Chapter 518: Schemes Within Schemes at the Hongmen Banquet (20)

Chapter 518: Plots Within Plots at the Feast of Hongmen (20)

"Cough... cough..."

Her violent coughing was barely held back as Xianyi Chishaou approached. Xianmu Yaling turned her gaze to his face. He said nothing upon arriving, only staring at her, yet she knew—her uncle was seething with rage.

"Little... uncle..."

She pushed Rong Feng’s hand aside as he tried once more to wipe the blood from her lips. Xianmu Yaling looked at Xianyi Chishaou. Her already pale and weakened face, ravaged by drugs, now took on a deathly pallor under the Dan Liang emperor’s blade and palm. Yet her gaze stayed firm, without regret. Even if her uncle raged, she would do this again.

"This... is Changle's... second act of recklessness... and also... the last. Uncle, Changle... has betrayed your lifelong teachings."

Each strained word mixed with fresh blood coughed from her lips, her abdominal wound bleeding ceaselessly. Xianyi Chishaou's hanging hands clenched, veins bulging like twisted roots, a few tendons even standing out at his temples.

"Xian... mu... Ya... ling..."

Uttering her full name like this, Xianyi Chishaou’s chest heaved with barely contained fury.

"Cough... cough..."

More coughing, more blood spilling from Xianmu Yaling's mouth and wound.

Xianyi Chishaou watched, his anger finally dissolving into helplessness. His gaze shifted toward Su Rao, urgency flickering in his eyes—pleading for her to save Xianmu Yaling.

Hopeless...

Su Rao shook her head slightly. Even without checking her pulse, she knew the Dan Liang emperor’s strike had shattered Xianmu Yaling's organs and meridians. Beyond help.

Rong Feng panicked further, yelling for the royal physicians, trying to carry Xianmu Yaling to them—only to be stopped by her. She had come to kill, with no intention of leaving alive.

"Cousin, don’t... don’t bother. Ling’er won’t... won’t share Father’s fate."

Better this death than wasting away from addiction, better this than becoming her cousin’s sworn enemy for killing his father. At least... at least she would die in his arms.

"Only... but now you’ll be left alone, cousin. You must... you must live well..."

Every word strained her wound, fresh blood seeping out. Xianmu Yaling lasted only moments longer before she died, cradled in Rong Feng’s arms.

Her last, reluctant words left unspoken, her eyes closed. Her trembling hand rose weakly to brush away the tear hanging at Rong Feng’s eye—but before she could, it fell limp.

A lone tear escaped her eye—her unyielding love for Rong Feng, her crushing guilt toward her uncle. Her selfishness left the two men who loved her to watch her die.

"Ling... er..."

A raw, broken scream—hysterical.

Rong Feng clutched Xianmu Yaling tightly, but his gaze turned toward his father and mother—now foreign to him.

Though Rong Feng was unaware the death of the Zhu Xian emperor was also tied to them, Xianmu Yaling’s assassination attempt told him everything.

Because he knew her. She would never act without cause.

"Why?"

A broken whisper, his heart adrift.

"Why couldn’t you let even Ling’er live?"

He only wanted to struggle desperately to pull his parents out of the vortex, to prevent them from repeating their mistakes. But now, he felt nothing but helplessness.

Completely powerless.

He realized he couldn’t save his parents, couldn’t save his country, and couldn’t even protect his beloved Ling’er.

He wanted to protect the peace of the people of Dan Liang, yet he couldn’t stop Honorable Princess Ronghua from seeking revenge. He wanted to save his father and mother, only to realize in the end that the parents he knew were now so alien and horrifying.

His mother, to protect the devious Old Ding, would not hesitate to use her own well-being to force his compliance. For her own glory, she could usurp another’s life. How could this mother be the same pure and noble princess from the vassal state of Yun Lang that his father had once married?

His father, meanwhile, had conspired for years with the treacherous Old Ding, willing to gamble with the lives of Dan Liang’s soldiers, forcibly enhancing their physical strength with dark elixirs to serve their selfish ambitions. Now, they even sought to slaughter every loyal minister in court.

And he—the eldest son of the empress, the Crown Prince of Dan Liang, the legitimate heir—was nothing more than a bastard usurper who had stolen everything from his younger brother, including his mother. Decades of honor and privilege had all been taken by force.

Tears blurred Rong Feng’s vision completely, sapping all life from his gaze. Gazing at his lifeless lover in his arms, slain by his father’s hand, and at the blood-drenched Zhongjia Hall, now in ruins, he felt only devastation.

Looking at Su Rao and Yun Ji, compared to Dan Liang’s rulers’ scowls over Xianmu Yaling’s death, these outsiders who had no connection to her fell silent briefly.

His father and mother, however, were more disturbed by Ling’er’s disruption of their carefully laid plans.

At this moment, Rong Feng felt completely adrift. What should he do? What could he do?

Tears filled his eyes, obscuring his parents’ faces from view.

His mother’s expression had indeed shifted, as if she wanted to rise and approach, but his father gripped her wrist, forcing her to remain seated. As the Crown Prince of Dan Liang, he was expected to restrain himself and uphold propriety. To lose composure over a woman was unworthy of his station—no son of Rong Ke’s.

The hall lapsed into silence as both sides of the conflict retreated to their respective positions after Xianmu Yaling’s death.

The fighting outside the hall also ceased, with both sides separating and holding their ground warily.

The night was already half over, and many of the burning candles had long since extinguished—some snuffed out by arrows, others having burned down naturally.

The spent candles left only icy remnants of wax, frozen wax drippings at the edges of their holders, like tear tracks down cheeks.

Endless.

With so many candles extinguished, the light in the hall dimmed by half. Where the pillars blocked YueHua’s glow, darkness swallowed the shadows.

Rong Feng held Xianmu Yaling’s lifeless body tightly, his bloodstained hand caressing her face tenderly. He wiped the blood from her lips with his sleeve, then bent down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. Whispering words only she could hear—words even Xianyi Chishaou beside them could not make out—he spilled his love, their shared childhood bond.

"Please do not blame Ling’er, Prince Yi. You were her most beloved uncle. I will bear all the blame and ensure she receives justice."

Having spoken his heart, Rong Feng handed Xianmu Yaling’s body to Xianyi Chishaou. Then he rose and walked step by step toward the Dan Liang royal couple, picking up the curved dagger his father had discarded and gripping it firmly in his hand.

What was he planning to do? Su Rao and Yun Ji frowned again. Xianmu Yaling’s assassination attempt had been unforeseen, and now, faced with this impossible choice—between the love of his life, slain by his father, and the parents who had raised him—what would he do?

Su Rao watched, pressing her lips together.

What would Rong Feng do now? What could he do? Would he truly kill his own father?

Filicide in the name of justice.

Cloud King also furrowed his brow, his brow furrowing deeper as he observed Rong Feng’s actions. Though Rong Feng was not his true grandson, he had visited Yun Lang every year to see him and the old Cloud King’s wife. The old king knew Rong Feng’s character well, and his heart ached for the young man’s suffering.

The other ministers merely watched. Unlike before, when they had upheld the dignity of Dan Liang’s court, they now cared only for their own survival, past caring about the Crown Prince’s disgrace.

A tyrant so ruthless was unfit to govern Dan Liang. If left unchecked, he would lead the nation to ruin.

The most fundamental reason, however, was that their own emperor had sought to kill them—while those who saved them and their families were Prince Yi and the remnants of the former dynasty.

How could this not freeze their hearts?

A chill of dread, utter despair.