The arrow in the hand of Lord Qin had already left the bowstring, and with a whistling sound as it cleaved through the air, the large arrow entered from the back of the Crown Prince and pierced through his chest.
He fell from his horse, dead on impact.
For the Crown Prince, his death was both sudden and reasonable. Just like so many souls lost to Lord Qin's arrows, he was no different. In the face of the great arrow, his noble status as Crown Prince and elder brother bore no significance.
But for Lord Qin, the moment he personally killed his elder brother marked the removal of his greatest political rival. And yet, something had also irretrievably left him.
It is said that in his later years, Lord Qin once lamented, "In the year of my death, I was merely twenty-six."
