The Empress Dowager had only struck him in a fit of anger, but now that she saw him give in, her anger had subsided somewhat, and she couldn't help but feel a little guilty.
Furthermore, he had only managed to stay alive these past few days thanks to Song Ting's internal energy cultivation techniques, so he couldn't afford to break ties with him under any circumstances.
Thinking of this, the Empress Dowager's attitude was not as firm as before: "Then let the Commander and the Grand Secretary investigate together."
"Thank you, Empress Dowager."
"This old minister obeys the decree."
The remaining poison in the Empress Dowager's body had not been completely expelled, and the great ordeal had exhausted her mental energy; her complexion was even paler than before.
Seeing that things had temporarily calmed down, she waved her hand, "Then you may all leave, Your Majesty..."
But Zhang Bingzhi showed no sign of leaving: "Your Majesty, please wait, this old minister has something else to say."
"What else does the Grand Secretary want to say?" The Empress Dowager's expression already showed some impatience.
Zhang Bingzhi's murky gaze pierced Huaiyue, and he slowly spoke: "Is it time for Young Master Huaiyue to take off his mask?"
"What lies beneath that silver mask—a human or a ghost? None of us know. If we are taken away like this, what if someone steals our identity and replaces us?"
"How will we be able to determine whether the person hiding behind the mask is still Young Master Huaiyue?"
Song Tingsen's icy gaze pierced straight at him!
"Commander, please don't look at me like that. It's just that you've been greatly bewitched by this sorcerer, and I'm very worried that you might do something foolish, so I'm kindly reminding you."
"Your Excellency is truly thoughtful. I was so angry that I forgot all these things." Zhang Bingzhi's words reminded not only Song Ting but also the Empress Dowager.
The latter's attention then turned to Huaiyue.
Under the flickering candlelight, the man in red robes and a silver mask was truly like a ghost, exuding an indescribable evil aura. When the Empress Dowager's gaze met his, an indescribable chill rose from the soles of her feet, sending a shiver down her spine.
The Empress Dowager immediately thought of the box of paper figures and the densely packed silver needles. She was horrified and furious: "Quickly, quickly remove his mask for me!"
"Stop!" Just as Yang Zhaowen's hand was about to touch the silver mask, Song Ting swung his sword. Yang Zhaowen instinctively pulled his arm back, but was still cut by the sharp blade that could cut a hair in an instant.
The bright red bloodstains stripped away the last shred of dignity from the Empress Dowager: "Song Ting, do you intend to rebel?!"
Song Ting's face turned ashen: "Your subject dares not."
With that expression and tone, it didn't sound like she was afraid at all, but rather like she was about to take your dog's life. The Empress Dowager was so angry that her chest ached terribly, and Chunxin kept helping her to calm her down so that she almost fainted from the pain.
"I see you... I see you're really bold! What are you all standing there for? Take off this demon's mask for me!"
Song Ting no longer concealed his murderous intent; wherever his sword pointed, a mournful whistling sound could be heard.
His sword had already killed too many people and drunk too much blood; it seemed to be able to sense the killing intent in its owner's heart.
“There’s no need for you all to do this,” Chu Huaixu said, looking directly at the Empress Dowager, his gaze even colder than the silver mask that gleamed with a cold light. “I’ll take it off myself.”
He was still being held by the guards. After saying this, he twisted his shoulders, trying to break free, but they held him even tighter. Song Ting was about to make a move again, but was forced back by a look from the former.
Despite the excruciating pain in his shoulder, Chu Huaixu repeated, "Let go, I'll pick it myself."
The guards had already surrounded him, making escape impossible, and besides… Zhang Bingzhi glanced discreetly at Song Ting's extremely unpleasant expression…
“Let him go.” Zhang Bingzhi raised his arm. “But Young Master Huaiyue, there are archers outside the door. If you dare to make any rash moves, I cannot guarantee that you will not be hurt.”
Chu Huaixu snorted, not even glancing at Zhang Bingzhi, completely disregarding him. The latter's expression changed slightly, his eyes filled with resentment.
"What are you still hesitating for, young master? Pick them."
Song Ting gripped the soft sword tightly in his hand. Chu Huaixu's gaze swept over him, staring at the bulging veins on his neck for a while before chuckling softly.
Then, with his fingertips resting on the mask, amidst numerous eyes and Song Ting's fluctuating gaze, Chu Huaixu slowly removed the silver mask from his face.
"Are you all satisfied?" He tossed the silver mask aside lightly; the sound of it hitting the ground was like a blunt object striking the Empress Dowager on the head. She exclaimed in horror, "You—you are—"
If her expression was merely unpleasant before, then upon seeing Huaiyue's face clearly, it was practically ashen.
"You are Chu... Chu... the youngest son of Prince Duan, Chu Mingyao!" The Empress Dowager's fingertips trembled as she finally managed to utter the name after a long while. "Weren't you already dead?!"
Her eyes were filled with terror, as if the person standing in front of her was some kind of man-eating demon.
Song Ting's expression froze instantly. He slowly raised his eyes, and even the muscles in his cheeks twitched slightly.
"Guards! Protect the Empress! Quickly, guards!" First came the witchcraft, and now a man has come back from the dead. The Empress Dowager was terrified by this series of events. "It is truly the work of a sorcerer! Quickly, drag him out and burn him!"
"Your Majesty, calm down." Master Kongxing took two steps closer and pinched the Empress Dowager's left shoulder twice. The woman, who was in shock, suddenly calmed down.
Song Ting observed the monk's actions without making a sound.
“Commander Song, shouldn’t you explain what’s going on? Why is this young master Huaiyue beside you a remnant of the Prince Duan’s mansion?” Zhang Bingzhi said.
"What Prince Duan's Mansion, what Prince Duan Chu Mingyao? I am of lowly birth and dare not claim any kinship. I have no relation to that young master. Why do you all like to mistake me for a dead person?"
Huaiyue's face was also very unpleasant, but not from tension or fear; rather, it was from anger, and even a hint of impatience.
"Being constantly compared to a dead person is really unlucky!"
Zhang Bingzhi narrowed his eyes: "You guys?"
“Yes.” Huaiyue’s gaze shifted to Song Ting’s face. “For example, Commander, when we first met on the painted boat, you mistook me for an old friend, which is why you wanted to take me by your side.”
Song Ting pursed her lips, her face extremely pale.
"At first I didn't know why. Whenever the master made love to me, he liked to stare into my eyes and call me 'Young Master.' I wanted to please him, so I took the initiative, but every time I would get a beating from the master."
"Sometimes when the master drinks too much, he will hold me and call out another person's name. Gradually, I realized that the master is treating me as another person."
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