Chapter 26

These words, which distorted the truth, framed others, and even allegedly plotted regicide, were like ice water poured over someone's head, completely freezing the last vestige of warmth in the hall. He actually intended to pin this heinous crime on Lin Wuyong and use it as an excuse to murder the emperor and seize the throne.

After Ling Zhouli finished recounting this meticulously crafted "ending," he found Jiang Xianheng still standing there like a stone statue, completely motionless. The cruel smile on his face instantly froze, turning into a chilling killing intent. He took two steps forward, a powerful sense of oppression enveloping Jiang Xianheng, his voice sinister: "Jiang Xianheng, didn't you hear what I said?! What are you waiting for?!"

Jiang Xianheng, who had been silent all along, suddenly raised his head. This towering man now had bloodshot eyes, his chest heaving violently, and his face was filled with extreme grief and despair. He stared intently at Ling Zhouli, his gaze no longer that of a loyal lord, but that of a treacherous enemy.

"Your Highness!" Jiang Xianheng's voice was hoarse. "What do you take us, your brothers who have risked our lives for you and entrusted our lives to you, for?! Are we just tattered rags that you can discard at any time?!"

He pointed sharply outside the hall, as if a spirit stood there, his voice trembling with excitement: "Do you still remember Zou Ming?! The Zou Ming who blocked three poisoned arrows for you."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he bitterly accused, "Two years ago, just because he had a few words with that纨绔子弟 (spoiled brat) from Consort Li's maternal family at a palace banquet, what happened? Consort Li shed a few tears in front of you and complained about how her nephew had been wronged... You, without even distinguishing right from wrong, issued a military order and dragged Zou Ming out... He was beaten to death outside the palace gate."

Jiang Xianheng's voice suddenly rose, filled with a tearful accusation: "Zou Ming should have been a fine son who died on the battlefield, wrapped in a horse's hide! He should have stained the enemy's blade with his blood, not his own people's batons!"

He surveyed the silent, trembling civil officials in the hall, all promoted by Ling Zhouli, his eyes filled with contempt and heartache: "And all these years, what kind of people have you promoted and cultivated? They're all sycophants, bootlickers, corrupt officials, lazy scoundrels. These people are useless, occupying positions without contributing anything, yet you ignore them all. Instead, you suppress and constantly guard against us loyal old ministers who fought for your country and shed our blood. Your Highness, your heart... has long been bewitched by that vixen and these treacherous officials... completely cold!"

After Jiang Xianheng finished his accusations with a roar, the pent-up emotions that had been building up in his chest for years seemed to burst forth instantly, only to transform into a deeper sense of sorrow and resolve. He faced the dragon throne, which remained as silent as a mountain, and knelt down heavily with a "thud".

He bowed deeply, his forehead touching the ground, his voice hoarse yet unusually loud, "Your Majesty, I, Jiang Xianheng, have been disloyal and unjust, aiding and abetting evil for many years. Today I have come to my senses, but my sins are too grave to be redeemed even by death. All my mistakes are my own fault and have nothing to do with anyone else!"

He raised his head, his bloodshot eyes filled with hot tears, and looked straight at Pei Yun on the throne. His eyes were full of a final plea: "I only ask that Your Majesty, after this matter is over... treat those truly loyal and patriotic ministers kindly, and treat... the innocent people of this world kindly!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Jiang Xianheng drew his sword from his waist. With a flash of cold light, he held the sword to his neck, his eyes showing no more hesitation. He issued a blood-stained order to his personal guards: "All soldiers, listen to my command! Slaughter all these treacherous officials who are stirring up trouble, disrupting the court, and colluding with the wicked king! Leave no one alive!"

"kill--"

The already tense atmosphere inside the hall suddenly exploded!

After a brief silence, the sounds of weapons slicing through the air, the dull thud of sharp objects piercing flesh, the horrifying tearing sounds of bones separating from flesh, the agonizing screams of the dying, desperate cries for mercy, angry curses, and frenzied roars stimulated by the blood... all intertwined instantly, engulfing the entire Zichen Palace!

Warm blood, like cheap ink, was splattered wantonly on the polished gold bricks, the dragon-carved beams and pillars, and the imperial steps that symbolized supreme power. Severed limbs and mangled bodies rolled down the ground, and thick blood plasma flowed and gathered freely on the ground. The air was filled with a strong, nauseating, rusty, and sweet-smelling stench.

The faces that were just moments ago arguing, flattering, and cursing are now twisted, shattered, and deathly silent under the cold light.

Ling Zhouli was stunned by the sudden and fatal backlash. His arrogance and control instantly turned into extreme fear and disarray. Several loyal lieutenants rushed to his side and formed a human wall with their bodies to block the weapons and out-of-control soldiers coming from all directions. They tore a bloody path through the chaotic and bloody crowd!

"Protect the prince! Run!"

Ling Zhouli was dragged and pulled by them, staggering as he retreated towards the side door of the back hall. In the instant before he was pushed into the side passageway in his hasty escape, he subconsciously turned around and looked at the figure sitting high on the dragon throne.

Pei Yun remained seated, motionless, his posture unchanged. He rested one hand on his chin, his knuckles lightly touching his jaw. His compassionate yet smiling eyes, with a hint of playful mockery, quietly surveyed the carnage within the hall, a spectacle he himself had ignited, now madly devouring everything in its path.

His gaze was icy cold, devoid of any warmth, filled with indifference towards the struggle of ants, and a hint of disdainful mockery towards the bloody scene. It was as if the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood before him were nothing more than a dull drama, leaving him feeling empty, bewildered, and bored.

A chill ran through Ling Zhouli's heart, even more intense than a knife to the neck!

Inside the hall, the slaughter continued; blood had seeped through the cracks in the gold bricks, slowly flowing...

Historical records state that in the autumn of the Yuan Chu dynasty, Regent Prince Ling Zhouli's crimes were clearly evident, and he was displayed before the Zichen Palace. However, his rebellious and arrogant nature defied the law, and he brazenly led troops into the palace, massacring the Zichen. Blood stained the golden hall, corpses littered the jade steps, loyal officials perished, and the court collapsed. On that day, within the palace walls, bloodstains soaked three inches deep into the gilded floor tiles, and the cries of wronged souls echoed around the palace beams for three days without ceasing. It was truly an unprecedentedly tragic palace coup since the founding of the Yuan Chu dynasty. The royal authority collapsed, and the dynasty's vitality was severely damaged; this event is historically known as the "Blood Calamity of the Zichen."

*

Inside the Hall of Mental Cultivation, the charcoal fire flickered. Outside, the north wind howled like a knife across the courtyard, whipping the carefully tended potted plants, causing their branches and leaves to dance wildly and sway precariously. Palace maids and eunuchs braved the biting wind, frantically trying to straighten and move the swaying plants, their clothes billowing in the wind as they shivered with cold.

"This awful weather... winter is just around the corner," a palace maid muttered under her breath, her neck hunched and her hands cupped around her mouth, her voice trembling with cold. "Things at Rongxi Palace... are going to be even harder..."

Before she could finish speaking, an older palace maid beside her immediately lowered her voice and scolded, "How dare you spout such nonsense? Get back to work!"

The "Blood Calamity of the Purple Palace" that shocked the court in autumn ended with the Regent Prince Ling Zhouli's defeat and escape. However, during his escape, he still managed to forcibly abduct Consort Li from Rongxi Palace. Although she was the emperor's stepmother, she was still admitted to Rongxi Palace with the rites of a "concubine," which was ultimately a disgraceful affair.

All the palace servants in Rongxi Palace were severely punished with caning by the Inner Court for "failing to serve properly" and "failing to protect their master," as a warning to others.

The curtains inside the palace were drawn low. Crane Shadow, with his exceptional hearing, vaguely caught the whispers outside. His brows furrowed instantly, and he instinctively reached out to reprimand them. His twin brother, whose appearance was almost identical to his, swiftly grabbed his arm. He looked grave and shook his head slightly. Both brothers' gazes simultaneously fell upon the dragon throne.

Pei Yun lay there quietly, covered with a thick brocade quilt, but his face was deathly pale. His eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed, as if he were enduring some kind of invisible pain.

Since the palace coup, or more precisely, since the departure of that Miss Xi, he had frequently been plagued by these sudden bouts of "angina." The imperial physicians on duty at the Imperial Hospital examined him countless times with trepidation. His pulse was steady and strong, and his internal organs and blood were in harmony. They could only come to one conclusion: "His Majesty is in good health and there is nothing seriously wrong." But the lifeless face before him was clearly a silent accusation of the physicians' helplessness and the futility of their diagnosis.

"Where is the letter..." The person on the dragon bed suddenly uttered a very soft murmur, the voice ethereal as if in a dream.

He Ying immediately held her breath, quickly approached the bedside, bent down, almost pressed her ear to Pei Yun's lips, and anxiously whispered, "Master, what did you say? A letter? What letter?"

Hesong sighed, pulled back his somewhat impetuous elder brother, and whispered, "Brother, the master is asking about... the letter from Medicine Valley." He looked at Pei Yun with a complicated expression.

He Ying's mind raced. What news could there be from Medicine Valley? Weren't the spies monitoring them there removed by their master long ago after Miss Xi went down the mountain?

After the master discovered Miss Xi's identity as a member of the witch clan, he exiled all the spies originally planted around the Medicine Valley to the far-off, bitterly cold lands for "inadequate supervision." As a result, all communication with the Medicine Valley was completely cut off. Now that the old story has been brought up again, could it be that... could it be that the master has once again decided to monitor the Medicine Valley?

His brows furrowed; could it be that his master still had feelings for Miss Xi...?

Seeing He Ying's troubled expression, He Song quickly interrupted him: "Brother, the master's 'illness' is quite strange, and the imperial physicians are helpless... Why don't we try to invite Young Master Xi to the palace? His medical skills are divine, perhaps..."

Upon hearing this, He Ying's eyes suddenly sharpened, and her voice was filled with suppressed anger: "He Song, have you been by Young Master Xi's side for too long that you can't even tell who your true master is anymore? His deliberate concealment of Miss Xi's identity is already a crime of betrayal, and he must not be used again!"

The two brothers stood frozen in the dim light outside the hall, the air thick with tension, save for the howling wind and rain outside and their own breathing.

Just then, a slight rustling sound came from the inner hall. The two men's hearts tightened, and they quickly turned around to look.

Pei Yun had somehow gotten up and was leaning against a bright yellow cushion. His face was still as pale as paper and his thin lips were bloodless. However, his eyes were unusually clear and sharp at this moment.

His voice was hoarse and weak, "Call Qin Huaisi... here."

The name startled He Ying for a moment. After a while, he suddenly remembered that it was the fake young master who had returned from the southern border, the eldest grandson whom Grand Secretary Qin had protected with a pledge of loyalty. He was now being pampered by the Qin family like a precious jewel, and it was said that he only knew how to drink and make merry every day, living a life of debauchery.