Chapter 3.

The forbidden palace's inner sanctum has been haunted by a fox demon again—this isn’t the first time.

At Kunning Palace, the announcement turned every face pale. The smarter ones had already dashed to guard the palace gates, terrified that the creature might storm in and cause trouble for the Empress.

Empress Yu wore a worried expression as she asked firmly, “Has anyone been sent to investigate? Where did it appear this time? How many were hurt?”

A trembling young maid, the first to report back, stammered, “At Chuxiu Palace. The newly selected ladies were just returning from Qionghua Island when they ran straight into the fox demon. It injured five or six of them right in front of everyone. Then it bolted west and disappeared.”

The Empress frowned, her sharp gaze cutting through the haze of fear. After a brief pause, she began issuing orders without hesitation: “Send the imperial physicians to treat the injured women immediately. Order the Jinyiwei to tighten their patrols and track that creature down. I’ll go to Chuxiu Palace myself.” Rising to her feet, she called for her attendants to prepare her carriage.

“Your Majesty, you mustn’t!” The head maidservant quickly stepped forward, her voice laced with urgency. “If that fox demon returns and harms you, what would we do?”

For a moment, hesitation flickered across Empress Yu’s face, but it was quickly replaced by resolve. This was the third time the fox demon had wreaked havoc, leaving the palace on edge. As the Empress, it was her duty to stabilize morale.

Though she dismissed superstitions, there was no denying the creature’s elusiveness and the mounting rumors.

“Let me go instead, Mother.”

Before the situation could escalate further, Yin Chengyu, her son, stepped forward. His tone was calm but commanding as he placed a firm hand on her shoulder, gently pressing her back into her seat. “I’ve heard of this fox demon tale too. But the Yan’s Palace is a place of imperial dragon energy—no petty evil would dare linger here. This reeks of someone stirring up trouble under the guise of superstition.”

The Empress’s eyes flickered with recognition; she had suspected as much but lacked proof. After a moment’s thought, she nodded. “Very well. Enough is enough. If you can root out the cause, all the better.”

After ensuring his mother’s composure, Yin Chengyu led a team to Chuxiu Palace.

The fox demon had reportedly injured several people, leaving the area deserted except for the Jinyiwei officers standing guard. Around them, additional search parties fanned out from the palace in every direction.

When Yin Chengyu arrived, the squad leader, Captain Wang, hurried forward to salute.

Yin Chengyu’s sharp gaze swept across the surroundings. “Any leads?”

“None yet,” Captain Wang admitted, shaking his head. “Witnesses said the fox demon was entirely crimson, moving like a ghost. Every time it appears, a dense fog rolls in, and eerie flames flicker within. They claim that anyone who encounters it loses their soul and becomes delirious.”

“Enough nonsense,” Yin Chengyu snapped, his tone cutting. “A fox demon in the imperial palace? Ridiculous. This is someone playing tricks. Conduct a thorough search—leave no stone unturned.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Captain Wang mumbled, though his face betrayed his belief in the supernatural.

Yin Chengyu didn’t bother to argue. After a cursory inspection, he left the palace grounds, his expression unreadable.

In his mind, he knew what was coming. In his past life, the fox demon would resurface on New Year’s Eve.

The fox demon legend, after all, had started in the streets:

A scholar surnamed Zhao had once saved a stunningly beautiful woman during a trip. Smitten, brought her home, where they lived in passionate bliss. But within a month, tragedy struck—his family members began dying one by one, and eventually, even Scholar Zhao met his end.

The mysterious woman disappeared without a trace, leaving behind nothing but blood-soaked whispers and fear.

The nosy neighbors were all buzzing: that poor scholar had stumbled into the jaws of a vicious fox demon.

Not long after, word spread through Wangjing City that someone had spotted a stunningly beautiful woman wandering the alleys in the dead of night. And right after that? A string of able-bodied men mysteriously dropped dead.

The fox demon legend took root and grew, fast.

At first, it was just street gossip, but by this summer, even the palace walls couldn’t keep the rumors out.

The first couple of fox attacks weren’t much—some palace workers caught glimpses of the creature, screamed their lungs out, and maybe got a scratch or two. But this time? The beast showed up at the Chuxiu Palace and tore through five or six young lower rank concubines ladies.

Two days from now, the tale would hit Emperor Longfeng’s ears.

His old man—the late emperor—was a notorious coward, utterly obsessed with superstitions. Naturally, the palace guards were doubled, and every so-called master exorcist within a thousand miles was being hunted down and dragged into the palace to "banish the evil."

And that? That was exactly what the schemers wanted.

Whoever was pulling the strings had worked tirelessly to build this drama. All of it was a setup for one big, chaotic show on New Year’s Eve. The panic? Just the backdrop to push that fraud, Daoist Wangchen, straight into the emperor’s good graces.

Last time, he’d been too slow. By the time he pieced the plot together, Wangchen had already cozied up to Emperor Longfeng.

He’d tried to warn the emperor—told him the fox demon fiasco stank to high heaven, told him Wangchen was bad news. And what did he get for his trouble? A scolding and a cold shoulder.

Yin Chengyu let a cold smirk curl at his lips, lazily pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he cradled the warmth of the hand-warmer. With unhurried steps, he strolled down the covered walkway, every movement deliberate.

This time? He wasn’t about to waste his breath on useless warnings. Let the fools play their games—he had his own.

*

Two days later, Emperor Longfeng heard the news: a demon fox had injured someone in the Chuxiu Palace. Just like before, he tightened palace security and sent people scrambling to find high-level Daoist practitioners to perform exorcisms.

The court officials? Oh, they had plenty to say about it.

An emperor obsessed with spirits and rituals? It didn’t sit well. Memories of those decadent monarchs of past dynasties—chasing immortality, neglecting the empire—stirred unease among them.

Even Yu Huai’an, his maternal grandfather, made a trip to confront Yin Chengyu about it.

Yin Chengyu ignored the ministers outright—let them stew in their frustrations—but family was another matter. He had no choice but to meet his grandfather.

When the old man arrived, Yin Chengyu greeted him with tea and set up a chessboard. After a game, Yu Huai’an frowned at his near-defeated pieces. His gaze sharp and puzzled, he remarked, “Your Highness has changed.”

The Yin Chengyu of the past was the perfect crown prince in everyone's eyes: gentle, benevolent, and magnanimous. Loyal to his elders, gracious to his subordinates—a paragon of virtue destined to rule with compassion.

But the chessboard didn’t lie. Yu Huai’an saw none of the old gentleness in his moves. This new style? Sharp. Ruthless. Even a touch rebellious. It was as if Yin Chengyu had become someone else entirely.

Yin Chengyu only smiled, sidestepping the observation. “The world is like chess, unpredictable at every turn. Right now, the people know the crown prince but forget the emperor. That doesn’t bode well for me.”

With that, he placed the final piece, cutting off Yu Huai’an’s escape entirely.

Defeated, Yu Huai’an admitted his loss with a nod. “As long as Your Highness knows what you're doing.”

For years, the crown prince’s radiance outshone even the emperor’s, a fact that had always made Yu Huai’an uneasy. He’d warned subtly in the past, but Yin Chengyu—trained from childhood to put the people and the empire first—had never prioritized himself. Too much advice would’ve risked driving a wedge between father and son, so Yu Huai’an kept his concerns to himself.

But now? If the crown prince had finally wised up, that was a good thing.

What had prompted the change, though? That remained a mystery.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Yu Huai’an cupped his hands in farewell. “Since that's the case, I won’t trouble Your Highness with outside affairs. The cabinet is still swamped; I should return to my duties.”

He hadn’t come here on his own whim—the ministers were fed up with the emperor’s antics and had sent him to persuade the crown prince to intervene. But the crown prince had shut himself away in Ciqing Palace, seeing no one. They had no choice but to shove the task onto Yu Huai’an.

Now, it was clear the crown prince had no intention of getting involved. So, there was no need to push further.

Yin Chengyu inclined his head and personally escorted him to the Qizhi Gate. At the threshold, he finally voiced what he’d been holding back:

“Grandfather, the winter is harsh, the snow relentless. You’re not young anymore. Take care of yourself—don’t keep carrying everything alone.”

He abandoned the formalities of their ranks, speaking instead as a younger generation, his tone laced with deeper meaning.

Yu Huai’an, now sixty-eight, was the top scholar of the Chengzong era, having served through two reigns. His journey to the position of Grand Secretary was a turbulent one, but now his authority rivaled that of a prime minister.

He was also the one who had thrown his weight behind the then-prince Longfeng, helping him secure the throne.

Back then, Emperor Xiaozong had been a disgrace, flagrantly defying all decorum. His five sons followed his example, plunging into a vicious succession battle. No one had expected the forgotten sixth son—raised in the cold palace, with a concubine for a mother—to claim victory.

Longfeng had clawed his way to the throne, knowing full well his humble origins and lack of education would earn him no respect from the court. So, he played the humble, diligent ruler, appointing Yu Huai’an as his mentor and marrying his only legitimate daughter.

In time, the empress bore a legitimate heir, who became the crown prince.

The emperor’s power solidified over the years, but the humility faded, replaced by indulgence and neglect. Yu Huai’an, loyal to both the prince and the empire, had tirelessly cleaned up the emperor’s messes, never uttering a complaint.

Only two years stood between Yu Huai’an and retirement. A peaceful life awaited—or so it should have.

But in the last timeline, those final years had brought ruin. His name disgraced, his family destroyed, and his legacy erased.

Yin Chengyu’s cryptic warning wasn’t just a reminder—it was a lifeline. He knew his grandfather’s position was precarious, that any move could set off a chain reaction. Retirement wouldn’t come easily.

But for now, all Yin Chengyu could do was nudge him toward caution. The rest? That would take time.

Yu Huai’an paused, the weight of his grandson’s words sinking in. After a long silence, he nodded, clapping him firmly on the shoulder. “I understand.”

The two parted at the Qizhi Gate. As Yin Chengyu watched the swirling snow, his eyes narrowed.

Now, all that was left was to wait for New Year’s Eve.

*

New Year’s Eve. A grand feast was decreed. Every official of the fourth rank or higher was allowed to bring their families.

The emperor himself would be there.

Rumors of a demon fox lurking about had shaken the palace, and security was tighter than a miser's purse. Guards swarmed the grounds like ants—every five paces a soldier, every ten a watch post. Not just the imperial guards; even the notorious agents of the Eastern and Western Bureaus were crawling out of their holes.

Outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Yin Chengyu caught sight of Xue Shu.

Tall, lean, and coiled like a predator, Xue Shu stood out among the hunched and skittish lackeys like a wolf in a flock of sheep. The dull brown uniforms and white boots that turned others into faceless drones somehow made him look dangerous, as though violence clung to him like a second skin.

Yin Chengyu already knew the man was striking, but tonight he found himself staring just a little longer than he should.

Xue Shu, stationed at his post, noticed. His sharp gaze locked onto Yin Chengyu’s with unflinching precision.

Their eyes met, and it burned. Yin Chengyu’s pride flared, and he tore his gaze away like he'd been caught. A curt, dismissive snort escaped him as he brushed past without sparing another glance.

Xue Shu watched him go, his fingers twitching at his side as though they yearned to reach out. In a low, rough voice, he called, “Your Highness.”

Yin Chengyu heard it. He ignored it. His back was rigid as he swept into the hall.

The officials were already seated when Yin Chengyu took his place. He barely had time to settle before the emperor finally made his leisurely entrance.

Taking the seat of honor, the emperor raised his cup with a few hollow pleasantries, then gave the order to begin.

Music rose. Dancers twirled in, their silk sleeves spinning like water in the candlelight. The air filled with the sounds of flutes and strings, laughter and clinking cups.

Yin Chengyu sipped his wine absently, waiting, calculating the moments.

Three quarters of an hour later, a commotion shattered the harmony outside the hall. Panicked shouts and the clash of steel cut through the music.

Yin Chengyu set his cup down sharply, a thrill of cold clarity snapping through his thoughts.

It had begun.

The noise grew louder, spilling over the walls. Even the dancers faltered as unease rippled through the hall.

The emperor scowled, waving a hand. “What’s going on out there? Someone, go and see!”

A eunuch dashed off, returning moments later pale as death, his voice trembling. “A demon fox! It—it’s appeared!”

The hall erupted. Voices clashed—some scoffing, others whispering in dread. The emperor’s face darkened, and indecision warred with fear in his eyes. Pride held him to his seat, but his hand twitched as if itching to call for retreat.

At last, he turned his glare onto Yin Chengyu. “Under heaven’s mandate, how could such an evil dare appear? Crown Prince, go. Handle it.”

Yin Chengyu’s lips curved in a subtle, sardonic smile. He rose, inclining his head. “As you command, Father.”

Several skeptical officials trailed him outside. Whatever their doubts, the sight that awaited them shattered their nerve.

Bodies littered the ground. A red mist coiled through the air, glowing faintly with flickers of ghostly fire.

The bravest of the officials immediately pushed Yin Chengyu behind them, edging back toward the safety of the hall.

Yin Chengyu didn’t move. Calm, unshaken, he raised his voice. “Fetch archers. Double the torches. I’ll see who’s behind this nonsense.”

The commanding tone jolted the guards from their panic. Scrambling to obey, they rallied with new resolve.

But when the emperor himself stepped out moments later, his composure crumbled at the sight. His voice cracked as he shouted, “Summon the Daoist Master at once! Now! Quickly!”

The words sent ripples of doubt through the crowd.

Was this truly a demon?

Or someone playing tricks?

As unease grew, Yin Chengyu’s sharp voice cut through the murmur. “Father, this red mist and ghost fire reek of parlor tricks. That so-called demon fox? I’d wager it’s—”

He had a point. The court officials, following his lead, shifted their thinking and looked at the red mist demon fire with less fear, seeing it as less menacing than before.

But Emperor Longfeng wasn’t buying it. He interrupted Yin Chengyu mid-sentence, his face pale, and snapped, "Guard the emperor! Escort me to Qianqing Palace!"

He was leaving, abandoning everyone.

Yin Chengyu hesitated, as if still wanting to say something. At that moment, the second prince, Yin Chengzhang, spoke up, “Whether it's human or demon, the emperor’s health must come first. If my brother believes this is human, why not stay and capture whoever is behind this?”

This conversation had unfolded before.

But last time, Yin Chengyu wasn’t ready. He stayed but failed to catch the mastermind or drive away the demon. In the end, Daoist Wangchen stepped in, clearing the red mist and killing the fox demon.

But this time, he was prepared.

He gave a barely noticeable glance at Yin Chengzhang and the third prince, Yin Chengqing, who stood beside him, then smiled faintly. "Anyone daring to play tricks in the palace, I’ll make sure to catch the one pulling the strings."

Emperor Longfeng wasn’t interested in this pointless debate. He was too keen on saving his own skin, ordering the Jinyiwei to surround him before making his escape.

Yin Chengyu played along, no longer attempting to stop him. He just squinted, watching the emperor, surrounded by his guards.

He counted silently, reaching "ten" when suddenly, a massive beast burst from the red mist, letting out a sharp, eerie shriek before charging straight for the emperor, protected at the center.

The beast was covered in red fur but shimmered with a ghostly green light. Its mouth opened wide, emitting a foul stench. It appeared so suddenly that no one was prepared.

“It’s a demon fox! The demon fox is here!”

The fragile peace shattered again. Panic spread among the people, with some already fleeing in fear.

The emperor, surrounded by the Jinyiwei, was pushed back, but they were too packed, unable to react quickly enough. In an instant, the vicious beast broke through their defenses and rushed straight for the emperor.

"Your Majesty!"

"Protect the emperor!"

Screams filled the air.

Emperor Longfeng was frozen in terror, his face drained of color as he collapsed to the ground, paralyzed.

Yin Chengyu watched coldly, his expression unreadable. He turned his head slightly toward Xue Shu, who stood nearby, and mouthed the words: Kill it.

Everyone was too busy protecting themselves or running for their lives. Only Xue Shu defied the flow, as if intending to approach Yin Chengyu. Upon meeting his gaze, he understood the command.

After only a brief hesitation, Xue Shu swiftly turned, leaped toward the stunned emperor, shielding him with his body. Drawing his sword, he drove it deep into the fox demon's abdomen.

The demon fox howled in pain, swiping its claws at him.

Xue Shu didn’t flinch, taking the blow head-on. With quick reflexes, he grabbed the demon’s fur, using its own momentum to mount its back, locking his legs around its body to steady himself. Then, he plunged the blade into its neck.

The sword sliced through from the back of its neck, exiting through the front.

The fox demon was impaled, blood spraying everywhere as it collapsed, still twitching.

The scene was so gruesome that the surrounding area fell into stunned silence.

Panting, Xue Shu pulled out his blade, casually wiping the blood splattered on his face. He turned and locked eyes with Yin Chengyu.

It was like he was saying: You told me to kill it. I did.

———Author's Note: Xue Shu: With my looks and abilities, the young master must surely be impressed.

Yin Chengyu: (._.)

———TN: Double 12.12 Second day translating this novel. Double the Trouble, Double the Fun! Let's get this reading party started! Don't forget to Rate, Vote, and Comment on this Novel.