Chapter Ninety-Five
By the time Feng Xiyang received the news, it was already dusk. Burning with anxiety, she rushed to Jinghui Hall, only to be stopped at the outer chambers. Forced to turn back, she headed straight for the Holy Emperor’s study in the inner palace.
When she pushed the door open, the Holy Emperor was calmly painting a peony stroke by stroke at his desk. "Why did you arrest him?!" Feng Xiyang shouted in fury, forgetting all decorum. "You promised not to harm him!"
"I’m tired of this. I no longer wish to play their games," the Holy Emperor replied without looking up, his silver brush steadily tracing a delicate pink hue onto the rice paper. "Don’t you think that by detaining Xia Jingshi, they will be forced to act?"
Feng Xiyang froze, murmuring, "But this wasn’t the plan we agreed upon..." "You will stay in the palace these next few days," the Holy Emperor interrupted coolly. "Spend more time with the Empress Dowager. Once this matter is concluded, you’ll be leaving, won’t you?"
"Your Highness, it would be best to confess sooner rather than later," the interrogator said through the prison bars, clicking his tongue with ill intent. "As the saying goes, an early death means an early rebirth!"
"What kind of lowly creature dares speak to me like this?" Xia Jingshi scoffed. "To insist on a confession without investigation is a grave crime of deceiving the throne." The interrogator choked on his words, coughing awkwardly before retreating to his desk to sip his tea in embarrassment.
Amid the silence, a figure in pale blue robes drifted in. The interrogator hurriedly bowed. "Ah, Your Majesty..." "Have you learned anything?" the Holy Emperor asked idly, though his gaze remained fixed on Xia Jingshi.
The interrogator stammered, "Your Majesty, the King Who Pacifies the South... refuses to say anything." "Is that so?" The Holy Emperor’s lips curled slightly. "If he were so easily broken, he wouldn’t be the King Who Pacifies the South."
"In that case, why not ask me yourself?" Xia Jingshi said calmly, gesturing toward the interrogator. "After all, you know me better than he does, don’t you?" The Holy Emperor raised a brow, studying him for a moment before waving the interrogator away. He stepped closer to the bars. "It seems that after all these years, you still hate me... just as I hate you." "Never compare yourself to me," Xia Jingshi replied indifferently. "You are unworthy."
"The unworthy one is you," the Holy Emperor retorted, his eyes glinting with a mix of scorn, anger, satisfaction, and even excitement. "Don’t place your hopes on Xiao Weiran. Within three days, he’ll return to keep you company. Since you’re so clever, why not guess what I plan to do with you?" Xia Jingshi met his gaze coldly. "What else could it be? A fabricated charge, no doubt. Since it’s baseless, why bother asking me to guess?"
The two locked eyes in a frigid standoff.
Xia Jingshi’s heart was calm. He trusted that Xiao Weiran would find Yixiao and rescue Ning Fei. Even if he couldn’t escape this fate, he would die with dignity. He would never endure humiliation from anyone—not even the Holy Emperor, his blood kin, the sovereign he had loyally served for years.
"Guards," the Holy Emperor barked. "Clap the King Who Pacifies the South in heavy shackles. If he resists, charge him with treason." He paused, a sinister smile playing on his lips. "His subordinates will share the same fate!"
The closer they got to the Imperial City, the more cautious Feng Suige became. Avoiding the conspicuous main roads, he led his men through the hidden forest paths used by merchant escorts.As the situation remained unclear, Xueying was unable to return alone to Lucheng due to Yixiao's insistence and continued traveling with the group toward Brocade's Imperial City. This left Xueying sulking for days—she refused to share meals with Yixiao and slept in a separate tent at night. Yixiao, already anxious about the safety of Xia Jingshi and the others, also had to tend to Xueying, quickly losing weight from the strain. Feng Suige watched with concern but could do little to help.
At noon that day, Feng Suige ordered the group to rest and replenish their water supplies in the woods while he took a few guards ahead to a nearby town for news. The soldiers from both nations had initially been hostile when departing from Su Sha, but through Feng Suige's deliberate arrangements for shared night watches, they gradually began to chat and laugh together. Now, they sprawled across the shaded clearing, their cheerful voices filling the air.
Xueying listlessly stepped down from the carriage, intending to walk around. As she rounded a large wagon, her steps suddenly halted. Yixiao was striding toward four bound Imperial Guards not far ahead, carrying a waterskin.
Watching as Yixiao bent slightly to let each captive drink from the waterskin, Xueying couldn’t help but purse her lips. Deep down, she understood Yixiao’s refusal to let her leave was out of concern for her safety. But her mind was consumed with worry for Ning Fei—how could she care about anything else?
She wondered how Ning Fei was faring.
Lost in thought, she barely noticed as Yixiao straightened and turned to leave. Suddenly, the lead guard let out a choked gasp, convulsing before collapsing, vomiting all the water he had just drunk.
The other three guards cried out in alarm. Yixiao dropped the waterskin and rushed forward, lifting the man and hastily loosening the tightly bound ropes around him.
Seeing the chaotic tangle of limbs, Xueying took two steps forward to help—then froze. A sharp, unguarded glint flashed in one guard’s eyes.
In that instant, Xueying screamed, "Look out—!"
Too late. The guard struck, thrusting a broken, jagged branch straight into Yixiao’s abdomen.
Even a crude weapon like that, driven with such force, must have pierced through Yixiao’s thin autumn robes…
Perhaps it was their bond as friends, or perhaps instincts honed from years on the battlefield—but the moment Xueying cried out, Yixiao instinctively jerked back slightly. That tiny movement lessened the impact, but the remaining force still sent her crumpling to the ground in pain, unable to move.
The guard shook off the ropes and lunged again, broken branch raised. Xueying was already upon him—she seized his disheveled hair and yanked back with all her strength, driving the sharp fragment she clutched deep into his exposed throat.
Blood sprayed.
The guard’s dying thrash sent Xueying flying.
Shouts erupted as nearby soldiers rushed toward the commotion.The military officer's eyes bulged, his throat emitting a gurgling sound as he desperately tried to cover the crimson line spurting from his neck and pull out the fatal dagger. Yixiao had already struggled to her feet, staggering toward Xueying, who had been thrown aside, shouting, "Get the medical officer first!" Almost simultaneously, Xueying, half-prone on the ground without turning to look, yelled at the approaching soldiers, "Yixiao is injured! Hurry, call the medical officer!"
The entire camp descended into chaos.
Amid the clamor, the dazed Xueying was hastily carried aside by many hands. She forcefully shook off the medical officer's hand checking her pulse and stood up angrily, exclaiming, "Not me—it's Yixiao!" The medical officer froze for a moment before turning to look in the other direction.
Yixiao stood not far away, supported by a maid, anxiously watching the scene. She was splattered with blood from the military officer's throat, but her abdomen was not the mangled mess Xueying had imagined.
Xueying stared blankly for a moment before suddenly looking down at her own hands. A scream pierced through the entire forest, "I killed someone!!!"
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