In stark contrast to the warm harmony within the residence, a suffocating panic now pervaded Yuan Shu's sleeping palace.
Like a wild beast trapped in a cage, Yuan Shu paced restlessly back and forth through the splendid yet empty palace.
The brocade robe he wore, embroidered with intricate patterns, brought him none of his usual sense of exalted dignity. Instead, it felt like a heavy prison garment, weighing on him until he could barely breathe.
How could this happen?
That wretched slave called Yang Feng on the heavenly screen-what right did he have?
What right did a slave have to be crowned "the greatest emperor of all time"?
And he, a legitimate son of the Yuan clan, which had produced holders of the Three Excellencies for four generations, the emperor of Zhong State who held Shouchun, had instead become a backdrop in someone else's story?
This was unfair!
What terrified him even more was that he could clearly feel the entire world quietly changing.
Just moments ago, he had summoned the maid who was usually best at reading his expressions to replenish the lamp oil, yet her movements had clearly been half a beat too slow. Her eyes had darted away, and she had not even dared raise her head.
And the guards stationed at the entrance-whenever they saw him in the past, every one of them would immediately straighten his back and salute loudly.
But today, there seemed to be something else in their eyes.
Was it pity?
Or... scrutiny?
An unprecedented sense of isolation engulfed Yuan Shu like a rising tide.
He felt that he was no longer the unquestioned ruler of Zhong State, but a condemned prisoner about to be pushed onto the execution block.
Everyone was waiting for his end in an eerie silence.
No. He could not sit and wait for death.
A vicious glint flashed through Yuan Shu's eyes.
That Yang Feng had to die.
And that old bastard Yan Xiang had actually dared speak up for that wretched slave in public today. Now he had even taken him back to his residence. This was openly choosing sides, a slap to his face.
He had to kill them all.
Yes, he would mobilize the troops immediately, surround Yan Xiang's residence, and hack them to death, leaving not a single survivor.
Once Yang Feng was dead, wouldn't the heavenly screen's prophecy collapse on its own?
He was the true dragon emperor to whom Heaven's mandate belonged.
Yet no sooner had this thought arisen than he snuffed it out himself.
He suddenly remembered that his grand general, Ji Ling, had also seemed somewhat off today.
After the heavenly screen ended, Ji Ling had merely sent someone to give a brief report on the city's defenses, while he himself had yet to appear.
Such a thing could never have happened in the past.
A terrifying thought slithered into his heart like a venomous snake.
Could it be... even Ji Ling had...
Yuan Shu's heart instantly sank to rock bottom.
He abruptly stopped pacing, fine beads of cold sweat seeping from his forehead.
He realized that he seemed unable to command anyone anymore.
Just as his thoughts tangled like hemp and he desperately searched for a way out, something suddenly changed.
Click.
A faint sound.
Without any warning, every bright lamp in the palace went out at the same instant.
Everything before him instantly plunged into darkness so deep he could not see his own hand.
"Who's there?"
Yuan Shu cried out, his voice filled with unconcealable fear.
"Guards! Protect me! Assassins!"
Yet all that answered him was a deathly silence, and heavy footsteps suddenly closing in through the darkness.
The next instant, several dark figures lunged at him like phantoms. A rough hand clamped firmly over his mouth while another tremendous force shoved him straight to the floor.
Yuan Shu struggled desperately, flailing with both hands and feet, but could not budge his assailants in the slightest.
He felt like a chick caught in an eagle's talons, all his resistance so feeble and helpless.
A foul-smelling rag was brutally stuffed into his mouth, choking off every curse and cry for help.
Immediately afterward, a sack was pulled over his head, enclosing his entire body.
In his last moments of awareness, he felt only two burly men hoisting him onto their shoulders and carrying him swiftly in some unknown direction, as though he were a sack of grain.
Meanwhile, at Yan Xiang's residence.
Yang Feng had already been settled in a clean, elegant guest room.
Yan Xiang personally escorted him to the door, then carefully instructed the two trusted household servants stationed outside to ensure the young master's safety and report the slightest stir to him immediately.
"Rest well, young master. Tonight, no one will disturb you again."
Yan Xiang bowed deeply to Yang Feng.
Yang Feng nodded. As he looked at this old man who had staked his entire fortune and life on him, a trace of approval entered his eyes.
He asked nothing, merely closing the door calmly.
Because he knew Yan Xiang would handle everything.
As he watched Yang Feng's door close, the respect and warmth on Yan Xiang's face instantly faded, replaced by an unquestionable resolve and cold severity.
He turned and returned to his study, taking something from a hidden compartment.
It was a... yellow blanket, made of fine material, its color so bright it was almost dazzling.
He carefully folded the blanket and held it in his arms, as though what he held was not a blanket, but the future of an entire dynasty.
Then, with steady steps, he walked straight out of the residence and vanished into the deep night.
Without a word along the way, he arrived directly at Shouchun's city gate.
Beneath the towering gatehouse, torches burned, illuminating the surroundings.
Clad in heavy armor, Grand General Ji Ling had already been waiting there for some time with a squad of personal guards. His face betrayed no expression, like a cold statue.
Beside Ji Ling, an inconspicuous minor official gripped a sack that kept writhing on the ground, as though holding a bag of rubbish.
Yan Xiang's gaze fell on the sack, calm and untroubled.
He stepped forward and gave Ji Ling a slight nod.
Taking the cue, the minor official yanked open the mouth of the sack.
Bound tightly and utterly disheveled, Yuan Shu finally saw the light again.
His headdress sat askew, his robes were covered in dust, and strips of cloth were stuffed firmly in his mouth. His bloodshot eyes glared fixedly at Yan Xiang and Ji Ling before him, the venom and killing intent in them almost taking solid form.
"Mmph... mmph..."
He twisted desperately, furious and despairing roars rising from his throat, as though he wanted to tear these two ministers he had once trusted most into ten thousand pieces.
Unfortunately, he could not utter a single word.
As though he had not seen that man-eating glare, Yan Xiang merely looked calmly at Ji Ling and asked, "Is everything ready?"
Ji Ling cupped his fist, his voice deep and forceful, like metal striking stone.
"My lord, all preparations are complete."
"All forces within the city are under our control."
Yan Xiang nodded in satisfaction.
He turned, gently unfolded the yellow blanket in his arms, then glanced at Yuan Shu, who was still struggling on the ground. In a flat tone that bordered on a proclamation, he addressed the personal guards behind him.
"A few of you, come."
"Come with me to invite our lord."