Xie Yong'er stepped into the Secluded Palace alone under the last rays of the setting sun.
As soon as she left, Xiahou Dan dispatched a Shadow Guard: "Follow her from a distance, but don't get too close and alert Prince Duan."
Yu Wanyin watched Xie Yong'er's retreating figure thoughtfully. "I wonder if this will go smoothly," she murmured.
Xie Yong'er's reaction had been different from what she'd anticipated—too subdued. Yu Wanyin truly couldn't grasp what was going on in that woman's mind.
Xiahou Dan said, "It's too late for second thoughts now. She's already read Xu Yao's books."
Yu Wanyin: "..."
She stole a glance at Xiahou Dan.
Was he angry?
Back in their chambers, Xiahou Dan remained visibly displeased.
Yu Wanyin kept her head down as she ate dinner, stealing glances at him repeatedly.
Xiahou Dan wordlessly placed a piece of fish in her bowl, his expression dark.
The atmosphere was unbearably awkward. Yu Wanyin decided to break the silence: "I know you don't trust Xie Yong'er."
Xiahou Dan: "Good that you know."
Yu Wanyin: "But when you think about it, your distrust is a bit strange. In this world, apart from the two of us, everyone else is a Paper Doll—including the ministers we've persuaded. Do you not place hope in them either?"
"Their settings dictate they're loyal and virtuous. What about Xie Yong'er?"
"But Xu Yao was originally set to be part of the Prince Duan faction. Xiahou Bo was originally set to be infatuated with Xie Yong'er."
Xiahou Dan choked slightly and fell silent.
Yu Wanyin felt she'd hit the nail on the head: "You seem particularly prejudiced against Paper Dolls."
Xiahou Dan, stung by some old wound, couldn't help but sneer. "Then let's wait and see whether Xie Yong'er proves worthy of your heartfelt sincerity."
Yu Wanyin blinked, staring at him in surprise.
Xiahou Dan snapped, "What?"
"What heartfelt sincerity do I have for her? Last time I had this feeling too, but didn't dare ask..." Yu Wanyin said slowly, "Are you... jealous?"
She'd meant it as a joke to lighten his mood.
But Xiahou Dan's chopsticks froze mid-air.
Yu Wanyin: "?"
Xiahou Dan glanced up at her and smiled as she'd hoped: "Yes."
Yu Wanyin: "..."
She couldn't understand his thought process.
But her face grew inexplicably warm.
In the dilapidated building of the Secluded Palace.
Night had fallen completely. Without stars or moon, and far from the palace lights, the darkness was nearly absolute.
Xie Yong'er, still weak, shivered as the night wind brushed past her. Not daring to light a lamp, she stumbled blindly through the door—only to collide with someone's embrace.
She instinctively recoiled, but the other person unfastened his outer robe and wrapped it around her. "Yong'er."
Xie Yong'er looked up but could only make out a vague silhouette. Unable to see his expression, she heard only his familiar, gentle voice: "You've suffered."
She buried her face in his chest, nuzzling weakly. "Your Highness, you've finally come to see me."
In the darkness, Xiahou Bo brushed a fleeting kiss against her lips. "How are you feeling? Any better?"
His voice, usually cool, sounded even more like jade striking ice in the silent night. Only when speaking to her did he slow his words, as if cradling something precious, imparting whatever warmth remained to her.
Xie Yong'er found all her grievances rising to the surface reflexively. "Your Highness..."Xiahou Bo: "I heard that after your miscarriage, the Emperor sent people to surround your door, claiming it was for protection, but actually forbidding you from leaving. Is there more to the story?"
Xie Yong'er's remaining words died in her throat.
The concern in his voice was so sincere and comforting. In the past, it would have brought tears to her eyes.
But today, someone had forced her to see things from a different perspective. This time, she finally understood—every word carried an interrogation.
Xie Yong'er thought the blood in her heart had already cooled to its limit, but apparently, it could grow colder still.
Fortunately, no one could see her expression right now.
Xie Yong'er spoke slowly: "I claimed I was never pregnant, but the Emperor grew suspicious. He counted the days and suspected the child wasn't his. But I risked my life to bury the fetus, so he couldn't find any evidence. Afraid the scandal would spread, he could only confine me to my room under guard."
Xiahou Bo sneered: "Still as incompetent as ever."
Then he asked with concern: "But if that's the case, how did you manage to come see me today?"
Xie Yong'er: "..."
Just for a moment—just one fleeting moment.
She knew this momentary hesitation had betrayed her. Even if she offered a perfect explanation now, Xiahou Bo would no longer believe her.
After a brief pause, she trembled: "The Emperor forced me to come."
After dinner, Xiahou Dan escorted Yu Wanyin back to her residence as usual.
Dark clouds obscured the moon, and the row of hexagonal palace lanterns hanging along the corridor swayed wildly in the cold wind, stretching their shadows long and short.
Xiahou Dan glanced toward the Secluded Palace, though naturally, he could see nothing: "I wonder how things are going over there."
Yu Wanyin didn't respond.
Her face still felt slightly warm, and only the wind's chill eased the flush.
For now, she had pushed all crises aside, replaying their earlier conversation in her mind.
She had asked: "Are you jealous?"
Xiahou Dan: "Yes."
What did that mean? Why would he be jealous of Xie Yong'er?
Yu Wanyin's heart skipped a beat. After spending the whole day listening to Xie Yong'er's lovestruck ramblings, she felt infected by the same mindset. Despite knowing the timing was wrong, she couldn't help but press half-jokingly: "Because I did her hair and makeup? I can do yours tomorrow—"
Xiahou Dan: "No."
Her heartbeat quickened further.
Yet, Xiahou Dan had spoken those two words so frankly, so matter-of-factly, before calmly continuing his meal as if the topic had been satisfactorily concluded.
Leaving Yu Wanyin frozen in place, unable to ask anything more.
What did that mean???
Was this an admission? Had he finally pierced through that thin veil?
Eight hundred years had passed since she first sensed his feelings for her. But he seemed to harbor some unspeakable aversion to physical contact, so she had patiently waited for him to take that step himself.
Yet the man remained utterly unhurried, his intentions ambiguous, making her wonder if she had imagined it all.
Another gust of cold wind sent the corridor's lanterns into chaotic motion. The two maids leading the way with lanterns gasped—their lights had been blown out.
In the flickering shadows, Yu Wanyin could no longer see the path clearly and slowed her steps.
Suddenly, warmth enveloped her shoulders.
Xiahou Dan had removed his outer robe and draped it over her: "Dressed so lightly—you'll catch a cold."Yu Wanyin paused and turned to look. Xiahou Dan's face was indistinct in the dim, yellowish light, only his gaze was clear, steadily meeting hers.
The two palace maids ahead were still apologizing while fumbling to relight the lanterns.
In a voice too low for them to hear, Yu Wanyin said, "You're wearing the Dragon Robe. If word gets out, I'll be branded as the seductive concubine who ruins kingdoms again."
Xiahou Dan was amused. "Aren't you?"
Yu Wanyin: "..."
Yu Wanyin: "......"
She even felt a flicker of anger.
This ambiguous distance—are you playing games with me, you bastard?
Xiahou Dan, are you really that incompetent?
She couldn't take it anymore.
Impulsively, she leaned toward his thin lips, ready to live up to her infamous reputation then and there.
The Palace Lanterns flickered back to life.
Xiahou Dan glanced over. "Let's go."
For the rest of the journey, Yu Wanyin remained silent, keeping her head lowered to hide her expression. So she didn't notice Xiahou Dan gradually falling half a step behind, his gaze lingering on her retreating figure.
Even if she had a thousand lovestruck brains, she'd never guess what Xiahou Dan was thinking at that moment.
He was reflecting.
He shouldn't have said those things.
Shouldn't have gotten close to her, shouldn't have used this fabricated "kindred spirit" facade to deceive her affection and goodwill.
How long could he keep this up? When the truth eventually came out, would these fleeting moments of warmth haunt her nightmares?
Yet despite knowing better, he'd indulged himself anyway.
Where had this impulse come from? Had some subconscious part of him already known that after tomorrow, there might never be another chance?
Secluded Palace.
The whispered conversation in the darkness was drawing to a close.
A strong wind parted the thick clouds, spilling moonlight down in impartial mercy, gracing even the Secluded Palace's broken tiles equally.
Xie Yong'er's hair shimmered with a faint glow.
Xiahou Bo suddenly smiled. "Yong'er, you seem particularly beautiful tonight."
Washed in moonlight, Xie Yong'er's makeup didn't appear overly conspicuous, though it was clearly more elaborate than ordinary Palace Makeup.
She turned her eyes to him. "I still look somewhat ill. I didn't want you to see me at my worst, so I applied more powder. Do you like it, Your Highness?"
Xiahou Bo: "I do. Unconventional, just like you."
Xie Yong'er: "..."
Now that her perspective had shifted, she realized Prince Duan's sweet nothings weren't particularly skillful—if anything, they reeked of perfunctory effort.
Her eyes had fully adjusted to the dark, allowing her to clearly see Xiahou Bo's expression. A flawless smile, attentive gaze, yet his eyes held no reflection of her.
Strangely, what had first captivated her were precisely those eyes that refused to mirror her. His gaze always seemed fixed on some distant horizon, never resting on mere mortals. Back then, she'd been certain she wasn't included among those "mortals."
Had Yu Wanyin been present, she'd probably quip that he stood there like a living meme of "I lack such worldly desires.jpg."
Xie Yong'er suddenly found it somewhat amusing.
If Yu Wanyin were someone like her, perhaps she wouldn't seem quite so pathetic?
Xiahou Bo: "What is it?"
Xie Yong'er shook her head. "Then as Your Highness suggested, I'll deliver the message to the Emperor upon my return."
"Mm." Xiahou Bo patted her head. "I appreciate your efforts."Xiahou Dan escorted Yu Wanyin to the chamber doors, diligently playing out the "chasing wife into crematorium" trope: "I shall take my leave now. Rest well."
He didn't get to leave.
Yu Wanyin caught the hem of his robe—whether more for the palace servants' benefit or from genuine feeling was unclear—her expression a mix of awkwardness and shyness: "Your Majesty, stay tonight."
She glanced around before leaning close to whisper warm breath into his ear: "Really, don't go. I have something to show you."
Xiahou Dan: "..."
Stop toying with me.
Is this karma?
There was indeed some vengeful intent in Yu Wanyin's actions as she deliberately kept hold of his hand, leading him inside where she closed the bedroom door, dismissed the attendants, and remarked meaningfully: "What beautiful moonlight."
Xiahou Dan: "...Indeed."
Suddenly appearing behind them, Bei Zhou: "Quite beautiful indeed."
Xiahou Dan: "?"
Yu Wanyin laughed: "Uncle Bei, show him the thing."
Xiahou Dan: "???"
The next morning, Yu Wanyin woke earlier than usual.
Outside remained overcast, the oppressive air hinting at impending rain. She instinctively turned to find the pillow beside her empty and sat up with a start.
"I'm here," Xiahou Dan said from the bedside, watching her. "Haven't left yet."
Yu Wanyin exhaled in relief: "Why didn't you wake me?"
Without answering, Xiahou Dan handed her a note: "Xie Yong'er sent this in the morning."
Unfolding it, she saw just a few words: "All as usual. Prince Duan advocates peace."
She frowned: "What a perfunctory answer."
"Still planning to trust her?" Xiahou Dan asked.
"...Hard to say. If Prince Duan truly has no schemes, that would be best..." Watching him don the ceremonial headdress, she couldn't help adding, "Why don't I still go up the mountain with you? Like before, disguised as a guard, alright?"
Xiahou Dan smiled: "No. Stay here—if anything unexpected happens, at least..." He paused, "...at least you can adapt and provide support."
But Yu Wanyin understood the unspoken remainder: "at least you won't be in danger."
She jumped out of bed: "I'm going with you. Don't try to talk me out of it—I won't listen."
"Wan Yin."
"Not listening."
Xiahou Dan laughed again: "With the Empress Dowager and Prince Duan's movements still unknown, how can you be sure where trouble might arise? If we both go to the mausoleum, what if something happens in the city?"
Yu Wanyin: "."
She couldn't argue against that possibility.
Xiahou Dan: "I have Uncle Bei as an unknown trump card, and the Shadow Guards have improved considerably under his recent training—no need for excessive worry. As for you, if anything happens, remember your own safety comes first."
Yu Wanyin stayed silent.
"Wan Yin," Xiahou Dan called again.
Irritated—though unsure at whom—she snapped: "Go then, just come back early."
The silence at her bedside stretched slightly too long. Puzzled, she looked up.
Xiahou Dan: "There's something I need to tell you when I return."
Yu Wanyin: "..."
Yu Wanyin: "Pah pah pah pah pah! What kind of death flag are you raising? Take it back!"
"Won't." Xiahou Dan stood. "Leaving now."
"Take it back!!!"
The Emperor and Empress Dowager's procession set off majestically, the red roan horses leading the way as they advanced slowly toward Mount Bei.An hour later, Mu Yun received the message: "They have all left the city."
Mu Yun: "Then let us begin as well."
The Empress Dowager's verbal decree was: Act discreetly, locate the envoy group, fabricate charges to imprison them before taking action.
Mu Yun clearly had no intention of following these orders.
As soon as the carriages had gone some distance, chaos erupted in the city's alleys. A large force first rushed straight to the guesthouse, seemingly coming up empty, then split into several groups to search every household in the city.
As if they weren't afraid of alerting their prey.
Even in the secluded courtyard where Tuer and his group were hiding, the clamor outside could be heard.
The noise grew closer. Inside, the envoys sat around a table. Haqina listened intently for a moment before glancing at Tuer with a questioning look.
Tuer gestured for him to remain calm.
A group of guards stood in the courtyard, protecting them. Late last night, these very men had taken them from the guesthouse. From the grave expressions of the guards, Tuer deduced that at least part of the bizarre note's contents were true: someone indeed wanted them dead.
Who could it be? The Empress Dowager?
Tuer didn't particularly care about that. What concerned him more was: Was the other statement in the note also true?
Just then, one of the guards entered and said in a low voice, "Please follow us out the back gate for temporary refuge."
It seemed the searchers were about to break in. Tuer silently rose and obediently followed the guards out the back door into a narrow alley.
The guard led the way in silence, apparently taking them to another hiding spot. Suddenly, Tuer spoke up: "Brother, could you send someone to Beishan to inform His Majesty the Emperor and ask him to protect us?"
The guard replied casually, "His Majesty already knows—" Before he could finish, he suddenly realized something was amiss—these Yan people had been under constant surveillance, and no one would have leaked the imperial family's whereabouts to them. How did they know the Emperor had gone to Beishan?
The guard reacted swiftly, turning around as his hand reached for his sword hilt.
But he would never get the chance to draw it.
Before he could fully turn, a pair of large hands gripped his head and twisted forcefully. He faintly heard an ominous crack before feeling his head suddenly turned backward.
The last thing reflected in his eyes was a face filled with malice.
Tuer struck suddenly, and his men quickly followed suit. By the time the guards realized what was happening, a cloud of poison powder was already raining down on them.
Silently, the alley was littered with the corpses of the guards.
Tuer issued orders in the Yan language: "Change into their clothes and take their weapons and tokens."
Haqina asked, "Prince, what now?"
Tuer: "Leave the city and head to Beishan."
After Shan Yi's death, he had sworn to make the Xia people pay in blood. Leading from the front, his military achievements grew, and his reputation soared. The people of Yan regarded him as the God Child.
The increasingly insincere smiles from Prince Yan did not escape Tuer's notice, but he didn't care. From the day his uncle sent Shan Yi away, there had been no affection left between them.
Eventually, even this superficial cooperation came to an end.
Prince Yan had long stopped leading campaigns himself. Day after day, he hid in his newly built palace, flirting with the Queen of the Qiang Kingdom, acting like an old house on fire, finally meeting his true love. It was said the Qiang people excelled in poisons, and Tuer suspected the woman had some strange elixir that rejuvenated him.Later, a man from the Xia Kingdom named Wang Zhao came to negotiate peace. Prince Yan was tempted, but Tuer firmly opposed it, and his subordinates were also in an uproar. Seeing that some were already clamoring to elevate Tuer to power, Prince Yan could no longer sit still.
To this day, Tuer still doesn’t know how he was poisoned.
All he knew was that he collapsed in his tent and woke up later in chains, imprisoned in his own home.
The Queen of the Qiang Kingdom visited him once. The woman, dressed in red with crimson lips and an enchanting demeanor, smiled at him: "Compared to your uncle, I would naturally prefer to choose you. I gave you a chance, but you refused."
Tuer: "When did you ever speak to me?"
"At the banquet when we first met. I was smiling at you the whole time." Her smile gradually turned cold. "Didn’t you notice?"
Tuer looked at her in bewilderment: "Why should I have noticed you? Did you think you were beautiful?"
Watching her storm off in a huff, he felt a fleeting, petty satisfaction.
After the Queen left, a scented sachet was left behind on the ground.
He opened it and found several pills of varying colors inside. Accidentally inhaling their scent, he felt dizzy immediately and had to discard the sachet, meditating for a long time before recovering.
It was poison—an assortment of deadly toxins.
That scented sachet was never reclaimed by her.
His trusted aide, Haqina, risked his life to sneak in, bringing nothing but bad news: while Tuer was unconscious, his military authority had been stripped, his influence lost, and his former subordinates had been purged by Prince Yan under various pretexts.
Moreover, Prince Yan’s delegation of envoys was about to depart for the Xia Kingdom to negotiate peace.
At that moment, Tuer realized this was his last chance.
If he seized it, he could march straight into the capital of Great Xia without a single soldier, kill the Emperor with his own hands, and simultaneously ruin Prince Yan’s carefully laid plans, ensuring the old man spent his remaining years in the flames of war.
Naturally, he himself wouldn’t survive to escape either.
But he had no intention of escaping.
Tuer shook the scented sachet: "Let’s ambush and kill the envoy delegation."
In the palace.
The Emperor had left, the Empress Dowager had left, and the concubines, as if on holiday, took advantage of the clear weather to stroll and chat outside, thoroughly enjoying themselves.
Only Yu Wanyin shut herself indoors, pacing in circles.
Her eyelids kept twitching, and her heart pounded like a drum. Yet no matter how she reasoned it out, Prince Duan had no motive to sabotage the peace talks.
Her intuition told her she was missing a crucial piece of information, like the final fragment of a puzzle.
Xiahou Dan had left a few Shadow Guards to protect her. Seeing her distress, one of them advised, "Your Highness, don’t worry too much. His Majesty said that if anything urgent arises, you may decide, and someone will report to you."
Yu Wanyin ignored him, pacing a few more circles before suddenly declaring, "I’m going out for a walk."
Shadow Guard: "?"
Just as Yu Wanyin reached the Imperial Garden, she ran into Xie Yong’er.
Xie Yong’er, surprisingly, was wearing modern makeup today, looking aloof and untouchable. When their eyes met, Xie Yong’er gave her a cold glance, snorted lightly, and brushed past her without a word.
Yu Wanyin didn’t call out to her or look back.
Once they had gone their separate ways, Yu Wanyin circled back home. The moment she entered, she rushed to her bedside, picked up the note Xiahou Dan had handed her that morning, and scrutinized it again.
Still just black ink on white paper, with no hidden tricks.
Refusing to give up, Yu Wanyin lit a candle and held the note over the flame to see if heat would reveal anything.She had forgotten—she had actually forgotten—that Xie Yong'er in the original work had used this very trick before.
As the candle flame flickered, more words gradually emerged from the blank space. Unlike those large characters, these were written in simplified script, densely packed together: "Prince Duan's men are watching me. He says the Emperor won't leave Beishan alive."
Last night.
Xie Yong'er said, "It was the Emperor who forced me to come. The note from Your Highness arranging our meeting was intercepted by him. He flew into a rage, saying he would drown me alive. But he fears Your Highness, so he made me come as planned and then report back whether you have any schemes."
Xiahou Bo asked, "Schemes?"
Xie Yong'er continued, "He said he had a bad dream but wasn't sure if it was just a nightmare or some kind of omen. It seemed related to the envoy delegation, but he didn't specify..."
Xiahou Bo recalled that Yu Wanyin had mentioned Xiahou Dan also possessed the Heavenly Eye, though it wasn't as effective—only able to glimpse the distant future.
If it had been more reliable, he wouldn't have been so thoroughly suppressed by the Empress Dowager until now.
As for why he suddenly dreamed of something ominous... could it be a premonition of his death? Xiahou Bo mused with keen interest.
Of course, it could all be lies.
But Xie Yong'er had, after all, just lost a child for his sake.
Ironically, her long-standing display of devotion hadn't earned his pity, but it had secured his limited trust.
Xie Yong'er tearfully pleaded, "Your Highness, take me away! He will surely kill me!"
"I will take you away, but not now," Xiahou Bo coaxed. "Yong'er, for my sake, you must go back and tell him everything is normal."
"But once I've said that, I'll have no more value to him. He—"
"Don't worry. Tomorrow he will go to Beishan... and he won't be coming back down. Speaking of which, Yong'er, why not help me brainstorm?"
Above the candle flame, another line of writing appeared: "The Yan people will assassinate."
The final piece of the puzzle fell into place.
Yu Wanyin's expression remained blank, her fingers no longer trembling. Steadily, she held the note to the candle and burned it to ashes.
Just then, a Shadow Guard rushed in: "Word from the city—the Yan people killed their guards and vanished."
Yu Wanyin wasn't surprised. She stood and scrutinized the Shadow Guards, her mind racing faster than ever. "Can you mobilize the Imperial Guards?"
The Shadow Guards exchanged uneasy glances. "Without His Majesty's token, the Imperial Guards won't obey us."
Yu Wanyin nodded. "I thought as much. The Imperial Guards have been bribed by Prince Duan. Alerting them now would only tip him off..." She closed her eyes briefly. "Change into plain clothes. I'll disguise myself, and we'll leave the city."
The Shadow Guard exclaimed, "Your Majesty?!"
Yu Wanyin said tersely, "The Yan people are going to assassinate him, and Prince Duan's men are aiding them in secret." She was already rushing to her dressing table. "Why are you still standing there? Change your clothes!"
The Shadow Guard panicked. "We are under His Majesty's orders to protect you. He said if there's danger, you must not go up the mountain—or we pay with our lives. Besides, you don't know martial arts. Even if you go—"
Yu Wanyin said nothing. From her sleeve, she drew an object and aimed it at a wooden table nearby.
High above them in the leaden clouds, the first raindrop fell.
A silver streak descended toward the oblivious earth.
A deafening explosion erupted in the depths of the palace.
Unseasonable rolls of thunder rumbled in the distance.
Haqina jostled through the crowd leaving the city when a drop of autumn rain splashed cold against his forehead.
The woman walking ahead of him glanced up at the sky and opened an umbrella.Tuer and his group were dressed in uniforms stripped from the palace guards. While the men could manage, the outfits clearly didn't fit the women properly. But in their haste, this was the best they could do—at least better than their original fur coats and painted skirts. Fortunately, the uniforms kept commoners along the way from looking at them too closely.
As the line grew shorter and they neared the city gate, the guards on duty glanced their way.
Tuer had already removed his fake beard, but his towering height couldn't be disguised, nor could he completely suppress his intimidating aura. Standing before the guard, he loomed like a mountain.
The guard: "..."
Tuer shook his token at the man and said coldly, "Official business."
The guard's gaze swept over the group behind him.
Haqina and the others kept their heads slightly lowered, silently tightening their grips on their weapons.
Unexpectedly, the guard merely gave them a cursory look before saluting and saying, "Proceed."
Holding their breath, the group remained tense as they marched orderly through the gate, missing the guard's watchful eyes following them.
Once they were gone, the guard immediately went to report to the Imperial Guards commander: "Sir, those people have been let out of the city."
Commander Zhao took a deep breath. "What people?"
The guard was puzzled. "Sir?"
Beads of sweat formed on Commander Zhao's nose. "I never gave you any such orders. Nothing happened today, understand?"
The guard stiffened and quickly replied, "Yes, sir."
This Commander Zhao, whose full name was Zhao Wucheng, was the former deputy commander promoted by Prince Duan. The prince had uncovered his dirty secrets and forced him to cooperate, then orchestrated the assassination of the previous commander to install Zhao in his place. Since then, Zhao had used his position to quietly assist Prince Duan's schemes.
Zhao Wucheng was essentially incompetent, having never fought in a real battle in his life, though he excelled at opportunism and muddling through. As a result, the Imperial Guards under his command grew increasingly lax, their ranks hollowed out from within.
He had some inkling of what Prince Duan was plotting but dared not voice it. Turning a blind eye and having his trusted men let a few people out of the city was the extent of what he could do. If Prince Duan pressed him further to join in grander schemes, even if he yielded under pressure, he wouldn't be able to mobilize the Imperial Guards under him.
Zhao Wucheng lit a stick of incense and silently prayed that Prince Duan wouldn't fail—and if he did, that he wouldn't drag him down with him.
His calculations were sound: if the Beishan affair succeeded, all would be well; if it failed, he'd save his own skin.
Zhao Wucheng summoned a few trusted subordinates. "Keep a close eye on developments. Report to me at once."
The subordinates asked, "Report what?"
Zhao Wucheng snapped, "...Any unusual activity, report it all!"
He needed to decide quickly whether to rush to the emperor's rescue—or arrive just a little too late.
Thunder rumbled as the rain overhead grew heavier and more relentless.
Yang Duojie swayed inside his sedan chair. Carried by bearers, it ascended the sacred path step by step up Beishan.
Once just a barren hill, the mountain now housed a Hall of Offering, surrounded by auxiliary palaces for fasting and lodging. The grand structures should have been majestic, but drenched in the cold rain and shrouded by dense woods, they took on an eerie, ghostly air.
Dizzy from the jostling, Yang Duojie stumbled out of the sedan chair. Though attendants stood by holding umbrellas to shield him from the rain, the scattered droplets soon soaked his shoes and socks.Yang Duojie shivered and looked up in disarray. The two figures ahead truly lived up to their imperial bearing—walking through such rain with dignified steps and unruffled composure.
The Empress Dowager didn’t even blink as she remarked, “Indeed, this is a fine place.”
Xiahou Dan remained expressionless. “If Mother is pleased, then it is well.”
The supervising official bowed obsequiously nearby. “The timely rain is a blessing from His Majesty’s virtue.”
Yang Duojie: “?”
The Empress Dowager had long cursed this wretched situation in her heart, but she was determined to keep Xiahou Dan outside the city at all costs. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Then accompany your mother for a stroll, and let the Imperial Observatory examine the feng shui.”
Yang Duojie, the state-certified fortune-teller: “…”
When he had been assigned this task, his superior had explained: “The preparations for the Thousand Autumns Banquet went smoothly, and both His Majesty and the Empress Dowager are satisfied. You’re eloquent and well-versed in the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams—such occasions are best entrusted to you in the future.”
In other words: The higher-ups have decided you’ll be the designated bullshitter from now on.
Yang Duojie was internally crumbling.
He wanted to ask Xiahou Dan if he still remembered the grand promises he’d made on that Painted Boat—the hope of the people, the backbone of Great Xia.
After this job, I’m resigning and going back home, he thought.
Forcing a smile, Yang Duojie stepped forward to humor the Empress Dowager. “This humble official observes that this place is nestled between mountains and water, its energy flourishing and auspicious…”
As he spoke, he glanced at Xiahou Dan and was surprised to find the Emperor looking down at him with an indifferent expression, though his gaze seemed contemplative.
Yang Duojie faltered mid-sentence, instinctively wondering where his bluff had gone wrong, but Xiahou Dan had already averted his eyes.
The group circled the mausoleum grounds, and Xiahou Dan gradually fell a few steps behind the Empress Dowager. Bei Zhou, dressed as a palace matron, held an umbrella for him and reached out to steady him. “Are you all right?”
Xiahou Dan’s headache was unbearable—every movement sent spasms of pain through his nerves, and he didn’t even want to open his mouth. He merely gave a faint “Mm.”
Bei Zhou glanced at the surrounding woods from beneath the umbrella. “There are people hiding in the forest. They’ve been there since we ascended the mountain.”
So, the trap was set on the mountain.
Strangely, Xiahou Dan felt slightly relieved.
Bei Zhou saw through his thoughts. “At least Wan Yin didn’t come. Do you have it in your sleeve?”
“Dan’er.” The Empress Dowager, unaware of his whispered exchange, feared he might grow suspicious and leave. She moved closer and said warmly, “It’s cold outside. Let’s go inside the Hall of Offering.”
Xiahou Dan tucked his hands into his sleeves as if chilled and replied softly, “After you, Mother.”
Yet even the grand Hall of Offering was permeated with a cold, damp air.
The storm darkened the skies, and the palace servants’ lamps could not dispel the gloom within the vast hall. The moment she entered, the Empress Dowager ordered the guards to disperse around the perimeter. Her own retinue spread even farther under the pretense of patrolling—though in truth, it was to intercept any urgent messages that might arrive from the city.
Guilt-ridden, the Empress Dowager attempted to ingratiate herself as they walked. “The mausoleum is truly magnificent. You’ve put great care into it, my son.”
Xiahou Dan endured his headache and played along. “It is my duty.”
The Empress Dowager smiled at him, feigning sentiment. “You’ve learned to make your own decisions lately—that’s good. Your mother is getting old and should enjoy some peace in her twilight years.”
Even Yang Duojie couldn’t help but scoff inwardly: Enough, any more and it’ll be overacting.
Xiahou Dan was sparing with his words. “Mother is in the prime of life.”
But the Empress Dowager clearly underestimated his intelligence. She said dotingly, “Just yesterday, the Crown Prince mentioned you to me, saying how much he misses his father.”Xiahou Dan could bear it no longer. He closed his eyes briefly, a dark aura almost emanating from between his brows.
Empress Dowager: "In your leisure time, you could test his studies, speak with him more—"
"Mother." In that instant, Xiahou Dan abandoned all pretense, speaking softly, "All these years, you dared not let the Crown Prince step out, yet today you suddenly say such things. Do you believe he can no longer die?"
The Empress Dowager choked on her words.
She stared at him in disbelief, thinking: Has this man finally gone completely mad?
The hall fell into dead silence.
The officials, palace attendants, and guards around them tried to make themselves smaller, wishing they could shrink into balls and roll away on the spot.
Yang Duojie: "..."
Had he just heard something no living person should ever hear?
The Empress Dowager finally regained her composure, her willow-thin eyebrows shooting up: "What do you mean by that?"
Fragmented images flashed before Xiahou Dan’s eyes—a group of palace attendants, men and women, surrounding him like farmers breeding livestock. The head maid presented a pill before him and, seeing his reluctance, uttered an apology before forcibly stuffing it into his mouth...
The more his head throbbed with pain, the calmer his expression became. He even smiled gently at her: "Surely Mother doesn’t believe I would develop any paternal affection for him?"
The moment their eyes met, the hairs on the back of the Empress Dowager’s neck stood on end, as if she had heard the hiss of a venomous snake.
Yang Duojie: "............"
He began to wonder if he would make it off this mountain alive today. Would they silence all witnesses?
Xiahou Dan chose that moment to address him: "You, from the Imperial Observatory."
Yang Duojie shivered soundlessly: "Your servant is here."
Xiahou Dan said casually, "Go inspect the feng shui of the nearby lower palace, sacred path, and stele pavilion. Examine them carefully—no oversights."
Yang Duojie was taken aback. Though confused, his feet moved swiftly, as if fearing the Emperor might change his mind. He retreated as if fleeing for his life.
He plunged into the curtain of rain, heading straight for the farthest side hall. If no one summoned him, he could keep inspecting until next year.
In the woods.
A patrolling guard suddenly heard a strange noise deep within the trees, barely discernible over the rain—like the snap of a branch.
He went to investigate but saw no one. Convinced he had misheard, he turned to leave when his peripheral vision caught a row of deep footprints in the muddy ground.
The guard opened his mouth to raise the alarm, but that cry was forever silenced.
Tuer dragged his corpse behind a tree to conceal it, then glanced at the distant hall and made a silent gesture.
Inside the hall.
The Empress Dowager still stared fixedly at Xiahou Dan, as if waiting for him to apologize for his treasonous words.
Xiahou Dan truly had no intention of continuing the act.
Though he didn’t know what scheme she had painstakingly arranged to lure him here, there was no longer any need for pretense.
With Yu Wanyin absent, he didn’t even bother with the last layer of disguise. Smirking faintly, he glanced at the Empress Dowager: "Aren’t you going to begin?"
Empress Dowager: "...What?"
As the words left her lips, a bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the dim interior in a flash.
In that instant, the windows on all sides shattered simultaneously!
Dozens of shadowy figures leaped inside, lunging at them like phantoms!
The Empress Dowager’s courage shattered. She screamed: "Pro—protect the Emperor!"The guards in the hall rushed forward, but before they could even catch a glimpse of the intruders' movements, a handful of powder was flung into their faces.
The guard at the forefront was still struggling to defend himself as he collapsed, only to be swiftly dispatched by the intruders with a few strikes.
Ten men.
The delayed thunderclap exploded as if right beside their ears.
Xiahou Dan's Shadow Guards hastily revealed themselves to engage the enemy. To their shock, the assailants possessed extraordinary martial skills and employed bizarre techniques, immediately shattering their formation.
Fourteen men.
Another flash of lightning. In the flickering light, the remaining guards' vision blurred, leaving no time to strategize. Instinctively, they tightened their circle, forming a human wall before the Emperor, buying precious moments: "Your Majesty, flee—"
The Empress Dowager had already collapsed to the ground.
Twenty men.
By the time the second thunderclap rolled in, twenty corpses littered the floor—only two of which belonged to the attackers.
It was then that Xiahou Dan finally got a clear look at their faces. They were not strangers; he had seen them at the Thousand Autumns Banquet.
People of Yan.
Tuer led the charge, wielding a blade stripped from a fallen guard with sweeping, thunderous strokes. His natural brute force surged like a torrent, infusing his entire being, transforming an ordinary longsword into a weapon that roared with the fury of wind and thunder.
The blade flashed like lightning, cleaving another Shadow Guard at the waist before pointing directly at the Emperor on the dais. The aura of a battlefield conqueror radiated from him, as if this single strike could annihilate legions—
Only to be intercepted by a short sword.
The wrist gripping the sword still bore a bracelet.
Tuer looked up in astonishment at the heavily made-up matron before him.
Under his gaze, the matron's bones emitted a series of muffled cracks as her figure abruptly stretched, revealing the physique of a man. Seizing Tuer's momentary shock, the man delivered a palm strike charged with fierce energy, squarely hitting Tuer's chest. Staggering back two steps, Tuer spat out a mouthful of blood!
Tuer: "What kind of monster are you?"
Bei Zhou: "Your mother."
Tuer: "???"
Bei Zhou was equally shaken. The sword was short, the blade long—the forced parry had already injured him internally, and the hand that struck now throbbed with pain. What kind of flesh was this man made of? Reinforced steel?
Bei Zhou's expression turned grave as he spoke slowly, "Judging by your skills, you must be Tuer, the so-called number one warrior of Yan?"
Tuer: "Indeed. And who might you be?"
Bei Zhou glanced at the carnage around them, stepped forward, and picked up a longsword from the ground, shaking off the blood. Calmly, he replied, "I'm just an ordinary water-carrying matron in the Great Xia palace."
Tuer: "..."
Belatedly realizing he'd been mocked, Tuer laughed instead of growing angry. "Is this all you Xia people can do—run your mouths? Fight me!"
He assumed a stance and charged again, but Bei Zhou, undaunted, prepared to meet him—
When suddenly, from somewhere behind them, came the faintest click.
In that split second, Bei Zhou moved.
Not toward Tuer, but sideways, retreating.
The next instant, it was as if a bolt of lightning had struck the very center of the Hall of Offering, erupting with a deafening blast.
The night before.
Yu Wanyin smiled. "Uncle Bei, show him the thing."
Bei Zhou grinned and raised both hands from behind his back.
Xiahou Dan: "..."
Xiahou Dan stared blankly at Yu Wanyin. "Are you joking?"Bei Zhou: "Huh, Dan'er, why do you look like you already know what this is? This was Wan Yin's idea—using gunpowder to power the mechanism instead of inner force to launch hidden projectiles. I spent countless nights perfecting it, the only pair of its kind in history..."
Xiahou Dan: "A gun."
Bei Zhou: "Your eyesight must be failing. How is this a gun? I gave it a name: the Nine Heavens Mystic Fire Rapid-Fire Sleeve Crossbow."
Xiahou Dan: "..."
Xiahou Dan: "Uncle, as long as it makes you happy."
Bei Zhou: "Here, take one each. It could save your life in a pinch. But since you haven't practiced, your aim might be off, so don't use it recklessly. Me? I don't need this thing to defend myself."
The hall fell into dead silence once more.
Even the advancing Yan soldiers paused, gaping in shock at the center of the hall.
A massive hole had appeared out of nowhere in the wooden pillar, the smell of scorched wood wafting out with wisps of smoke.
Xiahou Dan staggered back half a step for some reason before steadying himself, holding an unprecedented, bizarre contraption aimed directly at Tuer.
No one had seen how he'd attacked, but the sheer force and terrifying lethality had shattered everyone's understanding.
He must have missed. If that shot had hit Tuer...
Tuer threw his head back and laughed.
"Good!" His eyes gleamed with bloodlust. "Today, we'll see who dies first!"
But instead of charging at Xiahou Dan, he lunged at Bei Zhou.
Bei Zhou frowned, trying to create distance to give Xiahou Dan a clear shot. But Tuer's instincts were sharp—he immediately grasped the tactic and grappled with Bei Zhou, shouting, "Do the same! He can't aim!"
His men caught on, mimicking him by closing in on the remaining guards for close combat. Some even hoisted the corpses of guards as shields, inching toward Xiahou Dan.
Bei Zhou, relentlessly pursued by Tuer, was backed against the wall, his expression icy. "Are you underestimating me?"
He shifted his stance abruptly, channeling energy through his body. His hair flew wildly as his sword flashed like a rainbow.
Tuer dodged sideways, but Bei Zhou's strike continued unimpeded, shattering the window as he vaulted through it.
Tuer froze, then realized—but it was too late.
Another deafening blast rang out, and searing pain erupted in his shoulder!
Tuer roared, following Bei Zhou through the broken window, his right shoulder gushing blood. The stench of charred flesh mixed with blood was nauseating.
He rolled away from the window and stood in the pouring rain, trying twice in vain to lift his right arm. His wolf-like glare fixed on Bei Zhou, as if he wanted to tear him apart with his teeth.
Bei Zhou clicked his tongue in disappointment. "The aim really is terrible."
Tuer switched his blade to his left hand. "Again!"
Inside the hall, the guards had been whittled down to four or five, barely holding on.
The Empress Dowager, having sat paralyzed for a while, noticed the intruders seemed uninterested in her life. She hunched down and crawled toward the back door, hoping to escape in the chaos.
Xiahou Dan shot four Yan soldiers with the gun, but the rest were harder to target, and he accidentally wounded a Shadow Guard instead.
Still, the gun kept the Yan soldiers at bay.
How many shots were left? Three? Four? He couldn't remember.
Taking a deep breath, he raised the gun again when a Shadow Guard suddenly cried, "Your Majesty, behind you!"Xiahou Dan spun around abruptly, barely managing to avoid a fatal blow.
Haqina, who had ambushed him, drove a sword into his right chest.
Perhaps because he had grown accustomed to pain, Xiahou Dan first felt a piercing chill before the agony slowly registered.
Mechanically, he raised his hand and pulled the trigger.
Haqina collapsed.
Xiahou Dan fell to his knees, uncertain whether to pull the sword from his chest. The wound was beginning to grow numb—perhaps it had been poisoned. At this thought, he gritted his teeth and yanked the blade free, blood gushing out in its wake.
Outside the hall, guards who sensed the impending danger had already rushed into the rain, intending to run down the mountain to seek reinforcements from the Imperial Guards.
Before he could get far, a whistling sound came from above. He didn’t even have time to look up before an arrow pierced his heart.
A startled cry came from the woods, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.
After this repeated several times, Bei Zhou noticed. While still fending off Tuer, he took a deep breath and shouted through the window, “There’s an ambush in the woods! They won’t let us descend!”
The Empress Dowager, who had nearly crawled to the door, shuddered and turned to look at Xiahou Dan. Xiahou Dan, kneeling on the ground, also raised his head to meet her gaze.
Their eyes locked, and without hesitation, he aimed the dark muzzle of his gun at her.
The Empress Dowager’s vision darkened, and she instinctively let out a scream.
But Xiahou Dan lowered the muzzle slightly and fired, hitting her leg with a loud “bang!”
The Empress Dowager screamed again, her voice tearing through the air, “Xiahou Dan, you damned—”
Xiahou Dan: “Does Mother Empress intend to perish here with me?”
“What…?” The Empress Dowager’s mind was in chaos, her face streaked with tears and snot from the pain. “Those in the woods aren’t my people! My men are in the city—!”
Everything had happened too quickly for Xiahou Dan to process.
But now, hearing the Empress Dowager’s wails, he understood.
Prince Duan.
The Empress Dowager continued to sob, “It really wasn’t me, let me go…”
Xiahou Dan smiled. “Mother Empress, who would have thought that after all these years as mother and son, we’d meet our end together today. But in this misfortune, there’s a silver lining—your mausoleum can finally be put to use.”
He laughed even more genuinely, as if amused by his own words.
The Empress Dowager’s cold sweat and snot dripped down her face. “You—you’re insane…”
Xiahou Dan shook his head. “Unfortunately, I can’t die yet.”
How many bullets were left? Two? One?
He pushed himself up and took down another charging Yan man.
“There’s still someone waiting for me to return.”
Yang Duojie stepped out of a side hall of the lower palace and headed toward the next one.
Since earlier, thunder had been rolling continuously outside, growing louder and closer, as if some colossal being in the heavens was descending step by step, wielding lightning as a blade to split Mount Bei apart.
For some reason, Yang Duojie’s heart pounded erratically, and he hunched his shoulders.
Another thunderclap struck, startling the palace attendant beside him so badly that the umbrella tilted, drenching half of Yang Duojie in rain.
Just as Yang Duojie was about to step inside, he suddenly paused and turned his head toward the Hall of Offering.
Was that last sound… really thunder?
The trees on Mount Bei trembled under the dim, ominous sky. The distant horizon resembled ink spreading through water, layer upon layer of clouds collapsing like mountains, pouring down like a deluge from ancient times.
Suddenly, a black shadow flashed in the corner of his vision!
Yang Duojie focused his gaze. It wasn’t an illusion—someone was indeed sprinting down the mountain at full speed. A palace guard.
A guard abandoning the Emperor? Was he fleeing in panic or going for reinforcements?
Something major had happened in the Hall of Offering.
Yang Duojie wrestled with himself, but in the end, his sense of duty overcame his survival instinct. As long as he served as an official, he had to fulfill his obligations. He snatched the umbrella from the trembling attendant and hurried toward the Hall of Offering.
Two more figures came running toward him—Shadow Guards of Xiahou Dan, judging by their attire. “Lord Yang, wait!”
Yang Duojie: “What’s happening inside?”
The Shadow Guard’s expression was grave as he replied succinctly, “The Yan people are assassins.”Yang Duojie suddenly understood and made to dash off again, but the Shadow Guard stopped him. "This subordinate will notify the Imperial Guards. My lord must not go to the Hall of Offering or descend the mountain. Find a secluded place to hide. Do not waste His Majesty's kindness."
After this hurried exchange, they left Yang Duojie behind and vanished into the dark forest.
Yang Duojie stood frozen in place.
Kindness.
Yes. Earlier, the Emperor had sent him away upon sensing danger, deliberately keeping him out of harm's way.
What kind of ruler pushes his subjects away at the brink of death, rather than waiting for their rescue?
He recalled the look Xiahou Dan had given him moments ago—devoid of warmth or light, only cold calculation. That same detached, "sage without emotion" gaze that had always unsettled him.
Until today, Yang Duojie had believed Xiahou Dan saw him as nothing more than a useful pawn.
Now he understood. He was indeed useful—but not to the Emperor.
The Emperor protected him even at death's door because he was valuable to the realm.
Those stirring words Xiahou Dan had spoken on the Painted Boat—"You must stand tall and become the backbone of Great Xia"—Yang Duojie had never taken them seriously.
Yet an emperor's promise carried the weight of nine sacred tripods.
Unable to articulate his swirling thoughts, Yang Duojie felt his limbs go numb as his blood surged. He turned and sprinted blindly toward the Hall of Offering, but after only a few steps, strange noises erupted from the woods behind him.
One of the Shadow Guards who had stopped him earlier lay sprawled on the ground, an arrow protruding from his back. The remaining guard was locked in fierce combat.
Yang Duojie hastily ducked behind the nearest pillar and peered out.
A closer look revealed corpses scattered throughout the forest—not just guards and Shadow Guards, but also plainclothed figures.
The assailant fighting the Shadow Guard wore simple garments too. Though these ambushers bore no insignia, Yang Duojie wasn't foolish. They could only be either Yan Kingdom operatives or Prince Duan's death squad.
Prince Duan wanted the Yan people to eliminate both Xiahou Dan and the Empress Dowager.
The surviving Shadow Guard fought skillfully. Despite his injury from the ambush, he gritted his teeth and took down the attacker before collapsing himself.
Yang Duojie's breathing grew ragged. The absence of reinforcements during the skirmish suggested the ambushers in that direction had been eliminated—creating a gap in the encirclement.
So now he could...
Before the thought fully formed, his body had already acted, bursting from cover.
Yang Duojie felt as if he'd never run so fast in his life. He plunged into the forest, leaping over fallen bodies, descending, descending, branches whipping past, rain pelting down—
The slope grew steeper. Each step became treacherous until there was no path left—
"There he is!" came a shout behind him.
How many men had that bastard Prince Duan deployed?
Yang Duojie's foot caught. He faceplanted into the mud, hands sinking deep, unable to rise. As he struggled to look back, he saw an archer taking aim from a tree.
Abandoning attempts to stand, Yang Duojie rolled down the steep incline instead.
The world spun. Like a broken branch, he tumbled through mud and water, gaining speed until a fallen tree trunk finally halted his descent.Every inch of his body was in excruciating pain, and he couldn't tell how many bones were broken. His clothes had long been torn to shreds, and his flesh was bleeding. Yang Duojie gasped for breath, propped himself up against a massive tree, and continued his descent.
Through the gaps in the trees, he finally caught sight of the mountain's base.
Before Yang Duojie could even feel a surge of relief, the hairs on his back suddenly stood on end. From somewhere above, the sound of a bowstring being drawn taut reached his ears once more.
That moment stretched into eternity, the voice of the fallen Shadow Guard echoing in his mind: "Do not betray His Majesty's kindness..."
Yang Duojie's eyes widened in fury.
He was not meant to die here—not yet!
With every ounce of strength left in him, he threw himself to the side—
The whistle of an arrow cutting through air.
The thud of a heavy object hitting the ground.
Yang Duojie pushed himself up, checking his intact limbs before turning to look. The ambusher who had drawn the bow now lay on the ground, a dart embedded in his body.
"Lord Yang?" A woman's voice called out to him.
A peasant woman and several men dressed as farmers ran toward him. When the woman spoke, Yang Duojie was stunned to recognize Yu Wanyin's voice: "What happened to you?"
"Imperial Concubine Yu!" Yang Duojie shouted, disregarding all else. "There might still be people in the woods!"
Yu Wanyin abruptly halted and looked up.
Amid the curtain of rain and the dense trees, no trace of human figures could be discerned.
Then, a flash of steel—not from the treetops, but from behind a trunk!
The blade was upon them in an instant—
Yang Duojie heard Yu Wanyin take a sharp breath.
At the critical moment, an explosive sound erupted beside Yang Duojie's ear, nearly deafening him.
This sound bore an eerie resemblance to the one that had come from the direction of the Hall of Offering earlier.
Clutching his ears in panic, Yang Duojie watched as Yu Wanyin staggered back two steps and collapsed to the ground. The ambusher emerging from behind the tree now had a bloody hole in his body but was still alive, stubbornly raising his sword to strike at her.
Another blast.
This time, Yang Duojie saw it clearly—Yu Wanyin was holding a strange object, pointed directly at the man's forehead.
The man's brains and blood splattered onto the tree behind him, a grotesque mix of red and white. He swayed before finally collapsing, his blade clattering to the ground and rolling to Yu Wanyin's feet.
The last time Yu Wanyin had killed someone, it had been through Shu Fei's hands, and she hadn't seen Xiao Mei's corpse. Back then, she had vomited.
Now, with a real corpse right before her eyes, she felt no nausea—only a sense of unreality.
The scene before her wavered like a dream, and even the dead man looked like a prop dummy.
After all, wasn't this entire world just an illusion?
"Your Highness!" The voice of a Shadow Guard snapped her back to awareness. "Are you injured?"
A delayed wave of pain twisted in Yu Wanyin's stomach, but she gritted her teeth and endured it. No—even in this world, there was one person who was real.
She turned to Yang Duojie and spoke urgently, "Brief me on the situation."
Yang Duojie summarized as concisely as he could.
Yu Wanyin's mind raced. She glanced at the four Shadow Guards behind her and pointed to two of them. "You two, carry Lord Yang and go seek reinforcements."
The Shadow Guards responded, "Yes!"
"Lord Yang," Yu Wanyin patted him on the shoulder, "the future of Great Xia rests on your words now."
Yang Duojie departed.
The remaining two Shadow Guards hesitated. "Your Highness..."
Yu Wanyin's face was deathly pale as she tightened her grip on the gun. "I'm fine. Let's hurry up the mountain."Her chaotic mind suddenly conjured the most untimely thought: Why hadn’t she kissed him last night under the lantern light in the corridor?
The Shadow Guard moved swiftly, carrying Yang Duojie on his back as they raced toward the city gates.
Yang Duojie was covered in blood, and the Imperial Guards at the gate quickly stopped them.
Yang Duojie shouted hoarsely, “Where is Commander Zhao? Take me to Commander Zhao!”
Zhao Wucheng had already given orders that any unusual activity must be reported immediately. The guards didn’t dare delay and sent someone to fetch him.
At the sight of Yang Duojie’s condition, Zhao Wucheng felt half his worries ease: it seemed Prince Duan was close to success.
Yang Duojie was still frantically calling for help to save the emperor, but Zhao Wucheng cut him off. “Who are you?”
“I—” Yang Duojie identified himself.
Zhao Wucheng stroked his beard. “In such a state, with a few peasants in tow, you dare claim to be from the Imperial Observatory and even dream of mobilizing the Imperial Guards?”
Yang Duojie trembled with rage, frantically patting himself down, but all the items that could prove his identity had been lost during the earlier chaos.
Zhao Wucheng ordered, “Take him away for interrogation.”
Yang Duojie’s blood ran cold.
He could certainly find a way to prove his identity, but by the time he managed it, would anyone still be alive on Mount Bei?
In the pouring rain, Bei Zhou and Tuer had already exchanged hundreds of blows, neither able to break free.
In terms of martial skill, Bei Zhou far surpassed Tuer, who could only use his left hand. But Tuer was resolved to die, each strike aimed at mutual destruction, as if determined to drag Bei Zhou down with him. Meanwhile, Bei Zhou’s mind was still on Xiahou Dan in the Hall of Offering, leaving him momentarily suppressed.
Inside the Hall of Offering.
Almost all the invaders and defenders lay on the ground, dead or wounded, unable to move.
Only three Yan men remained standing in the hall.
They were elites under Tuer’s command, having fought through countless battles to reach this point, and their resolve only hardened as they approached the final moment. Using the mutilated corpses of fallen guards as shields, they advanced step by step in formation toward their last target.
Xiahou Dan sat on the floor deep inside the hall, blood seeping from his chest, one hand holding a gun as he aimed it back and forth at them, as if searching for an opening.
Only he knew the truth: this was nothing but a bluff. The gun’s chamber was empty.
The enemy continued their slow advance.
There was truly no way back today.
Xiahou Dan glanced back at the half-dead Empress Dowager, filled with regret. If he’d known he wouldn’t survive the day, he shouldn’t have wasted that bullet on her leg—he should have dragged her down with him.
He had so many regrets.
He hadn’t seen Prince Duan kneel before him. He hadn’t witnessed the end of war between the two nations or the bountiful harvest of Yanshu. He hadn’t fulfilled his promises to Cen Jintian and his other ministers, letting them see peace and prosperity.
Countless regrets flashed through his mind like fleeting shadows, but the image that lingered most vividly was the small, bubbling hotpot steaming in the Secluded Palace.
If only he could see her again…
Three sharp cracks rang out.
One by one, the three men blocking his view collapsed, revealing the wide-open doors behind them.
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