Chapter 85.

“Wolf King?”

“Did His Highness the Crown Prince hunt it?”

The crowd in the stands erupted in a frenzy. Some were already stepping down to interrogate the soldier for details when a young officer, telescope in hand, abruptly turned back from his vantage point. His voice was charged with excitement as he announced, “The one emerging from the hunt is His Highness, the Crown Prince!”

What?

The first to return was the Crown Prince?

The officials were dumbfounded at first but quickly pieced it together. With the Wolf King in his haul, not to mention the countless deer taken earlier, the Crown Prince had already secured an undeniable victory in the winter hunt. His early exit from the hunting grounds made perfect sense.

The officials buzzed with conversation, but the envoys from the Oirat and Tatar tribes sat stiff and silent, their faces ashen, unable to utter a word.

But the spectacle didn’t end there. As the crowd craned their necks to catch a better look, Yin Chengyu’s team galloped closer. The corpses of wolves strapped across the horses' backs gradually came into view.

Forty-some horses, burdened with carcasses, followed Yin Chengyu, converging on the clearing beneath the stands where the kills were being tallied.

One by one, the wolves were unloaded, piling up into a mountain so tall it nearly obscured the eunuch tasked with counting them.

Yin Chengyu left Xue Shu to oversee the tally while he ascended the stands to report to Emperor Longfeng.

“Father.” His voice rang clear, his silver armor gleaming without a speck of dirt. He exuded effortless elegance, like the radiance of dawn.

“How did you manage to hunt so many wolves? Did you run into a pack?” Emperor Longfeng asked, his curiosity piqued as he noticed the overwhelming number of corpses below. His tone, softened by Yin Chengyu’s recent act of valor in saving him, now carried a rare warmth.

“We did encounter a pack.” Yin Chengyu’s gaze swept toward Aharu, the Tatar envoy. A sly smile played on his lips. “Speaking of which, we have Princess Uju to thank for that.”

He left his words intentionally vague, but no one present was naive. These were seasoned officials who instantly sensed the undercurrent. The Tatars had likely tried to sabotage the Crown Prince in the hunting grounds, only for their plan to backfire spectacularly.

All at once, the officials of the Great Yan Empire cast increasingly disdainful glances toward the Tatar delegation.

Aharu had already suspected something was amiss the moment he saw the Crown Prince emerge from the hunt, hale and victorious, with an impressive haul. Now Yin Chengyu’s pointed comment merely confirmed his worst fears.

He stood there, stiff and silent, inwardly cursing Princess Uju for her utter incompetence.

After briefing the emperor, Yin Chengyu left to return to the palace for a bath and a change of clothes.

By noon, he was back in the stands, observing the ongoing hunt. The hunting grounds were vast, and the stands, though elevated, offered little visibility. It was customary for Emperor Longfeng to grace the stands only on the first and last days of the hunt.

This year’s winter hunt was livelier than usual, thanks to the Crown Prince’s early triumph.

The afternoon passed swiftly in idle chatter. As the day waned and the red sun dipped low, a soldier sounded his horn, and three crimson signal arrows soared into the sky, signaling the hunt’s conclusion. It was time for the participants to exit the grounds.

Gradually, teams began to emerge from the hunting grounds.

Mubai’er, one of the first to return, rode out with a look of smug satisfaction—until his eyes fell upon the towering mound of wolf carcasses. His grin froze mid-flash.

Before he could even ask whose haul this was, a eunuch’s shrill voice rang out. “Step back! Allow the Crown Prince’s game to be transported first!”

The Crown Prince?

Mubai’er’s gaze swept the area. Yin Chengyu was nowhere in sight, but among the wolves, he spotted the distinct figure of the Wolf King.

His expression darkened. He had hunted for that creature for two days, only for it to fall into Yin Chengyu’s hands.

Though the official rankings weren’t out yet, the Wolf King and dozens of dozens wolves alone ensured the Crown Prince’s unshakable dominance in the winter hunt.

Mubai’er’s face twisted as he recalled the wager he had made. He silently led his team to retreat, his thoughts growing increasingly sinister.

As his eyes wandered, they landed on Yin Chengyu, seated regally in the stands, looking down with a faint, polite smile. Their gazes met briefly before the Crown Prince turned away, as though Mubai’er wasn’t worth another moment of his attention.

Team after team exited the hunting grounds, until only Princess Uju and Third Prince Yin Chengjing’s groups remained.

Initially, no one paid much mind to their delay, assuming they had ventured deeper into the grounds. But as the hour stretched on and the sun began to set, murmurs of doubt spread through the crowd.

Aharu, uneasy after Yin Chengyu’s earlier remark, stood abruptly. “Princess Uju has yet to return. She might be in trouble. Allow me to send men to search for her.”

Emperor Longfeng, equally concerned, was about to agree when Yin Chengyu interjected. “Father, the hunting grounds’ security was arranged by me. The Grand Tutor is unfamiliar with its layout. It would be better if I sent my men to search.”

The emperor nodded. “Very well. Let the Crown Prince handle this.”

With a slight bow, Yin Chengyu ordered Zhao Lin to lead a team back into the grounds to locate the missing party.

*

While people outside the hunting grounds fretted over the whereabouts of Yin Chengjing and Princess Uju, those inside were also scouring for their trail.

Thanks to the drug's potency, their subordinates didn’t wake up until well past noon. When they realized they'd been ambushed, both sides instinctively suspected each other, especially since Yin Chengjing and Princess Uju had clashed the night before over who would claim the Wolf King.

But the real shock came when their leaders couldn’t be found in their respective tents. At first, the two sides feigned ignorance, probing for answers while holding back their growing hostility. However, once they realized not only were their leaders gone, but even the Wolf King from the cave had vanished, the simmering tension boiled over. Just as fists were about to fly, it hit them—both Yin Chengjing and Uju were missing at the same time.

Reluctantly, they called a truce and began a frantic search, but hours passed with no trace of either. It was as if the two had vanished into thin air. As the sun dipped lower, plunging the forest into twilight, the factions bickered over whether to keep searching or send for reinforcements. Just then, the sound of galloping hooves broke through the din—Zhao Lin had arrived with more troops.

With no way to hide the embarrassing truth, they confessed the joint disappearance of Yin Chengjing and Uju. Zhao Lin quickly divided his forces, ordering them to join the search. Chaos and desperation mounted as the minutes ticked by.

Meanwhile, deep in the wilderness, Princess Uju stirred from unconsciousness.

The drugged powder had been potent, and Xue Shu’s strike to her neck hadn’t pulled any punches. Groggy and disoriented, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings. A chill swept over her skin, jolting her to awareness. Her bleary eyes widened in disbelief as they landed on a bare chest—one that was painfully familiar.

Her gaze traveled upward, dread creeping in as it settled on Yin Chengjing’s face. His features were etched with exhaustion, his usually sharp eyes clouded. As clarity replaced the haze in her mind, realization struck her like a thunderclap.

Princess Uju bolted upright, shoving him away with a force fueled by fury and disbelief. “Yin Chengjing! What the hell did you do to me?!” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage.

She assumed he’d drugged her to force an alliance, perhaps out of desperation to salvage his failing ambitions.

But before he could even respond, a sudden, guttural scream tore from his throat. His body contorted in agony, curling in on itself like a wounded beast.

The source of his torment was unmistakable—it radiated from his lower body. Yin Chengjing clenched his jaw, cold sweat dripping down his pale face as the searing pain left him on the verge of collapse.

“Uju?!” he croaked, his voice thick with anguish. “What… what did you do to me?!”

She froze, equally confused and alarmed, until her eyes caught something glinting against her wrist. Slowly, she raised her hand, her breath hitching as she noticed the thin wire wrapped around her arm.

The wire was so fine it had bitten into her skin, leaving small beads of blood where it had cut her. Her gaze followed its length until it stopped abruptly. Her stomach churned. The other end was smeared with blood and bits of flesh, and dangling precariously from it—

Her eyes darted back to Yin Chengjing, who was curled up, his face drenched in sweat. For a fleeting moment, she thought she’d glimpsed something… something horrifyingly vital hanging by a thread.

“You… you…” Her voice quivered as she ripped the wire from her wrist, tossing it aside like it burned her. Hastily grabbing the clothes scattered around them, she dressed in a frenzy, ready to escape this waking nightmare.

But Yin Chengjing wasn’t about to let her go. Despite the blinding pain, he lunged, clutching her ankle with a death grip. His voice was guttural, his expression a mask of desperation and fury.

“Stop!” he growled. “If you dare tell anyone, you’ll die just as surely as I will!”

Uju froze, her mind racing. He wasn’t bluffing. She could see the cold calculation in his eyes.

This wasn’t just a personal crisis—it was a setup. Someone had orchestrated this, leaving them as pawns in a malicious scheme. But with the wire tied to her wrist, she’d be the one blamed for his injuries. If word got out, neither the Emperor of Great Yan nor Yin Chengjing himself would hesitate to make her their scapegoat.

She clenched her fists, the weight of her precarious position sinking in. Her father wouldn’t protect her. She was expendable.

Sensing her hesitation, Yin Chengjing exhaled sharply, gritting his teeth. “Tear your outer robe into strips,” he commanded. “Now!”

Though reluctant, Uju obeyed. She shredded her inner garments into crude bandages, handing them over with a stiff expression.

Yin Chengjing’s trembling hands took the fabric as he gingerly propped himself up. Forcing himself to confront the injury, he peeked beneath his clothes.

Relief flooded his pale face. It was bad—horrifically bad—but not catastrophic.

At least some hope of recovery remained.

He shut his eyes for a brief moment, gritting his teeth as he tightly wrapped the strip of cloth around his wound, careful and deliberate as he secured the bandage.

Just tending to this one injury had cost him significant time.

Once finished, Yin Chengjing called over Uju and motioned for her to dress. Only after she was fully clothed did he speak again, his voice low and commanding. “Hand me the hairpin from your head.”

His face was pale, drenched in cold sweat, and terrifyingly gaunt. UJU couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through her as she looked at him. Without a word, she obediently reached up and removed the ornate hairpin, handing it over with trembling fingers.

Yin Chengjing took it, gathering what little strength he had left, and without hesitation, drove the sharp end into his thigh. Blood surged from the fresh wound, crimson and vivid, as he discarded the bloodied hairpin to the side and used another piece of torn cloth to bind his leg.

He turned his cold, calculating eyes toward Wuzhu, his voice like a chilling whisper from the grave. “Remember this: I broke my leg saving you. You owe me. Do you understand?”

Uju clenched her teeth, nodding stiffly.

Propping himself against the rough pit wall, Yin Chengjing exhaled sharply, his voice weak but unyielding. “Now, climb up and get help.”

The sky grew darker, heavy with an ominous gloom as Zhao Lin and his men searched tirelessly for half an hour without success. Just as they debated retracing their steps to ensure no spot was overlooked, faint cries for help reached their ears.

Zhao Lin exchanged a quick glance with Hu’erhe, who nodded, his expression sharp. “That’s Princess Uju’s voice.”

The two swiftly followed the sound, eventually arriving at the deep pit where the cries originated.

The pit was deceptively hidden, half-covered by tangled branches and dry grass, with protruding rock formations obscuring it further. They had overlooked it earlier.

Peering down, Zhao Lin froze at the sight. The two figures below were battered and disheveled, but what drew his eye was the state of their clothing—or lack thereof. Uju’s outer robe was unmistakably Yin Chengjing’s. The implications were hard to ignore.

Hu’erhe, following Zhao Lin’s gaze, frowned as his expression flickered through several emotions. Neither man said a word about what they saw, but the tension was palpable as they ordered a rope to be lowered.

Uju climbed out first, uninjured but visibly rattled. Steeling herself, she echoed Yin Chengjing’s rehearsed story. “The Third Prince was injured saving me. His leg is broken. He cannot move.”

Zhao Lin had no choice but to cut down branches to fashion a makeshift stretcher, carefully lifting Yin Chengjing out of the pit. His injuries were severe, and the journey back took longer than expected to avoid aggravating them further.

News of the situation had already reached Yin Chengyu and the Emperor. When Yin Chengjing was carried back, the Emperor’s expression was a storm of barely-contained fury. He demanded answers, but Yin Chengjing, pale and visibly struggling, pushed himself upright to kneel.

“Your Majesty,” he began, his voice tinged with pain but unwavering, “what happened with Princess Uju was… not what it seems.”

He paused, feigning guilt, before continuing, “After seeing her dance in the hall that day, I… I couldn’t help but admire her. And she… reciprocated my feelings. Last night, in a moment of weakness, we gave in to our emotions…”

He lowered his head, his tone steeped in shame. “But while fleeing a black bear, we fell into a pit. In my efforts to protect the Princess, I broke my leg.”

“I let my desires cloud my judgment and made a grave mistake,” he said firmly, looking up at the Emperor with a mixture of remorse and resolve. “I will accept any punishment, but I beg you, spare the Princess’s honor. Please, grant us marriage!”

The room fell silent as the Emperor’s anger simmered beneath the surface.

———Author's note: Big doggo: Oh no! Big doggo: Guess it’s time to call him Eunuch Jing from now on.