“First Prince!” Seeing Li Hantai truly dragging his steps toward the gauze curtains, Wei Yi couldn’t help but call out. However, the man acted as if he hadn’t heard, walking straight ahead and lifting the curtain. Inside, Emperor Xuande sat on the bed, hunched over and letting out a violent bout of coughing.

He turned his head to look at the pale-faced youth with confused eyes standing before the bed—this was his eldest son.

When Li Hantai was born, he had still been only a prince. Even now he still remembered the first time he took the swaddled infant from the midwife’s hands—that feeling of excitement. This was his first son. He had once taught him with care, playing with him in the back courtyard of the prince’s manor. In the blink of an eye, that boy who had once babbled his first words had grown into such a tall man.

How had he grown so big?

Emperor Xuande discovered he could no longer remember at all. After that, he had ascended to the throne and had many, many more sons…

He raised his hand toward Li Hantai, as if gesturing for him to come closer. Having removed his dragon robe, sitting on the bed in plain white undergarments, he was no different from an ordinary father. Looking at this son who had utterly disappointed him, tears seemed to glisten in his eyes.

Facing such a gaze, Li Hantai finally seemed unable to bear it. With a “thud,” he knelt before the bed. Then the old man on the bed raised his hand and used all his strength to give him a slap across the face. This slap used all his bodily strength—it even knocked over the porcelain cup on the bedside table. The shattered ceramic fragments scattered everywhere, cutting Li Hantai’s lower eyelid. The slap turned his head to the side, and instantly a handprint appeared on his face.

The man kneeling before the bed clenched both hands into tight fists. After a long while, he slowly turned his head back. As if not daring to face the person on the bed, his lips trembled, and tears streamed from his eyes: “…Father Emperor.”

Emperor Xuande looked at him, mist rising in his own eyes as well. In the end, he still placed his trembling hand on his son’s face. Li Hantai could no longer control himself and suddenly collapsed against the bedside, sobbing uncontrollably.

Emperor Xuande reached out and patted his back, as if letting out a sigh.

Qiu Xinran watched this scene before her with an impassive expression. She knew—the Emperor had forgiven his son.

Emperor Xuande was already too old. If he had learned all this seven years ago, perhaps he would have unhesitatingly executed his eldest son beneath this canopy. But now he was nearly decrepit. His hands could no longer wield swords and spears, and he could hardly draw a bow anymore. He was no longer that prince who had led troops into the capital to suppress bandits. He had grown old, and for him, he had already experienced the pain of losing loved ones too many times. So even knowing this son’s actions, he couldn’t help but soften.

How ironic—Li Hanyuan had once forgiven her brother, and seven years later, her father had forgiven this son on her behalf.

However, clearly, faced with this scene before them, she was not the only one who couldn’t accept it.

Wei Yi strode forward and stopped outside the gauze curtain, saying bitterly to the man kneeling beside the bed: “First Prince, are you going to betray Noble Consort Shu, betray Minister Wu, betray those brothers outside who have staked their entire lives and fortunes on this desperate gamble with you!”

“Today the matter is exposed—you may still have a way to live, but have you thought about whether they can still descend this mountain alive?” Wei Yi was frustrated at his lack of resolve. He had always known the First Prince was indecisive and somewhat weak in character, but now that the old case involving the Zhang family had been unearthed and Xia Xiuyan had clearly come prepared, if Wu Guangda fell, the next to die would certainly be him.

Seven years ago, he had joined forces with Wu Guangda to frame Zhang Yong, gaining seven years of wealth and glory. This time, when Wu Guangda approached him, he knew another opportunity had arrived. As long as they succeeded and Li Hantai could smoothly ascend to the throne, forget about Commander of the Feathered Forest Guards—even taking over the current Changwu Army would not be out of reach.

Rather than sit and await death, better to stake everything on one throw!

But he had never imagined that at such a favorable moment, a Daoist would suddenly disrupt everything. Seeing the situation below could change at any moment while Li Hantai still wept here, he was so anxious he wished he could immediately step forward and kill the Emperor himself with one stroke.

Just as he was thinking this, suddenly the thunderous sound of galloping hooves came from outside. Everyone in the hall had their attention drawn by the commotion outside, followed by the clashing sounds of weapons and fighting. The guards outside the hall reported frantically at the door: “Commander Wei, Marquis Dingbei has led men in an attack!”

“What?” Wei Yi was shocked. “Who came?”

“Marquis Dingbei!” That guard shouted anxiously, “Marquis Dingbei has led soldiers in an attack!”

Emperor Xuande had not expected Xia Xiuyan would appear here at this time. He pressed one hand on Li Hantai’s shoulder and said in a hoarse voice: “Tai’er, help me up. There’s still time for everything.”

Li Hantai stopped crying. He raised his sleeve and gently wiped away his tears, shaking his head: “It’s too late…”

He slowly lifted his head, a bitter smile appearing on his face as he murmured softly: “Father Emperor, it’s too late…”

Emperor Xuande’s heart filled with great grief. His eyelid twitched slightly, and from the corner of his eye he glimpsed Li Hantai suddenly raising his hand. But his right hand had only reached halfway when it abruptly stopped, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Even the expression on his face froze instantly, gradually becoming blank. A moment later, a trace of fresh blood slid from the corner of the man’s mouth, his pupils completely losing their luster.

Emperor Xuande stared blankly downward at the blade tip that had pierced through the youth’s chest. His gaze slowly moved past the young man’s shoulder to look not far behind him. Li Hanyi, dressed in red robes, stood behind the gauze curtain and slowly lowered the hand that had thrown the long blade, coldly watching as the youth by the bed crashed to the ground.

In Li Hantai’s fingers was a sharp ceramic shard—unknown when he had picked it up from the floor and hidden it in his sleeve. It had already cut his hand, blood flowing over his palm. As his body fell, the ceramic shard rolled from his fingertips, tumbling to his feet. With a “crack,” in the silent bedchamber, it sounded like the settling of dust.

The man’s eyes remained open, tear tracks not yet dry on his face. A mouthful of fresh blood choked up from his throat, splattering across his face. As if still not knowing what had happened, his eyes remained wide open, but had finally lost their focus.

Qiu Xinran couldn’t help but close her eyes.

No one would ever know whether that ceramic shard he held in his hand at the last moment was meant for suicide or to assassinate Emperor Xuande. Xu Shuyi had said he would not die well. In the end, he died at his own brother’s hands. Whether this manner of death could console his lover’s wronged spirit, who could say?

The doors of Kuxin Hall were suddenly crashed open from outside. At the same time, Li Hanyi could no longer hold on and collapsed sitting to the ground again.

The knife Li Hantai had stabbed into his abdomen had briefly suppressed the drug’s effects through intense pain, but very quickly the excessive blood loss began making him feel weak and dizzy.

When Zheng Yuanwu entered the hall, what he saw was the complete disarray throughout the hall and Li Hantai lying on the ground, no longer breathing. His pupils constricted sharply. Looking at the several people in the hall, he almost immediately guessed what had just occurred.

Fortunately, Emperor Xuande sitting on the bed appeared safe and unharmed, though his expression was dazed, as if he had suffered a tremendous shock.

But there was no time to think further. Seeing Li Hantai dead, Wei Yi was preparing to flee. Not expecting Zheng Yuanwu to block the doorway with the Changwu Army already fighting outside the palace, if he tried to force his way through, before he could step half a pace outside the hall door, he would likely die beneath a flurry of blades. He made a desperate decision and turned to rush behind the gauze curtain. Li Hanyi immediately perceived his intention and rose to stop him, but his wound had reopened and he had lost too much blood. The moment he moved, he felt the world spinning before his eyes.

In the blink of an eye, Wei Yi had rushed to the bedside. With a reverse grip, he pulled out the long blade inserted in Li Hantai’s chest and in one motion placed it against Emperor Xuande’s neck.

Though Zheng Yuanwu quickly realized his intention, he was ultimately too far away to stop him in time. He could only watch helplessly as Wei Yi took Emperor Xuande hostage, dragging him down from the bed and slowly walking toward the hall entrance.

Driven to desperation, Wei Yi’s expression was crazed, completely displaying an attitude of reckless abandon. He dragged the weakened Emperor beside him toward the door. With each step he took forward, Zheng Yuanwu could only retreat one step backward. The two men thus walked step by step out of Kuxin Hall.

The Changwu Army had by now completely suppressed the rebel forces on the mountain. Outside the hall, the sounds of clashing weapons gradually ceased, and all around was silent. The soldiers rushed into the palace to see the three men retreating from the hall. For a moment, no one dared make any rash moves.

Wei Yi looked outside at the mountain of corpses—each one a subordinate who had followed him up the mountain this morning. Looking at those men, he could see his own fate. Before and around him stood soldiers in full armor, their eyes silently watching him like they were watching a man already dead.

Under this wordless pressure, he suddenly burst into wild laughter. He laughed until even the hand gripping the blade couldn’t help but tremble slightly, while Emperor Xuande, amid this laughter, coughed continuously. This made Zheng Yuanwu at the side deeply alarmed, fearing an unsteady hand might slit the hostage’s throat.

Qiu Xinran rushed outside the hall just in time to see this scene on the steps. She looked helplessly at the backs of the two men and turned her head in confusion to look at Zheng Yuanwu standing to the side.

No one knew what to do. This bandit held hostage the Emperor of all under heaven yet made no demands. He stood on the palace steps, gazing out toward the palace walls. Overhead, birds swept across the sky. But he knew himself to be on a dead-end road. Inside the hall he still had a belly full of unwillingness and the ferocity of a desperate gamble, but outside the hall, looking at this vast heaven and earth, he realized he had reached the end with nowhere to go.

Qiu Xinran anxiously watched his back, fearing that knowing he had no way to live, he would simply decide to kill for spite.

Five paces away from him, Zheng Yuanwu said in a deep voice: “Put down the blade, and perhaps your family’s lives can be spared.”

Wei Yi’s laughter finally gradually stopped. He looked at Zheng Yuanwu, as if that laughter had exhausted all his strength. His throat hoarse, he confirmed: “Is this truly so?”

Zheng Yuanwu kept his face stern: “A gentleman’s word cannot be taken back even by four horses.”

Unexpectedly, Wei Yi shook his head: “You cannot make that decision.”

Zheng Yuanwu’s expression paused. He turned to look at Emperor Xuande, held at knifepoint, as if waiting for his statement. Who would have known—this Emperor whose life hung by a thread, facing the many soldiers before Kuxin Hall, seemed to suddenly reclaim his imperial dignity. Though the blade was placed at his neck, he remained completely composed and said coldly: “You killed my son. When I get out of here, I will certainly make your son pay with his life!”

Both Qiu Xinran and Zheng Yuanwu felt their hearts sink simultaneously. Seeing Wei Yi’s expression change drastically and on the verge of losing control, Zheng Yuanwu prepared to seize the blade from his hand before he could act. Qiu Xinran anxiously looked around and finally saw a glint of light flash on the western eaves.

She stared at that cold gleam on the arrowhead, her heart momentarily easing. But looking more carefully, seeing the arrow tip remained unfired for a long time as if hesitating somewhat, her heart tightened again. She couldn’t help but call out loudly: “Marquis!”

Before her words had fallen, before Wei Yi could awaken from his shock, an arrow feather carrying the force of thunder instantly pierced through his throat. Emperor Xuande only felt warmth at his cheek and heard the crisp sound of throat bone breaking beside his ear. When the arrow tip pierced Wei Yi’s throat, he seemed able to feel the arrow feather brush against his skin from several inches away. Even after the long blade at his neck fell to the ground, he remained stiff, not daring to move at all. The drumbeat-like sound of his heartbeat gradually receded like a tide. Only then did he lower his head to look at his feet. The man’s corpse rolled down from the steps. Even in death, his face showed shock, as if until his last moment he had not realized where that arrow had come from that took his life in an instant.

All around was complete silence. Emperor Xuande swayed slightly and was supported by someone at his side. He raised his head to look in the direction from which the arrow feather had come. The eaves were now empty. The sharp killing intent that arrow had carried vanished into nothing with Wei Yi’s death, as if it had been merely some slight illusion in his moment between life and death.