Yin Zhao was shocked beyond words.
He always thought that the Dragon Shadow Division disappeared with his father's abdication.
Unexpectedly, they had been lurking in the shadows, like ghosts of the empire, still loyal to the dying old man.
Emperor Yongchang took a few breaths, his eyes began to blur, but he still insisted:
"Zhao Muyun...is not dead...He...should have received my...order!"
"To save Dayin... he's the only one... Let's go find him... maybe... it's still not too late..."
At this moment, Yin Zhao felt mixed emotions.
He felt that his father was still planning for him and for this crumbling empire at the last moment of his life.
It was a complex emotion that transcended coup, house arrest and humiliation; it was a heavy and suffocating fatherly love.
Huge regret, guilt, and a glimmer of hope in despair suddenly broke down his defenses.
He fell to his knees in front of the bed with a plop, tightly grasping his father's bony hand, tears streaming down his face, sobbing uncontrollably:
"Father! Your son...your son deserves death! I'm sorry...I'm sorry!"
It was in this brief and cruel moment of reconciliation between father and son.
"boom!"
A dull roar like thunder came faintly from a distance, followed by continuous trumpet sounds, which became clearer and clearer!
That is the horn of the Tatars' attack!
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!"
Chen Xiong's panicked shouts and hurried footsteps broke the grief in the palace.
He didn't even bother with etiquette, and suddenly pushed open the door of the palace. His face was as pale as snow, and his voice was filled with unprecedented fear:
"Oh no! Tartars! The Tartars are suddenly attacking the city!"
Yin Zhao's expression changed drastically: "What's going on?"
"The Tatars outside the North Gate used the excuse of a missing soldier to force their way into the city. When the commander refused, they...they just started attacking the city!"
"The attack is extremely fierce! The shouts and cries of killing are deafening. It seems...it seems like we're about to collapse!"
There was an instant of dead silence in the bedroom.
The tears on Yin Zhao's face instantly turned cold, and his expression was frozen in extreme horror.
On the dragon bed, when Emperor Yongchang heard the news, a last ray of complex light suddenly burst out from his turbid eyes, containing grief, despair, and a mocking feeling of "as expected", which eventually turned into endless darkness.
He made a few soft "ho ho" sounds in his throat, tilted his head, and then there was no movement.
Only the eternal lamp was still beating tenaciously, reflecting the chaos and despair before the end of the empire.
In the capital city on a snowy night, the sound of killing shook the sky.
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