"Zheng'er?" An Sheng froze in surprise.
Gong Shang immediately pointed and exclaimed, "Your Highness, look—"
Behind Yan Zheng stood soldiers from the Western Mountain Camp, but further back were troops from the Five-City Military Command. The two groups stood together harmoniously, as if no battle had ever taken place between them!
An Sheng's eyes darkened. "Where is Governor Ling?"
Yan Zheng pressed his thin lips together without answering. Instead, Yue Huai'an, the commander of the Five-City Military Command, urged his horse forward and tossed down a severed head.
"The traitor Ling Yu has been executed! The remaining rebels—surrender and you shall be spared!"
The Cining Palace erupted in uproar. The Emperor was overjoyed, but An Sheng's face twisted with unconcealed fury. "Zheng'er? You dare betray me?"
Yan Zheng lifted his gaze, his ink-black eyes calm and unreadable. "I was never loyal to you. How can this be called betrayal?"
"Good, very good—" An Sheng laughed in rage, her crimson-tipped finger jabbing toward him. "Xiao Jie! Kill this unfilial son for me!"
At her command, the palace guards drew their swords in unison.
Yue Huai'an shouted, "You who feast on the Emperor's bounty—how dare you commit treason?"
But ever since Xiao Jie had taken command of the imperial guards, he had painstakingly replaced every last one of them. They charged forward without hesitation, heedless of the consequences.
Yan Zheng said coolly, "Loose the arrows."
As the word left his lips, he raised a hand to cover Chu Ruoyan's eyes.
A moment later, she heard only the whistling of arrows and the dull thuds of bodies collapsing...
When Yan Zheng finally lowered his hand, she saw the palace guards lying in heaps at the palace gates.
The remaining soldiers wavered, their courage faltering. An Sheng roared in fury, "Xiao Jie! Go yourself!"
Xiao Jie drew his sword and obeyed, but the instant he stepped beyond the palace threshold, a figure descended from above, slashing down with such force that it sent him crashing to his knees.
Xiao Jie hastily raised his sword to block, but the attacker bellowed and swung again—this time cleanly severing his head from his shoulders...
Thud.
Xiao Jie's head rolled to An Sheng's feet. She kicked it away in disgust, only to hear the voice of her ninth brother, Prince Qin: "Elder Sister An Sheng, this time, you've gone too far!"
Startled, she looked up to see Murong Jin, who had been lying in ambush atop the Cining Palace gates, waiting for this fatal moment.
Yan Zheng frowned slightly, displeased by Prince Qin's brutal method...
But when he glanced down, the woman in his arms remained unshaken.
His irritation melted into satisfaction.
As expected of his A-Yan—she truly had the composure of a general's wife!
Just then, Prince Yu stumbled forward, shouting, "Brother, fear not! Your loyal brother is here to protect—ah!"
He tripped over a corpse and fell flat on his face, revealing the officials hurrying behind him...
Chu Huaishan, Grand Tutor Rong, Jian'an Count...
And among them were Duke Zou, Minister of Justice Dou Sicheng, and Minister of Rites Xu Yan.
They had abstained from drinking at the banquet, waiting for the news of the coup. They had expected to enter the palace and witness the coronation of a new emperor—never had they imagined this scene. Stunned, they stood frozen.
An Sheng knew at once that the situation was dire. She snapped, "Emperor!"
Wei Lian and Yu Hui, both injured, moved at the same time. Ignoring Empress Pei and the Second Prince's protests, they dragged the Emperor down from his throne.
A collective gasp rang out. Chu Huaishan bellowed, "Do not harm His Majesty!"
But Wei Lian's blade was already at the Emperor's throat. "One more step, and I slit his throat!"
The crowd recoiled in horror. Prince Yu shrieked and lunged forward, only to be knocked unconscious by Prince Qin.
Murong Jin said gravely, "Elder Sister, the tide has turned. I advise you to surrender."
An Sheng sneered. "The tide? What tide? With the Emperor in my hands, I hold all the power!"
Her venomous gaze locked onto Yan Zheng. "Traitor! Come here!"
Chu Ruoyan's heart clenched. She grabbed Yan Zheng's sleeve. His eyes softened as he patted her hand. "Don't be afraid. It's alright."
He dismounted, the wound on his arm from the earlier skirmish reopening, blood seeping through.
Yan Zheng ignored it, walking calmly toward the palace gates.
"Chief Minister!"
"Chief Minister Yan!"
Chu Huaishan and several officials called out in unison.
On their way here, they had already heard from the Five-City Military Command—had Yan Zheng not returned with his troops to warn of the coup, the palace would have been bathed in blood by dawn.
Their faces were etched with concern. Yan Zheng cupped his hands in a slight bow, then stepped into the hall.
An Sheng's eyes never left him. The moment he entered, she demanded, "Why? You are my son! I have worked tirelessly to pave your way—why betray me?!"
Yan Zheng's expression remained indifferent. "Was it truly for me?"
"Of course! Everything I've schemed for was to place this empire in our hands! You would be Emperor, I would rule behind the curtain—then you could marry Chu Ruoyan, make her Empress, do as you please! No more bowing to the royal family!"
Every word dripped with temptation.
Even now, the Princess's ambition burned undimmed.
Yan Zheng nodded. "It does sound appealing."
The Emperor paled. An Sheng brightened. "Then you—"
"But I refuse."
Four simple words shattered her last hope.
She screamed, "Why?! The throne, power, beauty—is none of it enough for you?"
Yan Zheng studied her for a long moment before speaking softly. "Power and beauty are tempting. But I swore at my brother's grave that I would avenge him."
An Sheng stiffened, then burst into wild laughter. "Brother? Hah! You still consider the Yans your family? Have you forgotten how they treated you? Omen of misfortune, scorned, neglected—since when did you become so saintly?"
Her mockery was thick. Yan Zheng smirked coldly in return. "I am no saint. But I bear the Yan name. I grew up eating their rice—it's only right I fulfill some filial duty. More importantly... you killed Yan Xun."
That was the heart of it.
Had it been anyone else, he might not have mustered the will to claw his way back to the capital for revenge.
An Sheng stared, then laughed hysterically. "I see! The Yan blood runs true—ungrateful wretches, all of them! I never should have sent you to them! All my efforts, only to raise a wolf in sheep's clothing!"
Chu Ruoyan could bear it no longer. She rushed forward, skirts flying. "Princess, you claim everything was for his sake—but have you ever considered what his life was like in the Yan household? The grandmother despised him, the general and his wife were cold, and if even the masters treated him so, how do you think the servants acted?"
An Sheng scoffed. "To achieve greatness, one must endure hardship. If he couldn't withstand a little suffering, how could he ever be worthy of being my son?"
"Is that so? Then what about the Battle of Hangu Pass? You watched as your own son was delivered into the enemy's hands. Even if you had an agreement with the southern barbarians, did you ever consider that blades and arrows have no eyes—whether he would return alive? Yes, he did limp back to the capital, but what happened afterward? When the Yan family fell into ruin, when there was no one to turn to for help, did you ever lift a finger? What kind of mother does that make you?"
These words had been festering in his heart for a long time—spoken both for Yan Zheng's sake and for the unjust, tragic death of An Sheng's son.
An Sheng froze for a moment, then burst into wild laughter. "Fine! Even if I’m unworthy of being his mother, he’ll still be cursed for betraying his own flesh and blood! Yan Zheng, when the time comes, mother and son will both be reviled for eternity—ha ha ha!"
Chu Ruoyan was utterly speechless.
This madwoman was beyond reason!
Yan Zheng gently pulled her behind him and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that so?"
