Heavy rain flashed with blue light in every pair of eyes.

Jing Hengbo stood under the corridor, watching guards rapidly mobilizing, watching Meng Hu running in the rain, seeing bricks suddenly shifting on an outer side wall, opening countless small holes. Crossbows were rapidly pushed out with archers standing behind them, calmly adjusting their strings.

Her eyes were also glowing, blazing as if lit with fire. All the blood in her body seemed ignited in this moment of preparation for battle in the cold rainy dawn.

“Are we going to fight?” she asked with uncontainable excitement.

Gong Yin stood beside her. The white cloak that had been soaked by rain was now flowing with water along the garment’s patterns, already dry in moments.

He looked at her somewhat strangely.

This woman was being silly again.

She’d just encountered danger and been crying out in alarm, but now with life-and-death combat imminent—and the opponents definitely targeting her—she was still smiling.

“Go into the great hall. This doesn’t concern you.”

“I won’t go. Someone just died in there—I feel creeped out.”

He was somewhat torn between laughter and tears. Soon many more people would die, yet she wasn’t afraid of that.

“Sang Dong is desperate, she’ll definitely stop at nothing,” he said calmly and quietly. “For the Sang family to stand in Imperial Song for hundreds of years, they naturally wouldn’t rely solely on a high tower that lightning doesn’t strike.”

“What else? It won’t be AK-47s,” Jing Hengbo pursed her lips.

Gong Yin’s expression was rarely grave, not answering her words. He was also too lazy to ask what AK-47 was—her mouth always had all sorts of strange things anyway.

Meng Hu walked over to explain: “Your Majesty mustn’t be too careless. The Sang family has secret weapons passed down from ancestors—very fierce and very precious. They say it’s only been used twice. Once was in the early founding years when the Floating Water Tribe rebelled in Imperial Song, nearly forcing their way into the palace. The Sang ancestors used the heaven-killing weapon from atop the high tower to kill the Floating Water King from thirty zhang away, settling Imperial Song in one strike. The other time was five generations ago, when the Sang family encountered a powerful rival competing for the priest position. The opponent had strong influence and strange arts, much favored by the all-powerful State Preceptor of that time, who was persuaded to modify relevant laws, wanting to strip the Sang family’s hereditary rights to the priest position. On the night before the law passed, the Sang family head of that time, holding the heaven-killing weapon, broke into the opponent’s home. After one great crash, that so-called divine person who was supposedly invulnerable to blades and immune to water and fire died on the spot.”

Jing Hengbo’s expression grew increasingly strange as she listened.

This description sounded so familiar—it couldn’t really be… could it?

If the Sang ancestors could deceive people with lightning rods, they might well have had that thing.

But if they really had that thing, it meant there had been transmigrators in Dahuang before her. But didn’t transmigrators supposedly have golden fingers? How had they made no changes to Dahuang’s political system, national structure, or productivity?

Wait, the Sang ancestors had also fought alongside Dahuang’s founding empress and established the foundation for the Sang family’s centuries of power right from the founding. How could you say they achieved nothing?

“The Sang ancestor seems to have been capable,” she asked. “What other great achievements did they accomplish?”

“The Sang ancestor died early, supposedly poisoned by his sister,” Meng Hu said. “Great families fighting for power—nothing unusual about that.”

So he was an unlucky soy sauce character.

But if it really was that thing, it was still somewhat troublesome. Things beyond contemporary productive capacity often had intimidating power exceeding their destructive capability.

Once the Sang family was pushed to desperation and displayed some “divine weapon’s” power again, the prestige loss from the priest high tower’s collapse could be compensated by the Sang family once more.

Moreover… Jing Hengbo looked ahead, where guards were constantly coming to report to Gong Yin that important ministers were coming in the night, all requesting to enter the palace.

Gong Yin’s expression was cold: “Block them all. Tell them the palace is fine, nighttime disturbances aren’t allowed—please return.”

Jing Hengbo looked sideways at Gong Yin’s ice sculpture-like profile. His black brows were calm, yet locked with stern killing intent.

It seemed tonight’s slaughter would definitely be settled within the palace.

Just as Sang Dong had made her decision, Gong Yin had also made his.

Jing Hengbo knew that as Dahuang’s true power holder, Gong Yin always prioritized Dahuang’s stability. He wouldn’t want to resolve such a deeply rooted family that could shake Imperial Song’s stability through the most extreme methods. Today’s killing might be easy, but the future backlash from the Sang family and their allies would certainly disturb court politics.

Beside the Sang and Xuanyuan families lurked Yelu Qi with even stronger influence, always watching covetously. Even trapped in Zhaoming Office, he could discover Gong Yin’s abnormal condition and nearly kill him with one move. Once court politics became chaotic, how could he not fish in troubled waters?

Gong Yin couldn’t fail to consider these things. He was doing this because of… her?

Jing Hengbo’s eyes sparkled as her lips curved slightly.

When Gong Yin turned back, he saw her smiling in the misty water vapor—different from her usual gorgeous, flamboyant laughter, with three parts more reserved quiet beauty, like a crystal orchid blooming in the misty morning fog.

Beauty that could be admired from afar but one wouldn’t bear to destroy.

He was momentarily stunned, forgetting what he wanted to say, only seeing her lips open and close as if speaking. After a daze he said, “What?”

Jing Hengbo looked at him with surprise, not understanding how this guy could suddenly become absent-minded when she’d always thought he was forever like a dragon-eagle in the sky with blazing gaze.

“I said, let them in.”

Gong Yin turned sharply to look at her.

“Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I know the Sang family will definitely use that so-called divine weapon tonight,” Jing Hengbo smiled carelessly. “Perfect—let Dahuang’s big shots witness the destruction of the Sang family’s last dependable so-called divine weapon too.”

Gong Yin looked at her deeply, trying to see the absurdity of these words in her ever-mocking eyes.

Jing Hengbo didn’t straighten her expression, smiling charmingly at him, her raised eyebrows showing somewhat hidden arrogant curves.

Gong Yin turned his head.

“Invite the lords into the palace.”

“Invite the lords into the palace—” The eunuch’s sharp voice pierced the rain curtain, penetrating the layers of palace buildings.

Jing Hengbo beamed with joy. She’d thought it would take some persuasion, since letting ministers into the palace could cause variables. Given Gong Yin’s steadiness, she’d thought he wouldn’t agree.

“Little Yin Yin is so good,” she pounced on him, hugging his arm and shaking it. “I most like people who trust me.”

Gong Yin swayed, reaching out to hold down her restless wolf paws, wanting to peel her off his arm. Looking down, he saw her smiling lips with their slightly upturned curve, gorgeous as a startling rainbow.

From his angle, he could see much more—like the smooth neckline, delicate collarbones, half a point of snow-white skin…

And the palm covering her hand’s back so vividly felt the skin’s warmth and smoothness…

His heart trembled, followed by slight stabbing pain, as if ice needles densely pierced his lungs. He immediately turned away his eyes, firmly yet gently pulling away her hand.

“Have you thought how to do it?”

“Thought it through.”

“Hm?”

“Kill gods who block the way, kill demons who block the way.” She cast a flirtatious glance. “Divine weapon? How can mortals wield divine weapons? After so many years, it should be broken.”

He smiled slightly at her pride and killing intent hidden in her bones.

She was growing, so rapidly. If nothing went wrong, Dahuang’s future divine altar would surely have her red-robed figure sweeping through wind and clouds.

Looking back at the important ministers hurriedly arriving in the rain, seeing those faces with deep, unclear thoughts, his smile faded slightly as his heart sank a little.

From another direction came rapid hoofbeats, breaking the silent palace road.

The hoofbeats were heavy, striking the rain-splashed ground. The entire palace floor seemed to be trembling slightly.

Gong Yin’s expression was also cold and heavy. This quiet palace road didn’t allow running horses without special permission. Now Sang Dong was truly mad, actually driving her subordinate guards in a galloping horse charge.

The hoofbeats were urgent, just in an instant.

The arriving important ministers watched slack-jawed as a large group of guards in red priest guard uniforms, riding heavy armored iron horses, splashing countless puddles, rolled past the palace road like a fire cloud. Those in front couldn’t dodge in time.

Meng Hu and Yu Chun looked angry. “Master! They dare run horses in the palace! Please allow us to shoot them with strong crossbows!”

Gong Yin waved his hand.

On the other side, Jing Hengbo grabbed Zirui, urgently saying, “Find me a heart-protecting armor…” Turning her head, she saw Meng Hu leaping up, airborne, about to give orders to the archers on the wall.

She cried out in alarm: “Don’t fly up…”

But it was too late.

“Bang.”

A great crash, extremely penetrating, almost echoing through the palace buildings. Large sheets of rainwater were scattered by the sound waves, splashing onto the faces of the arriving ministers. Those running in front were startled by that explosion-like sound right by their ears, stumbling and collapsing softly in the rainy ground.

The great crash was just one sound, yet seemed like many, continuous and unending. The palace trembled in the sound waves, and Meng Hu’s airborne body also trembled. Almost instantly, everyone saw blood flowers exploding in mid-air.

Dyeing the rain curtain red, then falling violently.

Everyone’s hearts beat like drums as they looked up in horror to see the lead rider had somehow already stood on his horse, hands gripping something covered in black cloth, his gesture slightly raised. That thing was slightly smoking, and in the rain and smoke, that person’s eyes were cold as an eagle’s.

“Divine weapon deployed—” Some old ministers let out uncontrollable long cries. Some were already prostrating in the pouring rain.

A white shadow flashed as Gong Yin reached mid-air, catching Meng Hu with one hand. He seemed finally truly angry. With a spin, his sleeve flashed with silver light, sharp sounds filled the air, the rain was instantly cut off, creating a transparent vacuum. Silver light flashed along the vacuum path, directly attacking that gun-wielding rider.

The rider instinctively raised his gun, but was already a step too slow. The next instant he toppled from his horse, the blood hole in his chest even larger than the one in Meng Hu’s shoulder.

That “divine weapon” covered in black cloth also fell with him toward the horse. A pair of delicate hands caught the thing. The hands’ owner, Sang Qiao, somersaulted to replace the previous rider, standing on the horse with the “divine weapon” slightly raised in her hands, aimed at Gong Yin.

Heavy rain poured.

Everyone in the rain curtain was shadowy and indistinct.

The rain was torrential and endless, yet the atmosphere was taut as if it would snap at a touch.

At this moment Gong Yin held Meng Hu, looking down at his wounds.

Sang Qiao’s finger was on the trigger, but she hesitated slightly.

She hadn’t expected Gong Yin to actually let the important ministers into the palace. Now with all the ministers present, to shoot Dahuang’s number one person before so many eyes—once she fired, it would be a matter shocking the world. Even this Sang family woman couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous.

Her finger about to pull but not yet pulling, suddenly a figure flashed as Jing Hengbo appeared on the wall.

Her first action was to crash into Gong Yin as he was landing on the wall, knocking him off the wall!

“Don’t fly high, I have a way!”

The woman’s slightly hoarse voice echoed on the wall. Her garments flew in the heavy rain and violent wind. Under the sky a lightning flash passed, illuminating her airborne figure bright and dim.

Sang Qiao suddenly looked up.

It was her!

The new Queen!

The legendary rebellious, extremely bold woman who had fooled everyone at the welcoming ceremony, brazenly invaded the important Quiet Court grounds, forced her sister into a bet, and sent the Sang family into irreversible doom!

Not yet coronated but already causing so much trouble—how could she be allowed to grow?

Her finger trembled, the black cloth fell to the ground, the gun muzzle raised, more firmly aimed at Jing Hengbo than before.

“In the name of divine blessing, by the divine power of the hundred-year priest family, today,” Sang Qiao’s voice was colder than the rain, “we Sang clan will use the heaven-given divine weapon to kill Queen Jing Hengbo who borrowed demonic power to destroy our sacred high tower. Those who resist, obstruct, or plead for mercy—heaven will punish them, lightning will strike them!”

“Rumble.” As if footnoting her words, a thunderclap struck from the sky, pale lightning splitting the heavens.

Sang Qiao stood on her horse as if on level ground, unmoving, her gun muzzle steady, grim as a black giant eye.

In comparison, Jing Hengbo standing unsteadily on the wall, battered by heavy rain and wind until she swayed, looked wretched and ridiculous.

Looking at her wildly waving hands, she seemed about to be blown away by rain and wind at any moment.

The rain was violent, the atmosphere frozen as death. All hearts were held at their throats, waiting for an assassination that could affect all of Dahuang’s national power.

Though only an instant, it felt like a lifetime.

But suddenly three voices broke through this moment’s killing intent.

“Get down!” A white shadow flashed, rushing skyward to block in front of Jing Hengbo.

“Wait!” A black shadow like a hawk from Zhaoming Office crossed three zhang to arrive.

“Get lost!” A light yellow figure appeared ghost-like behind Sang Qiao, slapping toward her back.

At the same moment.

Sang Qiao’s finger tightened slightly.

Jing Hengbo suddenly leaned backward and down.

“Pop.”

This sound was still completely unexpected, more violently explosive than before, filled with destructive and murderous ferocity. The sky full of heavy rain seemed to stop instantly.

“Ah!”

The scream was more shocking to eardrums than thunder, making people worry whether the throat making that sound had already ruptured.

A mass of black smoke wrapped in blood flowers rolled up, mixed with flying springs, trigger guards, triggers, and shattered flesh and bone, raining down blood and flesh in the heavy rain.

The three airborne figures paused, each looking up in horror and disbelief.

The ministers kneeling in the heavy rain lifted their rain-streaming faces, mouths agape, swallowing mouthfuls of bloody wind and rain.

The Kang Long guards and priest guards who had charged out with stored momentum lifted legs frozen in mid-air, swords half-drawn, bright blades covered with blood and flesh splashed by rainwater.

Sang Qiao’s blood and flesh.

In the suffocating quiet, only Sang Qiao’s screams continued endlessly. She raised her hand that remained only half a forearm, falling backward in anguish.

Like slow motion, she drifted down like a falling leaf, black robes and black hair stained with blood scattered in the muddy rain.

At the same time, Jing Hengbo, who had disappeared below the wall, appeared again on the wall.

In the heavy rain her clothes were soaked through, her curves stunning. A strand of long hair stuck to her forehead, covering her brilliantly shining eyes.

She looked with some regret at the fragments and parts scattered on the ground—black steel flashing with dark blue light. That was the greatest weapon not belonging to this era, forever vanishing in this instant.

Perhaps things that shouldn’t belong to this era ultimately couldn’t last long.

Sang Qiao shouldn’t have said so much before firing to salvage family honor.

That time was enough for Jing Hengbo to wave her arms and remotely control a small stone to block the gun barrel.

The era’s greatest weapon, destroyed by a small stone.

Jing Hengbo faced the gun wreckage on the ground, straightened her hair, puffed her cheeks, and softly made a “bang” sound.

“Barrel explosion,” she said.

…

At this moment the fierce rain seemed to no longer exist. Everyone forgot the pain and cold of the rain’s impact, staring blankly as the heavy rain slowly washed away Sang Qiao’s severed arm’s flesh and blood along with that shattered divine weapon.

Like watching a giant beast gain another deep wound, a nearly fatal injury.

The final struggle returned to deeper destruction. Almost everyone felt uncontrollable shock and the desolation of shared sorrow in their hearts.

Even the most composed Gong Yin was stunned for a moment.

He landed in the rain, turning to look up at Jing Hengbo. The woman on the wall was delicate as a jade vase, smiling at him delicately as jade beads.

The woman’s radiant glory diluted this moment’s blood and solemnity, yet made hearts sway even more—a flower blooming gorgeously as always on the battlefield, beautiful to the point of being stern.

Yelu Qi landed on the other side of the wall, slowly turning his head to stare at Jing Hengbo as if in disbelief.

The assassination had failed, he knew.

He’d originally thought it was Gong Yin’s handiwork, which wouldn’t be surprising, but now he began to doubt.

How many more surprises would this seemingly casual, ordinary Queen give people?

The ministers’ eyes were still in confusion. Most hadn’t understood what this scene meant. They were still thinking why that legendary incomparable great weapon, the divine weapon the Sang family relied on to intimidate the world and hadn’t used for a hundred years, had suddenly exploded.

Right after the Queen appeared, it exploded.

Many people had a thought flash through their minds: illegitimate position brings self-destruction. Heaven’s mandate brings immunity to all poisons.

Suddenly a voice broke the silence, accompanied by loud clapping.

“Well done! Brilliantly done! Divine weapon? What divine weapon! This is truly miraculous! Worthy of being my wife!”

In the heavy rain, Yi Qi climbed on Sang Qiao’s horse, laughing and jumping, continuously waving at Jing Hengbo.

Jing Hengbo became happy the moment she saw him, couldn’t help smiling, and waved back.

“Have you eaten?” she asked.

“Haven’t eaten,” he shouted loudly. “Heard you had trouble here, ran here desperately, even broke my shoes, where would I have time to eat…”

A group of people listened with green faces as these two chatted at this critical moment, discussing breakfast while facing a ground full of blood…

“If you haven’t eaten, come down, we’ll eat together later…” Jing Hengbo’s words were cut off by Gong Yin’s cold voice.

He raised his hand, pointing at Yi Qi.

“Someone, arrest this trespasser who broke into the palace!”

“Hey hey!” Jing Hengbo hurried to stop him, seeing Great God Gong’s darkened face.

Tsk tsk, angry? Why angry again?

“Go on, go!” She waved her hand. “I’ll treat you to dinner next time! I’ll compensate you for your shoes later!”

“Great, great!” Yi Qi waved while fleeing backward. “The red-braised pig’s trotters at Ruixiang Residence on Nine Palace Street are quite good…”

“Our imperial family never owes debts,” Gong Yin said coldly. “Someone, chop off his feet—then he’ll never run through shoes again!”

Yi Qi ran even faster…

After finally shaking off his pursuers and turning around a wall corner, a figure suddenly swept past, laughing: “He cuts your feet, I’ll compensate your shoes!” Raising his hand, two points of black light struck directly at Yi Qi’s soles.

“Aiya, sneak attack!” Yi Qi cried out strangely, soaring skyward. When he came up, his shoe soles were already gone, leaving only bare foot bottoms. One step slower and his soles would have been pierced through.

“Eat my shoe!” Yi Qi immediately kicked, the sole-less boot shooting toward the attacking Yelu Qi. Taking advantage of his dodge, he laughed heartily and had already escaped.

His voice rolled through the rain: “Bobo, I’m leaving, don’t see me off. Too many rivals, too enthusiastic. I’ll come see you alone next time…”

“Next time I’ll leave you both feet to save you from running around everywhere.” Yelu Qi threw away that pair of boots, flicked his sleeve, looked distantly at Gong Yin once, then leisurely returned to his Zhaoming Office.

Gong Yin’s expression was blank, his eyes colder than the rain.

He waved his hand. Behind the wall, crossbows were strung with creaking sounds that sent chills down spines.

The priest guards showed panicked expressions.

“The Sang family acts against righteousness and has been abandoned by heaven. I give you half a quarter-hour to withdraw from the court, distance yourselves from the priest family, and today’s rebellion can go unpunished.” Gong Yin spoke, his voice carrying far in the storm.

The guards showed confused expressions.

These had originally been the Sang family’s loyal guards, but loyalty mostly stemmed from deep inner worship and reverence for the Sang family. The deeper the reverence for “divine power,” the faster spiritual pillars crumbled when “divine power” disappeared. With the high tower collapsed and divine weapon backfiring, the Sang family’s two vital survival assets destroyed, these people immediately fell into bewildered fear.

Add to this Sang Qiao’s severe injury and unconsciousness, leaving them leaderless, plus Gong Yin’s accumulated authority and stern killing intent—after a period of confused fearfulness, some began retreating.

One step back led to total collapse. Almost instantly, all the fully armed, unharmed priest guards turned and fled frantically, only regretting they couldn’t run fast enough to withdraw from the court within half a quarter-hour.

When people flee, their defenses are weakest.

Jing Hengbo watched those lightning-fast runners, her heart also tightening slightly. These people wore heavy armor, carried weapons, yet could still run so fast—clearly all elite troops. Such forces would be formidable enough to create huge waves wherever they went. Today they fled due to successive unexpected heavy blows—an stress response. Once they regrouped, the Sang family might well rally them again. When that time came, how much trouble would these people who hated her to death cause…

She sighed slightly. So be it. Some things you know aren’t right but can’t do anyway. Should she have Gong Yin massacre these people who had already given up resistance? What trouble would that bring him?

Just as she was thinking how to deal with the future, watching those people about to escape from view, she suddenly heard an extremely cold, extremely decisive voice.

“Shoot.”

Almost instantly, arrows replaced the storm, whistling and sweeping overhead!

Ministers looked up in panic, wide eyes reflecting the blue-black flying arrow rain!

The next instant, their vision filled with vast curtains of blood!

Continuous blood flowers kept exploding from human bodies, each blooming faster than the last, then swept away by mid-air rain, extending into rolling waves of bloody torrents.

Jing Hengbo nearly fell from the wall again.

She turned sharply to meet Gong Yin’s eyes.

In the storm, he remained clean and unstained by blood or dust. His pupils also seemed washed by the fierce rain—clear as ice crystals, flashing with extremely pure, faint blue light.

Those weren’t bloodthirsty eyes…

In the storm he looked at her calmly and quietly, then turned back to the killing field. Hundreds writhed and cried out, blood dyeing the ground red. Countless red channels trickled away, flowing into drainage ditches on both sides of the palace road.

Rulers took lives like cutting grass. Death often came not from sin but from standing in the wrong place.

“Ahhh—”

A guard bristling with arrows suddenly struggled to turn back, shouting as he charged wildly toward Gong Yin. He raised high his blood-stained sword, heavy boots splashing bloody rainwater onto countless people’s knees.

Yu Chun moved to block Gong Yin’s front, but Gong Yin waved him aside.

He just stood there coldly, watching that dying man’s final desperate struggle in his death throes.

Two zhang, one zhang, half a zhang…

Everyone’s hearts pounded. Though certain this man couldn’t harm Gong Yin, some secretly hoped for a miracle.

Gong Yin remained unmoved throughout, even slowly clasping his hands behind his back.

He looked at the charging man with the same expression as when viewing the hundreds of corpses previously strewn before the hall.

Three steps, two steps, one step…

“Thud.” The body hit the ground heavily, splashing rainwater half a person’s height. Countless people exhaled long breaths—some relieved, perhaps some disappointed.

Gong Yin bent his face down.

The fallen man wasn’t dead yet, still unwilling to give up struggling, inching forward bit by bit, dragging long blood trails behind him that were instantly smeared away by rainwater.

Watching those blood lines disappear like landscape ravines, Jing Hengbo felt her heart tremble slightly.

This bloody landscape, endless scheming—how much fresh blood would it take to fill?

The reaching fingers barely about to touch Gong Yin’s snow-white garment hem.

Gong Yin suddenly bent slightly.

Everyone held their breath, watching him bend and flick his finger.

“Snap.”

A sound of striking air. Rain threads suddenly stopped mid-sky as a visible transparent vacuum appeared before that man’s reaching fingertips—like a transparent barrier blocking the final hope of attack.

That hand was blocked one thread’s distance from Gong Yin’s robe hem, unable to advance an inch.

So close yet infinitely far.

Watching this scene, Jing Hengbo suddenly felt cold, chilled by fate’s various coldnesses. Through the rain curtain she seemed to see her own future—hope close at hand, rejection far as the horizon’s edge.

Those hands, after struggling through that final stretch, ultimately fell limp.

A wolf-like wail suddenly echoed through palace halls.

“Gong Yin! You will suffer heaven’s bite, fall into the abyss. Betrayed by all, forever exiled from Dahuang!”

The mournful, indignant howl, weeping blood earnestly, seemed to rush to the clouds, break through the storm’s blockade, carving itself upon heaven above, waiting for fate’s cycle to manifest.

Now only the heavy rain made sound.

Gong Yin remained unmoved, cold and hard as a ten-thousand-year ice sculpture. Beside him, all ministers fearfully stepped back several paces.

A figure flashed as Jing Hengbo appeared at his side, tilting her head to look at his expression.

Gong Yin turned his face away. Jing Hengbo followed, turning too. Gong Yin turned back. Jing Hengbo followed back again.

After several rounds, Gong Yin stopped turning, lowering his eyes to look steadily at her.

Jing Hengbo stood slightly on tiptoe, looking up at him, suddenly smoothing the black hair stuck to his forehead, and smiled.

“One look at your expressionless face tells me your heart is churning inside.” She said charmingly. “What, one curse making you uncomfortable?”

Gong Yin brushed away her hand, but Jing Hengbo didn’t let him, grasping his fingers instead.

Their fingers interlocked, half-raised in the rain.

Gong Yin looked down, neither pulling away again nor speaking.

He wouldn’t tell her that legend said Sang family retainers capable of becoming commanders mostly came from Dahuang’s most mysterious Betrayal Marsh. That tribe’s only miraculous trait was skill at curses—especially dying curses cast with life’s blood always proved true as heaven’s promise.

But Jing Hengbo read the answer from his eyes and everyone’s expressions.

She just shrugged and smiled.

“Can’t even save their own lives, yet can curse others?” She gazed into his eyes, tugging his hand. “Grievances have sources, debts have owners. Gong Yin, I’ll take this curse! It has nothing to do with you.”

Gong Yin’s gaze slowly moved from their fingers to her face.

Her rain-washed features were fresh and clear, wet and even more brilliant. Dense eyelashes carried countless tiny water droplets. Through the droplets, her gaze was both firm and hazy, rippling with spring light filling heaven and earth.

Such swaying grace, irresistible.

His heart seemed flooded with warmth, rushing and penetrating wherever it flowed, washing and roaring. His meridians seemed pierced with countless small holes, penetrating bone-chilling ice wind, yet also collapsing thunderously, raising thousands of snow drifts. In such collapse and penetration he couldn’t help but slightly frown, yet couldn’t resist the slight curve of his lips.

Jing Hengbo looked up at him. At this moment his expression was so strange—seeming pained yet joyful, or perhaps joy born from pain, pain planted in joy. His brows gathered like peaks, yet smile flowed from his lips like spring water.

But she found it so moving, feeling that in this moment something must have changed. She regretted not bringing her Polaroid to forever capture this moment’s unique smile.

Rain gradually softened, grass colors fresh. Gazing at each other in the rain, both felt the other’s fingers cool but heart warm, their lip curves the most beautiful in the world.

Unknowingly, all ministers had slowly withdrawn, avoiding to one side.

Urgent footsteps came from behind. Gong Yin paused, seeming somewhat reluctant as he released Jing Hengbo’s hand.

“Grand Priest Sang has left the palace.” The guards sent to pursue Sang Dong reported.

Everyone was stern. Sang Dong was decisive enough—knowing this side had failed, she immediately left. Just somewhat heartless, leaving her sister Sang Qiao in the palace with unknown fate.

Gong Yin merely nodded, after a while saying: “No need to call her Grand Priest anymore.”

With these words, almost everyone immediately bowed their heads.

One sentence ended a family’s power.

Rain gradually lessened, dawn gradually broke. Jing Hengbo saw a line of pale skylight illuminating those dead, pale faces, feeling faint coldness in her heart as she slowly drew up her sleeves.

This night of wild wind and horizontal rain was perhaps just a beginning.

…

Jade Radiance Palace guards were cleaning the battlefield. Only now did Jing Hengbo feel cold, hugging her arms as she turned to go change clothes.

Someone behind her said: “Please wait, Your Majesty.”

Jing Hengbo turned to see Xuanyuan Jing. Unlike others’ somewhat fearful, wary gazes, Xuanyuan Jing’s eyes were full of anger.

No wonder—having a powerful ally toppled overnight was like losing an arm. Of course he was displeased.

“Speak quickly if you have something to say. I’m very cold.” Since others showed no good face, Jing Hengbo certainly wouldn’t either.

“Your Majesty’s oath is only half complete,” Xuanyuan Jing said. “You prophesied lightning would strike the Priest High Tower and said you would capture that lightning to prove the gods had chosen you anew. Now, where is the lightning?” He said mockingly. “Not hidden in your sleeve, I suppose?”

“You guessed right.” Jing Hengbo smiled lazily, glancing at everyone’s shocked expressions, then smiled teasingly again. “But not now.”

“Your Majesty!” Xuanyuan Jing, having been played, became ashamed and angry.

Jing Hengbo was already waving her hand, turning to leave.

“I need to bathe, change clothes, and catch up on sleep. Otherwise, if I get wrinkles or something, who among you could compensate? When I’ve slept enough, I’ll show you the electricity I captured. If you really want to see, then wait!”

“Your Majesty, are you trying to renege!” Xuanyuan Jing’s voice was cold and stern.

“If you can’t see it tonight, then call me a renegade.” Jing Hengbo didn’t look back, quickly crossing through the side door. Xuanyuan Jing couldn’t pursue, his face iron-blue as he turned to challenge Gong Yin: “In war, prisoners aren’t killed. This is Dahuang’s rule. This minister wants to know why the State Preceptor deceived innocents and ordered the shooting of those priest guards who had already given up resistance!”

Gong Yin didn’t even glance at him, beckoning Yu Chun to carry the wounded Meng Hu into the hall.

Only then did people notice Meng Hu was half-stained with blood. His front shoulder was just a torn wound, but his back shoulder was almost a bloody hole. This was damage from the “divine weapon”—so terrible that people looked with pale faces at those scattered remains on the ground, increasingly unable to understand how the Queen had destroyed this truly deadly weapon from a distance.

Could there really be so-called divine power?

“Unauthorized over-quota guard personnel, carrying weapons and trespassing into palace grounds, attempting to assassinate the Queen before all ministers, severely wounding Imperial Guard Commander Meng Hu.” Gong Yin said calmly. “Each of the above is almost enough for exterminating nine generations. If the Remonstrance Official persists in his views, he’s welcome to join those nine generations.”

Xuanyuan Jing’s face went white as he protested: “I have no relationship with them whatsoever! How can you speak of nine-generation kinship!”

Gong Yin glanced at him, casually uttering two words: “Allied clan.”

Then he ignored Xuanyuan Jing completely, sweeping his sleeves as he left. Everyone was awed by the domineering and killing intent contained in those two words, solemnly not daring to speak. Xuanyuan Jing’s face was deathly pale, still forcing himself to mutter: “What allied clan… there’s no allied clan among nine generations…” but not daring to speak loudly.

Yu Chun handed Meng Hu to arriving physicians, walked over, and patted his shoulder with bloody hands, laughing roughly: “No allied clan, but there’s close clan. The Remonstrance Official is noble and upright, daring to act and take responsibility. Protecting these completely unrelated rebels so carefully—closer than real relatives. Barely counting you in is reasonable.”

Xuanyuan Jing stepped back with an iron-blue face, heavily brushing away his hand, angrily saying: “Move aside! Don’t touch me with your dirty hands! A mere guard dares mock this minister!”

Yu Chun snorted coldly, glancing at him sideways, casually wiping his bloody hand on the nearby wall, saying: “Indeed dirty!” He strode away without looking back.

This left Xuanyuan Jing with his old face alternating green and white, chest heaving.

The other ministers were silent as cicadas, all quietly distancing themselves from him. Xuanyuan Jing’s eyes swept around, suddenly feeling desolate: the Sang and Xuanyuan families had formed an alliance, and previously these people had much curried favor. Now seeing the Sang family about to fall, these people hastily drew clear boundaries. This departure of people when tea cools was too fast.

Suddenly someone slowly moved close, laughing softly by his ear: “Why should Elder Jing be so dejected? Though the Sang family is destroyed, isn’t this an opportunity for you and me?”

Xuanyuan Jing turned to see Fei Luo’s smiling lips.

Xuanyuan Jing frowned slightly. He had no particularly good impression of this Xiang Kingdom female prime minister. The real power figures of the six kingdoms and eight tribes weren’t completely of one faction with court ministers. They came to Imperial Song annually to report, using this time to build relationships with important court officials and participate to some degree in political advice. But ultimately, they spent most time developing power in their home kingdoms and tribes. These people all had great ambitions, their sights set on Dahuang’s true highest position. Put plainly, everyone was competitors—hard to trust each other.

Moreover, he’d recently heard that Xiang Kingdom’s internal power struggles were intense. This previously powerful female prime minister coming to Imperial Song to report at this time might mean her domestic position was already very dangerous. She planned to fish in Imperial Song’s troubled waters, regroup her strength, so she could work from outside to inside, fighting Xiang Kingdom again?

She calculated well, but he, Xuanyuan Jing, had no mood now to make wedding clothes for others!

“With the Sang family already defeated, what opportunity exists?” He therefore showed no good face, saying heavily. “Besides, even if there were good opportunities, they’d have nothing to do with the female prime minister, right?”

Fei Luo seemed completely unconcerned with his terrible attitude, still smiling gracefully and calmly.

“Elder Jing speaks incorrectly.” She smiled. “The Sang family—hundreds of years of noble lineage, managed for dozens of generations—how could they perish in one morning? A centipede dies but doesn’t stiffen. Even if today’s palace elites are completely lost, what of the thousands of Sang family branch disciples scattered throughout Dahuang? Counting branch guard disciples—how could there be fewer than ten thousand? Who will this force ultimately fall to? So-called icing on cake isn’t as good as sending charcoal in snow. Now Sang Dong faces internal and external difficulties. If Elder Jing extends aid at this time, what you gain in future won’t be just one Sang family.”

Xuanyuan Jing’s eyebrows moved. Fei Luo’s words hit part of his inner calculations, though he still hesitated.

His gaze crossed Quiet Court toward the Queen’s inner courtyard opposite. Cui Jie, Yong Xue, and Jing Jun were all up, busy outside. His gaze settled in that direction briefly, then turned back.

“Of course, with the Sang family now severely damaged, Gong Yin’s next step will certainly be to eliminate them completely. Supporting the Sang family at this time—I fear the Xuanyuan family alone might not be able to sustain it.” Fei Luo’s eyes moved. “This humble woman has long admired established families, regretting never having opportunity to work alongside you all. This humble woman has some capabilities and might not be entirely useless to both parties. Elder Jing, haven’t you heard that one more friend is always better than one more enemy? Or there’s another saying: the enemy’s enemy is a friend?”

Xuanyuan Jing remained silent, watching rain gradually clear and a vague white rainbow at sky’s edge, showing no glory.

Dahuang’s court situation and future, like this rainbow, showed some misplaced strangeness due to this new Queen’s appearance.

“Look at this horizon rainbow,” he suddenly said. “History records: white rainbow pierces sun, blood floods jade steps. Isn’t this fulfilled now?”

“Yes,” Fei Luo stood beside him, looking up at that rainbow silently stretching across the sky. “Must see clearly. Otherwise when next it pierces the sun and blood floods the steps of our mansions, that won’t be good.”

“This old man’s mansion has Lanbi Pavilion, high-situated, leaning on ornate railings—one of Imperial Song’s highest buildings, a good place for viewing.” Xuanyuan Jing seemed to chat casually.

“Long famous, regret not seeing it.” Fei Luo looked full of admiration.

“This old man was rude. Given opportunity, please honor us with your presence, female prime minister.” Xuanyuan Jing smiled sincerely. “Or perhaps viewing white rainbows from Lanbi Pavilion offers another scenery.”

“Exactly what I hoped, filled with anticipation.”

After this brief exchange, both said no more, each turning away.

The ministers nearby didn’t even notice that in this casual moment, an alliance capable of affecting Dahuang’s future political situation had quietly formed.