The Imperial Guard was about to arrest someone.
Xin Lin hastily pulled Little Xin Zhuo into an embrace, while Chu, the Silly Chu, reacted even quicker, seizing Long Qingchen's throat.
"…Who dares… bully… my treasure… bully…"
Chu Beiqing's grip was no laughing matter, turning the face of Long Qingchen, a Martial Artist of the Xuanwu Eighth Layer, the color of a liver.
"Fool! How dare you hurt me! Father, he wants to kill someone!"
Long Qingchen was so enraged that his eyes rolled back.
"Silence! Who allowed you to call Beiqing a fool at every turn!"
Emperor Longteng glanced at Little Xin Zhuo, and then at Long Qingchen.
Both were princes, yet Little Xin Zhuo appeared frail and delicate, while Long Qingchen was pampered and nurtured in luxury. Just moments ago, Little Xin Zhuo, ever so humble, had repeatedly referred to himself as a commoner—a mature and sensible child.
