Only the wind, circling and howling, remained among the mountains.
Dan Wenxuan, utterly stunned by what he had just witnessed, stared at the empty cliff edge and called out, “Your Highness?” reaching out with both hands as if to catch him.
He grasped nothing but a handful of morning wind.
Dan Wenxuan was thoroughly confused — hadn’t the Third Young Master just said His Majesty was willing to spare Prince Ling? Then why had he thrown himself off the cliff?
Dan Wenxuan was simply too slow-witted to grasp his own situation until this very moment. Prince Ling was dead; Xuanwu and Huaiji had both fallen in battle; Zhang Yue had been captured. And what of him? What was he to do now?
He had no prince left to serve, no general left to rely upon — he was about to become a lone, withering leaf, his fate scattered to the wind.
Only belatedly did Dan Wenxuan begin to feel true fear, and, tears streaming down his face, he called out “Your Highness” over and over.
Cheng Chang listened to those anguished cries and slowly walked toward the cliff’s edge, lowering his eyes to look down.
Beneath the cliff, deep mist swirled; nothing could be seen but the shifting shadows of trees.
How swift it was. In the blink of an eye, a person’s life had simply ended.
Cheng Chang recalled that nearly two years ago, he too had fallen from just such a cliff. Now, standing in the other’s place, he realized just how fragile a human life truly was.
The day he had fallen, there had still been dusk light protecting him within the cracks of time and space. But today, as the morning sun rose, its glow reflecting off the deep mist beneath the cliff, took on a searing, blood-red hue.
Perhaps whoever fell from a cliff today did not deserve forgiveness.
Even the Buddha would show no mercy this time.
And so the way of heaven and earth wept blood in silent judgment, gathering the pure essence of mountains and rivers to purge every demon and monster from this world.
Chai Ping was dead, Fang Fulan had let go of her wish to live, and Prince Ling had now paid in blood for blood. Cheng Chang stood quietly, gazing at the mist beneath the cliff, and was just about to step back when, without warning, something struck his heart like the pounding of a war drum. All the strength drained instantly from his body; he collapsed to his knees, and a rush of metallic sweetness surged up his throat — he coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood.
Su Tai caught him. “Your Highness, are you all right?”
Cheng Chang shook his head, wanting to answer, but this time the sensation was different from all the times before — the sharpest pain was not in his heart, but in his chest and lungs, as though he were a drowning man dragged into deep water, limbs bound by waterweeds, unable to draw a single breath.
Not far off, the Front Hall Command’s troops had arrived. Xuan Zhi, seeing Prince Ling fall from the cliff from a distance, ordered the guards to search for the body below, then stepped forward and asked, “Is Your Highness the Heir injured? This subordinate will summon the accompanying imperial physician for you at once.”
The pain in his body eased somewhat, and hearing Xuan Zhi’s words, Cheng Chang glanced past him — Emperor Zhaoyuan had arrived along with the clan members and the reinforcing army, and among them were Yun Xi, Yun Luo, Tian Ze, and others.
Cheng Chang shook his head. “No need.” He struggled to his feet, supported by Su Tai, and stepped forward to bow before Emperor Zhaoyuan atop the imperial carriage.
The chaos that had raged for a full day and night was finally over. The rebel army, numbering a hundred thousand strong, had risen with banners flying high and menacing intent, only to end in a scattered, hasty retreat.
But a dynasty that had stood for a hundred years had, by nature, weathered many such storms; a disturbance like this played out every decade or so. In years to come, it would scarcely even be counted a palace coup — at most, a matter for idle gossip.
And so the clan members and court officials, after this one night of chaos, felt only exhaustion. Since the throne itself had not changed hands, no one bothered to dwell much on who had harbored such ambitions to throw the court into turmoil.
Emperor Zhaoyuan had remained by the cliff’s edge the entire time. This emperor, though sickly, had always carried himself with an upright bearing — yet upon seeing his son fall from the cliff, he seemed to age all at once, his temples turning frost-white in an instant, his back hunching over.
Fortunately, someone soon found Prince Ling’s body at the base of the cliff, covered it with a white cloth, and carried it up.
Xuan Zhi stepped forward, lifted a corner of the white cloth to look, froze for a moment, then covered it again and reported to Emperor Zhaoyuan, “Your Majesty, the Third Prince… has passed.”
Hearing this, Emperor Zhaoyuan fell silent. After a moment, he walked past Xuan Zhi, apparently wanting to see Prince Ling for himself.
Xuan Zhi hurried to stop him. “Your Majesty, the Third Prince has truly passed. Even if Your Majesty looks upon him, it will only bring further grief, and grief harms the body — Your Majesty must take care of your own health.”
Besides, after falling from such a height, the body would be shattered beyond recognition — aside from the faintly discernible features of the face, what lay on the board was little more than a mass of flesh and blood.
Blood was already seeping out, dripping steadily from the board.
Yet Emperor Zhaoyuan still walked forward in silence, reaching out to lift the white cloth. The instant he saw Prince Ling, he could not stop himself from trembling.
This third son he had wronged the most — the one he had, at the very end, wanted to make amends to — had chosen to shatter into pieces rather than wait for him.
Emperor Zhaoyuan stood frozen for a long moment before slowly covering the cloth once more.
Tian Ze stepped forward to support him, calling out with concern, “Father.”
Fortunately, Emperor Zhaoyuan was, by nature, a man of iron will, and even before such profound grief, he remained composed. Steadying himself, he instead patted Tian Ze’s hand and comforted him, “I’m fine.”
With the rebellious prince now fallen from the cliff, and the rebel generals Huaiji and Xuanwu already executed, and Zhang Yue captured, the Front Hall Command had also brought back the panicked, bewildered Dan Wenxuan from the cliffside — intending to take these traitors back to Jinling for further interrogation.
After this night of chaos, they should have set out to return to the palace at once. But among the clan members, a few sycophants well-versed in reading the Emperor’s true intentions knew that the purpose of this uprising had not yet been achieved — the Defender-of-the-State General had raised troops under imperial command precisely to eliminate the Third Young Master and clear the path for the Fifth Prince’s ascension. But now Prince Ling was dead, while the Third Young Master remained perfectly alive.
As Emperor Zhaoyuan was about to board the imperial carriage, one clan member immediately knelt and said, “Your Majesty, this subject has a matter weighing heavily on his mind — might Your Majesty permit me to speak?”
Emperor Zhaoyuan said flatly, “Speak.”
“As far as this subject understands, when the rebellion first broke out yesterday, the Prince’s Heir was rescued from the chaos by General Mingwei of the Zhongyong Marquis household. By this account, the Third Young Master should have been among the Loyal Valor Army’s ranks. Yet why was it that when Prince Ling fell from the cliff, the Prince’s Heir arrived at the cliff’s edge before anyone else?”
“Your Majesty, this subject too finds the matter rather suspicious.” At this, another clan member immediately chimed in. “The Prince’s Heir holds no military command of his own. Amid such bloody chaos, everyone else did everything possible to avoid danger, terrified of losing their heads in a single misstep — and yet the Prince’s Heir managed not only to move freely through the rebel ranks, but even anticipated Prince Ling’s whereabouts before anyone else. It is truly most strange.”
The implication behind these clan members’ words was not lost on Cheng Chang.
They meant to frame him as having colluded with Prince Ling to cause this entire disturbance, thereby helping Emperor Zhaoyuan eliminate him.
In truth, the reason he had ended up at the cliff’s edge was simple: he knew Prince Ling harbored deep, bone-deep hatred toward Emperor Zhaoyuan, and once his army was defeated, he would surely take his own life. And so, as Prince Ling’s forces collapsed into chaos, Cheng Chang had had a unit from the Loyal Valor Army escort him down the mountain, and with his trusted men, arrived at the cliff’s edge ahead of everyone else to wait for Prince Ling.
But these clan members were plainly Emperor Zhaoyuan’s lackeys — why waste words on them?
Cheng Chang said, “This prince arrived at the cliff early simply to see the Third Prince off on his final journey.”
“See Prince Ling off?” one clan member scoffed. “Does the Prince’s Heir take us old officials for fools? These past several months, you and Prince Ling have been at odds over everything — when has there ever been such brotherly affection between you?”
“When did I ever say we were brothers?” Cheng Chang said. “He and I were enemies.”
“Two years ago, the first time this prince fell into the water, it was because of him. Afterward, when this prince was ambushed at the Pei residence, when this prince fell from the cliff at Baiyun Temple — those, too, were his doing, carried out through others’ hands. Early last year, when a fire broke out at the Imperial City Command and this prince nearly died in the flames, it was he who instructed Chai Ping to lock the door of the woodshed. He harmed this prince so many times, and today he has finally died — is it so strange that this prince came to see for himself? A man who does enough evil will bring about his own downfall. If His Majesty doesn’t wish to punish him, then heaven’s own justice will see to it. This prince finds it satisfying that he died so miserably — it has thoroughly cleared away my resentment. Is there some problem with that?”
At these words, the whole hall erupted into murmurs — no one had expected the Third Young Master to speak so brazenly, so openly, about his feud with Prince Ling.
But the matter of Prince Ling harming the Third Young Master had always had the Emperor’s protection behind it. However wronged an ordinary person might feel, however unjust the situation, most would swallow their grievances out of fear of the Emperor’s authority. Who would have thought the Third Young Master would show such utter disregard even for His Majesty himself — speaking as though justice under heaven mattered more than anything, effectively condemning even Emperor Zhaoyuan in the same breath?
Several clan members, thrown off balance by Cheng Chang’s fearless words, exchanged uneasy glances. Fortunately, one among them managed to keep his composure and shifted his approach. “Your Highness need not deflect the question. What this subject is asking is: amid the chaos of battle, how was Your Highness, a Prince’s Heir with no military command of your own, able to move about so freely? Could it be that the Loyal Valor Army has, in fact, come under Your Highness’s command?”
“Precisely.” Another added, “As far as this subject knows, General Mingwei has been under house confinement these recent days, and the Loyal Valor Army has been under General Xuanwei’s command all this time — yet the first person to bring the Loyal Valor Army to answer the summons today was General Mingwei herself. Might this subject ask why General Mingwei defied her confinement, and how she knew in advance that Prince Ling would rebel? Or perhaps — General Mingwei’s arrival to answer the summons was merely a pretext, and her true loyalty lies elsewhere — that this person originally conspired with Prince Ling to cause this rebellion, but seeing the Front Hall Command arrive at Pingnan Mountain and realizing the situation was lost, changed sides accordingly, ordering General Mingwei and General Pei Lan to join forces under the guise of ‘answering the summons’ to wipe out the rebels?”
“Your Majesty!” Another clan member bowed to Emperor Zhaoyuan. “This subject’s speculation may sound alarmist, but this case of treason and rebellion concerns the very foundation of the realm — this subject earnestly begs Your Majesty to thoroughly investigate the true mastermind behind it!”
“Indeed, Your Majesty, and moreover, after General Mingwei brought her troops to Mingyin Temple, she went straight to join the Prince’s Heir rather than to the Palace of Bestowed Grace to protect Your Majesty and the Fifth Prince!”
Yun Luo, Tian Ze, and others, hearing these clan members slander Yun Xi in this way, were about to speak up in her defense — but Yun Xi stepped forward first, addressing Emperor Zhaoyuan directly. “Reporting to Your Majesty, this subordinate brought troops here today because I learned in advance from General Pei of Prince Ling’s rebellion plans.”
“Years ago, Prince Ling colluded with the enemy — the Second Prince of the Daman tribe of the northern frontier — resulting in my father’s death in battle and my elder brother losing an arm. He and I share an unbridgeable hatred. Knowing he had risen in rebellion, I brought troops to destroy him — for the sake of the realm, and for my own sake as well.”
As she spoke, Yun Xi turned to look at the clan members below the imperial carriage. “While this general was fighting to the death outside the Palace of Bestowed Grace, all of you cowered inside, too frightened to even show your faces! Who drove back those rebel forces? Who destroyed those traitorous officials? Now that the chaos is nearly settled, you think you can twist black into white with nothing but your mouths? Where do you get off with such convenient claims? If you say this general and the Prince’s Heir are the true rebels, then in my view, it is you who are the ones truly stirring rebellion and defying the throne — your intentions deserve death!”
She unfastened the crimson-tasseled spear slung across her back. “As it happens, this spear of mine hasn’t had its fill of blood today. If any of you dares spout such nonsense again, you’re welcome to feed it your life.”
The spear’s blade gleamed like water, its shaft still stained with drying blood.
The clan members recoiled several steps, driven back by that chilling, murderous air. Fortunately, Wu Mao spoke up from the side to remind her, “General Mingwei, you must not draw a blade before His Majesty.”
In truth, Yun Xi understood perfectly well why these clan members were so determined to pin the blame on Cheng Chang.
They were merely currying favor with the sovereign, hoping to help Emperor Zhaoyuan eliminate this prince of formidable power and standing.
But if one is determined to find fault, there will always be some pretext. Was it really only because he had been born into the imperial family, caught up in this power struggle, that the Third Young Master had brushed against death so many times?
Did being born into the imperial family mean he wasn’t entitled to justice?
Yun Xi felt utterly disgusted.
She was tired of pandering to any of this.
She spoke, word by word, “This general’s father, the Marquis of Loyal Valor, once said that to be a warrior is to protect the nation, protect one’s family, protect the people — but he never once said that those of us who lead troops into battle should be protecting anyone’s personal power. So the reason I brought troops to Mingyin Temple today was, first, to protect the realm, and second, to protect its people. I did indeed defy my confinement, did indeed take my brother’s command token without authorization, did lead troops to Mingyin Temple on my own initiative to save the Third Young Master — but—”
Yun Xi threw the crimson-tasseled spear to the ground. “I fought through blood and fire, drove back the rebel army, all simply to protect the life of the one I love, amid this chaos of war. If Your Majesty believes this too is a crime, that this too counts as rebellion, then punish this general accordingly!”