"Mortuary?" Lu Chen folded the paper.
"A place where unclaimed corpses are kept. This morning, when the Capital Prefecture went to collect bodies, they found four additional corpses in the mortuary." Emperor Xia tapped the imperial desk once, then again. "Zhao Yue's subordinates. Four Imperial Guard Centurions. They died exactly like the Sun Family—true essence exhausted, lifespan drained dry."
Four Imperial Guard Centurions.
Subordinates of Zhao Yue, the deputy commander of the Imperial Guard.
After the Seventh Councilor failed to strike at Zhao Yue in the Land God Temple, the Third Councilor had come in person. Rather than touch Zhao Yue directly, he had started with those around him.
"Four men. How much was drained from each?"
"Not much. Twenty years each. Eighty years altogether." Emperor Xia's voice was flat. "The Third Councilor is telling me that he can collect them one by one. Four centurions tonight, four thousand-commanders tomorrow, then Zhao Yue himself the day after. He is in no hurry."
The candle flame flickered. The shadows in the hall swayed with it.
"Your Majesty means?"
"I mean for you to go to the mortuary tonight." Emperor Xia rolled up the map. "The Third Councilor left something there. For you."
By the time Lu Chen left the Hall of Mental Cultivation, night had fallen completely.
The scent of winter plum blossoms in the imperial garden was even stronger in the darkness, so thick it was almost cloying.
He passed through the corridor and left the palace gates. Yun Qingyue stood in the shadows outside, a medicine chest in hand. The golden runic bone rested atop it, the seal-sensing pattern on its reverse glimmering with an extremely faint bronze light in the night.
"His Majesty sent you to the mortuary?"
"Yes."
"I'm coming with you."
Lu Chen did not refuse.