Fu Yunxi narrowed his eyes in the crowd. The young girl seemed to have grown up a bit—was this her true self, showing herself without concealment?

Han Yan curved her eyes into a smile, catching Fu Yunxi’s eye from afar, clearly asking: “Well, haven’t I made you proud?” She saw Fu Yunxi reveal a faint smile, and even from such a distance, Han Yan could feel his meaningful gaze. She quickly turned away, pretending to be distracted by something else.

Ji Lan covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. Han Yan followed Zhuang Shiyang to where the officials stood. On the high platform, sacrificial items were arranged, with ox and sheep heads draped in red silk, and a man dressed as a priest stood above.

Each year’s Spring Sacrifice was different, always a spectacle. Behind Zhuang Hanming stood Ying Zi. Ji Lan kept watching Ying Zi’s every move—since the last incident, Ji Lan had become very wary of her. But Ying Zi just kept her head down beside Zhuang Hanming, appearing timid and obedient, showing no unusual behavior.

Three strikes of a wooden mallet against the great bronze bell—”Dong, dong, dong”—signaled the start of the Spring Sacrifice.

The priest, holding a wooden sword, chanted at the altar before kneeling and prostrating himself. Suddenly, people wearing deity masks emerged, performing sacrificial dances with red bells tied to their wrists and ankles, creating a festive atmosphere.

While Ji Lan watched with fascination, Han Yan felt something was amiss. She had a subtle, inexplicable feeling of unease that gradually grew stronger, instinctively sensing danger. She discreetly shifted her gaze elsewhere.

Ying Zi stood close to Zhuang Hanming, intensely watching the ceremony on stage, showing no signs of trouble. Madam Zhou leaned against Zhuang Shiyang—her illness had left lasting effects, making her appear pale and frail. Han Yan frowned, unable to see further. She looked up toward the distant royal tower, wondering if the Empress Dowager had come.

Time passed quickly, and the ceremony neared its end. The priest suddenly opened his mouth and spat fire onto the sacrificial wine barrel, igniting bright flames before leading the cheers. As he announced the end of the ceremony, the crowd joined in the celebration.

Ji Lan watched eagerly: “Miss, this Spring Sacrifice is wonderful.”

Han Yan remained noncommittal, surveying the packed crowd. Such chaos would make any incident easy to execute. This worry left her unsettled. As the ceremony ended, more spectacular performances began.

After the Spring Sacrifice ceremony, skilled artisans would perform festive acts that the common people loved watching, representing hopes for a prosperous year ahead. Currently, dragon and lion dances were being performed, with expertly crafted creatures and skilled performers executing vivid, lifelike movements that had the crowd laughing with delight.

Even the Emperor on the high platform showed a slight smile—a prosperous realm was what any ruler most wished to see.

But was the realm truly prosperous?

After the performances continued for a while without incident, Han Yan’s heart gradually settled. With the royal family’s secret guards present, perhaps she had worried needlessly. Who would dare act in such a public setting? Feeling a gaze upon her, Han Yan looked up to meet Fu Yunxi’s downward glance. Though separated by the crowd, they could still see each other. Han Yan smiled at him, and Fu Yunxi quirked his lips before she turned to watch the performance.

The current act featured acrobatics, with men wielding large swords leaping onto women’s backs, balancing spinning bowls and plates on their sword tips. This required considerable skill, and amazing the crowd. Han Yan was also captivated. As a drummer struck a heavy beat at the climax, suddenly one of the men flipped down, swinging his sword at a woman. Blood sprayed as her head was brutally severed, falling to the ground with a thud.

The crowd froze momentarily before panicking and fleeing: “Help! Murder!” The sword-wielding men suddenly leaped into the crowd, their blades falling indiscriminately. Blood was sprayed everywhere amid screams and cries.

Everyone was stunned by the sudden chaos. Within moments, the crowd became a confused mass, impossible to distinguish individuals. The Emperor’s guards reacted first: “Archers ready, protect His Majesty!”

Thousands of bows were drawn, but a new problem arose—while the initial sword-wielders were easily identified, they discovered more people dressed as commoners raising blades within the crowd. These attackers blended in completely, making it impossible to distinguish them. Worse still, they couldn’t fire into the entire crowd without causing massive civilian casualties.

Someone had infiltrated the crowd to create this chaos! Bodies pressed in from all sides. Han Yan’s small frame couldn’t move at all, swept along by the crowd. All around were cries for help, and the metallic scent of blood stung her nose. She desperately tried to find Zhuang Hanming and Ji Lan but saw only a sea of bodies with no sign of them. At that moment, she felt an inexplicable tension, suddenly sensing approaching danger.

Who had orchestrated this chaos? And for what purpose? Han Yan knew such a large operation was beyond Madam Zhou’s capabilities, and Elder Madam Zhou wouldn’t dare. Could it be the Empress Dowager again? But if so, what was her goal? Even to poison Han Yan, such a grand display seemed unnecessary.

Just then, Han Yan heard a familiar voice: “Young Master, Young Master!”

She recognized it clearly as Ying Zi’s voice, now filled with urgency. Had something happened to Zhuang Hanming? Han Yan’s heart clenched at the thought, and she desperately tried to move toward the voice, but the dense crowd made it nearly impossible. Despite their disputes, he was still her only blood relation—how could she watch him die? With this thought, she fought through the crowd, her hair coming loose in the process. When she finally broke through, she witnessed a sight that chilled her to her core.

A man with a large sword stood behind Zhuang Hanming, who lay thrown to the ground, covered in wounds, appearing completely helpless. As the blade was about to cleave down on Zhuang Hanming’s head, Han Yan’s heart twisted into a knot, the tragic scene from her previous life flashing before her eyes.