"Don't worry. I don't want you dead so soon."
Duan Yanqing's voice carried bone-chilling coldness and deep-rooted hatred, like an evil ghost crawling out of the netherworld.
"Your life must be spared. I want you, your hypocritical father Duan Zhengchun, and Duan Zhengming sitting high upon the dragon throne—you three... to die together! Hahahaha!"
His laughter was shrill and miserable, shaking dust loose from the ceiling.
Duan Yu's heart pounded in terror. Unable to suppress his fury any longer, he turned and glared at him. Though his voice was weak, every word rang with force: "You villain! The Dali Duan Clan has always governed with benevolence and righteousness, and my uncle loves the people as his own children. You seek to murder the Dali imperial family and defy the heavens—you will surely face retribution! With the Buddha watching above, He will never forgive someone as vicious as you!"
"Retribution?"
Those two words seemed to strike the rawest nerve in Duan Yanqing's heart.
He suddenly leaned close, his horrifying face nearly pressing against Duan Yu's nose. A strong stench of decay rushed into his face.
"Pah! Retribution? You dare speak to me of retribution?!"
Duan Yanqing's ventriloquized voice boomed like thunder, and his emotions instantly turned violently unstable. "Your whole family is made up of shameless scum! What right did that incompetent Duan Zhengming have to become emperor? What right did that useless Duan Zhengchun, who only knows romance and pleasure, have to be a prince? And you... you piece of trash who only knows how to read—what right do you have to inherit the throne?"
The more he spoke, the more agitated he became. He slammed his iron staff heavily against the ground, sending sparks flying.
"Why has your family not suffered retribution? Why did I have to become neither