Chapter 80.

The tiger’s roar tore through the forest, a thunderous sound that echoed endlessly, resonating far beyond the hunting grounds. Even those outside the arena couldn’t help but hear it, their faces lighting up with eager excitement.

Inside the enclosure, the impossible had happened—a tiger had appeared.

Tigers are solitary creatures, elusive shadows hidden deep in the wilderness. Spotting one is rare; hunting one, even rarer. The Danxi Winter Hunt, held every three years, wasn’t always graced by the presence of such a beast.

This year’s tiger—who would claim it?

As speculation buzzed through the stands, Emperor Longfeng suddenly rose to his feet. He had just swallowed a restorative pill, and the exhaustion that had weighed him down was gone. He stood tall, his eyes sharp and alive with fervor.

“Not long ago,” the emperor began, his voice commanding, “Ziyuan Zhenren read my fortune. He foretold a small calamity in my destiny this year, one tied to a tiger. He claimed that if I could overcome it, fortune would turn, and the Empire of Yan would thrive. At the time, I didn’t understand his words. Now, it’s clear.”

This calamity—this tiger—was here, now, during the Danxi Winter Hunt.

Ziyuan Zhenren had also assured him that a guiding star would aid him through this ordeal, turning danger into triumph. There was no need to hesitate.

“Bring me my armor and bow!” Longfeng commanded sharply, stepping down from the viewing platform with purpose. Turning to his trusted advisor, he added, “Send word into the hunting grounds—locate the tiger but don’t act rashly. Its position must be secured.”

Within moments, attendants rushed to prepare him. With practiced precision, they dressed the emperor in a gold-embroidered dragon-scale battle cuirass, belted his sword at his side, and handed him his bow and quiver. As his steed was brought forward, Longfeng mounted with the ease of a seasoned rider.

Sitting tall in the saddle, a long-lost fire burned within him. A warrior’s fire.

In his youth, he too had galloped across the wilderness, bow in hand. The Empire of Yan had been forged on horseback, and the royal family had always honored that legacy through their hunting traditions. Longfeng had joined the winter hunt in his early days as emperor, but years of neglect and failure—particularly at the hands of rival tribes like the Tatars and the Oirats—had dampened his spirit.

But now, as age tempered his ambition with nostalgia, that yearning for the wild, unbridled rush of the hunt had returned.

The rejuvenating pill coursed through his veins, and he felt the vitality of his younger years reignite. He pulled the reins tightly, the horse snorting beneath him, eager to charge forward.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

The ministers surrounding him exchanged uneasy glances. They wanted to protest, to caution him against recklessness, but in front of envoys from two rival nations, hesitation would be weakness. Reluctantly, they surrounded him with extra guards and dispatched several generals to join the hunt.

The envoys from Aharlu and the Oirats, sensing an opportunity, quickly stood and requested to accompany the emperor.

Emperor Longfeng, who had endured years of humiliation at their hands, saw their gesture as a chance to reclaim his dignity. Without hesitation, he lead a formidable entourage into the heart of the hunting grounds.

This was no longer just a hunt—it was a battle for honor, for legacy, for the thrill of victory that burned through his veins like fire.

* The hound sniffed its way forward, pausing and pacing, until it finally tracked down the tiger’s lair.

Stopping just a hundred meters from the shadowy cave, the dog let out a series of sharp barks, its echoes ricocheting off the surrounding terrain.

Before the barks even faded, a low, guttural growl emerged from deep within the cave—a warning, fierce and unmistakably tiger. Yet the beast, despite being challenged, didn’t emerge from its refuge.

The cave yawned open like the mouth of some ancient beast, black and impenetrable. Its depths were cloaked in darkness, its secrets hidden from view.

Yin Chengyu was about to command his men to flush the tiger out when a sudden deafening boom cracked overhead, followed by a burst of yellow smoke. A signal from the edge of the hunting ground—announcing the emperor’s arrival. The hunters froze, reminded to prepare for his presence.

“What’s the emperor doing here?” someone murmured, incredulous.

The Longfeng Emperor hadn’t joined a hunt in years, and whispers rippled among the gathered hunters. Yet Yin Chengyu and Xue Shu weren’t surprised.

In previous lifetime, during the Danxi winter hunt, the emperor had done the same. History, it seemed, was following its script.

Yin Chengyu’s gaze lingered on the cave, his thoughts racing to the emperor’s failed tiger hunt from that same winter. A disaster. The tiger had wounded the emperor in full view of Tartar and Oirat envoys—a humiliation etched deep in memory.

His brows knitted slightly, barely perceptible. Without hesitation, he ordered his soldiers to fan out, surrounding the lair from three sides to block the tiger’s escape. Arrows were launched into the distance, whistling sharp warnings to mark the lair’s location.

Half an hour passed before the emperor, flanked by his retinue, thundered into view.

The ride had left the emperor winded. He dismounted, swallowing a pill to shake off the fatigue, his vigor soon returning. His sharp eyes swept over the assembled hunters, finally locking onto the dark maw of the cave. “The tiger’s in there?”

Yin Chengyu bowed and responded, “Yes, Your Majesty. To avoid provoking it prematurely, I held back from further investigation. The cave’s interior remains unknown. We’ll need to draw it out before the kill.”

The emperor nodded and turned to his attendant, Gao Xian. “Bring me the bird gun.”

Not just a bow and arrow, the emperor had brought with him a newly improved firearm from the Imperial Armory—a sleek, deadly innovation promising greater power and range.

Gao Xian handed him the weapon. The emperor weighed it in his hands, a glint of excitement in his eyes. He spurred his horse forward, positioning himself directly in front of the cave. “This gun hasn’t been tested yet. What better target than this beast?”

Yin Chengyu’s heart sank. The emperor’s enthusiasm was reckless, but argument was futile. Instead, he shot a warning glance at Xue Shu and He Shan, silently commanding them to fortify their positions. A single misstep would be unforgivable.

The emperor raised the gun, steadied himself, and fired into the dark void.

The shot echoed like thunder, the cave trembling with its force. Moments later, an enraged roar shattered the silence.

A hulking tiger stepped out, its striped coat of golden yellow and black gleaming in the light. The beast was massive, at least nine feet long, with powerful limbs and a commanding presence. Its piercing eyes, outlined in white, marked it unmistakably as a Diào jīng bái é hǔ, a rare white-browed tiger.

Its thick, ringed tail lashed the air in agitation, its head tilted back to unleash a bone-rattling roar. The message was clear: I am not prey. I am the hunter.

The emperor’s excitement soured as he realized his first shot had missed. His lips thinned, and without hesitation, he fired again.

This time, the bullet struck home, burying itself in the tiger’s foreleg. The beast recoiled, its growl morphing into a snarl of pain. Rage burned in its eyes as it turned, instantly recognizing its assailant.

With a deafening roar, the tiger lunged straight for the emperor.

Panic rippled through the guards. They spurred their horses forward, arrows nocked, ready to bring the beast down.

“Stand down!” the emperor barked, his voice slicing through the chaos. “Leave it to me! This beast is mine!”

The guards facing the tiger hesitated at the command, lowering their bows reluctantly and stepping aside. Emperor Longfeng stood his ground, narrowing his eyes before firing another shot at the beast.

But fate played a cruel joke—the bullet missed its mark, grazing the tiger's fur instead, leaving a singed and bloody streak. Enraged, the tiger roared, its fury now fully unleashed.

Wounded but emboldened, the beast abandoned its standoff with the guards. With a guttural roar, it leapt clean over their heads, its bloodlust now singularly aimed at Emperor Longfeng himself.

The emperor hadn’t anticipated such raw ferocity. The distance between him and the tiger’s den was a mere hundred meters. In a heartbeat, the tiger was upon him, its immense frame cutting through the ranks of guards like paper.

Sensing doom, Longfeng panicked, yanking his horse around in a frantic retreat. In the chaos, his musket slipped from his grasp. He shouted desperately, “Protect me!” as he spurred his horse into a frenzied gallop.

The entire sequence unfolded in mere moments. The guards, snapping out of their shock, surged forward to defend their emperor. Meanwhile, Yin Chengyu, who had anticipated such chaos, prepared to issue the kill order. Yet just as he raised his voice, Xue Shu rode past him, firmly gripping his arm. With a quiet yet commanding tone, Xue murmured into his ear, “Leave it to me.”

Yin Chengyu froze, hesitating. He didn’t give the order.

By now, the tiger had been pierced by several arrows, yet it showed no sign of weakness. If anything, it was more savage, tearing through the guards with sheer brute force. Each injury only fed its bloodlust, its unyielding rage fixed solely on Emperor Longfeng. The guards in its path were either battered aside by its bulk or shredded by its claws.

In mere moments, the emperor’s immediate guards were left strewn across the ground, wounded and defeated.

Longfeng watched the tiger close in, his courage evaporating. His legs turned to jelly; his trembling hands were too weak to draw the sword at his waist.

Time slowed to a crawl. He saw the beast break through the final line of defense, its foul breath thick in the air, its rancid stench suffocatingly close. The tiger’s blazing eyes were locked onto him, its jaws ready to tear him apart.

Behind him, his son and the remaining guards screamed, “Protect the emperor!” as they raced to close the distance.

“Your Majesty, look out!” A thunderous roar shattered Longfeng’s paralysis. He snapped out of his terror, eyes wide in disbelief. The tiger—mere inches from his throat—was yanked back mid-pounce, its massive tail firmly gripped by Xue Shu.

Xue Shu’s face was calm, yet his eyes blazed with resolve. Veins bulged in his arms as he dragged the frenzied beast backward, its claws scraping the earth in vain.

The tiger’s fury shifted. It twisted, snapping at Xue Shu, who rolled deftly out of its path. Now that the emperor was out of immediate danger, Xue Shu barked a single command: “Shoot!”

The guards, previously paralyzed by fear, now sprang into action, loosing a rain of arrows.

The tiger, already gravely wounded, reached its limit. It thrashed in desperation, its body riddled with arrows. A guttural roar of defiance echoed through the forest before it collapsed, blood pooling beneath it.

Xue Shu strode toward the beast, ignoring the stunned stares of those around him. He bent down to retrieve the fallen musket, then approached the shaken emperor. Steadying Longfeng with one hand, he pressed the musket into his trembling grip, his voice low and firm. “The beast still breathes. It’s your kill to make, Your Majesty.”

Emperor Longfeng’s hands quaked as he clutched the weapon, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Summoning the last shreds of his strength, he aimed the musket at the tiger’s skull and fired.

The deafening crack silenced the forest. The tiger’s body gave one final shudder before going still.

The emperor let the musket slip from his grasp, collapsing against his horse in exhaustion. Masking his earlier panic, he glanced at Xue Shu, his expression unreadable. “Once again, you’ve saved me.”

His mind drifted to the words of the Ziyuan Zhenren—something about a “lucky star” destined to protect him. His gaze lingered on Xue Shu, now tinged with something deeper, something he couldn’t name.

Two times now, this man had pulled him from the jaws of death. Perhaps Xue Shu was that “lucky star.”

Xue Shu, as unshakable as ever, merely bowed his head. “This is my duty, Your Majesty.”

No matter the circumstances, he always maintained that calm, unwavering composure—neither servile nor overbearing.

In the beginning, Emperor Longfeng appreciated his lack of political alliances, deeming him a loyal and pure subject. But later, seeing how close he was to the crown prince and how utterly indifferent he was toward showing deference, the emperor grew irritated, finding him insufferable.

Yet now, as Emperor Longfeng watched him, a strange thought crept into his mind—this was what true loyalty looked like.

To endure both thunderous storms and gentle rains, knowing they all come from the emperor’s grace.

Xue Shu was such a man. Unshaken in triumph, unresentful in ruin. No matter how the ruler treated him, his unwavering loyalty remained intact. Such a rare breed.

The emperor was about to offer him a word of praise when a sudden cry pierced the air.

"Father, look out!"

Before he could turn his head, he felt a body slam into his, knocking him to the ground in a violent tumble. His heart raced as Indeterminate Jade pushed him aside, the two rolling together in the dirt.

Before his fury could erupt, a beastly roar echoed across the field, deep and earth-shaking.

Climbing to his feet, trembling and swallowing hard, the emperor finally saw it—another tiger.

This one dwarfed the first in both size and menace. The beast stood nearly ten feet long, its massive form rising five feet tall. It had been lying in wait, silent and deadly, hidden within the forest’s shadows. The tiger pounced just as their guard slipped, aiming straight for the emperor. If not for Yin Chengyu's sharp instincts and quick reflexes, Longfeng would already be a bloody memory in its jaws.

"Kill it! Kill the damn thing now!" the emperor barked through clenched teeth, his voice shaking but resolute.

Yin Chengyu pressed a hand to his shoulder, signaling to Xue Shu with a sharp gesture: Kill.

Freed from the burden of protecting the emperor, the group dispatched the tiger with ruthless efficiency. Despite its ferocity, the battle was over in minutes. The beast collapsed in a lifeless heap, its massive frame stirring no more.

But Emperor Longfeng was done. He stared at the two tiger corpses with no trace of triumph, only the lingering chill of near death.

His gaze shifted to Yin Chengyu—conflicted, hesitant, yet unusually gentle. He gave a rare nod, his tone surprisingly soft.

"Are you hurt? If you are, return to the palace with me."

"Thank you, Father, for your concern, but I am unharmed. It’s nothing serious," Yin Chengyu replied, lowering his head.

To leave with the emperor now would mean forfeiting the competition altogether—a loss he wasn’t willing to accept.

Seeing his determined expression, the emperor said no more, allowing himself to be assisted onto his horse before riding away.

When the party had gone far enough, Xue Shu stepped closer. His face was pale, his voice trembling with anger beneath its restraint.

"Why, Your Highness? Why would you risk your life to save him?"

The image of Yin Chengyu throwing himself into danger for the emperor played over and over in his mind, like a blade stuck between his ribs.

Without meeting his eyes, Yin Chengyu’s tone was cold, distant.

"He can die—but not here."

If an emperor of a great nation were to perish in the jaws of a tiger, it wouldn’t just be a disgrace to Great Yan. It would give the Tatar and Oirat tribes all the excuse they needed to start stirring trouble again.

———Author's Note: Dog Emperor: The crown prince is a good son, and Xue Shu is a loyal subject. Turns out, I misjudged them all this time.