Chapter 121.

It was supposed to be a day of joy…

But her demeanor, her tone—everything about her—was unrecognizable. The once-mighty Emperor Longfeng furrowed his brows, his expression darkening. His voice carried a sharp edge of displeasure. “What’s gotten into you? If there’s something to celebrate, why is it that I’m the last to know?”

Consort De didn’t flinch. With a slow, deliberate grace, she lifted her skirt, took a seat before him as if she owned the place, and leaned in slightly, a smile curving her lips. “Today, Your Majesty, is the day you abdicate the throne to my son. Tell me, if this isn’t a joyous occasion, then what is?”

The Emperor’s jaw tightened. “Abdicate? What nonsense are you spouting?” The question barely left his lips before a horrifying realization struck him. His voice rose in panic: “Guards! Someone!”

But silence answered him.

Moments earlier, he’d sent everyone away to draft the imperial edict in peace. Now, in this private chamber, it was just him and Consort De. No one was coming.

“This palace is under my control now,” she announced, her tone firm, her confidence unwavering. “Prince An and Minister Gao have been subdued. And as for Crown Prince’s palace, it’s already surrounded by the Imperial Guard.”

Her once-obedient façade had shattered, replaced by a chilling dominance. “Why resist, Your Majesty? The crown prince has always been a disappointment in your eyes. Prince An is a low-born nobody with no real talent. But my son? The third prince is brilliant in both governance and war. Surely, there’s nothing to complain about.”

Her voice, cold and sharp, slashed through the tension. She leaned in closer, the metallic gleam of her long, gilded nails catching the dim light as she casually traced the contours of her painted face, giving her the eerie look of a demon in human skin.

Longfeng glared at her, his chest heaving with fury and disbelief. It was as if the woman before him was a stranger. “This… this is treason! You’re forcing me! Where’s the third prince? Bring him here!” His voice trembled as he pushed himself back further into the dragon throne, his hand brushing against something beneath the pillow.

A glimpse of yellow silk peeked out—an imperial edict.

Consort De’s sharp eyes caught it instantly. Before the Emperor could react, she snatched it up and unrolled it. Her face twisted with dark amusement as she read. “Well, well… I was worried about how much trouble it would take for Your Majesty to draft an abdication decree, but it seems you were already one step ahead.”

The Emperor lunged forward, frail and desperate, but she danced back with the agility of a predator, laughing as she spread the decree across the table. Conveniently, the tools to complete it—brush, ink, everything—were already laid out.

Dipping the brush into ink, she extended it toward the Emperor. Her smile was gone now, replaced by something deadly. “Go on, Your Majesty. Write my son’s name.”

Longfeng’s eyes burned with rage, his face contorted in defiance. His hand trembled, refusing to reach for the brush. He was still the Emperor—he wasn’t about to hand his throne to anyone, least of all a son he’d never considered a successor.

The standoff lasted only a moment before Consort De’s patience wore thin. Her smile faded entirely, and she set the brush down. For a fleeting moment, the Emperor thought she might have relented. Relief began to creep into his chest.

But then, cold steel pressed against his throat.

“Write it,” she hissed, her voice a low, menacing growl. Her grip on the blade tightened, and she pressed it harder against his skin. “Write my son’s name. Now.”

Her words hung in the air like a death sentence, leaving the once-mighty Emperor trembling, his will to fight draining with every beat of his heart.

The Emperor Longfeng felt a sharp sting at his neck, followed by the unmistakable warmth of liquid running down. Instinctively, his hand shot up to feel it, fingers brushing against wet blood.

It had been years since he’d last seen blood—his own, no less—since ascending the throne. His face twitched involuntarily, his pride and composure crumbling under the deadly glare aimed at him. He recognized the ruthless determination in her eyes and knew he couldn’t afford to provoke her further. Defeat tasted bitter, but he dragged himself to the desk, picked up the brush, and began writing.

Once the abdication decree was completed, Consort De inspected it meticulously. Satisfied that everything was in order, she allowed the ink to dry before slipping the document into her sleeve.

As for Emperor Longfeng, he was left drained and broken, collapsing onto the cold ground, his spirit shattered.

Consort De paid him no further attention. With a calm, calculated air, she pushed open the door and stepped outside, where Yin Ciguang and his men knelt in humiliation, already subdued. A victorious smirk tugged at her lips.

With the abdication edict in hand, their plan was already halfway to success.

It was then that Yin Chengjing arrived, deliberately late as always. Spotting him, Consort De strode up, pulling the decree from her sleeve and flashing it before him. “It’s done on my end. How about yours?”

“Almost there,” Yin Chengjing replied, exuding confidence in a crimson robe embroidered with gold and adorned with the four-clawed python emblem. A jeweled crown atop his head completed the look of a man basking in his moment of triumph. “Our forces have already secured control of the palace defenses. Outside, the decree is being proclaimed as we speak. The next step is luring the ministers into the palace and capturing Kunning Palace. With the Empress and the Fifth Prince as hostages, the Crown Prince won’t stand a chance.”

According to their plan, Consort De’s role was to obtain the abdication edict, while Yin Chengjing struck a deal with Gong Hongfei to swiftly seize the Yan Palace by force.

Once the ministers were summoned under the guise of the Emperor’s grave illness, they would be trapped within the palace. Kunning Palace, the Empress’s residence, would be secured, and the Crown Prince would be drawn out and eliminated.

Anyone who dared resist? They wouldn’t live to see the morning.

Bloodshed was inevitable. Throughout history, every throne had been claimed at the cost of lives. Victory was all that mattered. Once he was Emperor, the chronicles would be written by his hand.

Yin Chengjing stood in the grand hall, surveying the scene: the defeated Emperor slumped on the floor, Yin Ciguang and his men forced to their knees. His lips curled into a contemptuous grin.

He’d endured humiliation for long enough. This moment had been a long time coming.

*

Tonight is destined to be a sleepless one.

Yin Chengyu stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back, his gaze piercing through the heavy darkness of the night.

Xue Shu stormed in, his voice low but urgent. “Yin Chengjing’s men have quietly surrounded Kunning Palace. I’ve already ordered elite guards to escort the Empress and the Fifth Prince out of the palace to safety. Zheng Duobao and Zhao Lin are waiting to receive them outside the city.”

“How are the palace gates?”

“They’re under Yin Chengjing’s control. Nothing gets out—nothing but air and lies. Apart from a few courtiers tricked into entering by fake decrees, not even a mosquito’s escaping tonight,” Xue Shu replied sharply.

Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into a calculating smile. “Prepare for a counterattack. But don’t rush it. Let him finish his little show first.”

Just as the two exchanged strategies, a flustered eunuch rushed in, bowing deeply. “Your Highness, someone from Qianqing Palace says the Emperor is gravely ill and requests your immediate presence.”

Yin Chengyu glanced at Xue Shu, a silent exchange passing between them. He instructed the eunuch calmly, “Tell them I’ll come after changing my robes.” Once the eunuch departed, Yin Chengyu adjusted his attire with deliberate ease, preparing to leave.

As he stepped past Xue Shu, a rough hand seized his wrist. Xue Shu’s calloused fingers climbed up Yin Chengyu’s smooth skin, stopping firmly at his elbow, his grip unyielding. “Your Highness, there’s no need to risk yourself.”

The so-called Emperor’s illness was nothing but a ruse. Yin Chengjing’s coup was inevitable, and the Crown Prince, Yin Chengyu, was the greatest obstacle to his ambition.

Yin Chengyu locked eyes with Xue Shu, his tone resolute. “Everything is in place. There won’t be any slip-ups. If we’re going to act, we’ll act convincingly.”

Xue Shu still didn’t loosen his grip, concern flickering behind his stern expression. Yin Chengyu leaned in, brushing their noses together in a fleeting, intimate gesture. His lips pressed softly against Xue Shu’s, a kiss laced with both reassurance and command. “Take care of Yin Chengjing’s men. Meet me at Qianqing Palace when it’s done.”

The grip on his arm slackened, and Yin Chengyu’s lips curved into a teasing smirk. Before stepping away, his fingertips grazed the base of Xue Shu’s throat, pausing provocatively over the Adam’s apple that bobbed with tension. Without another word, he strode out of the chamber, flanked by two eunuchs, heading toward Qianqing Palace.

Xue Shu watched his retreating figure, his tongue sweeping over his teeth in a feral motion before turning to head in the opposite direction.

In the shadows surrounding the imperial palace, over 20,000 soldiers—spies from the Eastern and Western Bureaus, as well as elite guards from the Jinwu and Yulin battalions—lay in wait. Outside the capital, He Shan and Ying Hongxue commanded troops from the city’s garrison, poised to strike at a moment’s notice.

One signal, and they’d crush the rebels in one swift, coordinated blow.

Cui Ci and Wei Xihe were already waiting when Xue Shu arrived, standing at attention. “Commissioner, all forces are in position.”

Xue Shu shrugged off his cloak, revealing black battle armor underneath. He accepted a heavy blade from Wei Xihe, securing it at his hip. A bloodthirsty glint flickered in his eyes, a rare, dangerous edge returning to his expression. His hand rested on the hilt of the blade, thumb tracing the jagged grooves etched into its surface.

“Follow me,” he growled, voice low and lethal. “Purge the traitors. Leave no one alive.”

*

The grand hall of Qianqing Palace blazed with light, its massive doors shut tight. Inside, Yin Chengjing lounged in the main chamber, sipping tea like a man with all the time in the world.

On one side sat Consort De, her expression unreadable, while the faint scent of blood lingered, a grim reminder of the earlier carnage despite the corpses having been cleared. The plush carpet bore dark, stubborn stains, as if the floor itself couldn’t forget the violence.

The survivors—useful only as leverage—knelt trembling on the cold stone, soldiers' blades pressed ruthlessly to their necks. Occasionally, one of Yin Chengjing’s men would rush in, whispering reports that only seemed to make his faint smirk grow sharper.

When news came that the court officials had all been herded into the side hall, he placed his cup down with deliberate ease. “Ah, now we’re only waiting on the Crown Prince,” he mused, a hint of mockery curling at the corners of his mouth. “Close the doors. Let them stew for a bit.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than a loud announcement echoed through the palace: “His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince, has arrived!”

Yin Chengjing rose sharply, the veneer of calm replaced by unrestrained delight. “Bring him in!”

Striding in as if oblivious to the tension suffocating the room, Yin Chengyu entered with only two eunuchs flanking him. The doors slammed shut behind him with a chilling finality. He rounded the screen, his gaze falling on the kneeling prisoners, the bloodstains, and the smug figures of Consort De and Yin Chengjing seated like monarchs already. His eyebrows lifted, his face a portrait of controlled surprise.

“Consort De? Third Brother?” His eyes swept over Yin Ciguang and Gao Xian, crumpled on the floor, then shifted to the inner hall’s sealed doors. Slowly, understanding dawned, and his features darkened into icy composure.

“Third Brother,” he said, voice sharp as a blade, “do you intend to commit treason?”

Yin Chengjing chuckled, shaking his head as if the accusation were a jest. He gestured lazily toward Yin Ciguang. “You misunderstand, dear brother. It’s not I but Prince An who plotted to usurp the throne and murder the Emperor. You, of course, bravely intervened to protect Father and were gravely injured by the traitor. And I,” he said, placing a hand over his chest, “heroically turned the tide, eradicated the rebels, and received Father’s dying decree naming me his successor.”

His gaze flicked to Yin Ciguang, whose murderous glare could’ve cut through stone, and smiled slyly. “What’s wrong, Prince An? Don’t like the role I’ve assigned you?”

Yin Ciguang said nothing, his silence dripping with venom.

Just then, the inner hall doors rattled violently, and the Emperor’s enraged voice roared from within: “Traitor! Filial disgrace!”

Yin Chengjing dismissed the noise with a flick of his hand, turning his attention back to Yin Chengyu. Unlike the panicked officials and trembling prisoners, the Crown Prince was disturbingly composed, his expression as serene as still water.

“You’re remarkably calm, brother,” Yin Chengjing remarked, an edge of amusement in his tone. “Then again, why wouldn’t you be? A lamb on the butcher’s block has no reason to rush.”

With a wave of his hand, soldiers stepped forward to seize Yin Chengyu.

But before they could close in, the two eunuchs by Yin Chengyu’s side exploded into action, drawing sleek swords from beneath their robes. Moving with lethal precision, they formed a protective barrier around the Crown Prince.

“Ah,” Yin Chengjing murmured, his initial flicker of unease dissolving into a self-satisfied grin. “So that’s your ace? A couple of hidden guards?” He chuckled, the sound low and dismissive.

“Impressive, but futile. The entire palace is mine now. Two swordsmen, no matter how skilled, won’t change your fate.”

Leaning back as though already victorious, he signaled his soldiers to hold back and studied Yin Chengyu. His voice turned soft, almost fatherly. “Why drag this out, brother? Think of the Empress in Kunning Palace. Think of the Fifth Prince. Do you really want their lives on your conscience?”

Yin Chengyu flinched—a flicker of emotion that quickly turned to a cold laugh. “Kunning Palace is well-guarded. You won’t fool me with empty threats.”

Yin Chengjing didn’t bother arguing. Smiling like a wolf with its prey cornered, he rose and said calmly, “Then wait and see. I’ve already sent men to bring the Empress and the Fifth Prince here.”

———TN: The real action is just about to kick off, and things are about to get downright wild. Buckle up, because the chaos is coming in hot, and there's no stopping the ride now.