[Imperial Palace · Outside the Palace Gates · Late Afternoon]
The cleanup had taken most of the day.
Prince Huai had been escorted to the Court of Imperial Clan. The Prime Minister had been thrown into the Ministry of Justice prison. The remaining accomplices were arrested or released according to the young Emperor's decree.
Yin Wuwang's arm had been properly bandaged by the imperial physician, wrapped in thick white cloth that looked rather comical.
But he didn't care. The great Demon Sovereign—what injury hadn't he suffered before? This little flesh wound was nothing more than a scratch.
Late afternoon. Outside the palace gates.
Yin Wuwang stood at the entrance, waiting for Xie Qingyan.
He didn't know why he was waiting. He could have gone back to his residence. There was nothing he absolutely needed to say. The mission was essentially complete—Prince Huai was captured, the Prime Minister was imprisoned, and the young Emperor was safe. By all logic, he should be heading home to rest.
But he just wanted to wait.
What am I doing? He asked himself. Standing here like a fool, waiting for someone who might not even want to talk to me.
But his feet refused to move.
After about one incense stick's worth of time, Xie Qingyan finally emerged from the palace.
He still wore that purple-gold python robe, but his face showed traces of exhaustion. These past days of feigning death and staging a coup—even with the Sword Deity's constitution, it was wearing on him.
The sight of him made Yin Wuwang's heart clench.
He's tired. He's been carrying this whole plan on his shoulders, and he's tired.
And still he looks this beautiful.
"You haven't left yet?" Xie Qingyan raised an eyebrow slightly when he saw Yin Wuwang.
"It's on my way." Yin Wuwang said.
Xie Qingyan didn't call out his lie. The Duke of Zhenguo's residence was in the eastern part of the city, while the Regent's residence was within the imperial city—how was that "on the way"?
But he said nothing, simply walking forward. Yin Wuwang fell into step beside him.
The two walked side by side along the palace road. There was no one around.
The guards and eunuchs had all been dismissed. The entire road was empty, with only the sound of their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. The palace walls rose on either side, casting long shadows in the dying light.
The setting sun slanted westward, stretching their shadows long across the ground. Two figures, walking in step, their shadows merging and separating with each stride.
Neither spoke.
The silence was comfortable and uncomfortable at once—the kind of silence that comes when there's too much to say and no way to say it.
Yin Wuwang stole a glance at Xie Qingyan.
The sunset's glow fell on that face, gilding those cold features with warmth. There was a fine sheen of sweat at his temples—he was clearly tired from today's events.
This past month, Fuguang has been more exhausted than I have. Planning, scheming, feigning death, returning to life—he's been shouldering every step.
Yin Wuwang suddenly felt a pang of heartache.
"Yin Wuwang."
Xie Qingyan suddenly spoke.
Yin Wuwang started: "Hm?"
Xie Qingyan didn't look at him, just continued walking forward, his tone mild: "Earlier in the hall, you almost called out the wrong name."
Yin Wuwang's heart stopped for a full second.
The world seemed to freeze. The evening birdsong faded. The distant sounds of the city vanished. There was nothing but those words, echoing in his skull like thunder.
He... what did he say? He heard?!
His first instinct was to deny it, but the words died in his throat.
Who was Xie Qingyan? The Sword Deity. He had lived this long with a mind as sharp as his blade—who could possibly fool him?
Of course he heard. Of course he noticed. This is Fuguang. He notices everything.
Yin Wuwang was silent for a moment: "...You heard?"
Xie Qingyan didn't answer.
He simply stopped walking, turned his head, and looked at Yin Wuwang.
There was something in that gaze that Yin Wuwang couldn't read.
Scrutiny? Confusion? Something... else?
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words. Yin Wuwang's heart was pounding so hard he was certain Fuguang could hear it. Centuries of secrets, balanced on the edge of a blade. One wrong word, and everything could shatter.
They held each other's eyes for three breaths.
Then Xie Qingyan withdrew his gaze, turned away, and said mildly: "Don't get the wound wet."
He walked away. The hem of his purple-gold python robe swayed slightly in the sunset, growing more distant.
Yin Wuwang stood frozen in place for a long time.
That's it?
"Don't get the wound wet"—that's all he's going to say?
No questions? No accusations? No "what were you really trying to call me"?
He didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.
What exactly did Fuguang hear?
Yin Wuwang stood outside the palace gates, his mind in chaos.
He said "you almost called the wrong name"—was that a warning to be more careful next time, or was he hinting at something?
And at the end, "don't get the wound wet"—was that concern?
"Don't get the wound wet"... would Fuguang say something like that to just anyone?
Probably not, right?
He thought back over all the little moments from these past days—
The tea Fuguang had handed him during their secret meetings. Such a small gesture, but when had the Sword Deity ever served tea to the Demon Sovereign?
That sentence before the feigned death: "With you here, I'm not afraid." Five simple words that had echoed in his mind ever since.
Just now, sending the imperial physician to treat his wound. Knowing the depth of his injury without seeming to look. Sending a guard to check on him every incense stick's worth of time.
And that "don't get the wound wet"...
What does all this mean?
He didn't dare think further.
Does Fuguang know? Does he suspect? Or is he just filing it away, another piece of data in that brilliant mind of his?
And if he does know... what then? Will he reject me? Will he be disgusted? Will he look at me with those cold amber eyes and say "impossible"?
Or... could there be another possibility?
He shook his head violently, as if to physically dislodge the hope that was trying to take root.
Don't be ridiculous. This is Fuguang. The Sword Deity. The most untouchable being in all the realms. What would he want with someone like you?
Fuguang, oh Fuguang... when will you finally see what's in my heart?
But it doesn't matter. I've waited this many years. What's a little longer?
I've waited centuries. I can wait centuries more.
He turned and walked toward the Duke of Zhenguo's residence, his heart heavy with questions that had no answers.
[End of Chapter]
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Meanwhile, in the Regent's study, Xie Qingyan replays every moment—the blade, the unfinished name, those purple eyes that have haunted him for centuries.
For the first time, he asks himself: What if everything he thought he knew was wrong?