"Xuan Ji, is this how you treat your uncle? If your father's spirit in heaven knew you'd wield a blade against your own kin, how could he rest in peace?"
In the dark, damp depths of the underground prison, Di Yu was firmly bound to a wooden post, his face covered in blood and his clothes tattered.
Di Xuanji looked at him impassively. "Playing the morality and emotional cards on me now is utterly meaningless," she said, her voice flat. "Uncle, some paths, once taken wrongly, are simply wrong. And for that, a price must be paid."
Di Yu suddenly struggled violently, roaring, "I have no idea what you're talking about! Di Xuanji, you're just afraid of losing the imperial throne, so you deliberately framed me!"
Upon hearing this, Di Xuanji narrowed her eyes, her gaze turning exceedingly cold. "I knew you would play dumb. That's why I have no intention of wasting my breath on you, let alone interrogating you." She turned to look at Luo Xiu. "Little Mule, sorry to trouble you."
