted his head, and a guard behind him threw over a section of chain—the kind one could lock on oneself.
He gestured for Rong Pu to take it himself.
A cry suddenly came from inside the residence: “Pu’er!”
Lady Rong rushed out but was stopped by crossbow bolts before reaching the gate. She refused to leave, supporting herself against the doorframe and staring at her son with pleading eyes.
Complex emotions finally appeared on Rong Pu’s previously calm face.
After a long silence, he knelt down.
Knelt in the snow.
Facing Lady Rong and Rong Luchuan’s sedan chair, he kowtowed three times.
Very forcefully—the dull sound of his head striking the ground carried far.
Behind the Rong residence’s courtyard wall, someone hearing these sounds walked behind a flowering tree and silently lit a pile of paper money on the ground.
Before the Rong residence gate, Lady Rong covered her mouth, hot tears falling on her clothing.
Rong Pu had seemed gentle and easygoing since childhood but actually had a proud backbone—after age ten, he rarely knelt.
Today’s kneeling made her heart pound with unease. She instinctively looked pleadingly at Rong Luchuan, who had remained silently seated in his sedan chair.
As soon as her gaze fell on him, she felt it improper and forcibly withdrew it, pressing her forehead against the cold wall and murmuring: “You must take care of yourself, or how will I explain to the master…”
Rong Pu’s birth father, Attendant Rong, had recently been reassigned as Surveillance Commissioner of Yongliang and gone to Yongliang. Rong Pu had originally wanted Lady Rong to follow his father to the post, but Old Lady Rong had prevented it, making her stay to serve.
Rong Pu only said: “Mother, go back.”
Lady Rong, under his gaze and threatened by sharp arrows, retreated step by step into the inner courtyard.
Rong Pu said nothing more.
He knelt in the snow, carefully fastening the shackles on himself, then held them up to Xiao Liheng, indicating he should inspect them.
Xiao Liheng waved his hand, and the crossbow mechanisms above turned direction, no longer covering the sedan chair.
But Rong Luchuan didn’t immediately exit the sedan. He only said from within: “Pu’er, come here. Let me look at you.”
These past two years, Rong Pu had mostly been away from the capital. Only during the Crown Princess’s last birthday had he returned to stay a while, but he’d seemed very busy then, even having his courtyard renovated. Whether intentionally or not, he hadn’t met with Rong Luchuan much.
The few meetings they’d had mostly ended in arguments and unpleasantness.
Rong Pu was silent for a moment, then walked over.
Xiao Liheng didn’t stop him—he was quite happy to see scenes of separation. The world’s suffering and misfortune couldn’t all be borne by his old Xiao family alone.
Rong Pu stopped before the sedan chair and immediately extended his hand: “Grandfather, let me help you out.”
Rong Luchuan’s gaze fell on his hand.
Slender white wrist, distinctly boned long fingers, now wrapped in chains—however he looked at it, it displeased him.
He said: “Come closer.”
Rong Pu leaned forward, lowering his eyes: “Grandfather, I’m sorry.”
He spoke of the Down with Xiao incident, where he had provided the Crown Princess with many secrets and personnel originally belonging to the Rong clan, indirectly exposing connections between the Rong residence and Xiao family.
Tonight’s upheaval—though the Rong residence hadn’t directly participated, because of Grandmother, they were still implicated. Combined with the evidence he’d previously provided, even if the Rong residence could escape with their lives, they would never regain their former glory.
He felt no guilt but couldn’t help apologizing to his grandfather.
But Rong Luchuan laughed.
He said: “You’ve seemed gentle since childhood but actually have a rebellious streak—I’ve always known.”
Rong Pu lowered his eyes without arguing, only saying: “Grandfather, take care.”
As he lowered his eyes, he suddenly felt something was wrong, then realized he’d missed something very important.
At the same time, Rong Luchuan suddenly grabbed his wrist, lips curving as he whispered something in his ear.
Rong Pu’s head snapped up.
His shocked gaze met Rong Luchuan’s eyes. The old man’s eyes held no smile, fear, regret, or sorrow—various emotions—yet reminded him of his beloved childhood.
Remembering those days sitting on Grandfather’s knee reading, grabbing his brush to scribble randomly, messing up precious scrolls in his study—those carefree, unworried days.
Remembering how he’d loved looking up at Grandfather then—that not particularly kind face bathed in sunlight, rimmed with a hazy halo, eyes and brows full of smiles.
Just like now.
His wrist suddenly tightened.
Then great force came, and Rong Pu felt his body lighten as he flew upward.
In his daze, he thought: so Grandfather’s martial skills hadn’t deteriorated over the years…
Spinning through the air, he saw cold light flash in the sedan chair as an Abyssal Iron sword instantly pierced through both sedan and frozen ground, splitting the ground into cracks.
The curtain was pierced through, then fell back with the wind. In the final moment, he only saw a spark of fire flash in the darkness and disappear into the ground’s cracks.
In this moment, countless complex flavors filled his chest beyond words, with only one urgent “No!” rising to his throat. But suspended in mid-air with fierce wind against his face, it seemed a mouthful of blood was blocked in his chest.
“Bang.”
Not just the sound of him falling far into the snow and crowd center.
But also sounds from beneath the Rong residence’s courtyard wall and the street before the gate.
The latter sounds occurred almost simultaneously, almost drowning out all other sounds in heaven and earth.
In the thunderous roar, the Rong residence’s courtyard wall collapsed with a crash. Crossbow mechanisms mounted on the wall fell, instantly crushing the operators below.
In the thunderous roar, centered on Chief Minister Rong’s sedan chair, a deep red and black cloud bloomed. Broken bricks and stones scattered several zhang, striking the bodies of frightened, continuously neighing horses. The ground kept exploding and collapsing—clusters of black-red dust mixed with black liquid burst across the street surface. Cavalry including Xiao Liheng fell into the collapsed ground, and piercing screams continuously came from among the upturned earth, stone, and brick fragments. Large patches of blood splashed across the chaotic deep snow.
In just a moment, ten zhang of ground before the Rong residence gate was utterly transformed—a human hell.
Rong Pu lay prone in the snow, figures moving chaotically around him—some seemed to be crying out, some inquiring, some wanting to help him up, some drawing swords to advance.
But his internal organs burned while his whole body was ice-cold.
The snow beneath seemed to penetrate his very marrow. In the bone-deep cold, he couldn’t even hear the explosion’s sound—only Grandfather’s final words cycling endlessly in his ears:
“Did you think I would truly submit to Xiao Liheng?”