Chapter Thirty-One: A Plot Unveiled

Before Zhongli Yu and the others could ask any further questions, Yang Rui fainted from excessive blood loss. Just before he lost consciousness, he seemed to gaze deeply at Zhan Yan, a trace of barely perceptible contentment flickering in his eyes. Even if he were to die now, having seen this woman before death could be considered a final mercy from the heavens.

“I’ll have someone send him back to the post station first, then I must make a trip to the palace,” Zhongli Yu said in a low voice, drawing a signal flare from his sleeve and igniting it.

Within moments, a man dressed in black appeared before them. He landed without a sound, his martial skill clearly formidable. “Subordinate greets the Master and Madam,” the man saluted respectfully.

“This is Feng Lin, leader of the Seventy-Two Hidden Guards of the Serene Pavilion,” Zhongli Yu explained softly to Zhan Yan.

Zhan Yan nodded. She had long suspected he commanded many capable hands; even Qing Xian, the carriage driver, possessed martial prowess not to be underestimated, let alone the chief of the Hidden Guards.

“Escort the Crown Prince of Xiyuan to the post station, and see that he is well protected. Do not let anything happen to him in Dongling,” Zhongli Yu instructed, taking a small porcelain bottle from his sleeve. He poured out a black medicinal pill and pressed it into Yang Rui’s mouth. Yang Rui’s injuries were grave—without prompt treatment, his life would be forfeit. Fortunately, fate had brought him to the lake where Zhongli Yu and the others were, ensuring his destiny was not yet spent.

“Yes, my lord.” With that, Feng Lin lifted Yang Rui, and in an instant, they became a black dot vanishing from sight.

“I’ll take you home first, then head to the palace,” Zhongli Yu said, taking Zhan Yan’s hand and walking toward Chaoying.

“All right,” Zhan Yan replied gently, her mood for boating on the lake now gone.

Zhongli Yu did not return from the palace until dusk. Clearly, the matter was a vexing one. After all, with the Crown Prince of Xiyuan attacked in Dongling, Dongling could not shirk responsibility. Even if they sent people to investigate, those found to have attempted the assassination would still be from Dongling, as there was no evidence yet that the Thousand Poisons Sect was under Xiyuan’s control. Clearly, someone had orchestrated this scheme to incite war between the two nations. But who was the mastermind? Could it be the King of Xiyuan himself? The thought sent a chill through Zhan Yan. It was said that King Yang Yu of Xiyuan was highly ambitious—since ascending the throne ten years ago, he had never concealed his desire to conquer the world. Yet Yang Rui was his own son. Could he truly be so ruthless? If the hand behind this was indeed the King of Xiyuan, then Yang Rui, the Crown Prince, had already been cast aside by his father.

At the post station, Yang Rui slowly regained consciousness. Remembering everything before he fainted, a chill gripped his body. The assassins who had come for him were none other than Xiyuan’s own royal covert guards; he knew their martial techniques well. His father had embedded these guards in Dongling five years before. Who could have foreseen that in his quest for supremacy, his father would discard even his own flesh and blood? Yang Rui had always known his father was dissatisfied with him—for he lacked ambition and only wished to govern well—whereas his father sought an heir with the same hunger for expansion, someone who could help achieve a unified realm.

“Brother Crown Prince, you’re awake?” Princess Birou had kept vigil at his bedside and exclaimed with joy when she saw him open his eyes. He had been unconscious for most of the day, and she had worried deeply—after all, Yang Rui was her brother from the same mother, and her concern was genuine.

“Birou, I fear this journey bodes ill for us. You must be careful,” Yang Rui said gravely, gazing at his sister with a pang of sorrow. Since their mother’s passing, life in the palace had become difficult. To please their father, Birou had worked hard to master all manner of skills and had become exceptionally accomplished. Their father had sent her to Dongling for a marriage alliance, supposedly in recognition of her talents—but in truth, she was merely a pawn in his hands.

“Brother, how could it come to this?” Tears welled in Birou’s eyes. She was not foolish—Yang Rui’s words made everything clear. Who but their father would dare orchestrate their demise in Dongling? At the very least, Dongling would not be so reckless.

“He never loved our mother. His heart always belonged to Consort Liang, so the heir he truly favored was Consort Liang’s son. He has tolerated us all these years—now, apparently, he has had enough.”

“But Brother, why? He is our father…” Birou could not accept the cruel truth, her heart aching unbearably.

“If we survive this ordeal, you must find a man who truly loves you,” Yang Rui said, stroking her head, his eyes filled with pain.

Birou nodded and threw herself into his arms. At this moment, she realized that only her own brother was truly good to her in this world. The hurt from being rejected by Prince Chun the night before suddenly felt insignificant.

“Brother, what should we do now?” Birou asked, regaining her composure. Survival was their paramount concern.

“Don’t be afraid. No matter what, I will protect you. As for the negotiations with Dongling, they are lost to us now. In less than three days, news of the Crown Prince of Xiyuan being attacked in Dongling will be all over Xiyuan, giving our father the perfect pretext to wage war against Dongling,” Yang Rui said anxiously. He recalled that woman’s words: only in times of peace can there be a beautiful homeland. Yet it seemed the people’s homes would never be as idyllic as in her songs.

“Should we return home, then?”

“We cannot return. With so few people in our party, we would not make it back to Xiyuan alive.”

“But if Father already has his reason to march to war, why must he still hunt us down?” Birou was confused. Could their father truly be so merciless?

“Perhaps not our father, but someone else would.”

“You mean Yang Qi?” Birou’s face turned ashen. Yang Qi was the son of Consort Liang, their father’s most beloved child. He would never allow them to return to Xiyuan alive.

“We’ll stay here for now. Prince Chun’s people are protecting us,” Yang Rui said calmly. After twenty years as crown prince, he was hardly a fool—he had simply been caught off guard.

“Prince Chun?” Birou gasped. Was that godlike man truly their protector?

“Had it not been for Prince Chun, I would be dead already. Birou, do not think of him anymore. Between him and that woman, there is no place for anyone else,” Yang Rui gently advised, though even as he spoke, a dull ache throbbed in his heart.

“Don’t worry, Brother, I understand.” Perhaps her feelings for Prince Chun were nothing more than a young girl’s admiration for a hero. Now, there was no room for such thoughts.

“I’m glad you see it that way.” Yang Rui caressed her face, unable to hide the pain in his eyes. Whatever happened, he would let no one harm his sister. It was his mother’s dying wish that he protect her always.