A Crucial Moment, the Second Prince Reveals His Identity

Chen Wuya's fingers were still stained with blood, the red streaks on his short sword not yet dry. The instant he lifted his foot, his muscles tensed, ready to charge into that forest of blades and rain of arrows. Bai Zhi turned slightly sideways, her sword tip angled ahead, her breathing kept extremely low. Neither of them spoke, yet both understood—this was their final gamble.

Just then, a furious shout came from behind them.

"Stop! I am the late king's legitimate son, the rightful heir to the throne!"

The voice split stone and pierced the clouds, making the torches sway. Chen Wuya halted mid-step and whipped around.

The Second Prince stood behind the remnants of the troops, one corner of his cloak lifted by the night wind. All hesitation and concealment had vanished from his face. His gaze was fixed on the commander ahead, his back straight, long-hidden authority showing between his brows. It was neither an act nor a spur-of-the-moment decision, but the final mask being torn away by a man who had plotted in the shadows for years.

The garrison formation abruptly stalled.

The shield-bearing soldiers in the front row instinctively took half a step back, while the archers in the rear loosened their bowstrings. The commander who looked to be a centurion had a faint tremor in the hand gripping his saber, his eyes churning violently. He stared at the Second Prince, his lips moving. "You say you are... the legitimate son? Do you have proof?"

The air froze.

Chen Wuya swiftly swept his gaze around. Misaligned Force ran wild through his meridians, pricking him like countless fine needles, while his throat burned with pain. He knew he could not wait any longer. If they let the enemy steady themselves and close the encirclement again, the opening