“Twenty years of enduring humiliation and hardship, yet still failed. I said the Prince Su and that little princess weren’t simple—victory was never assured.”

A cynical voice suddenly emerged from the corner of the boat cabin.

The rebels’ faces showed anger as they saw a white-haired, golden-eyed foreigner leaning against a wooden pillar, waving his hand dismissively. “It wasn’t easy for me to come out here. I’m done playing with you all.”

The remaining rebels looked uncomfortable, but Concubine Zhen seemed completely unfazed, still smiling as she said, “Until the final moment, how dare we speak lightly of victory or defeat?”

“We traveled to the Great Xuan under the pretext of ‘peace negotiations,’ going through countless hardships to provide you with silver and warhorses. But now you’ve lost most of your forces, the money has gone to waste, and the two Tongyou provinces promised to our country have vanished like bubbles. This is not how business is conducted, Revered Master.”

Wu Que gave a cold smile. “I don’t even know how to account for this when I return. If it doesn’t work out, I might have to capture you, the rebel leader—perhaps that would make up for the failure.”

At these words, the rebel remnants tensed as if facing a great enemy. The Northern Wu warriors also unsheathed their swords an inch, with both sides ready for battle.

“Stand down.”

Concubine Zhen raised her delicate, fair hand. With just those soft words, she restrained her subordinates.

“Though Wenren Lin is strong, the rigid are easily broken—he won’t last beyond next month. Princess Changfeng is greatly intelligent, but her reach is limited to the court and the capital area. Her hand cannot extend to the battlefield.”

…

…

“What clever plan does the Master have? Why not speak directly?”

“I’ve already sent a letter thousands of miles to Zhao Chengde, the Governor of Liang Province, saying the Emperor is in danger and the Great Xuan is without a ruler. Believing this to be true, he will lead his troops to the capital to take advantage of the chaos and claim a share of power.”

“But I heard that two years ago, Zhao Chengde led his troops toward the capital and was then pacified with the title of ‘Prince Shu.’ He’s a petty man who covets favors—can he be a worthy ally?”

“We don’t need to ally. We just need to borrow his hand to eliminate Huo Feng and Wenren Lin, and then the territories of the Great Xuan will be in our grasp. By now, the Governor of Liang Province’s two hundred thousand Shu troops are likely already on the road to ‘rescue the Emperor and pressure the capital.’ Everything began with him, and it will end with him as well.”

With that, Concubine Zhen raised her beautiful autumn-water eyes. Though she looked like a divine fairy, her words made one’s blood run cold.

“Before that, I need the Thirteenth Prince to help me destroy something that will choke their lifeline, so that our great enterprise may succeed.”

…

The Emperor had vomited blood and fainted. Imperial Physicians came and went, while Li Kexing and others temporarily withdrew, spontaneously going to the Hall of Political Affairs to discuss the night’s events.

Everyone knew in their hearts: the Emperor was suspicious and muddleheaded, unlikely to last long. On top of the edict for pacification and rewards would be added the redressing of old injustices, and now, most likely, a clause on “determining the heir apparent.”

As the long night drew to an end, sleep was out of the question.

When Zhao Yān came out of the quiet chamber, Wenren Lin still stood on the steps, his eyes lowered to admire the dark red bloodstain. A servant knelt trembling on the ground, covering the splattered blood with a wet cotton cloth, wiping back and forth until only a damp mark remained.

Wenren Lin frowned slightly in disappointment, then raised his eyes to look at the young woman standing in the lamplight. Her features were bathed in the night colors, extraordinarily deep and devoted.

He slowly revealed a smile and turned to leave.

Only Zhang Cang followed Wenren Lin, not daring to make a sound. Though tall and long-legged, seemingly walking leisurely and slowly, Zhao Yān only caught up with him when they reached the Taiji Gate.

“Now that the truth is revealed, Father Emperor will have to write that edict of self-reproach whether he wants to or not. He has no escape route.”

Zhao Yān spoke as she caught hold of Wenren Lin’s wind-blown sleeve. “Grand Tutor!”

Wenren Lin stopped, following her anxious grip on his sleeve upward to her bright, flashing eyes, where the tear mole beneath her lashes was faintly visible in the shadows.

Wenren Lin’s gaze was calm, containing a trace of pleasure, yet beneath careful observation, turbulent undercurrents flowed.

“Does Your Highness know who slaughtered those Shenguang cult strongholds?”

He asked a seemingly unrelated question.

Zhao Yān was startled: “Wasn’t it Chou Zui?”

Wenren Lin laughed: “He’s merely an assassin following orders. Without someone secretly directing him, how could things have gone so smoothly?”

Zhao Yān’s thoughts quickly made the connection: “So when I led the Eastern Palace Guard out of the city to render aid, and Chou Zui suddenly appeared to cover my retreat—that was also on your instructions?”

“Correct.”

Wenren Lin said, “This Prince has schemed for eight years, and the ending I envisioned was supposed to be much more tragic than today’s. The rebels would have broken into the Jade Spring Palace, and the Emperor, after experiencing the bitter pain of isolation and abandonment, would have been humiliated at the hands of the rebels. But I wouldn’t have killed him so quickly. He would have witnessed those he trusted betray him, those close to him abandon him, and the common people reject him. He would have seen the Tongtianta Tower burned to ashes, the land divided, and the world in chaos, tearing his soul apart, unable to find death despite craving it. Then, this Prince would have pressed his head down to apologize to the hundred thousand ghosts, listened to his remorse and wailing, and then with one slash…”

Wenren Lin’s tone was light and calm, but Zhao Yān felt as if she had swallowed ice, a sharp coldness spreading through her throat.

If she had never met him, if she had never intervened, that elegant, graceful, immortal-like man would have eventually become an evil god who murdered his sovereign and destroyed the world, ending his eight years of wretched survival through destruction.

Wenren Lin carefully observed Zhao Yān’s expression, suddenly feeling a touch of compassion.

“He is Your Highness’s birth father, so this Prince is willing to go with the flow and hand him over to Your Highness to deal with.”

Wenren Lin raised his finger and brushed away nonexistent tears from the corner of Zhao Yān’s eye. “Just this once.”

“And then what?” Zhao Yān suddenly asked, gripping his hand.

Wenren Lin was slightly startled: “What do you mean, ‘and then’?”

“Before meeting me, what was your original plan?”

Zhao Yān looked straight at him with a hint of stubbornness. “After destroying everything, what would you have done?”

Wenren Lin was caught off guard by her question.

Long ago, he had never considered an “after”—his body and soul were meant to dissipate along with his hatred.

But thinking about it now, he felt such reluctance. When had things changed?

“Wenren Shaoyuan, Father Emperor, has already admitted his guilt. Being abandoned by all and leaving an infamous name for ten thousand years—none of that will be lacking. But you don’t need to destroy the world and yourself, too. I won’t allow you to destroy yourself, do you hear me?”

Zhao Yān’s breath was somewhat choked, but she quickly adjusted herself. “I just want to tell you that I can also become your support, seeking justice for you in my way. I don’t feel I did anything wrong. If I did, it must be because my abilities are insufficient… Wenren Shaoyuan, I don’t know what exactly would make things easier for you.”

The midnight lamp shadows quietly crouched at their feet, with a thin layer of moonlit frost on the palace walls.

“Your Highness,”

Wenren Lin’s eyes moved slightly, his voice so low it was almost a sigh. “Don’t cry.”

The little princess rarely shed tears. Making her cry would be a sin he could never atone for, even in death.

“I won’t cry. You’re already suffering so much—I should smile more for you.”

With that, Zhao Yān indeed lifted the corners of her mouth and said softly: “You once said I was your reason for living. From now on, you should live for me.”

The abyss was a massive wound, and since it couldn’t be smoothed over, she would fill him with bright, warm wind and embrace him.

“I want to hug you,”

Zhao Yān suddenly said, stretching out her arms. “Quickly.”

“Your Highness is truly becoming more and more domineering.”

For a moment, it was as if Wenren Lin had been pulled from somewhere very deep, surfacing from water, with gentle air rushing in to fill the emptiness.

Before their foreheads touched, he glanced coldly at Zhang Cang, who was waiting nearby.

Zhang Cang immediately nodded: “I understand, I understand.”

With that, he stiffened his neck and strode farther away, turning his back to pretend he was looking at the moon.

However, as clouds drifted by, the half-moon also hid itself, leaving the sky pitch black.

Everything was silent, with faint flower fragrance floating in the air.

Zhao Yān was held against the palace wall, the cool air penetrating her clothes but retreating before it could reach her skin, driven back by the radiating heat. Gradually, Wenren Lin’s long legs forcefully wedged between Zhao Yān’s knees, pinning her five fingers against the wall as he bent down for a kiss, tender and long.

This was his silent answer.

The next day, the clouds dispersed and the sky cleared beautifully.

“Has the Emperor not awakened yet?”

In the side Buddhist hall of Penglai Palace, the Empress Dowager closed her eyes and rolled the white jade prayer beads in her hand.

“He was conscious for a quarter of an hour at noon. He only wrote one line of the self-reproach edict, his hand shaking terribly, before fainting again.”

Empress Wei had changed into a phoenix robe of dark gold and black, more solemn and profound than usual, and replied indifferently, “The Imperial Physician says there are signs of a stroke.”

“He still refuses to admit his mistakes.”

“His refusal is useless. In the current situation, nothing short of a self-reproach edict will appease the ministers’ anger.”

Empress Wei lit incense and watched the wisps of smoke. “By the way, the court has decided on a posthumous title for the former Crown Prince of the previous dynasty—tentatively ‘Huaide.’ Whether to move his tomb back to the capital still requires your approval before proceeding with the grand ceremony.”

“Good, good.”

The Empress Dowager repeated “good” twice, opening her eyes to look at the compassionate Buddha statue, sighing deeply. “If my son knows this in the netherworld, he can finally rest in peace. There’s no need to move the tomb for now. Those rebels are still using my son’s name to commit evil deeds, defiling his posthumous reputation. Clearing his name and moving his tomb now would only embolden them. We’ve waited twenty years—two more months won’t matter.”

The Empress Dowager showed great wisdom, earning Empress Wei’s respect as she nodded in response: “Yes.”

At the Crane Return Pavilion.

The sound of two light coughs came from the book pavilion. Wenren Lin sat beneath the lamp wearing a large cloak, throwing a blood-stained register into the charcoal brazier.

As flames leapt up, he casually extended his beautifully structured hand, turning it to warm himself.

Most of the Shenguang cult’s protectors and emissaries had been eliminated. Even those who changed their appearances and names were hunted down and beheaded as a public example. Only that one fish who had slipped through the net was still hiding outside, having found who knows what new connection.

The tongue of flame vanished in an instant, retreating quietly, and Wenren Lin’s eyes darkened with it.

It was at this moment that Cai Tian strode in, reporting with a serious expression: “My Lord, Prince Shu Zhao Chengde has led an army of two hundred thousand past the western capital’s defensive line and is marching directly toward the imperial capital.”

Wenren Lin flexed his slightly painful knuckles, giving a light snort.

Indeed, when human greed is not satisfied, it becomes increasingly insatiable.

“Where is Her Highness?” he asked.

Cai Tian hesitated before replying: “The Six Ministries’ officials have already gone to Penglai Palace to request the Empress Dowager to decide on countermeasures. Princess Changfeng is also there.”

Wenren Lin said nothing and rose to leave.

Outside Penglai Palace, the ministers were in heated discussion, essentially forming a small court.

“Back then, it was your Ministry of Revenue being overly cautious, refusing to dispatch troops to suppress the rebellion, insisting on some kind of pacification! How could you know the Shu and Chuan regions’ greed would be insatiable, inevitably leading to future trouble?”

“Lord Cen, we wanted to fight, but could we produce the money? You and I both know the situation over the past few years. How do we resolve the military pay and provisions? Should the soldiers fight on empty stomachs?”

“Everyone, please calm down.”

The Empress Dowager spoke gently, sitting in the main seat with her cane. “Today, all of you came to discuss countermeasures, not to quarrel.”

“This subject believes we should negotiate,” someone conservatively suggested.

“Negotiate? The pacification two years ago cost us a large amount of gold, silver, and jewels, only buying us a year of peace. At the slightest sign of instability, they move like scavengers, eyeing us hungrily.”

The Vice Minister of War, Cen Meng, stepped forward and requested: “This subject believes we should firmly reflect on our pain and completely cut out the rotten flesh to eliminate their thoughts of rebellion!”

“With His Majesty in this condition… if we stop the construction of the Star-Picking Observatory and squeeze here and there, we might be able to scrape together some silver.”

The Minister of Revenue said, “But the question is, who will lead the troops…”

“This subject recommends Princess Shoukang’s consort, General Huo Feng.”

“Empress Dowager, Princess Changfeng, this subject believes Huo Feng absolutely cannot be moved.”

Another person said, “The Shu-Chuan army’s fierce approach is too coincidental, likely in collusion with Northern Wu and the remnant rebels of Luo Province. If General Huo Feng is removed from the northern border and Northern Wu takes advantage of the vacuum, they would enter undefended territory and gain the fisherman’s advantage!”

“What about the heir of the Marquis of Jinping? He accompanied Princess Changfeng to rescue the Jade Spring Palace, performing exceptionally well—a promising young commander.”

“He’s too young. Facing a formidable figure like Prince Shu would be inappropriate.”

“The current Emperor favors civil officials over military ones. We have only so many generals in court. Who else do you think can lead troops into battle?”

A moment of silence followed.

Everyone knew there was one perfect candidate. Two years ago, he had delivered the Emperor’s pacification edict, leading only a few dozen light cavalry directly into the western capital’s camp and returning safely from the den of bandits.

In the history of the Great Xuan dynasty, only this one man had accomplished such a feat.

“Perhaps Prince Su…”

Someone broke the silence weakly, but before they could finish, a very low laugh came from behind.

Everyone turned in astonishment to see Prince Su himself standing at the steps with his hands behind his back, the smile in his eyes falling beneath the shadow of flowers, revealing a frost-like mockery.

“What might this Prince perhaps do? Continue.”

Everyone was suddenly speechless.

After knowing the tragic truth about the deaths of one hundred thousand people years ago, how could these comfortable salary-eaters have the face to poke at Prince Su’s pain and ask him to lead troops to battle?

Zhao Yān’s gaze fell on Wenren Lin as she slowly rose, walking past the ministers who automatically lined up on both sides, approaching him.