The Throne

His face was old, his temples frosted white, his eyes dull, his presence as solid as stone. He bore not the slightest resemblance to the man etched deep in my memory—except for that blue robe.

The Grand Hall had been restored to cleanliness, and there was no one else inside. The Third Prince stared blankly for a long while at Old Cangtou as he walked toward him, then struggled to find the words before finally managing, "Who... are you, sir?"

He could hardly help suspecting that Old Cangtou was a contingency Xu Yi had set in motion. After all, the scene that day had been far too shocking. Later, Huang Xuanji, the chief sacrificial officer of the secret guards, had hurried back and used a secret technique of the Imperial Observatory to divine the outcome of "a clay horse crossing the Dragon River."

Clearly, there was no way that Xu could have survived.

What was more, Xu Yi had told him that day through voice transmission that he did not have the Life-Death Gu bottle; he had left it somewhere outside. If he failed to return after some time, the bottle would shatter on its own.

Judging by those words, Xu Yi must have left someone outside to secretly control the bottle.

At the time, the Third Prince hadn't believed him. With Xu Yi's demonic methods, why would he need to be so cautious?

Now, Old Cangtou's arrival brought the memory back to him.

If the Old Cangtou before him really was a contingency Xu Yi had arranged, then the Third Prince had to admit that his life or death was entirely in the old man's hands.

"Don't you recognize me, Third Highness? If you don't recognize me, surely you recognize this."

Old Cangtou held out his left hand. A