Oh? So, what you’re saying is that no matter what, he must die? Even if it means sparing you from your own crimes and death sentence, you still want his life. Is that right?” Shangguan Ye suddenly spoke, his voice calm, yet his eyes didn’t look toward Murong Hao. Instead, he turned and walked step-by-step toward Murong Qiufeng. His entire being exuded a bone-chilling coldness, sharp as a blade.
Murong Qiufeng’s face turned pale as he watched Shangguan Ye approach, the overwhelming killing intent in his eyes making it clear that there was no turning back from this decision.
He didn’t believe for a second that Shangguan Ye would kill him; he could see the unwavering resolve to kill Murong Hao. Even without any emotional ties, Shangguan Ye’s nature wouldn’t allow him to be coerced or threatened. The moment Murong Hao tried to negotiate with him, he had sealed his own fate.
Everyone around was tense, watching Shangguan Ye’s every move, convinced he was about to kill Murong Qiufeng. After all, sacrificing one person for the peace of an entire kingdom was a decision that this prince was capable of making.
Murong Hao thought the same and became excited. “Yes, yes! He must die! Even if time were reversed, I’d still choose the same. As long as I live, he must die!”
However, some understood the truth. The Prime Minister closed his eyes in despair, while Hou Qianxing let out a heavy sigh.
Shangguan Ye’s lips curled slightly, his voice low and metallic. “Oh? Is that so? In that case, I can’t be blamed for what happens next.” As he spoke, he gently lifted a strand of Murong Qiufeng’s hair and said softly, “I’ve told you, you can have anything you want—as long as your safety is guaranteed. I will never allow anything that might endanger you to exist. You understand that, right?”
The first half of his statement made everyone’s heart leap into their throats, and Murong Hao’s face lit up with joy. But the latter half left everyone dumbfounded.
Before anyone could react, two voices rang out simultaneously.
“No, wait—”
“Do it,” Shangguan Ye commanded.
Murong Qiufeng was a step too slow; even if he had finished his plea, it wouldn’t have mattered.
In an instant, the suffocating aura of death filled the courtyard, making everyone’s scalp tingle with dread. A faint, dragon-like roar echoed through the air as a biting wind swept past, stinging their faces before abruptly calming. Only the lingering burn on their skin confirmed that anything had happened at all.
Beside Shangguan Ye stood a man clad in black. His hair fell in an unmoving cascade down his back, and he sheathed his sword with an icy calm. His presence was like a silent blizzard, sharp and chilling, easily overlooked yet impossible to forget.
The Prime Minister, who had been held hostage, collapsed unconscious, supported only by Hou Qianxing.
A bloodcurdling scream snapped everyone back to reality. Murong Hao stood frozen, hand still extended in his futile attempt to seize control. Blood spurted from his neck as his body swayed on the brink of collapse.
Gasps filled the courtyard as eyes darted toward the black-clad swordsman in shock and disbelief.
“Brother!” Murong Qiufeng cried out, his face pale as he instinctively moved to help.
“No, stay back!” Shangguan Ye reached out to stop him.
At that moment, an eerie whistle pierced the night air.
Murong Hao, seemingly revived by the sound, locked his crazed, malicious eyes on Murong Qiufeng and let out a sinister grin.
Alarm bells went off in Qiufeng’s mind as a powdery mist billowed toward him. Before he could react, a strong hand grabbed his arm, and a familiar figure shielded him with a broad, unwavering back.
Through the swirling dust, Qiufeng saw Shangguan Ye sweep his sleeve aside, sending Murong Hao flying like a broken kite. Ye’s body jerked as the assassin struck.
From the shadows, gray-clad figures attacked, only to be swiftly and ruthlessly cut down by the black-clad swordsman.
Murong Qiufeng, however, saw nothing but the dagger embedded in Shangguan Ye’s chest. His mind went blank.
“Ye!” he choked, the name escaping his lips with icy dread.
Blood darkened Ye’s chest as he reached for Qiufeng’s trembling hand. “I’m fine. It missed the vital spot,” he rasped.
But the dagger had pierced deep near his heart, and he coughed, crimson staining his lips.
“Don’t speak!” Qiufeng cradled him, tears blurring his vision. “You idiot! Do you have any idea what you’ve done, you fool?!”
Ye’s pale lips curved into a weak smile. “Don’t worry. I’m tough…” He reached up, wiping Qiufeng’s tear-filled eyes.
That single touch broke the dam. Tears spilled freely onto his palm.
Ye clenched his fist around the teardrop before his eyes rolled back and he slumped into unconsciousness.
“Ye!” Qiufeng screamed.
“Your Highness!” others echoed in panic.
Yixiang rushed in, nearly fainting at the sight of blood everywhere. His heart seized when he spotted Shangguan Ye’s prone figure.
From the chamber beyond came the sharp crack of something shattering.
Qiufeng knelt beside the bed, frantically stuffing medicinal herbs into Ye’s mouth, forcing bitter liquids down his throat.
“My lord!” Yixiang exclaimed upon seeing the dagger still lodged in Ye’s chest.
Qiufeng’s bloodshot eyes snapped toward him, devoid of warmth or sanity. “Get over here. Now.”
Yixiang obeyed instinctively, words dying in his throat as he saw the change in Qiufeng. The gentle, refined man was gone, replaced by a cold, commanding figure whose aura was terrifyingly familiar.
Qiufeng’s lips were crimson with blood, his pale face eerily beautiful in its ruthless determination. One hand clutched Ye’s with unyielding strength.
“Hurry,” he ordered.
“Yes, sir,” Yixiang answered, falling into position to help.
The room crackled with tension as they worked to save the prince’s life.
Hou Qianxing stood guard at the door, watching the transformation in Qiufeng with somber understanding.
“Seems the prince isn’t the only one willing to change for love,” he murmured to himself.
