Is it Your Majesty? Zhao Jin!!

While Wu Yuemei learned that Cheng Guang was likely in danger, Cheng Hai was also anxiously waiting inside the Hall of Lighting, pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.

His face was filled with regret and self-reproach.

"When I saw the figure rising from the imperial palace that day, it didn't seem to do anything to Guang'er, so I assumed everything was fine afterward."

"How could such a crisis suddenly arise out of nowhere?"

"Perhaps not long after I left, someone boarded the flying boat to assassinate Guang'er. That person's cultivation must have either reached the Heavenly-Human realm or employed some special means, otherwise, I wouldn't have been completely unaware of any disturbance."

"Who on earth could have seized the opportunity so coincidentally to move against Guang'er?"

Cheng Hai's expression darkened as a figure suddenly flashed across his mind—the visage of the Great Zhou Emperor.

"Was it Your Majesty...?" Cheng Hai murmured to himself.

At a time when Cheng Guang might already be dead, the Great Zhou Emperor had assigned him numerous trivial tasks, making it impossible for him to leave the capital and investigate Cheng Guang's whereabouts.

It was difficult to ascertain the emperor's true intentions.

Although Cheng Hai was reluctant to admit that the emperor had made a move against Cheng Guang, all the current signs suggested that the emperor's shadow likely hovered behind this incident.

Yet, the emperor had not offered the slightest explanation to Cheng Hai regarding the matter.

After all, the emperor was a sovereign. No matter how good their past relationship had been, a certain estrangement was ultimately inevitable between a monarch and his subjects.

At this thought, Cheng Hai slowly clenched his fists. A sudden impulse arose in him to march straight to the imperial palace, stand face-to-face with the emperor, and demand to know whether the imperial shadow lingered behind this tragedy.

However...

After several long breaths, Cheng Hai's expression grew slightly solemn, and he drew a slow, deep breath. The urge to confront the emperor directly, having just surfaced, was quickly suppressed.

Just as he was preparing to find a more subtle way to probe the emperor's intentions, a flurry of footsteps suddenly sounded outside the hall.

Mistaking the sound for the return of Qian Siyuan and Li Zhenyang, Cheng Hai immediately lifted his eyes toward the palace entrance.

When he saw the figure rushing through the doors in a hurried flurry, Cheng Hai's stern and upright face froze in astonishment.

"Yuemei? Why are you here?"

Seeing Wu Yuemei running toward him, he was stunned at first. Then, noticing her slightly haggard expression, his heart gave an involuntary twitch.

He knew she had already found out.

Wu Yuemei's beautiful eyes stared fixedly at Cheng Hai as she asked in a slightly raspy voice, "Cheng Hai, tell me, why did you try to keep this from me? How is Guang'er right now?"

"Didn't you send Qian Siyuan and the others out to investigate? Is there any news yet?"

She spoke very slowly, but the anger contained within her tone was intense, resembling a volcano on the verge of eruption.

Wu Yuemei was furious not only that Cheng Hai had concealed the situation from her, but also at herself.

She was angry that at a time like this, she was utterly helpless and unable to contribute any strength.

Looking at her, Cheng Hai felt an instinctive panic rise within him.

Before Wu Yuemei, he struggled to maintain his usual dignified, impartial demeanor as the head of the Hall of Lighting.

He hastily spoke up:

"Yuemei, don't panic. There is no confirmed news about Guang'er yet. All those external rumors claiming that he has already... are sheer nonsense. Who knows who started such wild talk!"

As he spoke, Cheng Hai took Wu Yuemei's hand and gently patted it. "Although I was ordered by His Majesty not to leave the capital, I have nevertheless dispatched Qian Siyuan and the others to investigate."

"They haven't returned yet, but they might bring us news shortly."

With that, Cheng Hai hurriedly guided her to a nearby chair, poured a cup of fresh tea, and brought it to her lips, hoping she would take a sip and calm her nerves.

Yet, despite the cup touching her lips, Wu Yuemei kept her mouth tightly shut, gazing at him with icy eyes.

"Cheng Hai, I'm asking you—why did you try to keep people from telling me?"

"Putting aside Guang'er's current state, if he really... is gone... were you planning to keep it from me for the rest of my life?"

Faced with her words, Cheng Hai was at a loss. He opened his mouth slightly, intending to offer some excuse—such as not wanting to alarm her prematurely or suspecting the news might be inaccurate.

Yet, the words died on his tongue, and he could say nothing more.

He knew that his thoughts had likely been seen through by Wu Yuemei long ago.

Sighing, he lowered his voice and said, "I was only worried you would become overly anxious. In a situation like this, it's enough for me to bear the burden alone."

Wu Yuemei's brows arched sharply. "With a matter this large, did you also fail to tell Father?"

Cheng Hai's lips twitched slightly before he sighed again and gave a faint nod.

She stared intently at him for a long moment before letting out a sudden, dry laugh.

"Wonderful. You planned to carry it all by yourself, to worry in silence. Aside from you, no one else in this entire family cares about Guang'er."

"You are truly magnificent, Cheng Hai."

A fresh pang of anxiety gripped his heart, and he stepped forward to offer comfort.

Wu Yuemei violently batted his hand away. "Have you actually uncovered anything? There are very few people in the entire Great Zhou capable of assassinating Guang'er."

"Aside from what Qian Siyuan and the others are doing, what have *you* found out on your own?"

His lips moved silently, unable to find the words. He could only offer a vague, half-concealed reply: "I have some suspicions about who might have done it, but nothing is certain yet. I planned to look into it later."

"Who?" she demanded.

After a few moments of silence, Cheng Hai let out a heavy sigh and slowly spoke:

"Yuemei, I suspect... it might be the emperor's doing."

At his words, Wu Yuemei's pupils constricted slightly, and her slender fingers clenched tightly together.

After a brief pause, Cheng Hai continued:

"His Majesty has always harbored deep guardedness toward the Estate of the Defender of the Country. Not long ago, he tried to meddle with my Hall of Lighting, though he didn't succeed."

"I originally thought he had put aside any such thoughts concerning us. Yet, for some unknown reason, he has now moved against Guang'er."

"When Guang'er left the capital for the Taihao Sword Sect, an aura rose from the imperial palace. When I followed it, I discovered that the person was the newly appointed Minister of Rites, acting on His Majesty's orders to deliver a gift to Guang'er."

"Seeing no malicious intent in the man, I departed."

"Who could have imagined that not long after I left, this catastrophe would occur?"

"Now, His Majesty has forbidden me from leaving the capital. Even if I wanted to investigate personally, I have no way to do so."

"With all these signs pointing the same way, it is hard to say that the emperor's shadow is not behind this."

As Cheng Hai finished, Wu Yuemei's expression grew increasingly grim, complicated by a turmoil of complex emotions.

After another few moments of silence, she suddenly turned and rose to her feet. Her skirt fluttered, her steps swept by a gust of wind, and she strode briskly toward the hall's exit.

Noticing her movement and bewildered by her sudden action, Cheng Hai froze for a second. Recovering, he hurried after her, intending to see what she was planning.

He knew her mental state at the moment was dangerously fragile, and a lingering, nameless dread told him she might do something rash.

Following her out of the main hall of the Hall of Lighting, he watched as she boarded a jade carriage.

Just as she was about to step inside, he heard her give a single instruction to the bearers:

"To the imperial palace."

With those words, the jade carriage lifted into the air, soaring directly toward the palace.

Seeing this, Cheng Hai's eyes widened, and his instinctive reaction was to stop her.

He could easily imagine that her trip to the palace was most likely to confront the emperor and demand whether he was involved in Guang'er's fate.

Yet, upon second thought, Wu Yuemei was a princess of Great Zhou; she had no need to play political games with the sovereign and could simply strike straight at the heart of the matter.

He himself was bound by the rigid ties of monarch and subject, but she was not.

Perhaps letting her confront the emperor directly to test his true stance was the best course of action after all.

With this realization, Cheng Hai's expression turned complex.

Perhaps telling her from the very beginning, letting them face the crisis and devise a strategy together, truly would have been better than carrying it all alone.

Wu Yuemei was not as fragile as he had imagined.

Sighing, Cheng Hai infused his footsteps with vital energy, his body transforming into a streak of light as he closely trailed her jade carriage toward the imperial palace.

***

The inner chambers of the Great Zhou Emperor's residence were connected to the open air. Under the moonlight, the pale needles on the ancient pine trees still retained a hint of emerald green.

The emperor had just instructed his richly dressed consort to remove his outer garments in preparation for sleep when a sudden commotion echoed from outside the bedchamber.

Frowning slightly, he had not expected anyone to dare disturb him at such an hour.

He told the consort—who was clad in a thin silk gown—to wash up first and wait for his return, then pushed open the door and stepped out to survey the outer courtyard.

"Princess Yuemei, Princess Yuemei! His Majesty has already retired for the night, you truly cannot disturb him!"

Zhao Jin blocked the path of both the princess and Cheng Hai, wearing a bitter expression.

Wu Yuemei's willow brows arched sharply. "Step aside."

Plagued by dilemma, Zhao Jin cast a pleading look toward Cheng Hai.

However, Cheng Hai remained utterly silent, offering no reaction whatsoever.

Seeing this, Zhao Jin understood immediately that Cheng Hai was either incapable of stopping the princess or had no desire to try.

He could understand their state of mind; after all, the young marquis was likely dead, and it was only natural for his parents to be frantic.

Cheng Hai was no fool. He would inevitably suspect the emperor's shadow behind the incident.

Yet, bound by court etiquette, Cheng Hai himself would never dare force his way into the palace at this hour.

This time, he was likely merely riding the coattails of Princess Yuemei's privilege.

As Zhao Jin pondered this and turned his gaze back to Wu Yuemei, a stern voice rang out from behind him:

"Zhao Jin, step aside."

Startled by the dignified voice, Zhao Jin quickly stepped to the side and bowed respectfully to the emperor.

"Your Majesty."

Ignoring Zhao Jin entirely, the Great Zhou Emperor fixed his gaze straight upon Wu Yuemei.

"What brings Yuemei to see Us at this hour?"

Throughout his words, he did not spare Cheng Hai even a glance.

Remaining silent, Cheng Hai quietly shadowed Wu Yuemei, seeming for all the world like a transparent entity.

Wu Yuemei carried an air of regal poise. She wore a blue-faced, turquoise-backed silk gown, adorned with a long hairpin of carved jade and scented pearls, and wore a delicate trace of rouge that lent her a solemn, majestic grace.

Yet, deep within her eyes lurked profound exhaustion and sorrow.

"Your Majesty, something has happened to Guang'er," she began slowly.

Hearing this, the emperor was momentarily stunned; then, his stern and dignified expression melted into a trace of sorrow, and he gave a soft sigh.

"Yuemei, you've heard as well."

"Did Zhihai tell you this?"

With that, he cast a sideways glance at Cheng Hai standing not far away.

Without waiting for Cheng Hai to answer, Wu Yuemei shook her head, her gaze locking directly onto the sovereign.

"Your Majesty, why did you forbid Cheng Hai from leaving the capital to look for Guang'er?"

Although she had heard from Cheng Hai that the emperor likely had a hand in the tragedy, she did not immediately accuse him of the murder.

To hurl such an accusation—regardless of whether he was guilty—would be tantamount to tearing away all remaining pretense between them.

She still clung to a sliver of illusion regarding the emperor, hoping he would not be so ruthless as to kill his own nephew.

The emperor's expression faltered slightly at her question, his gaze narrowing as it settled upon her. "Yuemei, was this question put into your mouth by Zhihai?"

His tone was not particularly harsh.

Yet, it exerted an immense pressure upon both Wu Yuemei and Cheng Hai.

Even a mere wisp of the aura belonging solely to the Heavenly-Human realm felt to them like an entire mountain pressing down upon their shoulders, making it difficult to draw breath.

Cheng Hai managed to withstand it fairly well.

Wu Yuemei's face, however, turned pale. Yet, she forced her body to remain upright, her stubborn gaze fixed upon the sovereign.

"I am asking this of my own accord!"

"Guang'er has met with such a disaster, and Your Majesty hasn't even bothered to inquire about it personally. Instead, you barred Cheng Hai from leaving the capital—were you afraid he would uncover something?"

"Insolent!"

The emperor stared at her, his voice pausing slightly. As his spiritual aura churned, his expression darkened.

Without a moment's hesitation, Cheng Hai stepped forward, shielding Wu Yuemei behind him as he bowed his head in a plea for leniency: "Your Majesty, whatever Yuemei has said stems from a place of grief and disorder. We pray Your Majesty will not hold her at fault."

Before Cheng Hai's voice had even faded, Wu Yuemei shoved him aside with one hand, choosing once more to face the emperor's terrifying aura alone.

Despite the crushing, mountain-like weight pressing down upon her, her expression remained devoid of fear.

She demanded bluntly:

"Your Majesty, just tell me—did you do this?"

At that moment, absolute silence fell over the courtyard. All the attending palace maids and eunuchs held their breath, not daring to draw a deep breath, well aware that the princess had crossed a dangerous line!

***

For a long time, the Great Zhou Emperor had sat upon the throne, accumulating an unassailable majesty before which none dared challenge his might.

Even though he encouraged free speech and permitted imperial censors to memorialize him at will, anyone who truly dared to defy his direct commands invariably failed to survive the following day.

If the emperor chose to take offense now, even a princess like Wu Yuemei would undoubtedly suffer dearly.

Amidst this eerie, suffocating silence, Wu Yuemei showed no trace of intimidation, staring unblinkingly at the throne's occupant.

Whether out of a twinge of a guilty conscience or a sudden softening of heart, the emperor slowly averted his gaze, and the turbulent aura surrounding him began to subside.

He cast a cold, sharp glance at Cheng Hai standing not far away, his eyes turning even frostier.

"Zhihai, take Yuemei back."

The tone carried a clear warning.

A chill ran through Cheng Hai's heart, and he lowered his head abruptly, not daring to meet the emperor's eyes.

"Yuemei..." he murmured, tugging gently on her sleeve in an attempt to lead her away.

The emperor's attitude by now had already confirmed a great deal.

Demanding a direct confession from the sovereign served little purpose.

If he confessed, what then? If he denied it, what then?

Cheng Hai suddenly felt a profound sense of powerlessness.

Wu Yuemei, however, refused to relent. She violently shook off his hand, preventing him from touching her, and kept her eyes locked on the emperor.

It was as though she would not leave without a definitive answer.

Without paying her any further mind, the emperor turned and walked slowly away into his chambers.

The moment the heavy doors closed shut behind him, Wu Yuemei's strength seemed to abandon her, and her body went limp.

Her stubborn facade shattered, unable to be sustained any longer.

Her beautiful eyes trembled as tears spilled over her lashes.

The emperor had neither admitted nor denied it.

Yet, all these signs pointed to only one conclusion: his shadow loomed heavily behind this tragedy.

*Why did he have to do this?*

She simply could not understand.

"Wu Shang!" she cried out in a hoarse voice after a brief, heavy silence.

"Back then, for the sake of securing the throne and avenging the late Crown Prince, you slaughtered every single imperial prince who posed a threat to you!"

"Wasn't that enough?"

"Has the Estate ofতল the Defender of the Country now become a thorn in your side that you must root out?"

"Must you kill every single person in this household, save for the Defender himself, before you are satisfied?!"

Her words tumbled out in a rapid, furious cascade.

Cheng Hai desperately wanted to stop her, but he was simply too late.

The moment her voice fell, a bone-chilling, furious aura surged outward from within the imperial bedchamber.

The surrounding foliage thrashed violently in a sudden, howling gale.

Her words had clearly touched upon the emperor's ultimate taboos.

Standing just behind the closed doors, the emperor's face darkened, and even his breathing grew noticeably heavier.

"Cheng Hai, take Yuemei back!!"

His voice was terrifyingly soft, yet charged with absolute severity.

Cheng Hai dared not hesitate and moved to pull Wu Yuemei away. If she continued to speak like this, there was no telling what else she might blurt out.

The sovereign had yet to pierce the final window-paper, leaving a shred of diplomatic breathing room for the Defender's estate.

Once that paper was torn away...

Even if the emperor wished to let the matter rest, he would have no choice but to execute everyone within the household to tie up loose ends.

And if the Defender of the Country chose to rebel in response...

The entire Great Zhou would be plunged into total chaos.

Ignoring Wu Yuemei's frantic blows against his back and the teeth sinking into his shoulder, Cheng Hai remained stoic, silently carrying her away.

His grief over Cheng Guang's fate was no less than hers.

Yet, what could they do, no matter how agonizing the pain?

The emperor's attitude had amounted to a tacit admission.

Even without concrete evidence, it was clear that while the sovereign might not have struck the blow with his own hands, his shadow was inextricably tied to it.

And even if they *did* possess ironclad proof?

What good would it do?

The emperor was a Heavenly-Human expert, whereas Cheng Hai was merely at the ninth grade of the Martial Emperor realm.

If they truly drove the sovereign to desperation with a single palm strike, neither of them would stand the slightest chance of survival.

With a bitter sigh, Cheng Hai muttered to himself, "Should we send word to Father?"

Hearing those words, Wu Yuemei, who had been biting fiercely into his shoulder, suddenly fell still.

Once the Defender of the Country received the news of Cheng Guang's death—and learned that the imperial house was likely implicated—he would undoubtedly mobilize his armies southward and march directly upon the capital.

The fragile peace that Great Zhou had just regained would instantly be submerged in the flames of war.

While the Defender's estate possessed formidable strength, its foundational heritage was still slightly inferior when matched against the entire dynasty.

Once the Defender marched south, it would spell certain doom.

Perhaps the emperor's true objective in playing this move was precisely to goad the Defender into rebellion, thereby providing a legitimate pretext to absorb the Northern Expeditionary Army under direct imperial control.

Caught in an agonizing dilemma, Wu Yuemei furrowed her brow in aching distress. Leaning helplessly against Cheng Hai's back, she gave a slow shake of her head.

"Wu Shang has changed. Ever since he became emperor, he has become someone I no longer recognize."

"Whether or not we notify Father... I leave the decision to you."

After a few moments of silent deliberation while suspended in mid-air, Cheng Hai cast a complex look down at the magnificent, majestic sprawl of the imperial palace bathed in moonlight.

Ultimately, he let out a heavy sigh and carried her steadily back toward the Estate of the Defender of the Country.

***

Meanwhile, inside his bedchamber, the Great Zhou Emperor stood with his back to the doors, his hands hidden within the sleeves of his bright yellow dragon robe trembling faintly.

His expression remained cold and majestic, devoid of emotion.

Yet, the subtle trembling of his hands betrayed that his inner state was far from tranquil.

"Your Majesty, what happened outside? Why did Princess Yuemei come here?" The richly dressed consort asked softly as she glided over with an alluring, slender waist, extending her hands to help him undress.

He offered no resistance, merely raising his arms slightly to assist her.

Once divested of his outer robes, he lay in bed in stony silence, completely devoid of desire despite the alluring beauty lying beside him.

Staring out the window at the bright autumn moon, he murmured quietly to himself:

"Did We do something wrong..."

Rubbing his temples, he lifted his hand and brushed back a lock of hair from his forehead.

It was then that he noticed—

The strands of pure white hair at his temples had visibly multiplied over this recent period.

"My time... is running out."

"The Estate of the Defender of the Country remains stable under My reign. But once I pass the throne to Wu Ling, how can she ever hope to suppress the Defender? How can she control his estate? How can she keep the ministers of the realm in check?"

"The scepter she is about to inherit is covered in thorns and barbs. If she lacks the strength to grasp it firmly, We will pluck every last one of those thorns clean ourselves."

As he muttered to himself, the consort once more pressed close to his side.

Drawing a deep breath, the emperor rolled over, pulling her into his arms amidst a startled, pleased little gasp.

***

That night was far from tranquil.

A piece of explosive news reached the borders and battlefields of Great Zhou.

The Defender of the Country was consumed with rage and preparing to lead his troops in a southern march.

The Northern Expeditionary Army began to stir across the board.

Anticipating this move, the emperor had already ordered all other military divisions—save for the northern army—along with the imperial guards, to station themselves in the immediate vicinity of the capital, bracing for the Defender's arrival.

While the citizens of the capital and the realm at large had no inkling of what had transpired, it appeared as though the Defender was staging an outright rebellion.

And the emperor, having foreseen this, had preemptively deployed troops around the capital to meet the threat.

The political winds shifted violently, darkening the skies.

When various factions across the realm quietly made inquiries, they discovered the shocking truth: the young marquis of the Defender's estate was dead, and the emperor was heavily suspected of orchestrating the assassination.

The sovereign intended to sever the very roots of the Defender's estate.

This was the spark that had driven the Defender into a blind rage, pushing his forces south with their sights locked squarely on the capital.

Just as all observers anticipated a bloody, all-out collision between the throne and the estate...

The very next day.

Another piece of news rippled outward.

Qian Siyuan and Li Zhenyang, who had been sent out to investigate on behalf of the estate, released word that the young marquis had not met with any misfortune and had safely arrived at the Taihao Sword Sect.

His prolonged silence was merely due to a temporary stay within the sect.

As this revelation swept through the realm, the various external factions were left utterly dumbfounded. Those who had prepared to watch a magnificent spectacle—and perhaps scavenge some benefits in the aftermath—suddenly wondered:

*Could this entire farce have been a coordinated play staged jointly by the emperor and the Defender?*

How could the death of the heir to the Defender's estate require such a lengthy investigation to verify?

Was the emperor truly so foolish?

If he really were the one behind the plot, how could he possibly not know whether the young marquis was dead or alive?

And was the Defender equally foolish?

How could he not know the status of his own flesh and blood, requiring so much time before finally announcing that his son was safe and sound??

*Was someone deliberately concealing the truth...?!*

In an instant, speculation ran wild and discussions buzzed among all parties.

***

The autumn moonlight turned the ripples of the sky into flowing gold, as the bright mirror of the moon was polished anew.

The condensed moonlight fell like a cold dew, painting the clear autumn sky in shades of profound chill.

Yet, within Cheng Guang's courtyard, there was no chill to be found.

He and Ning Qianxue sat side by side before a stone table, lifting their heads to admire the moon.

Resting her chin in her hands, Ning Qianxue stared up at the full moon hanging in the cloudless, windless sky—truly an ideal night for moon-gazing.

"Young Marquis, the sky looks so vast and dark, yet the stars around it are so bright and dazzling. My mother used to say that after people die, they might turn into stars up in the sky. I wonder which one of those up there is her..."

"When I was little, I loved staring at the sky. I could gaze at it for an entire day..."

She chattered endlessly, though Cheng Guang offered no response in return.

Only Qingluan, standing respectfully behind him, would occasionally smile and nod in gentle agreement.

After exchanging a few more words with Qingluan, Ning Qianxue turned her attention back to Cheng Guang.

She saw him leafing through a stack of letters on the stone table, occasionally nodding slightly or chuckling softly to himself.

This left her utterly baffled, unable to fathom what sort of contents could elicit such reactions from the young marquis.

Qingluan was equally perplexed, but since her young master offered no explanation, she did not press for details.

Putting the letters away, Cheng Guang lifted his gaze and caught the inquiring looks from the two young women. With an amused shake of his head, he left their curiosity unanswered and simply said:

"We'll be heading back now. Qingluan, pack your things simply."

Startled, Qingluan asked, "Young Marquis, is it that urgent?"

He chuckled. "If we don't leave now, we won't be able to catch the rest of the good show."

Left completely in the dark, Qingluan wondered what "good show" he could possibly mean. When she tried to press him for details, he remained tight-lipped, prompting a familiar surge of gentle resentment in her heart.

*The young master is playing the riddle-maker again.*

Though slightly aggrieved, she was sensible enough not to pry further and rose to pack their belongings.

Realizing that they were leaving tonight—and knowing she would likely be accompanying him back to the capital, far away from the Taihao Sword Sect for an uncertain duration—Ning Qianxue felt a sudden wave of quiet reluctance wash over her.

A tinge of sentimental melancholy blossomed within her chest, transforming her briefly into a wistful young maiden.

Seeing her expression, Cheng Guang smiled and shook his head, just as he was about to speak.

Several figures flashed across the sky from the distance.

At the head of the group was none other than Ning Liang.

Spotting Cheng Guang sitting beside the stone table in the courtyard, Ning Liang visibly relaxed. He quickly descended and hurried to his side, asking respectfully:

"Young Marquis, have you heard about what's happening outside?"

Cheng Guang nodded slightly.

It was entirely as he had anticipated.

Ning Liang offered a bitter smile. "Young Marquis, when you wanted to stay a while longer at the Taihao Sword Sect, I couldn't understand why. But the outside world has plunged into absolute chaos! The Defender and the Emperor nearly came to blows because of you."

"Word spread that you were assassinated by the Emperor and had already perished."

"Yet here you are, completely unharmed. How on earth did such an absurd rumor start?"

He looked thoroughly bewildered.

The young marquis had merely lingered within the sect for a brief period, and yet such ridiculous claims had erupted across the realm.

Had they stayed any longer, there was no telling what kind of catastrophe might have ensued.

Cheng Guang merely smiled and acknowledged the remark.

Ning Liang knew very little of the truth.

He had no idea that the Emperor had genuinely dispatched assassins after Cheng Guang.

Though Ning Liang had indeed encountered Zhao Jin on the flying boat back then, he had never connected the man to the Emperor or an assassination attempt.

After all, the scene back then had been bizarre enough; if Zhao Jin had truly come to kill, how could he have remained unharmed, even chatting and laughing amicably with the young marquis?

Pondering this, Ning Liang looked at Cheng Guang and said, "Young Marquis, if we leave tonight, isn't the timing a bit too rushed?"

"Shouldn't we wait until dawn tomorrow?"

Cheng Guang shook his head. "No need, Uncle Ning. We've stayed long enough."

Seeing his resolve, Ning Liang pressed no further and instead took the initiative to have servants assist with packing.

During his stay at the Taihao Sword Sect, Cheng Guang had remained quietly within Ning Qianxue's courtyard, having little contact with outsiders and steering clear of any cliché face-slapping or dramatic conflicts.

The entire journey had been remarkably peaceful.

Half an hour later.

Ning Qianxue, now dressed in a vibrant, deep-red wedding robe, was escorted by Cheng Guang onto the flying boat as it set a direct course toward the capital of Great Zhou.

After all, the primary purpose of this trip had been to welcome the bride.

That was something he could not neglect.

***

As Cheng Guang steered the flying boat back toward the capital, the Great Zhou Emperor stood alone upon the city walls, hands clasped behind his back.

His stern, cold gaze pierced through the heavy night veil, resting upon the imperial guards stationed across a radius of several miles around the city, causing the corners of his mouth to twitch imperceptibly.

"Zhao Jin."

"Have you heard what the realm is saying now?"

Zhao Jin hurriedly stepped forward, cupping his fists in a bow. Cold sweat beaded thickly across his forehead as he answered nervously, "This servant does not know, Your Majesty."

Withdrawing his gaze from the distant guards, the emperor shifted his eyes to Zhao Jin, his voice turning icy.

"The people of the realm are now saying that the young marquis never died, and it was all a misunderstanding."

"The Defender, who had already prepared to march south, has turned his northern army back. Just moments ago, he submitted a memorial stating that all is well at the borders and that We need not worry."

"Tell me, if the young marquis were truly dead, would the Defender behave this way?"

A tight knot formed in Zhao Jin's chest, heightening his anxiety. "Your Majesty, these are merely groundless rumors and cannot be taken seriously."

"Perhaps the Defender backed down because he feared Your Majesty, knowing that marching south would spell certain doom."

The emperor glanced at Zhao Jin before slowly looking away.

He did not believe a word of it.

The Defender was no coward; forged in the fires of endless slaughter across mountains of corpses and seas of blood, he was hardly a man who valued his own life above all else.

The death of Cheng Guang would, if anything, be the single most fatal blow to the Defender.

The emperor simply could not believe that the Defender would let such a thing pass if his son were truly dead.

Why, then, had he pulled his troops back?

Was it merely a temporary feint, intended to lull the throne into a false sense of security before striking a fatal blow?

In the span of a few brief breaths, countless thoughts raced through the emperor's mind.

Gazing out at the distant horizon, a sudden thought struck him, and his eyes fell back upon Zhao Jin. "How are Cheng Hai and Wu Yuemei at the moment?"

"They remain within the Defender's estate and have taken no unusual actions," Zhao Jin hastily reported.

"Ever since Qian Siyuan and Li Zhenyang returned some time ago, their moods have improved significantly."

"It seems they genuinely believe... that the young marquis did not lose his life."

As Zhao Jin spoke, the corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly.

He was suffering immensely inside.

He knew how deeply the Emperor trusted him. When Zhao Jin had claimed he killed Cheng Guang, the Emperor had naturally believed that the young marquis was dead.

In the Emperor's eyes, no matter how many miraculous methods Cheng Guang possessed, it was impossible for him to survive an onslaught from a ninth-grade Martial Emperor like Zhao Jin.

Especially considering Zhao Jin's mastery of lethal seals and formations—against which even a Heavenly-Human expert could fight to a standstill.

Zhao Jin felt a suffocating dread. Lying to the sovereign constituted the crime of deceiving the ruler, a felony punishable by death.

And that was only the secondary problem.

The primary issue was that Qian Siyuan and Li Zhenyang had returned bearing the news that the young marquis was safe.

Regardless of what Cheng Hai and Wu Yuemei truly suspected, they were acting outwardly as if they believed it.

And the Defender believed it as well.

Not only had the emperor's plot only half-succeeded...

Before long, the young marquis would likely return to the capital.

Once that happened, the deception would inevitably crumble.

He shuddered to think how the Emperor might deal with him then.

At that thought, Zhao Jin felt an urge to die. He stood quietly behind the sovereign, not daring to utter another word.

The emperor did not immediately leave the city wall; he waited.

He waited for the Defender to appear, or perhaps for the northern army to materialize.

Time slipped away second by second.

The night gradually faded, and the earth was gently embraced by the pale light of dawn.

The distant outlines of mountain peaks grew distinct, and the sky shifted from a deep, velvety black to a serene, pale blue.

Blessed with profound cultivation, the emperor felt no trace of fatigue despite days of sleeplessness.

His piercing gaze remained fixed on the horizon.

And under his stern, cold scrutiny, he suddenly spotted a tiny black speck emerging at the edge of the sky.

His eyes narrowed slightly before he could clearly discern what the speck was.

Two powerful auras surged toward them from the distance.

Sensing the approaching presence, the emperor frowned slightly. Though a retort hovered on his lips, he swallowed it and turned his attention to the newcomers.

They were none other than Cheng Hai and Qian Siyuan.

Stepping forward, Cheng Hai bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty."

The emperor gave a faint nod, his majestic gaze fixing upon him. After a long, heavy moment of silence, he spoke in a low voice:

"Zhihai, you do not blame Me?"

The implication behind his words was unmistakably clear:

*Your son was killed by My hand.*

*Do you harbor no resentment?*

The emperor had never intended to exterminate the Defender's estate down to the last root.

His goal was merely to excise their roots and reclaim their military authority.

To push matters to total annihilation would mean facing the ferocious retaliation of the Defender—a prospect even he found troublesome.

While the emperor possessed a ruthless heart, he was far from a fool.

Yet Cheng Hai behaved as though he completely failed to grasp the underlying meaning. He replied calmly:

"Your Majesty has done nothing wrong. Why would you ask such a thing?"

The emperor stared at him intently for a sustained moment.

He suddenly felt that the Cheng Hai standing before him bore a jarring contrast to the desperate man who had broken into his bedchamber days prior.

Composed.

And carrying a faint trace of joy upon his face.

Although that joy was well-concealed, its very presence on Cheng Hai at such a time felt thoroughly unnatural.

*Could the young marquis truly be alive...?*

An ominous premonition stirred within the emperor's chest.

He glanced sideways at Zhao Jin once more.

Catching the look, Zhao Jin hurriedly offered a respectful, deferential smile, devoid of the slightest hint of presumption.

Assured by this display of utter spinelessness—convinced that Zhao Jin was incapable of deceiving him—the emperor's anxiety settled somewhat.

Smoothing his expression, he asked Cheng Hai, "Zhihai, has some joyous event occurred recently?"

Cheng Hai smiled. "Your Majesty, have you forgotten? Around this time is my son's wedding."

Hearing this, the emperor raised an eyebrow and gave a slight nod. *Ah, yes, there was such a matter.*

However...

Wasn't young marquis Cheng Guang already dead?

Did Cheng Hai genuinely believe his son would return alive?

The emperor's dignified expression remained unchanged.

Then, Cheng Hai continued smoothly:

"He went to the Taihao Sword Sect to welcome his bride, and he is returning now."

As he spoke, Cheng Hai pointed toward the horizon. "Your Majesty, look—Guang'er has returned."

Following the direction of his finger, the small black speck visible where the morning sun met the sea of clouds in the distance was rapidly expanding.

Gradually, it resolved into the shape of a flying boat.

And standing proudly upon the vessel's deck was an incomparably handsome, peerless young nobleman.

Standing beside the emperor, Zhao Jin drew in a sharp breath of cold air and instinctively raised his sleeve to shield his face.

Though he didn't look at the emperor, he could easily imagine how atrocious the sovereign's expression must be right now.

At first, the emperor had not recognized the figure upon the distant boat.

But as the vessel drew closer and the face upon the deck came into sharp focus, his eyes widened in sheer disbelief.

His stern, composed expression cracked, and his breathing grew heavily ragged in an instant!

*This!!*

*How is this possible?!*

"Zhao Jin!!!"

With a deep, resonant roar of suppressed fury, the emperor snapped his head around to glare at Zhao Jin.