Inside the Hanyuan Hall, the cries of battle shook the heavens.
The gleam of swords and shadows of blades flickered under the candlelight. Blood splattered across the gold-brick floor, meandering into a shocking red. Screams, gasps, and the crashing of overturned tables and chairs mingled with the ear-piercing shrieks of clashing weapons, turning this normally solemn and majestic hall into an Asura's battlefield.
However, none of this had anything to do with the group of young noblemen huddled in the corner.
Little Bao gripped his sword, his gaze sweeping over those shivering figures one by one, his eyes filled with disdain.
A bunch of trash!
Having served in the palace for many years, he had seen too many scions of noble families like these.
Normally, they would strut about arrogantly, as if the whole world belonged to them. But when their lives were truly on the line, they all shrank back like quails, lacking even the courage to look up at him.
If it weren't for their good reincarnation...
What did they amount to?
Little Bao spat in his heart, though he had no intention of making a move.
The Crown Prince had ordered: if the people present made no unusual moves, there was no need to commit unnecessary slaughter.
After all, the Crown Prince was about to take over the Great Qian empire, and excessive killing would indeed reflect poorly. Since these people were obediently cowering, he was more than happy to save his strength.
Little Bao's gaze continued to scan the crowd like a jackal patrolling its territory, relishing the way these young nobles trembled under his stare.
Suddenly, his gaze locked onto something.
In the corner.
A figure was quietly backing away.
The man was dressed in a dark blue brocade robe with a jade belt around his waist and his hair tied up high. He looked like a respectable gentleman, but at this moment, he was taking advantage of the chaos, inching backward step by step toward the hall doors.
He moved very slowly.
Very carefully.
As if terrified of being discovered.
His eyes darted around from time to time, carrying the guilty panic of a thief.
Little Bao's eyes instantly narrowed.
Trying to run?
The corners of his mouth slowly curled up into a bloodthirsty smile. Under the candlelight, that smile was terrifyingly sinister, revealing a few yellowed teeth.
Halt!
The shrill voice pierced through the chaos, carrying the excitement of a cat playing with a mouse.
The figure visibly stiffened, turned his head, met Little Bao's gaze, and then bolted backward without looking back.
Where do you think you're going!
Sword in hand, Little Bao strode after him.
He gave chase swiftly, his footsteps hurried yet steady, letting out muffled thuds against the gold bricks. The man ahead ran blindly, stumbling like a frightened rabbit, nearly tripping over overturned tables several times.
Little Bao felt even more disdain in his heart.
Just this little bit of courage.
And he still dared to run?
Wouldn't it be better to stay put like the others and keep his little life? Since he was a coward, he should have been a coward to the end. But fortunately, he had run.
Otherwise, it would be far too boring if the sword in his hand didn't see a single drop of blood.
He chased the man around several overturned tables and through multiple hanging gauze curtains. The man seemed desperate from the pursuit and dove headfirst behind the heavy drapes in the farthest corner of the hall.
The drapes were thick and heavy.
Made of dark green brocade.
They hung all the way from the ceiling to the floor, concealing the wall behind them. Now, having been bumped by the man, the drapes swayed violently like a lake rippled by the wind.
Little Bao did not stop his steps; he directly lifted the drape and ducked inside.
What a joke. He was holding a sharp blade, and the other party was unarmed. The advantage was his! He wouldn't be afraid to chase a coward like this to the ends of the earth!
The drape fell, cutting off the clamor from outside.
The light suddenly dimmed.
Behind the drape was a small triangular space, about ten feet square, surrounded by walls on three sides. Before Little Bao's eyes could adjust to the gloom, he felt a tightness around his neck—
A hand.
A distinct-knuckled, warm, and powerful hand had clamped tightly around his throat.
The strength of that hand was astonishing. Its five fingers tightened like iron pincers. Before Little Bao could even react, he felt his neck bone let out a faint crack.
The sound was very soft, yet terrifyingly clear, like a dry twig being snapped.
He widened his eyes.
And finally saw the person in front of him clearly.
It was exactly that fleeing coward. But at this moment, where was the slightest bit of panic on that face? Where was the slightest trace of fear in those eyes?
Calm.
As calm as an ancient well.
That gaze fell upon him as if looking at something entirely inconsequential. There was no killing intent, no smugness, not even the slightest ripple of emotion.
Little Bao's lips moved. He wanted to say something, to curse, to question—but with his throat clamped tight, he couldn't spit out a single word.
Was this person playing with him?
With such strong martial arts, why were you running? If anyone should be running, shouldn't it be him?
Finally, Little Bao's body went completely limp. In his last moments of consciousness, he only saw the man slightly lower his eyes and mutter softly in an almost gentle tone:
Deep breaths, don't panic.
The voice was very light, carrying a hint of soothing intent, as if he were comforting himself, yet also as if speaking to someone else.
The first time killing someone is like this. Your movements were very neat, and he passed... very peacefully.
Peacefully?
Little Bao's consciousness plunged completely into darkness.
The final thought that flashed through his mind was—
I'll peacefully your ancestors!
...
Pei Cijing let go of his hand.
The body slumped softly to the ground, letting out a muffled thud.
He looked down at his own hand. Its knuckles were distinct, still carrying a bit of residual warmth, and his fingertips seemed to still retain the subtle tactile sensation of the neck bone breaking.
A life.
Had faded away right in his hands.
Pei Cijing's mood was somewhat complicated. It wasn't fear, nor guilt, nor the excitement or lingering dread that follows a kill. It was just... somewhat complicated.
He originally thought there would be some psychological fluctuations the first time he killed someone.
That his hands would shake.
That he would feel nauseous.
That he would have nightmares.
That he would repeatedly recall the feeling of that instant afterward, and even when washing his hands, he would feel as though they were covered in a bloody red that could never be washed away. Wasn't that how all the novels and movies he had seen in his previous life described it?
But in reality, he felt none of these things.
Standing behind the dim drapes at this moment, looking at the lifeless corpse at his feet, Pei Cijing's heart was actually quite calm, save for a faint, indescribable complexity.
It was somewhat similar to the feeling he had in his previous life when he first explored the regeneration of earthworms, holding a small razor blade and slicing an earthworm in half.
A bit novel.
A bit uncomfortable.
But that was all.
What a joke. The other party was about to stab him with a sword; he had no reason to show mercy. Letting the other party pass quickly was already his greatest compassion.
As for guilt?
Pei Cijing thought about it and realized he truly had none.
He was no bleeding heart.
Whether in his previous life or this one, Pei Cijing had long understood a truth: to be merciful to the enemy is to be cruel to oneself.
Since this eunuch chose to chase him with a sword, he should have been prepared to be counter-killed.
Pei Cijing withdrew his gaze, crouched down, and picked up the short sword that had fallen to the ground. He picked it up and examined it. The blade was slender, the edge was sharp, and it felt heavy in his hand.
He gripped it; it felt good in his hand.
So he carried it in his hand.
Then, he lifted a corner of the drape and looked outside.
The hall was still a chaotic mess.
The gleam of swords and shadows of blades, the cries of battle shaking the heavens.
Although the Crown Prince's side had a large number of people, there were also quite a few tough bones among the courtiers.
Especially those with military backgrounds, they were basically all fighting desperately at this moment. Seven or eight corpses already lay on the ground, some assassins, some courtiers. Blood meandered across the golden bricks, gleaming dark red under the candlelight.
His eyes searched and soon found the figure of Pei Fucheng.
His uncle's martial skills.
They were truly remarkable!
The longsword snatched from an assassin seemed to come alive in his hands. Amidst the flashing sword light, assassins fell one after another.
His dark brocade robe was already splattered with blood—mostly others', but a little of his own too—yet his movements remained as steady as a mountain, without the slightest hesitation.
Wherever the sword light reached, no one could get close.
Such bravery.
Falling into the old Emperor's eyes, the merit of protecting the monarch was guaranteed.
Pei Cijing looked elsewhere.
The Crown Prince still stood in the center of the hall, hands behind his back, his face calm, as if the slaughter before him had nothing to do with him. Several close guards protected him in the middle, swords in hand, glaring like tigers.
Pei Cijing rapidly analyzed the situation in his mind.
In this palace coup.
The Crown Prince's chances of winning shouldn't be high.
First, he lacked righteousness.
Among the courtiers in this hall, there were almost no supporters of the Crown Prince's treason. This could be seen from how all the military officials had risen up to resist.
Second, he hadn't achieved a quick victory.
The longer it dragged on.
The lower the probability of success.
Although the imperial guards couldn't make it over right away, they would arrive sooner or later. The Crown Prince said he had his people among the guards, but how long could those people block the reinforcements?
Half an hour?
An hour?
Once the main force of the imperial guards arrived, these assassins would be like turtles in a jar.
If he was thinking about his future, the best thing he should do right now was to participate in quelling the rebellion, follow his uncle to kill a few assassins, show his face, and make the old Emperor remember the name Pei Cijing.
It would absolutely be of great benefit to his future official career.
However, the unease in Pei Cijing's heart grew stronger and stronger. From the moment those dancers, musicians, and eunuchs revealed their weapons, this unease had lingered in his mind.
At first, he thought it was just nervousness about this palace coup. After all, it was normal to be nervous experiencing such a thing for the first time.
But at this moment, that feeling became increasingly clear.
It was as if something.
Had been overlooked by him.
What was it?
Pei Cijing frowned tightly, his gaze wandering around the hall, trying to find the source of that unease. Assassins, courtiers, princes, eunuchs... He looked at them one by one, eliminating them one by one.
Suddenly, his heart gave a violent jolt.
Damn it!
He had only just remembered—
There was another banquet hall!
Huaqing Pavilion, where the female guests were!
The Crown Prince had chosen the path of a palace coup. Where the old Emperor was located was indeed the main battlefield, but the current Empress was not the Crown Prince's biological mother! Since the Crown Prince dared to risk universal condemnation to force the Emperor to abdicate, would he care about killing an Empress who "wasn't his biological mother"?
He might very well take this opportunity to eliminate the trouble over there at the same time!
Even worse—
A more terrifying thought flashed through Pei Cijing's mind.
With the Crown Prince planning for so long, how could he only focus on the front hall? If he truly wanted to seize the throne, the safest approach would be to strike at both places simultaneously. Control the old Emperor and the courtiers in the front hall, and control the Empress and the female guests in the back hall. This way, even if something went wrong in one place, the other could serve as a bargaining chip.
And his wife was over there right now!
Shen Ninghuan!
Pei Cijing only felt a chill shoot up his spine, instantly spreading to his limbs and bones. His brain, which had been calmly analyzing just a moment ago, now had only one thought left—
His wife was in danger!
He had only gotten this one wife in two lifetimes!
Crown Prince!
You really deserve to die!
Pei Cijing gnashed his teeth, wishing he could rush out right now and chop that dog of a Crown Prince to pieces, but he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
He couldn't rush.
The more critical the moment, the less he could afford to be hasty.
He looked around; everyone in the hall was still engaged in the brawl, and no one noticed his corner.
The eunuch who had chased him earlier had already fallen behind the curtains. Those children of aristocratic families cowering in the corners wished they could bury themselves in the cracks of the floor, none raising their heads to look.
Pei Cijing took a deep breath.
Taking advantage of the chaos.
He dodged and sneaked out from a corner on the side of the hall.
...
Outside the hall, the sky had grown dark.
Twilight gathered from all sides, shrouding the entire imperial city in a hazy gray shadow. In the distant sky, there was still a final smear of orange-red, being swallowed by the darkness little by little, like a dying ember.
On the square in front of Hanyuan Hall.
It was even more chaotic.
The imperial guards originally stationed outside the hall had now split into two factions, fighting each other. Swords and sabers clashed, battle cries shook the heavens, and people fell from time to time. Blood meandered across the bluestone ground, gleaming with a dull light in the twilight.
Torches had been knocked to the ground; some were extinguished, while others still burned, casting flickering light on the fighting figures, making them look like a horde of evil spirits from hell.
No one noticed Pei Cijing.
He hugged the shadows at the side of the hall, moving silently. His footsteps were very light, as light as a cat, as a fallen leaf, as a passing breeze. Every step landed exactly on the edge of the shadows, in the corners untouched by the firelight.
He bypassed several battlefields.
He passed through several corridors.
There were sounds of fighting all over the imperial city. Faint shouts of killing came from afar; it was unknown which sides of the imperial guards were exchanging fire. East, west, south... there seemed to be fighting everywhere.
The Crown Prince's preparations were indeed ample; the commotion caused was even greater than he had imagined.
But Pei Cijing ignored all that.
He only focused on one direction—
Huaqing Pavilion.
The place where the female guests were.
His feet did not stop, his figure moving rapidly through the twilight. He didn't know if he could make it in time, didn't know what the situation was over there now, didn't know if Shen Ninghuan had encountered danger—
He only knew.
He had to go.
He had to be fast.
He had to stand by her side before it was too late.
The wind howled in his ears, making his robes flutter loudly. He passed through one palace gate after another, bypassed one pavilion after another, his footsteps growing faster and more urgent.
In the distance, from the direction of Huaqing Pavilion, a few sharp screams could faintly be heard.
That sound pierced the night sky and stabbed into his ears.
Pei Cijing's heart tightened violently.
He recognized it; it was a scream of terror, a cry of despair, an instinctive distress signal let out when encountering danger. The Crown Prince's men must have made their move here too!
Damn it!
Wife!
Hold on!
I'm coming to save you!
Pei Cijing gritted his teeth, his pace quickening even more. His entire person turned into a blur, disappearing into the depths of the twilight.
