Outside Yangju Hall, corpses lay everywhere.
Meng Chuang and the imperial guards were panting heavily in the violent snowstorm, their clothes soaked with both blood and sweat. If the Nanchuan army hadn't arrived in time, they would have been trampled into the mud by Prince Yu and the other royal relatives' troops tonight.
Seeing someone approaching, Meng Chuang wiped the sweat off his face and stood up. He was about to call out to the King of Nanchuan, but upon seeing the man's appearance, he stopped.
It was said that the King of Nanchuan had ruled the southern military camp for many years, his ruthless methods intimidating the southern border for a long time, so much so that the southern people only knew of the King of Nanchuan and not the emperor. Such a figure, also a royal relative of the emperor, should be nearing forty years old.
But the person before him appeared to be no more than twenty-five.
This man was tall and strong, with long legs and a large stride, quickly approaching. Seeing Meng Chuang with the imperial guard commander's insignia, but staring blankly at him, the man smiled.
Up close, Meng Chuang was struck by the man's appearance. He had fair skin, a high nose, and almond-shaped eyes with a mischievous glint, his thin red lips always hinting at a smile. The term "gorgeous playboy" came to Meng Chuang's mind.
But suddenly, the man's eyes turned cold, becoming unfathomably deep. Meng Chuang's heart trembled, "G-greetings, King of Nanchuan."
Surprisingly, the man tilted his head and smiled at him, even patting his shoulder, "Good swordsmanship."
But that casual pat felt to Meng Chuang like being struck by a thousand-pound stone. His shoulder ached intensely, and his hand holding the sword began to tremble.
This man... Meng Chuang watched his retreating figure, silently retracting the earlier disrespectful thoughts.
He must be the King of Nanchuan, an extraordinary individual.
Inside the hall, Xiao Jing's coughing could be heard. Three men kneeling on the ground were tightly bound with thick hemp ropes, their arms twisted painfully behind their backs, their cries of agony filling the air.
"Well, well, what a lively scene." The voice arrived before the figure did, as the doors of Yangju Hall were pushed open from outside, revealing a pair of black, snake-patterned boots.
"You—you are the King of Nanchuan?" Prince Yu, kneeling on the ground, stared at him. It was this man who had destroyed all his schemes and plans at the last moment.
But the newcomer didn't even glance at him. Instead, he lazily bowed to Xiao Jing, "Xiao Yuan of Nanchuan, here to save you, Your Majesty."
Blood dripped from his sword as he walked in, filling the air with a pungent stench. This was highly disrespectful, but Xiao Jing remained calm, "Thank you, King of Nanchuan."
Xiao Yuan stared at the sickly man on the bed. Though gravely ill, his pale face couldn't hide his handsome features. Even with enemies at the gate, he remained composed and fearless. Facing a savior, he showed no hint of subservience.
Is this what it means to be an emperor?
Hmph.
Xiao Yuan sneered, his anger rising. He glanced at the three kneeling men and said coldly, "Prince Yu, Prince Yun, and a so-called great general. Committing treason and rebellion, I shall kill them all for you, brother."
The three men cried and kowtowed, knowing Xiao Jing was a wise and benevolent ruler who wouldn't kill his own relatives.
But before Xiao Jing could speak, Xiao Yuan raised his hand. Several rough soldiers entered, swords ready to execute.
"Tsk." Xiao Yuan pointed his sword at them, "Such poor manners. Killing in front of the emperor is unsightly. Take them outside."
"Yes, sir!"
As soon as they stepped outside, the three men were beheaded.
The smell of blood was overwhelming, causing Xiao Jing to cough uncontrollably. Each cough was like a mockery to Xiao Yuan.
All this for a sickly man...
He suddenly stepped onto the dragon bed, pressing his sword against Xiao Jing's neck, staining his white undershirt with blood.
The two men faced each other closely.
Xiao Jing remained unafraid, not even flinching. Xiao Yuan pressed the blade deeper, savoring the fresh scent of blood.
"Since you're so close to death, have you written a will?" Xiao Yuan feigned curiosity, "Is it for that little prince born without a mother? Tsk, can a toddler sit securely on the throne?"
As men, Xiao Jing felt a strong hostility. This was not the usual covetousness for the throne but a personal animosity towards him.
The blade pressed deeper into his neck, causing Xiao Jing to finally frown. But his words were, "Thank you."
"Heh." Xiao Yuan removed the sword, "Confident that I don't want the throne, huh?"
Xiao Jing picked up a handkerchief from the side table and wiped the blood from his neck.
"If you want the throne, wait until they kill me and the prince, then restore order. It would be more legitimate. If you don't want the throne, Xiao Yuan, what do you want?"
Xiao Yuan stared at him for a moment, finding him rather interesting. Unfortunately, he didn't like interesting people.
"Just bored, came out to kill a few people for practice. But it seems I've done a good deed." Xiao Yuan tossed the sword aside, dirtying Xiao Jing's bedding, "I have plenty of gold and silver; don't reward me with that."
Xiao Jing remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
Xiao Yuan smirked, "How about giving me your empress to play with?"
0 Comments