"Ah!"
The emperor gasped in shock, but the two were too close for him to evade.
At the critical moment, Empress Pei threw herself forward, shielding him with her body!
Thud!
The sound of a blade sinking into flesh echoed—yet it was not the empress who was struck. Instead, a rough, calloused hand had seized the blade mid-air!
"Ninth Brother!!"
The emperor rejoiced, but a flicker of astonishment flashed in An Sheng's eyes.
What was happening? How had this old ninth brother appeared there as if he had known in advance?
Though Murong Jin had caught the blade barehanded, the momentary delay was enough for the imperial guards to swarm forward.
"Protect His Majesty! Protect His Majesty!"
Yin Shun shrieked as he scurried to the emperor's side. The guards surged forward, clashing with Yan Zhao in a fierce struggle.
Yan Zhao moved with serpentine grace, his short blade dancing with unearthly precision. Each imperial guard was a trained warrior, yet none could close in on him!
A sharp-eyed general suddenly recognized his movements. "This—this resembles the Yan family's blade technique!"
As if hearing the remark, Yan Zhao broke free from the encircling guards and lunged straight for the general.
"Ah!!"
The surrounding ministers scattered in panic.
The general was no pushover either. With both hands, he overturned a heavy table and hurled it forward.
Crash!
The short blade hacked into the table's edge, cleaving off a corner.
In the next instant, Yan Zhao kicked out, sending the table flying back—straight into the general, knocking him flat to the ground!
The chaos sent the noblewomen fleeing in terror.
Lady Jiang the Younger shielded her daughter amidst the commotion, relieved they were far enough to avoid harm...
But then she spotted a familiar figure darting toward the fray. "Ruolan!!"
Her face drained of color as she watched Chu Ruolan charge forward. Yan Zhao raised his blade, poised to strike the fallen general.
"No!!"
Amid Lady Jiang's scream, Chu Ruolan threw herself between them. "Stupid fish! Stop this madness!"
She spread her arms wide, shielding the general. As the blade descended, she squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away.
Sssk.
A cold edge grazed her cheek—but at the last possible moment, the blade halted mid-air.
Meng Ji's eyes darkened with fury. She violently shook her wrist, sending the silver bell on her bracelet into a frenzied chime.
As if obeying a command, Yan Zhao raised his blade again—but his arm trembled, as if resisting. With a roar, he abruptly turned and charged toward the emperor's throne instead.
By now, the emperor was encircled by layers of guards. Spears bristled like a deadly forest as Yan Zhao rushed forward.
At that moment, Yan Zheng suddenly stood. With a swift, palm-strike, he slammed it into Yan Zhao's back!
"Ugh!"
Yan Zhao crumpled to the ground. As he tried to rise, Yan Zheng stomped down, pinning him underfoot.
Seeing this, Meng Ji moved to shake her bell again—but delicate fingers seized her wrist. "Princess Meng Ji, is this the 'Puppetry Art' of the Western Frontier?"
The Western Frontier was the most enigmatic of the four kingdoms, a land of sects and esoteric arts. This remote-control technique bore an uncanny resemblance to the ancient puppetry arts recorded in texts.
Chu Ruoyan had spoken on a whim, yet Meng Ji's face paled with terror, her eyes betraying recognition.
But the fear vanished in an instant. She yanked her hand back. "Sister Chu, what nonsense are you talking? I'm from the Southern Barbarians—I've never even been to the Western Frontier!" As she spoke, she raised her wrist and gave it a shake.
The silver bell that had controlled Yan Zhao crumbled inexplicably into dust, scattering to the floor.
Chu Ruoyan's brow furrowed. Now there was no evidence left!
Meanwhile, Yan Zheng had subdued Yan Zhao. The imperial guards swarmed in, binding him tightly and pressing him into the floor.
The emperor, still shaken, stepped forward to interrogate him—only to pause in surprise. "Chief Councillor Yan, your leg?"
Yan Zheng stood tall and composed, clad in his violet python-patterned official robes.
He cupped his hands slightly. "Your Majesty's grace has restored my ability to walk, though not for extended periods yet."
Princess An Sheng spoke up. "Forgive me, Brother. Under Chief Physician Zhang's care, Zheng'er has regained his footing. I had planned to announce the joyous news once he fully recovered..."
The emperor waved it off. "No forgiveness needed. Were it not for the chief councillor today, how would we have captured this assassin?"
The tension in the hall eased. Meng Yang quickly pushed a wheelchair forward, and Yan Zheng seated himself once more.
The emperor then turned. "Ninth Brother, how is your hand?"
Murong Jin had caught the blade barehanded to save him, and blood still seeped from the wound.
Chu Ruoyin's gaze flickered before she lowered her head.
Murong Jin tore a strip from his sleeve, wrapping the injury carelessly. "A minor cut, Your Majesty. It’s nothing."
His eyes first swept toward Chu Ruoyin, but seeing her indifferent posture, his heart clenched.
Then he glanced at her father, Chu Huaishan, and gave a slight nod.
Chu Huaishan's heart sank.
So the intelligence Ruoyan had brought was accurate!
Yan Zheng had indeed struck during the state banquet—and nearly succeeded in assassinating the emperor!
He stepped forward. "Your Majesty! The Southern Barbarians have broken faith, exploiting this banquet to attempt regicide! I demand a thorough investigation!"
The ministers, who had moments ago fled in disarray, now rallied with righteous fury. "We demand justice!"
The emperor nodded slowly, turning to Meng Ji. "Princess Meng Ji, your consort attempted to assassinate Us. What say you?"
To everyone's surprise, Meng Ji smiled faintly. "Great Xia Emperor, he is indeed my consort—but are you not curious about his true identity?"
Puzzled, the emperor ordered the silver mask removed.
Beneath it was a face all too familiar.
"Yan Zhao?!"
"Yan Zhao, the sixth son of General Yan? He’s alive?"
"How can this be?"
The hall erupted in uproar.
Yan Lin and Grandma Yan staggered forward as if doused in ice water, prostrating themselves before the throne. "Your Majesty, spare us! Our sixth son would never dare harm you—there must be some mistake!"
"A mistake?" The emperor's eyes bulged like copper bells. He pointed an accusing finger. "He nearly killed Us! What mistake could there be?"
Taking in Yan Zhao's curled brown hair and Southern Barbarian attire, a dreadful suspicion struck him. "You defected to the Southern Barbarians! Yan Zhao, did you resent Us for your father and brothers' deaths at Hangu Pass? Is that why you tried to assassinate Us today?!"
The accusation left the Yan family trembling, their limbs weak.
Assassinating the emperor was a crime punishable by the extermination of nine generations!
Yan Zhao, now freed from the mask's concealment, seemed to awaken from a dream. Dazed, he lifted his head—and the moment his gaze landed on An Sheng standing behind the emperor, his face twisted with hatred.
Memories of bloodshed surged through him. He roared, straining toward An Sheng. "You!! You murdered my entire family!! You madwoman—you heartless, inhuman monster!!"
The emperor whirled around, his fury mounting. "You dare slander the princess?!"
He kicked Yan Zhao square in the chest, but Yan Zhao fought like a beast, his eyes bloodshot. "It was her! Your Majesty, believe me!! She colluded with the Southern Barbarians—she orchestrated my family's massacre! She’s the true culprit!!"
The hall erupted in mocking laughter.
No one believed a word.
Yan Zheng lowered his gaze, veiling the scorn in his eyes.
That Xiao Liu truly has no brains—accusing An Sheng at a time like this would convince no one, and worse, it would only hand An Sheng the perfect opportunity to play the victim...
As expected, An Sheng bowed gracefully and sighed mournfully, "Your Majesty, the Sixth Young Master must be so overcome with grief that he has lost his way. I beg Your Majesty to spare him this once, for the sake of his father and elder brother."
His words were met with murmurs of admiration throughout the hall.
Even the Emperor shook his head repeatedly. "An Sheng, you are far too soft-hearted! This little beast dares to slander you—who doesn’t know how close you were to Yan Xu and his wife? How could you ever harm them? This wretch betrayed his master, abandoned his ancestors, and even attempted to assassinate Us! Even if We were willing to pardon him, the people of this realm would never allow it!"
With a wave of his hand, he ordered the boy dragged out to the Meridian Gate for execution.
