[Imperial Palace · Hall of Supreme Harmony · Dawn]
The Hall of Supreme Harmony blazed with light.
Civil and military officials stood in rows on either side, their expressions complex. Some wore worried faces, some kept their eyes down and mouths shut, and some could barely contain their excitement—the Regent was dead, the court was about to change hands, and this was a perfect opportunity to climb higher.
Prince Huai, Li Cheng, sat in a grand chair beside the dragon throne.
He hadn't dared sit on the throne itself—officially, he was only "regent." But anyone with eyes could see that His Highness was wearing bright yellow ceremonial robes today—a color reserved only for the Emperor.
The young Emperor Li Zhao sat on the dragon throne, his face pale, his small hands clutching the hem of his dragon robe so tightly his knuckles had gone white. He was only seven years old. What did he know of situations like this?
He wanted to cry. He wanted to call for his mother. He wanted his Imperial Uncle Xie Lan to walk through those doors and make everything right again. But Imperial Uncle was dead. Mother was locked in her chambers. And the man sitting beside him—the man who smiled so kindly and gave him sweets—now looked at him with eyes that made his stomach hurt.
"Your Majesty." Prince Huai's voice was unhurried, carrying the tone of an elder instructing a junior. "The Regent has tragically been assassinated, and the Duke of Zhenguo has fled in guilt. With no one to manage court affairs, this minister is willing to temporarily assume the regency. Once the situation stabilizes, power will be returned to Your Majesty."
The words were grand and noble, but everyone could hear the truth—this was a move to make the young Emperor a puppet.
Prime Minister Zhou Yanling stood to the side, his expression shifting between dark and light.
This old fox certainly knows how to pick his moment. He gritted his teeth internally. The moment the Regent dies, he jumps out to steal the prize. If he succeeds, won't all my years of cultivation have been for someone else's benefit?
But he didn't dare object.
Prince Huai's private soldiers had already seized control of every major route in the capital, and half the palace guards had been bribed. Openly opposing Prince Huai now would be like throwing eggs at a rock.
Wait and see. Zhou Yanling made up his mind. When Prince Huai shows a weakness, I'll act accordingly.
The young Emperor looked toward Zhou Yanling, his eyes pleading.
Zhou Yanling pretended not to notice.
The young Emperor looked toward the other ministers.
No one dared meet his gaze.
His lips trembled, and finally, he lowered his head.
"Imperial... Imperial Uncle is right."
The corner of Prince Huai's mouth curved upward.
Just then—
"Report—!"
A guard stumbled into the hall: "The—the Duke of Zhenguo is storming the palace with troops!"
The hall erupted in chaos.
"What?"
"The Duke of Zhenguo? Didn't he flee in guilt?"
"Storming the palace with troops? Has he gone mad?"
Prince Huai's face instantly darkened.
That idiot Yin Lie—wasn't he supposed to be hiding with his tail between his legs? How dare he storm the palace at a time like this?
He was about to give orders when the doors of the great hall were pushed open from outside.
Yin Wuwang strode into the hall.
Today he wore black military attire, a long blade at his waist, three hundred elite soldiers at his back. Every soldier had been personally trained by him—even without the military tally, these men answered only to Yin Lie. They had followed him through countless battles, bled beside him on dozens of campaigns. The tally was just a piece of metal. Their loyalty was forged in blood.
He walked as if he owned the hall. As if three thousand armed men weren't arrayed against him. As if the entire court wasn't watching to see him fall.
The Demon Sovereign doesn't get nervous.
And neither does the Duke of Zhenguo.
Yin Wuwang's gaze swept over everyone in the hall.
The Prime Minister—face dark, eyes darting, clearly calculating how to play both sides.
Prince Huai—sitting in his grand chair in bright yellow robes, wearing an expression that said "victory is already mine."
The young Emperor—cowering on the dragon throne, trembling all over.
These mortal court games—I've seen enough of them in the Demon Palace. Yin Wuwang laughed coldly to himself. Prince Huai's acting skills couldn't even compare to the lowest demon guarding the gates of Nine Abyss Mountain. He played the invalid for ten years, thinking no one knew about his ambitions?
In the cultivation world, schemes like this would be considered laughably amateur. Prince Huai thought he was a master manipulator, pulling strings from the shadows. He had no idea that he'd been dancing on someone else's palm from the very beginning.
Pathetic.
Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice echoed in his mind: "Suggestion: Just charge in and kill. No need for talk. Kill Prince Huai first, questions later."
Yin Wuwang scoffed internally: Just kill him? Then what was the point of gathering evidence? Has this broken system's brain been kicked by a donkey?
What I want isn't just to kill—it's to kill with legitimate justification. I want his crimes exposed before the entire court. I want his name cursed for generations. I want him to know, in his final moments, that he never had a chance.
He ignored Little Deer and strode toward the center of the hall.
"Prince Huai." His voice echoed through the great hall, cold as winter ice. "This Duke has a few questions I'd like to ask."
Prince Huai rose from his chair, his face ashen: "Yin Lie! You've brought troops to storm the palace—are you trying to rebel?"
"Rebel?" Yin Wuwang let out a contemptuous laugh. "What a heavy accusation Prince Huai is placing on my head. This Duke merely wants to ask—how exactly did the Regent die?"
"You assassinated the Regent, and now you dare ask such a question?" Prince Huai raged. "Guards! Seize this traitor!"
No one moved.
The palace guards exchanged uncertain glances.
Yin Wuwang's three hundred elite soldiers had their hands on their blades, watching like tigers.
"What's this?" Yin Wuwang surveyed the room, mockery at the corner of his mouth. "No one dares move?"
Prince Huai's expression grew uglier still.
Yin Wuwang continued: "This Duke did indeed assassinate the Regent—that much, this Duke admits. But what this Duke wants to ask is: why did this Duke assassinate the Regent?"
"Because you hated him for taking your military tally!" Prince Huai said.
"Wrong." Yin Wuwang shook his head. "This Duke assassinated the Regent because someone told this Duke—the Regent was about to have this Duke's entire family executed."
The hall erupted in shocked murmurs.
"Who told this Duke?" Yin Wuwang's gaze was sharp as a blade, aimed directly at Prince Huai. "Would Your Highness like to guess?"
Prince Huai's expression shifted.
Yin Wuwang pulled a letter from his robes: "This letter was sent to this Duke's residence by Prince Huai three days ago. The letter states—the Regent has found evidence of this Duke's collusion with foreign enemies and will soon report to His Majesty, calling for the execution of this Duke's entire family. The only way to survive was to strike first."
He held the letter high: "All the ministers present are important court officials. Why not take a look—isn't this seal Prince Huai's personal insignia?"
The ministers craned their necks, trying to see. The seal was unmistakable—the distinctive crane pattern of Prince Huai's personal mark, used only on his most confidential correspondence.
Several officials began whispering among themselves. This was damning evidence. If true, it meant Prince Huai had orchestrated the entire assassination.
Prince Huai's expression completely darkened.
"Nonsense!" he raged. "That letter is a forgery! This prince never wrote any such thing!"
"Whether it's forged or not can be verified." Yin Wuwang said coldly. "Could it be that Prince Huai has a guilty conscience?"
Prince Huai's eyes flickered.
Just then, one of his trusted aides leaned in and whispered something to him. Prince Huai's gaze darted upward for the briefest moment—toward the shadowed rafters of the hall—before his expression eased slightly.
Whatever his aide had told him, it wasn't just about the soldiers outside.
"Fine." He sneered. "Since the Duke is so confident, then let this prince show you—what it means to overestimate yourself."
He waved his hand.
From outside the hall came the sound of orderly footsteps.
Squad after squad of soldiers poured into the Hall of Supreme Harmony, surrounding everyone inside.
"These are this prince's personal guards." Prince Huai's voice carried a note of satisfaction. "Three thousand men, every one an elite. They've trained for ten years for this moment. Duke of Zhenguo, your three hundred... are they enough?"
Yin Wuwang looked at the soldiers flooding into the hall, his brow furrowing slightly.
Three thousand against three hundred.
Ten to one.
Not an easy fight. If it came to pure combat, his men would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Even elite soldiers couldn't fight ten enemies each indefinitely.
But... the corner of his mouth curved up. Who said I only have three hundred men?
Zhao Meng should be through the gates by now. My real army isn't in this hall—it's surrounding the palace.
He looked toward the sky beyond the great hall, counting silently in his heart.
Three... two... one...
"Report—!"
Another guard stumbled in, his face pale with terror: "A—a large army is approaching from outside the city! They're flying... the Duke of Zhenguo's banner!"
Prince Huai's face changed dramatically: "What?!"
Impossible! His mind raced. I had five thousand men posted to intercept any reinforcements. How did they break through? Unless—unless the Duke had more troops than I realized. Unless my intelligence was wrong from the start.
The realization hit him like a bucket of cold water. He had underestimated Yin Lie. He had assumed the Duke was just a military brute, easy to manipulate, easy to frame. But the man standing before him now—calm, confident, holding all the cards—was nothing like the hot-headed fool he had expected.
Who is this man really?
Yin Wuwang stood with hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm: "Prince Huai, this Duke has said—this Duke didn't come to rebel. This Duke came to ask questions."
"But if Prince Huai is unwilling to answer..."
His voice suddenly turned cold:
"This Duke doesn't mind using other methods to make Your Highness talk."
The atmosphere in the hall was ready to explode.
Prince Huai's private soldiers, Yin Wuwang's elite guards, the palace guards—three forces faced off, blades glinting, killing intent thick in the air.
The tension was suffocating. One wrong move, one nervous twitch, and the hall would erupt in bloodshed. Ministers pressed themselves against the walls, trying to stay out of the crossfire. Some were already calculating the fastest route to the exits.
Prime Minister Zhou Yanling stood in a corner, his eyes spinning as he calculated which side to join. The thing he was best at in life was reading the wind and trimming his sails, but today's wind was impossible to read—Prince Huai had numbers, Yin Lie had quality. The outcome was far from certain.
Wait a little longer. He calculated silently. When the situation becomes clear, I'll make my move. Back the winner, condemn the loser—that's how you survive in politics.
The young Emperor cowered on the dragon throne, trembling all over. He was only seven years old and had never seen anything like this. One imperial uncle was dead, another uncle had brought troops to storm the palace, and yet another uncle was trying to usurp the throne—he had no idea what to do.
And Yin Wuwang stood in the center of the great hall, as if everything was under control.
Fuguang should be arriving soon. He thought to himself. I'll play the villain, he'll play the righteous one—our old routine.
It was strange, how natural it felt. Three thousand years they had been enemies, and yet now they moved together like two halves of the same blade. He provided the threat, the intimidation, the raw force. Fuguang would provide the legitimacy, the evidence, the righteous justification.
Together, they were unstoppable.
The corner of his mouth curved slightly.
When he appears... this game will be ready for its endgame.
And after that... after today...
He didn't let himself finish the thought. There would be time for that later. First, they had to win.
Outside the hall, the sky was growing lighter.
The first ray of morning sun shone into the Hall of Supreme Harmony, painting the tensed faces of a hundred officials in gold.
The decisive battle had officially begun.
[End of Chapter 32]
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In the chaos of battle, an assassin strikes from the shadows—aimed at Xie Qingyan's heart. Without thinking, Yin Wuwang throws himself in the way.
His mouth opens. The wrong name nearly escapes.
"Fu—"
He bites through his tongue and forces out different words.
Chapter 33: In the Critical Moment, Nearly Called Out "Fuguang"—Had to Bite My Tongue and Change Course