The Young Master’s fury would demand the Liaodong foundation, the entire royal palace, and countless lives as payment.

From military power, important ministers, and the court to His Majesty’s secret guards, the ministers’ private vulnerabilities, to the royal palace, eunuchs, and merchants—aside from common people living day to day, everything at the highest levels of Ruzhou’s politics and economy would be destroyed by his rage.

What made people’s hearts grow cold was that everyone present counted as his trusted confidants, all having participated in many of his affairs. Yet even Mu Si and Zhao San didn’t know when the Young Master had somehow mastered so many secrets. From major ones like Liaodong secret guard bases to minor ones like the secret of a roadside earth shrine that a military officer must pass—he knew everything thoroughly.

He hadn’t even been in Liaodong these past two years.

Zhao San thought of more—of when Murong Yi was captured and tortured, of his own days and nights in confinement. Murong Yi might not have lacked the ability to save himself or rescue him, yet he remained unmoved throughout.

He might even have used this passive situation of taking beatings to relax the Great King’s vigilance, continuing to secretly hide and develop his own forces. This also let the Great King think that obtaining the Embroidered Guard meant grasping his trump cards, not knowing that even the Embroidered Guard’s secret files of ministers who could truly control the court—what he obtained were all fake.

The real ones were hidden in the county outskirts. They only learned the specific location today.

The Young Master’s forbearance was like a wolf hiding in darkness, willing to throw out a bloody severed tail to paralyze the hunter, waiting for the chance to deliver a fatal strike.

Anyone who underestimated him would surely pay a terrible price.

“After completing these tasks,” Murong Yi said indifferently, “send word to the royal palace that I’ve returned. Have the Great King personally lead the ministers to welcome me at the outskirts.”

“…Yes.”

Mu Si stepped forward, chains at his waist clinking softly like a wordless reminder.

Zhao San sighed, preparing to go brew medicine again.

The nightmare moment was about to arrive again.

“Everyone withdraw.”

When the crowd dispersed, leaving only Zhao San and Mu Si, Murong Yi didn’t immediately have Mu Si bind him. He seemed slightly dazed, saying after a long while: “How is she?”

Mu Si took a breath and said: “Very well.”

“Has the coronation ceremony been held?”

“Not yet.”

“Twenty-seven days of mourning,” Murong Yi murmured. “It should be held by now.”

Mu Si took another breath and said with barely contained patience: “Emperor Qianhui held his coronation ceremony a year after ascending the throne.”

“Emperor Qianhui did that because of his weak constitution—he couldn’t withstand the grand ceremony,” Murong Yi said. “Are you telling me she also has a weak constitution?”

“She wasn’t injured that day, didn’t need to flee the city, didn’t need to travel a thousand li through wind and snow. If that’s also weak constitution, then you’re dying,” Mu Si said. “Master, please worry about yourself a bit more, will you? The medicine has been brewed three times today already.”

Murong Yi said no more. Mu Si helped him lie down, and when he lay down, he faced a portrait embedded in the ceiling.

This was Zhao San’s idea. Unable to bear watching the Young Master write Tie Ci’s name until his skin split and flesh tore, he simply suggested Murong Yi paint a portrait of Tie Ci himself and embed it above his head.

Sure enough, as soon as Murong Yi saw the painting, a faint smile appeared at the corners of his lips.

The sound of chains rang out as another unbearable night arrived without fail.

Murong Yi didn’t move, suddenly saying: “Mu Si, do you miss Dan Shuang?”

Mu Si nearly fastened the lock onto his own thumb with a “snap.”

He looked up and glared at Murong Yi, pulled the chains tight, and didn’t answer.

“I heard the female deputy leader of Group C likes you and is pursuing you. I saw her just now—she’s a beauty,” Murong Yi said. “…But it’s not allowed.”

This time Mu Si fastened the lock in the wrong place on Murong Yi’s body.

Murong Yi hissed.

Mu Si rolled his eyes but his movements became much gentler.

He didn’t speak, but Murong Yi wouldn’t let him off: “Do you know why I won’t allow it?”

“Because you’re a pervert.”

Murong Yi chuckled softly, gazing at the ceiling: “Because I can’t be wrong, and neither can you. If you fall for someone else, what if A’Ci gets angry about it in the future and doesn’t want me?”

Mu Si’s lips moved, wanting to say something, but felt that anything he said would be heartbreaking.

In the past, let it hurt—but facing Murong Yi as he was now, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

He spared Murong Yi, but Murong Yi wouldn’t spare him, saying again: “Should I send people to test Dan Shuang’s feelings? Otherwise you’ll wait until you become an old man…”

Mu Si tore off a section of sleeve with a “rip” and without a word tied Murong Yi’s mouth shut.

Murong Yi let out a long sigh beneath the cloth strip.

Mu Si saw his complexion instantly turn ashen and knew the torment was beginning. He added fuel to the brazier, extinguished the lamp, and silently walked out, closing the door.

Throughout this journey, each time it occurred, Murong Yi allowed no one to approach.

He struggled alone in hell, surrounded by a sea of blood with red lotus like fire, burning his body to ash then breaking bones to reconnect them.

No one knew how much longer such days of torment would continue, or how much longer he could persist.

But his eyes remained bright always, blazing in the darkness—a single starlight spanning the heavens, shining from sunset to dawn.

That was the inextinguishable ambition and hatred in his heart.

In the quiet night, chains clinked softly.

Above the thatched cottage, beneath the firmament, heaven and earth were all black and heavy. Only a single orange lamplight seemed suspended in the uniform dense blackness.

Like snow burning.

…

Yeting Palace, not far from the imperial city, had been vacant before. After all, the late emperor rarely stayed in the rear palace, showing neither favor nor disfavor to his consorts.

Recently, someone had come to clean Yeting Palace, and then someone moved in.

When this mysterious guest arrived, wrapped from head to toe with a mighty procession of guards behind, they sealed Yeting Palace completely.

After moving in, this guest almost never left their room, only taking walks in the courtyard each evening.

This day the weather was fine, the sky clear as if washed. Tong Rushi, wearing a black cloak, stood in the courtyard looking at a small blue flower on the wall.

Li Zhi stood beside him, also looking at the flower.

Though it wasn’t snowing anymore, Shengdu was still very cold—not the season for blooming.

So Tong Rushi knew the people from Lingquan Village had come to see him again.

To see if he was still well, to see if Tie Ci was keeping her promise.

This brought Tong Rushi some comfort amid his resentment.

He had been abandoned, yet someone still cared about him.

Since that was so, he would live on. As long as he could live, there was still hope.

A winter wind passed, and that small crystal flower suddenly shattered.

Tong Rushi’s heart tightened, as if some bad premonition arose.

Several eunuchs entered carrying trays, saying: “Time for the meal.”

Tong Rushi looked at the sky, puzzled: “It seems early today.”

He returned to his room, preparing to wash his hands and eat. But the water hadn’t been brought yet. Li Zhi said: “I’ll go get it.”

Tong Rushi sat down, seeing today’s dishes were particularly abundant, and became interested. He picked up chopsticks and tasted a bite.

When he first arrived, he was very careful about everything he consumed. But over the past month, nothing had happened, and people from Lingquan Village came to see him daily in rotation.

Over time, he relaxed.

As long as Lingquan Village people were there, Tie Ci would definitely not move against him for the palace’s safety.

Today’s dishes were indeed exquisite and delicious. Tong Rushi picked up his chopsticks and couldn’t bear to put them down, eating several bites. From the corner of his eye, he inadvertently glimpsed someone standing opposite, staring straight at him.

He raised his head with an displeased expression, his eyes suddenly focusing.

He suddenly realized this person’s height, build, and the half-face hidden under a hat all seemed inexplicably familiar.

Somewhat bewildered, he turned his head. On the bed beside him was embedded a bronze mirror that dimly reflected his own face.

The moment he saw that face clearly, his heart jumped violently.

His chopsticks fell to the ground with a “clatter.”

Someone strolled through the door, casually picked up the chopsticks, and stuffed them back into his hands, laughing: “Oh my, they’re dirty. Can you still eat with them?”

Tong Rushi turned his head with some difficulty and saw Xia Houchun’s honest, slightly plump face, smelling a familiar scent that startled his heart.

His gaze fell on Xia Houchun’s hands.

On the back of his hand was a drop of blood.

Tong Rushi suddenly stood up, overturning the table.

“Li Zhi! Li Zhi!”

No one answered. The guards and eunuchs around stood like clay and wooden sculptures.

Tong Rushi lifted his leg to walk but couldn’t lift it.

He stopped, slowly turning to look at Xia Houchun.

Xia Houchun still smiled with honest cunning, pointing at the table: “Eat.”

“Your last meal—if you don’t eat now, you’ll never have another chance in this lifetime.”

Tong Rushi stared at him fixedly. After a long while, he opened his mouth, and fresh blood slowly flowed from the corners of his lips.

His tongue had already stiffened, making his speech sound strange and muffled: “Tie Ci promised…”

“His Majesty promised not to kill you, but I made no such promise,” Xia Houchun smiled as he bent down to look into his eyes. “Look, in those eyes of yours, ambition still hides. Someone like you—even if His Majesty agrees to spare you, I disagree.”

“Lingquan Village…”

“Do you think everyone is your wet nurse, destined to watch over you for life?” Xia Houchun’s smile was mocking. “They watched you for over a month, saw you were safe and sound. Give them something else to do and naturally they’ll return. Besides, living in Shengdu is expensive—food and lodging don’t come free, do they?”

Tong Rushi was dumbstruck.

He wanted to say that even if they returned temporarily, Lingquan Village people would still come back to check from time to time. Killing him like this—weren’t they afraid of future troubles?

But he could no longer speak.

Xia Houchun understood his meaning and very kindly pointed to the man in the hat opposite: “Look, doesn’t he resemble you? We worked hard to find this person—his temperament, height, and build are similar to yours. As for the face, well, once you’re dead, it can be exactly the same.”

This way, even if Lingquan Village people came occasionally, they would only see “Tong Rushi” still properly confined.

Xia Houchun watched with satisfaction as the opposite Tong Rushi slowly bent over, his entire body seeming pulled by a string. His head gradually touched his feet, arms folding backward toward the sky, his entire skeleton deforming with creaking sounds. Someone stepped forward and stuffed a piece of torn cloth into Tong Rushi’s throat, stuffing those muffled screams back down his throat.

Before Xia Houchun’s eyes flashed Tie Ci’s pale face.

He recalled His Majesty beside Xiao Wenliu’s corpse in the side hall of Chongming Palace, spitting blood that stained the curtains red.

He recalled His Majesty falling into a coma from that night, not fully awakening until five days later, then remaining bedridden with illness.

He recalled the coronation ceremony continuously postponed because of this.

He recalled yesterday in Chongming Palace, when he stood outside the curtain reporting affairs. His Majesty, conducting business despite illness, suddenly spoke of old matters with Qiu Wujiu, saying she deeply regretted not completely eliminating Qiu Wujiu back then, giving him the chance to cause trouble until now.

She said: Yes, from now on, we won’t spare any enemy.

At that time, the new emperor leaned against the bed with a faint smile, picked up a vermillion brush, and on the memorial about executing the Shengdu Great Camp commander’s nine generations, wrote: “Approved.”

So today, he came here.

The person at his feet curled into a ball in the dust, making “heh heh” sounds from his throat, the breathing gradually weakening.

Xia Houchun said: “Burn it. Along with that one too.”

Then he stepped over Tong Rushi’s body.

Behind him, the door slowly closed.

Evening clouds spilled down like blood.