Chapter 87 The World's power

A man stood on top of a hill, slowly playing a futile tune on his flute, so mournful that the sorrow seemed to shatter his fingers, leaving them bloodied in his sight. To his eyes, the blood was meaningless as it dripped, to his ears, the tune was hollow, devoid of melody. To his touch, the flute was cold and distant, offering no warmth. His sword-like eyebrows had withered like the snow-capped mountains in the distance. His lips could no longer speak without anger and rage, and his heart would not allow him to make amends. Fate had cast him as "The World," a king made by force, and through the sheer might of his formidable will, all bowed to him—Generals and slaves alike, not only obeying but perishing at his command. His quest for justice had bred ruthlessness, gnawing at his soul, consuming him from within.

So much blood had been spilled, so many wars fought, and so many friends betrayed. The absence of General Zhong Yu left Yan Xun with a void that no one could ever fill. When others proved unreliable, Zhong Yu had been his most trusted General, second only to A'Chu (Chu Qiao). She would lower herself to the rank of a servant to fulfill the Prince of Yanbei's command. Her loyalty was beyond question, and A'Jing reminded him of this, but Yan Xun, deafened by revenge, chose not to listen. That day, he drank deeply from the cup of vengeance and turned on the General who had saved his life countless times. Zhong Yu, once the sharp blade of Yan, tempered in the fires of war, was discarded, losing her essence and value in an instant.

A'Jing, Yan Xun's closest comrade, who cared deeply for Zhong Yu, almost like family, tried to make sense of the grim events and reconnect with Yanbei's greater cause. He looked back to Shen Jing Gong palace, where the royal bloodlines of Yan were slaughtered in the name of loyalty, and revenge severed all ties. Yanbei fell—bloody, cold, and defenseless.

A'Jing could still vividly recall running through the palace corridors in a desperate attempt to save something, but it was too late. The only strength left was concentrated in Yan Xun, the Crown Prince, who had suffered unimaginable torment on Jiuyou Platform. What could be worse than having one's royal status stripped away like a tattered piece of cloth?

Once, Yan Xun had been just an innocent boy—a six-year-old who volunteered as a tribute to the capital when all other Yanbei princes refused. His sword-like eyebrows stood tall, as if he bore the weight of the world. That day, he answered the call and became "The World," affirming his father's loyalty to the Great Summer Throne. Yan Xun left Yanbei, never looking back, a lamb offered for slaughter to save his people and family. It was true when Yan Xun said, "The gods have never had mercy on me."

Today, A'Jing faced the harsh reality that Yan Xun was no longer the innocent boy who valued brotherly love or loyalty. Before the sword of Yanbei's justice, everyone must fall—everyone except Xiaolong's Blade.

He whispered to himself, "Not even A'Yu, A'Chu, or Wu Dao Ya."

"A'Yu, how can I make amends?" A'Jing's voice trembled, as the weight of his emotions left him feeling frail and human. His tearless eyes stared blankly at the cold expanse of the Yanbei Plateau. Without realizing it, the sun had already set, and the twilight painted the sky like an abstract masterpiece. It seemed as though the heavens offered a fleeting moment of beauty, a reward to those who had endured the day. But A'Jing couldn't appreciate it, the sunset's fire-red hues lost on him.

He stood behind Yan Xun, countless words caught in his throat, yet none seemed worth speaking. "These words are useless," he finally muttered, "they carry no weight."

Suddenly, Yan Xun crushed the flute in his hands, fresh blood dripping from his palms. But the King showed no sign of pain. He tossed the flute aside and said softly, "Yes, all is useless once you understand the cold truth of what a King must do. After all her loyalty, I granted General Yu a swift death. I forgot she too might have sought justice for herself."

"To make matters irreparable," Yan Xun added, his voice hardening, "award her the title of 'Traitor of Yanbei.' Let her body be forgotten, without a memorial tablet to honor her. It's all meaningless."

Meanwhile, in Yanbei's war room, a voice cut through the tension: "Report!"

"The World, we have intelligence from a ground spy. Qinghai is trying to destroy its own land."

"What?!"

Yan Xun's sword-like eyes flared with fury. "Why would they destroy their own land? What madness is this?"

"The World, it concerns the Moon Kingdom—"

Before the lieutenant could finish, a sharp blade pressed against his throat, and a cold voice warned, "If you dare tell me another bedtime story, I'll slit your throat and let you lick your own blood!"

Yan Xun's rage subsided as he laughed darkly. "Legends and myths? I don't believe in any of that nonsense. The only thing I trust is my sword."

He slowly unsheathed his Xiaolong sword, running his fingers along its cold steel as he stared into its reflection. The lieutenant shivered but forced himself to speak. "Your Highness, I can take you to the Thousand Caves. There, we might find proof of the Moon Kingdom's existence. Though it has long been dismissed as a myth, whispered among gypsies, nomads, and spiritual healers, rumors of the lost King Chu Teng Gao persist. Qinghai denies it, but the evidence is emerging."

Yan Xun paused at the mention of the name "Chu," memories from his imprisonment flooding back. The name held great significance.

"You want to die, don't you?" Yan Xun said, chuckling.

"Please, Your Highness, have mercy! No one in the camp wanted to report this, not even me. It's not military in nature, but every time we infiltrate Qinghai, we find the same information."

At the mention of General Chu, Yan Xun's mood shifted again. He touched the sharp edge of his sword and murmured, "I should kill you here, but I think I'll delay that pleasure."

"Your Highness, please," the lieutenant pleaded, trembling. "I didn't mean to refer to General Chu. May she rest in peace." The lieutenant stammered, unsure of what he had brought to the surface, realizing he had touched on far more complicated matters than he understood.

an Xun looked down at the Chief Lieutenant, who remained in a kowtow position, his head buried on the ground. Yan Xun's foxy eyes, once fierce, now carried a hint of a childish aura—the same aura that once softened the King of Yanbei.

"A'Chu… who dares? Who are you to bring this matter before me?" Yan Xun's fierceness vanished as his voice softened to a near whisper. He continued, as if speaking more to himself than to the lieutenant, "General Chu died in the battle for Prince Zaru. I buried her in the Xiu Xui Mountains and dedicated a memorial tablet in her honor. But then… your Queen of Yanbei—jealous of A'Chu—claimed I had buried a fake. She told me it was not the real A'Chu but her double, Xia Chong, whom she had imprisoned in Liang State. I never had time to recover or validate the truth. Your Queen was captured that very day and became a prisoner of war in Qinghai's camp."

Yan Xun's voice slowed, as if the memories unfolded before him like it all happened yesterday. "Later, someone resembling General Chu became the Empress Dowager in Liang State, saving Emperor Xiao Ce from death, but she disappeared soon after, throwing Daoming Palace into chaos. Then came Zhan Ziyu, leader of the afterlife death camp. He emerged from the shadows, killing my mother-in-law—the Queen of Yanbei—while she lay dying in my arms. And this Lord of Qinghai, who slipped away during the enthronement with his guards…" Yan Xun's voice trailed off.

Pausing, he turned to the Chief Lieutenant and asked, "You know very well how Yuwen Yue's bodyguard, Yue Qi, was killed during the icy lake tragedy, don't you?"

The Chief Lieutenant replied, "Yes, Your Highness. I gave you the bow and the famed Yan white-feathered arrows aimed at his heart to weaken the heir of the Eyes of God."

Yan Xun's voice turned cold. "And you saw with your own eyes how Yue Qi, his formidable guard, fell and died. But it seems that day never happened. Everyone saw him alive, cutting through enemies in a killing spree. Tell me, do the dead rise from their graves? Explain this to me!" Yan Xun shouted, his voice trembling with anger, his face twisted in disbelief.

"And then there's this girl with a whip… they call her Viper. She leaped into the middle of the enthronement like a civet cat! The audacity!" Yan Xun sneered. "I think I've seen her around General Chu, acting as her trusted aide and spy. Even when I requested Deputy General He Xiao to provide information on her, he found nothing."

Yan Xun's expression darkened as he continued, "Where was I during all this? I was held under arrest by Liang's forces, thanks to Sun Di, who imprisoned both the King and Queen of Yanbei in the palace! Do you realize how important these events are?"

He leaned in, eyes burning with intensity. "Explain to me how the enthronement turned into an ambush, with dead bodies strewn about and the royal family placed under arrest. And now you're telling me about this 'Moon Kingdom'—an empire that doesn't even exist on any map?"

Yan Xun sat back, his hand still gripping his sword, the blade gleaming in the dim light. His eyes, filled with disgust, hinted at the violence he was holding back. He stared at the Chief Lieutenant, waiting for answers, unsure whether he would spare him or strike him down.

The Chief Lieutenant, sensing the weight of the moment, remained motionless. He knew the King needed answers, but he also knew that no one had a clear explanation for the strange events surrounding General Chu. The real and fake versions of her seemed to appear and disappear at will, their whereabouts impossible to trace. Even the powerful Xuili Army had shielded her so thoroughly that even the King of Yanbei could not uncover the truth.

The Chief Lieutenant cautiously raised his head to meet Yan Xun's gaze. He saw a weary yet handsome king, waiting impatiently for his report. "Your Highness, you met the real Chu Qiao at the Battle of Yangmingguan Pass. She's alive, and well. She rode into battle on her horse, challenging you alone. She pointed her sword at your neck and could have ended your life in an instant, but you didn't retaliate. We were all waiting for your command to shoot, but your hands… they never moved. Your Majesty, the soldiers noticed. They wondered if we were in the midst of a battle or a reunion. No arrows were fired. No spears were thrown. The Yanbei military, the brightest of our forces, stood down that day. The Xuili Army retreated, and not a single drop of blood was spilled. It was as if you recognized her… like a king hypnotized by the beauty of a fox spirit."

Yan Xun's mind drifted back to that day, the weight of A'Chu's presence filling his thoughts. He remembered how everything began in the Celestial prison garrison in Wei, how she had kept him alive, urging him: "Even if it's like a dog's life, live it."

Those words, carved into his heart, stayed with him, even through the torment of the Jiuyou Platform. He recalled A'Chu's desperate cries for him, her voice cutting deeper than the wounds inflicted by the Wei guards. Every time she screamed his name, "Yan Xun!" his humanity faded, replaced by the instincts of a rabid beast, desperate for vengeance. No man had endured the suffering he had, but the blood of Yan's nobility depended on his survival.

Time passed, and Yan Xun's expression shifted, a hint of dark humor crossing his face. "You deserve to die," he said to the Chief Lieutenant, his voice low and dangerous. "But not today. I'll punish you before killing you if I find out you've deceived me with this tale of an empire in Qinghai that doesn't exist on any map."

The dark sky echoed with the silent passing of the moon through the clouds.

The death of A'Chu on the battlefield had stripped Yan Xun of the last vestiges of emotion. Since that moment, he had trusted no one—not Zhong Yu, not Wu Dao Ya. Wu Dao Ya, seeking to protect Zhong Yu, had gone into hiding, pretending to be busy reorganizing the Datong Way. The last time Wu Dao Ya was seen, he attended a secret banquet for the Datong, welcoming new members and orienting them on how the group operated. Afterward, ninety wealthy lords of Yanbei met occasionally at Pengcheng harbor, near Liang State. They continued to amass wealth, shoveling gold and rebuilding Yanbei's ruined cities. Through the Datong Way, they financed the restoration of Yanbei's palaces and architectural landmarks, devastated by the Blackguards' attack. Yan Xun lived in luxury, benefiting from the commerce and taxes they collected in Wei and Liang States, while his people toiled to rebuild what had been lost.

In all of Yanbei's splendor, its recaptured cities, and countless bloody battles, to whom do we owe gratitude for its success today?

A woman dressed in regal white once said, "The Yan would rather bleed than weep."

She smiled bitterly at the last wounded, nearly dead prince of Yanbei, an unrecognizable figure riddled with arrows, covered in deep wounds and fatal cuts. Taken hostage in her own house, stripped of her royal status as the Great Summer's Eldest Sister, Bai Sicheng sealed the fate of Yan that day. Dancing her way to death, she faced the Jiuyou Platform with hatred and courage, naming all the executed members of the Yan royal family, beginning with her husband, Yan Sicheng—the Duke of Wei's Northwestern territory, who had defended the Emperor tirelessly when he was but a 17-year-old prince. Yan Ting, Commandant of the Xuili Army, Yan Xiao, Commandant of Gallantry, and the only princess of Yanbei, Yan Hongxiao, who died pregnant with her unborn child—all were honored heroes of the past, now marked as traitors.

Bai Sicheng, looking back, recited all of their contributions to the Empire—their noble deeds, their sacrifices. Once hailed as heroes, that day they were condemned as traitors. With cold defiance, she ordered Yuwen Yue to throw the golden boxes of their accolades into the furnace, casting a scornful look and disregarding Yuwen Huai's authority as the Master Executioner. This single act paved the way for Yan Xun to survive, sparing him from the same grim fate as his family. The Emperor's pardon granted a lifeline to Yan Xun, allowing him to escape royal execution.

The world may never fully understand whether justice was served that day, whether it was truly about protecting Wei's national interest or whether the Emperor was merely a pawn in his enemies' schemes. Yuwen Huai, Chief Execution Officer, provoked and tormented Yan Xun, inflicting a pain that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Yet, it was Yuwen Yue, second in command, who subtly and strategically intervened, using every method at his disposal to buy more time and keep Yan Xun alive.

Yuwen Yue's sharp mind and keen eyes never wavered, even as he stood ready to use his own body as a shield, prepared to take the arrows meant for the weakened prince of Yanbei. The archers, their hands trembling, hesitated to shoot as Yuwen Yue stepped in to block the attack. Through it all, Yuwen Yue engaged in an intense verbal battle with Yuwen Huai, enduring taunts, insults, and provocations in front of the lifeless bodies of Yan Xun's family and the watching Zhao and Wei clans. Yuwen Huai relished in Yuwen Yue's torment, knowing his cousin was powerless under his command.

Despite his twitching palms and the sweat on his brow, Yuwen Yue remained calm, his composure masking the excruciating turmoil within. Two people he held dear—Xing'er and Yan Xun—stood on the platform, their lives in his hands. As second in command, Yuwen Yue was bound by duty, unable to openly defy Yuwen Huai, but determined to find a way to protect them both.

In that moment, Yuwen Yue knew that one wrong move, one emotional outburst, could doom them all. If he acted recklessly, if he revealed his true feelings or led an ill-timed revolt, he would be the first to die. His death would leave no one to protect Xing'er and Yan Xun in the chaos that would follow. Yuwen Yue understood the delicate balance he had to maintain. He had to be calm, calculated, and objective, for only then could he seize the chance to save them from their cruel fates.

Yan Xun never fully understood Yuwen Yue's actions on the Jiuyou Platform, nor did he take the time to reflect on them or validate Yuwen Yue's motivations. As his closest friend and confidant, Yan Xun had expected Yuwen Yue to act decisively on his behalf, especially since Xing'er's life was also at stake. However, Yuwen Yue's focus had been on saving the dying prince of Yanbei, with the hope of securing Xing'er's freedom from her slave status within the Yuwen Household. But could that freedom still be granted? Xing'er had avenged the deaths of her sisters and brother by killing Yuwen Xi, the grandfather of Yuwen Huai—a grave offense. Killing a high-ranking official of the Yuwen household was no minor crime, and no matter Yuwen Yue's intentions, Xing'er would ultimately fall into his hands.

As the head of the Fourth Branch of the Yuwen Household, Yuwen Yue's role was to gather intelligence and serve as the empire's repository of information. In contrast, the Third Branch, led by Yuwen Huai, controlled the Slave Chamber Pavilion, a place of unimaginable torture, further escalated by Yuwen Xi's Jile Pavilion, or "Death of Pleasure Pavilion," where maids who broke the laws of the Yuwen and Wei Empire were subjected to gruesome punishment.

Yuwen Yue, the true spymaster, had the power to decide the fates of all within the empire, be they slaves, commoners, or royals. As he once described, the heir to the "Eyes of God" lived in a cage constructed by Mohist masters—a maze of lures, traps, schemes, and deception. Yuwen Yue longed to break free from this cage and achieve his own freedom. Little did he know that the tragedy at the icy lake would set these events in motion.

Reflecting on the past, it became clear that Yuwen Yue's goals did not align with Yan Xun's expectations. Yan Xun refused to accept or even contemplate the reality that the entire fate of Qingshan and Hongshan courtyards, and indeed the survival of the Yuwen nobles, depended on Yuwen Yue and Yuwen Huai carrying out the execution of the Yan royal family.

With the involvement of two of the Yuwen Household's most powerful figures, it was their duty to the empire to carry out an execution befitting royals who had committed treason—a scenario orchestrated by Yuwen Huai and Princess Xiao Yu.

In truth, it was all planned by none other than Xiao Yu, Princess of Liang and the master of the Skyshadow Spies. She used Yuwen Huai's ambition for power, tempting him with promises of glory, and swayed him to become her ally. Her connection to the Third Branch of the Yuwen Household went back to Yuwen Huai's grandfather, Yuwen Xi, who had once fallen victim to the blackmail of the Liang Princess.

Years passed, and Yan Xun remained confined within Wei. One day, out of the blue, the old Duke of Yanbei sent Yan Xun a letter through General Zhong Yu. The letter contained a simple yet profound request: to secretly travel to Yanbei, with Zhong Yu serving as his royal escort. The arrangements for the Crown Prince's return to Yanbei were entrusted entirely to Zhong Yu. She often referred to him as the "Hostaged Prince," for it was Yan Xun's detained status in Wei that had ensured peace for Yanbei and the favor of the Great Summer Emperor. However, that peace ended the day Yan Xun responded to his father's letter, driven by a deep respect and longing for the endless grasslands of Yanbei.

Yan Xun's response letter was written with great caution. He knew that stirring the calm waters could reveal the murky depths beneath. Despite his years of restraint, something changed that day, and he ordered Zhong Yu to deliver the letter.

Zhong Yu, aware that Yan Xun's palace was not safe, sent two versions of the letter. The first was dispatched through a bird courier to mislead the spies; the second was delivered through a secret channel arranged by none other than Yuwen Yue and Yan Xun. This covert assistance from Yuwen Yue was a sign of the special treatment Yan Xun received—a matter so delicate that even the Emperor was kept in the dark.

Meanwhile, a Skyshadow spy named Tao Ye intercepted the bird courier and captured the letter. But Zhong Yu, anticipating this, had used the bird as bait, quickly replacing the original with a fake letter. The bird was then released, as if nothing had happened. Unbeknownst to the spies, another pair of eyes was watching—not a spy, but someone tasked with monitoring Zhong Yu's movements and reporting them to his master.

Jiang He, the observer, reported the incident to his master, Dong Fangyi. Without wasting time, Dong Fangyi penned another letter, using a forged seal of Yan Xun. As he did, he muttered to himself, "They say I'm crooked, always trying to assist an emperor, but it seems I've been wrong all along. Ten years of effort, and what have I learned? Nothing."

Jiang He listened as his master continued, "Shall I send someone to personally deliver this letter to the Duke of Yanbei?"

Dong Fangyi responded, "No, I'll deliver it myself."

The second party swiftly returned to headquarters, evading all the strategies laid in Greenhills Courtyard, and finally arrived at the Eyes of God repository. Yuwen Yue received the original letter from Yan Xun, bearing the true seal. Silently, Yuwen Yue read the letter, knowing that Yan Xun trusted him to decide whether to deliver it to his father or hold it back.

Yuwen Yue made the difficult decision to write a new version of the letter and burn the original. This choice was not approved by Yan Xun, but Yuwen Yue acted on his own judgment, believing that delivering the letter could bring disaster to Yan Xun and throw Yanbei into chaos. Yuwen Yue understood all too well that the letter could be used as a weapon against Yan Xun, potentially leading to bloodshed and irreversible consequences.

Yuwen Yue's wisdom had been honed and cultivated since birth, guiding him in his role as both strategist and decision-maker. On that fateful day, his actions were driven by three clear goals. Two served the empire, while the third—protecting Yan Xun at all costs—was a personal instinct that he could not ignore.

Yuwen Yue's fondness for the Prince of Yanbei was evident, though silent. He could not openly show his emotions or lose control, especially as Xing'er was entangled in Yan Xun's life, a complication that further restrained him. As the Master of the Eyes of God, he had to maintain his composure and fulfill his duty to the empire, no matter how deeply he cared. Yet despite his stoic nature, Yuwen Yue had feelings—he could not escape the weight of his emotions.

With his empire's elite spies at his disposal, Yuwen Yue took control of the situation, aiming to prevent clashes between empires and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Acting as a counterintelligence spymaster, his two primary goals were simple: first, to frustrate Liang's Skyshadow Spies, and second, to protect the integrity of the Eyes of God while excluding Yuwen Huai's involvement, which would have jeopardized the entire Yuwen clan in the Shen Jin Gong Palace court.

The third goal, however, was personal—protecting Yan Xun's life. It was an unspoken mission, one he would never admit to openly. Yet during the icy lake tragedy, Yuwen Yue went beyond his usual detachment, risking everything for the prince. His actions came at great personal cost, not only endangering his own life but also pulling Xing'er into a precarious situation. Reflecting on the events in meditation, Yuwen Yue angrily replayed the scenario in his mind, whispering, "Repeat."

In his meditative state, he envisioned himself as the Master of the Eyes of God, burdened by his revered position. The weight of Qingshan and Hongshan Courtyards, and the looming threat of the imperial edict from Wei, hung over him like a storm. Yuwen Yue knew that, in the larger scheme of things, he was always at a disadvantage, trapped by forces beyond his control.

As the unpredictable tide of events played out in his reflections, Yuwen Yue foresaw the dangers but resolved to act in the moment, avoiding the brewing storm. His hope was to extricate Xing'er from the deadly game being played between the two empires, both of which were driven by bloodthirsty cycles of vengeance. He knew only a Yuwen heir, skilled in strategy and discretion, could manage such a delicate situation, making everything appear normal on the surface while handling the crisis beneath.

However, the reality was that Yuwen Yue could not control every aspect of the unfolding events. Xing'er left Qingshan Courtyard, joining forces with Yan Xun and helping him revolt against the Great Summer Throne. In his moments of reflection, Yuwen Yue considered giving in to the harsh truth—his power had limits, and the stakes were too high. Yet he trusted his instincts, hoping against hope that Yan Xun would not succumb to the darkness of revenge. But deep down, he feared Yan Xun might use Xing'er as a pawn, a bait to avenge the slaughter of the Yan royal family.

Yuwen Yue rejected this thought, convinced that Yan Xun was not born to think in such base terms. He believed the prince was better than that. Yet, despite his belief, the unthinkable happened—Yuwen Yue found himself in a situation he had never anticipated, exhausting more effort than he was willing to give. He had placed Xing'er in danger, and the icy lake tragedy unfolded as a result of his miscalculations.

Despite his forethought and meticulous planning, Yuwen Yue bet everything on the chance that "what if" would not occur. He wrote a fake letter to the Duke of Yanbei, Yan Sicheng, sternly warning him not to march toward Chang'an. Everyone knew that without the Emperor's edict, no one could dare to show military force in the capital. Any such action would be seen as rebellion, and Yanbei would be accused of acting independently, capturing Chang'an and challenging the authority of the Wei empire.

In making this judgment call, Yuwen Yue drew on his deep understanding of Yan Xun and his father, having known them since childhood. He crafted the letter using a code that only Yan Sicheng could decode, ensuring its authenticity. A rider from the Yuwen household set off toward the grasslands of Yanbei, carrying the crucial message.

But Yuwen Yue's carefully orchestrated plan had only a fifty-fifty chance of success. The road to Yanbei was harsh and cold, and the possibility of interception by enemy spies loomed large. Yuwen Yue had no backup plan, and unknown to the Duke, General Dong, a trusted adviser to Yan Sicheng, was secretly disloyal. General Dong, whose mysterious origins paralleled those of Wu Dao Ya, was not fully aligned with the Datong Way. Though both men shared the common goal of establishing Yanbei as a land of freedom, their paths diverged.

General Dong and Wu Dao Ya walked parallel yet separate paths in their efforts to secure Yanbei's future as a land free from slavery, imperial rule, and the tyranny of the strong over the weak. Their ideal was a world of equality, where no one was oppressed based on birth, and the lines between nobility and commoners were erased. It was a dream of a world without bullying, where revenge and violence no longer tore families apart.

This ideal world seemed like the distant dream of a child. Yet, in the ruthless game of power and survival, Yuwen Yue knew that dreams alone could not prevent the cycle of revenge and bloodshed that had shaped Yanbei and the empire for so long.

The letter bearing Yuwen Yue's forged seal of Yan Xun finally arrived in the hands of Yan Scicheng. After reading it, Yan Scicheng shared the contents with his trusted adviser, Dong Fangyi. As they discussed the matter, Dong Fangyi, ever calculating, skillfully diverted the Duke's attention. He hinted at a rumor, luring Yan Scicheng into believing a dangerous gossip: he claimed to have witnessed Liang spies intercepting Yan Xun's letter via the bird courier near the Wei border.

Dong Fangyi, always persuasive, suggested that the letter had been tampered with and rewritten by the spies. In truth, however, the letter was authored by Yuwen Yue, containing subtle warnings about the trouble ahead, coded in Yan Xun's writing style to alert his father. But Dong Fangyi spun his own version, driving a wedge between Yan Scicheng and his son's true intentions.

Hearing this, Yan Scicheng made an impulsive decision—he resolved to travel to Chang'an, meet with Yan Xun, and rescue his son from captivity. This wasn't just a simple reunion. It was a bold, dangerous move—an act of defiance. Yan Scicheng, confident in his perceived immunity, mocked the Emperor's authority, saying, "What can they do about me?"

Dong Fangyi, secretly loathing the Duke, feigned concern and replied, "That is a bad idea, Your Highness." But deep down, Dong Fangyi was pleased, knowing that Yan Scicheng's reckless actions would lead to disaster.

Tired of waiting and inaction, Yan Scicheng's determination grew. "I will write to the Emperor," he declared, "and this time, I won't back down. What must be done should be done, even if they have to kill me. They must stay away from my son!"

Dong Fangyi, still hiding his disdain, offered false reassurances. "Well, we must be prepared." In reality, he was orchestrating the Duke's demise.

With Dong Fangyi's assistance, Yan Scicheng set out for Chang'an, leading a military escort from Yanbei. His journey, however, would end in tragedy—he fell into a deadly trap orchestrated by Yuwen Huai.

Before these events unfolded, Yuwen Huai and Princess Xiao Yu had already struck a deal. The day after their arrangement, Yuwen Huai, with sinister precision, manipulated the situation. He persuaded the Emperor to visit a site near the ancient temple of Wei's ancestors, where a group was seen ferrying a large stone tablet. Inscribed on the stone were the words:"Wei is dying, Yanbei will rule the world."

The Emperor, upon seeing this, flew into a rage. He ordered Yuwen Huai to kowtow in shame and, in his fury, struck Yuwen Huai's back. "This is your gift!" the Emperor spat. He immediately commanded that all those involved in carrying the stone tablet be arrested and executed for treason.

Turning to his council, the Emperor summoned the Wei Valve Masters. He demanded an explanation for this perceived rebellion. "Is this heaven's warning to me?"

Wei Guang, one of the council members, responded, "We should find the perpetrator and punish them immediately."

Another advisor, Zhao Gui, agreed, "I stand with Wei Guang."

The Emperor's anger deepened. "I trusted him," he fumed, referring to Yan Scicheng. "I gave his son a good life, better treatment than any other royal, and this is how he repays me? With rebellion?"

Yuwen Yue had foreseen this. It was exactly the scenario he had predicted would unfold in the Great Summer Palace—the Emperor, manipulated and brainwashed, convinced that Yanbei had turned against him.

Meanwhile, Yuwen Yue was still in the process of gathering intelligence on two key figures in Yanbei—Wu Dao Ya and Dong Fangyi, known as General Dong. His sources were unreliable, and the information surrounding these two generals was cloaked in secrecy. Yuwen Yue was also aware of Lou He, and through his private conversations with Imperial Concubine Ning'er, he uncovered more about her daughter—Chu Qiao.

Yuwen Yue had learned that Chu Qiao, after a great fall from a cliff, had lost her memory and roamed the Ximeng continent. Since that day, she had vanished, leaving behind only stories. Her mysterious disappearance weighed heavily on Yuwen Yue, adding another layer to the intrigue.

Back in Yanbei, Yan Xun remained unaware of the entire picture. His failure to notice the finer details, the small yet critical pieces of information, had cost lives—deaths that could have been prevented with greater caution.

The restoration of Yanbei's endless grasslands, the gathering of the World's power, was underway. But would this dream lead to true freedom, or would it only perpetuate the cycle of revenge and the brutal system of slavery that had plagued the empire for so long?