His robes were black, white, and gold—elegant yet striking—adorning him with unmatched splendor that even Xiao Yan, a legitimate prince, appeared dull in comparison.

Xiao Yan’s attention was drawn to his robe. The fabric was light and soft, clearly summer cloth. Of course, it was now the height of summer, but in previous summers, the State Preceptor had always wrapped himself in light fur. Had his health improved so much this year that even his trademark cough was barely heard?

How coincidental that this happened right after the King of Wei’s passing?

No matter how meticulous Yun Ya was, there were always traces left behind.

Now the State Preceptor was looking at him: “Why did you summon me?”

He hadn’t participated in the battle himself, but he had coordinated elemental power to support military and government affairs, and the cultivators under his command had all joined the battlefield. Xiao Yan could find no fault with him.

He glanced outside the door.

Yun Ya understood, extending his hand to set up a barrier before saying: “Speak.”

Xiao Yan took out a scroll from a hidden compartment in the drawer: “Before my father passed away, he instructed me to retrieve something from his bedchamber. I always thought it was an imperial edict, which is why I confronted my third brother in the palace for so long. But when I returned, I discovered it wasn’t that at all.” He waved the scroll, “Guess what this is?”

“You specifically summoned me here,” Yun Ya stroked his chin thoughtfully, “This item is related to me?”

The State Preceptor was still as perceptive as ever. Xiao Yan didn’t keep him in suspense any longer, placing the scroll on the table and unrolling it with one hand: “See for yourself.”

Indeed, the scroll was not an imperial edict. With just a glance, Yun Ya saw that it was a painting.

Moreover, it was a traditional portrait with a blurred background highlighting only the main figure. This style had fallen out of fashion nearly fifty years ago.

There was only one person in the scroll.

It depicted a young man wearing black dragon-patterned golden armor and a purple-gold crown. His body was half-crouched, face looking upward, with a dragon-headed sheathed sword plunged into the head of a two-headed evil tiger.

The man had a jade-like complexion, long eyebrows, and thin lips—features that young maidens would call a jade prince—yet he possessed a valiant spirit. The painter’s profound skill captured his commanding presence with just a few strokes.

Yun Ya’s expression remained undisturbed, but his pupils suddenly contracted.

Xiao Yan said softly: “This person should not be unfamiliar to you, right?”

Yun Ya stared silently, unusually withdrawing his expression, becoming quiet and cold, even emanating a hint of murderous intent.

This expression looked very similar to the man in the painting.

Xiao Yan looked at him, then back at the painting. Even a five-year-old child could see that Yun Ya and the person in the painting shared a seventy percent resemblance! Those eyebrows, those lips, that face shape, even those peach blossom eyes that captured all the spring splendor of the mortal world!

At the bottom left corner of the fully displayed scroll was a line of delicate silk characters: “Spring hunt at Panshui Ravine in the 620th year of the Haoli Calendar, the Emperor killed a red tiger, Fangyun painted to commemorate.”

At the end of the sentence was a personal seal.

This clearly stated that the painter was named “Fangyun,” likely a woman, as the brushwork in the painting was gentle yet laudatory. With their discerning eyes, both Xiao Yan and Yun Ya could immediately perceive the unique sentiment beyond the lines.

The artist had developed affection for the subject, yet remained gentle and reserved.

But for the two of them, the most crucial element in the painting was the character of “Emperor”!

The 620th year of the Haoli Calendar—there was only one emperor under heaven at that time.

Back then, the only person sitting on the highest throne overlooking all living beings was—Emperor Li of Haoli!

Yun Ya suddenly smiled, and somehow Xiao Yan saw a heart-stopping quality in his smile.

“This was secretly kept in Xiao Pingzhang’s bedchamber?”

He didn’t even bother to use the respectful title “Late King,” causing Xiao Yan’s expression to change slightly, but he still nodded. If Yun Ya’s identity was truly who he suspected, then indeed he would not need to show respect to any current monarch.

Yun Ya reached out, lightly brushing over the painting: “When the Haoli Kingdom fell, a great fire consumed the royal palace. I thought all the emperors’ portraits had been burned to ashes.”

“The portraits of successive emperors in the royal palace did not survive,” Xiao Yan pointed to the inscription, “but this was privately painted and appreciated by the second daughter of a minor official surnamed Nian, unknown to others. She hid it in the bottom of a chest, and decades later it resurfaced, eventually coming into my father’s possession.” Truth is always hidden somewhere, emerging unexpectedly.

Yun Ya asked him: “How do you know?” The painting only had a simple inscription.

“The day I returned to the capital, I trespassed into my father’s bedchamber and obtained this portrait, then spent several months tracing its origin before daring to show it to you now.” Xiao Yan laughed lightly, “My father was old, and I feared he might have acquired a fake. Although this painting looks ancient, there’s no shortage of masters who can age artworks.” The scroll’s paper had yellowed, but it had clearly been meticulously preserved, showing no signs of mildew, brittleness, or wormholes, and could still be unrolled.

“Opening this painting in front of me is not a wise move, especially with no guards present.” Yun Ya sighed languidly, “Xiao Pingzhang, even on his deathbed, remembered to pass this painting to you while bypassing me. Yet you reveal to me all the secrets he had carefully guarded. Aren’t you afraid I might harbor murderous intentions?”

Xiao Yan put away his smile, his face solemn: “My father once said that he knew you long ago, and my introduction back then was merely a formality. If you truly wanted to kill my father or me, would the little means my father had to restrain you be of any use?”

Throughout history, rulers always had ways to check their State Preceptors, preventing them from usurping the state. But Yun Ya had calculated his position as State Preceptor decades ago—with his abilities, was he capable of resisting the King of Wei’s measures?

Yun Ya gazed at him deeply, and after a while said: “Xiao Pingzhang regretted it and wanted you brothers to eliminate me after his death, so he wouldn’t break his past oath. Do you wish to disobey his command?”

“When a person is about to die, their words become virtuous, but kings are different.” Xiao Yan’s face darkened slightly, “By then, my father’s mind had already dimmed, and he couldn’t make wise choices.”

“Oh?” Yun Ya asked composedly, “What would be considered a wise choice?”

“You once said you would help my Xiao family seize the world.” Xiao Yan said seriously, “Is that promise still valid?”

“My word is my bond.”

“Then you have only me left to choose,” Xiao Yan smiled, “If Xiao Jing seizes the throne, the first person he’ll kill is you.” When King Wei Xiao Pingzhang seized the throne, he was already nearly fifty years old. He understood that even with Yun Ya’s help, his ambition to dominate the world could not be fulfilled.

After all, mortals have their limits.

This dream could only be relayed to future generations.

Yun Ya snorted dismissively: “He can certainly try.”

“He may not be able to take your life, but he can disrupt your plans. Do you want to spend several more decades finding another Xiao Pingzhang?” Xiao Yan said word by word, “You help me seize the throne and conquer the world, and the Kingdom of Wei will fully support you.”

Even Yun Ya was somewhat moved: “Knowing who I am, you still dare to sleep with the tiger?”