Chapter 103 The Prince's First Taste of Power
Because Zhao Si and the others were certain that Xi Yuan was the only biological son of Emperor Zhou Ling of the Great Xia Dynasty, who had been separated from his family and was likely his only biological child, their attitude towards him changed dramatically.
The previous ruthlessness beside the instruments of torture and the coldness during interrogation had vanished, replaced by an almost fearful deference.
They carefully untied the restraints on his wrists, their movements as gentle as if they were handling a rare treasure. They then hurriedly found clean water and a clean cloth to wipe the blood from his fingertips and the cold sweat from his forehead.
Xi Yuan was still a young man at heart. Although he had just experienced the thrilling ordeal, seeing these guards who were once fierce and menacing now circling around him with eyes full of flattery and unease, he felt a strange sense of novelty and pride beneath the panic caused by the discovery of his true identity.
He wasn't the type to hold grudges, and his mother Fangru's gentle teachings had instilled in him a habit of being kind to others. Coupled with the inevitable vanity of a young man, he half-heartedly accepted the service from Zhao Si and the others.
"Your Highness, please have some water to soothe your throat," Zhao Si said respectfully, holding a bowl of warm water.
Xi Yuan glanced at him, deliberately keeping a straight face, and mimicked the tone she'd heard in a play: "Hmm, put it down."
Zhao Si quickly agreed and handed the bowl of water forward.
Xi Yuan then took it and slowly took a sip.
The water temperature was just right, and his dry, stinging throat was soothed.
Seeing this, another quick-witted guard immediately went behind him and tentatively said, "Your Highness, shall I give you a shoulder massage? You were frightened just now."
Xi Yuan didn't speak, but only slightly raised his chin.
The guard immediately understood and began to pound him with just the right amount of force.
Seeing that he seemed to be in a better mood, Zhao Si became bolder. With a smile, he lowered his voice and said, "We were blind and offended Your Highness before. Please forgive us!"
Upon hearing the words "Your Highness the Prince," Xi Yuan's heart skipped a beat, and a strange feeling welled up inside him.
He remained outwardly calm, but inwardly he couldn't help but recall the various rumors he had already heard about Emperor Zhou Ling of the Great Xia Dynasty and his mother, Shen Fangru.
The emperor was furious over his mother's "death" and did not hesitate to launch a national war to massacre the Western Rong. Over the years, he had been very kind and lenient to his mother's maternal family, the Shen family, and their relatives. And most importantly, although there were six princes in the palace, none of them were the emperor's biological sons. They were all adopted from collateral branches of the imperial clan...
These fragments of information came together at this moment, pointing to a fact that even he himself found shocking: if he really was the son of Zhou Ling and Shen Fangru, then he was very likely the only blood-related biological son of his father.
This realization made his heart pound, and an indescribable surge of heat welled up in his chest.
Looking at the guards before him, who appeared exceptionally humble due to fear and fawning, his hidden vanity as a young man was satisfied like never before.
He did not explicitly accept the title "Your Highness," nor did he correct him. He simply narrowed his peach blossom eyes, which were remarkably similar to those of an emperor, and savored this belated honor, which perhaps should have been rightfully his.
He thought to himself: So this is what power tastes like? Mother, do you see? They are all bowing their heads to me now.
The atmosphere in the cell became subtle and eerie. The interrogation place, which had been tense and confrontational before, was now filled with a kind of obsequious fear.
Zhao Si and his gang did everything they could, serving tea and water, massaging shoulders and legs, hoping to at least make up for their grave mistake of resorting to private torture.
They surrounded Xi Yuan, each taking turns criticizing the princes, their tone clearly ingratiating yet tinged with genuine resentment.
They described how the princes vied for power, how they bullied others, and how they lost the emperor's favor, as if Xi Yuan could simply nod now and return to the palace tomorrow to deal with them all.
Xi Yuan leaned against the softly cushioned haystack, listening to these palace secrets, some true and some false. His face showed surprise, sympathy, and even a little indignation at appropriate times, and he would occasionally chime in with a few words: "Is that really true?"
"They went too far."
He knew perfectly well what was going on.
These people were initially arrogant but later became obsequious, simply because they feared the consequences of his possible identity and fantasized about the benefits he might bring if he returned.
Returning to the Xia Kingdom's palace? This thought, like a mirage, vanished in his mind in an instant.
He wanted to stay by his mother's side, regardless of whether the man named Zhou Ling was the emperor or anyone else. If his mother was unwilling, the so-called prince's status was not as warm to him as the lamp his mother left on for him at night.
In this seemingly harmonious atmosphere, where everyone harbors their own thoughts, a change gradually unfolds.
At first, there was a faint, sharp sound of metal clashing in the distance, so faint and brief that one might think it was an illusion.
The laughter in the cell paused. Zhao Si listened intently, his brows furrowing slightly. Seeing no further movement, he smiled and said to Xi Yuan, "Perhaps one of the brothers accidentally dropped his weapon. Your Highness, please don't be alarmed."
However, the seeds of unease have already been sown.
Before long, clearer shouts and chaotic footsteps approached from afar, and this time, everyone could hear them clearly.
The atmosphere suddenly became tense, and the previous ease vanished.
Zhao Si suddenly stood up, his fawning smile instantly replaced by a solemn expression. He strode to the cell door and peered out through the crack.
“Something’s not right…” he murmured. Before he could finish speaking, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air, followed by the sound of weapons clashing wildly like a tidal wave!
"Enemy attack! It's the Northern Rong! They've broken in..." A soldier covered in blood staggered and smashed open the door to the outer passage, shouting hoarsely. But before he could finish his warning, an arrow with its fletching still trembling pierced through his back, pinning his unfinished words and his life to the ground.
Dead silence, followed by an explosion of panic!
"Protect His Highness!" Zhao Si's eyes were bloodshot, but his reaction was extremely fast.
He was no longer the obsequious guard, but instantly transformed back into the experienced Imperial Guard.
He grabbed the still somewhat dazed Xi Yuan and, his voice hoarse with extreme tension, roared at his equally horrified companions, "Block them! Hold them off at all costs! I'll lead His Highness through the secret passage!"
Chaos engulfed everything in an instant.
The guards covering the rear drew their weapons, roared, and rushed towards the door, where they clashed with the Northern Di soldiers who had already appeared, and blood immediately splattered everywhere.
Zhao Si gripped Xi Yuan's wrist tightly, with such force that he almost crushed his bones. Without a word, he dragged him to an extremely secluded corner deep inside the cell, moved aside several seemingly fixed haystacks, and revealed a dark opening that could only accommodate one person at a time.
"Quick! Your Highness, go in!" Zhao Si pushed Xi Yuan in forcefully, followed closely behind, and then groped around inside to roughly restore the entrance to its original state.
The secret passage was narrow, damp, and filled with a musty smell, with only a faint ray of light guiding the way.
The two ran wildly through the darkness, one after the other, stumbling along. The sounds of clashing weapons, roars, and dying screams clung to them like maggots, relentlessly pursuing them.
After running for an unknown amount of time, light finally appeared ahead – it was the exit.
The two rushed out of the secret passage and found themselves on the edge of a sparse woodland behind the camp.
The shouts of battle behind them hadn't faded away; in fact, they seemed to grow closer, clearly indicating that their comrades covering the rear hadn't held out for long.
Zhao Si, panting heavily, shoved Xi Yuan behind a moss-covered boulder to hide him. He then leaned against the boulder, his chest heaving violently, his eyes rapidly scanning the possible locations of the pursuers.
“Your Highness,” he turned his head, his voice urgent yet resolute, “we can’t go together! We’re too conspicuous; neither of us can escape! I’ll distract them. You run downstream along this stream without stopping! About five miles away, you’ll see an abandoned mountain god temple. Behind the temple, count east, under the third crooked tree, hit the tree trunk with a stone—three long, two short! A woman named ‘Jing Niang’ will appear to meet you! Tell her the code phrase ‘The moon sets, crows cry, frost fills the sky,’ and she will lead you safely to Carle City to find His Majesty! You must find His Majesty!”
"Zhao Si!" Xi Yuan subconsciously reached out to grab his arm, a strong sense of unease welling up inside him.
The guard who had been fawning over him just moments before now only had unwavering loyalty in his eyes, ready to die for his cause.
Zhao Si abruptly shook off his hand, forcing an ugly smile: "Your Highness, please take care! If I survive, I will apologize to you again!"
Having said that, he no longer hesitated. He took a deep breath, drew his sword, and turned like a moth drawn to a flame, roaring with all his might in the direction from which the pursuers were clamoring: "You Northern Barbarian scoundrels! Your Grandpa Zhao is here! Come on!"
He deliberately made a loud noise, brandished his steel knife, and deliberately revealed his position, rushing in the opposite direction of the stream.
Xi Yuan huddled behind the boulder, biting her lip tightly. She listened as Zhao Si's roar was quickly drowned out by the shouts of the Northern Di soldiers and the clash of weapons. Her heart felt as if it were being tightly gripped by an invisible hand, aching and throbbing.
He saw the figures of the Northern Di people moving among the trees in the distance, their numbers far exceeding his expectations.
Reason told him that Zhao Si was risking his life to give him a chance to survive, and that rushing out now would only add another corpse to the pile, which would be meaningless.
The intense feeling of reluctance and guilt burned through his body, but he forced himself to calm down.
He suddenly turned around and began to run wildly along the babbling brook.
The icy stream water splashed onto his trouser legs, but it couldn't cool the turmoil in his heart.
After running a distance, he suddenly remembered the shock Zhao Si and the others felt when they first saw his face, as well as the enormous trouble and danger that his "prince" identity might bring.
He must not fall into the hands of the Northern Di people with his true identity!
He abruptly stopped, squatted down by the stream, and without hesitation stretched out his hands, scooped up the wet, cold mud mixed with sand and gravel, and smeared it haphazardly and forcefully on his face, neck, and even ears.
He grabbed a handful of withered grass, crushed it, mixed it with mud and water, and carefully applied it, trying to cover up his originally fair skin and overly defined facial features.
The clear stream reflected a dirty, filthy boy whose original appearance was almost unrecognizable. Only then did he feel slightly relieved and continue to flee downstream along the stream.
Unbeknownst to him, almost at the same time he was racing through the forest, Cai Shan, also riding at full speed and carrying a shocking secret, encountered the elite cavalry of the Northern Barbarians on another official road leading to Carle City.
A battle ensued where the enemy was outnumbered. Although Cai Shan fought valiantly, he ultimately fell in a pool of blood.
The secret that could change the fate of countless people was temporarily buried among the weeds with his death.
Xi Yuan dared not stop for a moment. Relying on his survival instinct and Zhao Si's guidance, he finally saw the dilapidated mountain god temple that was faintly visible in the morning mist just as his strength was about to be exhausted and the sky began to lighten.
His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and fear. He went around to the back of the temple and carefully counted as instructed: "One, two, three..."
It's that crooked tree!
He practically collapsed to the tree, picked up a stone with trembling hands, took a deep breath, and prepared to strike it according to the agreed-upon rhythm.
"Halt! Who goes there?!" A rough voice in the Northern Di language boomed like thunder behind him.
Xi Yuan felt as if his blood had frozen instantly, and he stiffly turned his head away, bit by bit.
Several Northern Di soldiers appeared not far away as if by ghosts, their scimitars gleaming coldly in the dim morning light, staring at him, the uninvited guest, with vigilance and suspicion.
The leader sized him up. Although Xi Yuan's face was covered in mud and his clothes were tattered, his demeanor, which was different from that of ordinary refugees, and his behavior in this sensitive location aroused their suspicion.
"Who are you? Why were you guarded by so many Xia Kingdom imperial guards before?" the squad leader shouted, taking a step closer.
Xi Yuan forced himself to calm down, suppressing his wildly beating heart, and answered in the Northern Di language with an accent, deliberately sounding weak and fearful: "I... I am just a prisoner who offended a high-ranking official of the Xia Kingdom and was arrested and imprisoned by them... I escaped... It's no use arresting me, please, let me go..." As he spoke, he subconsciously took a step back, his body trembling slightly, playing the role of a frightened fugitive.
Just then, a deep and authoritative voice rang out: "What's going on?"
A Northern Di warrior of exceptionally burly stature, clad in exquisite leather armor and with a magnificent scimitar at his waist, slowly approached, surrounded by several imposing attendants.
His gaze, sharp as a hawk's, swept across the scene before finally settling on Xi Yuan. His eyes were so keen they seemed to penetrate the mud and grime on Xi Yuan's face, revealing his true nature.
His adjutant carefully examined Xi Yuan. Although the boy's face was covered in dirt, his vague outline and figure reminded him of the description in the intelligence report.
The adjutant quickly leaned close to the warrior's ear and whispered, "General, this kid... looks a lot like the son of He Ruo, the former sheriff of Carle City, mentioned in our previous intelligence. His name is He Xiyuan! His father, He Ruo, is now wholeheartedly helping Zhou Ling stabilize Carle City, which is a major threat to us! Keeping him alive might force He Ruo to submit, or at least disrupt his mind!"
It turns out that this imposing Northern Di warrior was none other than Qi Yuan, the Northern Di general whom Emperor Zhou Ling of the Great Xia Dynasty had personally led a northward expedition to capture and kill!
Upon hearing this, a calculating glint flashed in Qi Yuan's eyes.
He looked Xi Yuan up and down again, as if assessing the value of a tool.
After a moment of silence, he waved his hand coldly, his voice devoid of any emotion:
"Take him away, lock him up, and keep him under strict guard!"
At the command, two fierce Northern Di soldiers immediately stepped forward and roughly twisted Xi Yuan's arm.
Xi Yuan struggled for a moment, but it was like an ant trying to shake a tree.
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Author's Note: There will be another chapter later.
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