Chapter 32: Palace Coup

Chapter 32: The Palace Coup

The sudden turn of events stunned everyone before the Taiyi Hall.

Sun Lianhai collapsed backward without even a whimper, a feathered arrow lodged directly in his chest, blood slowly blossoming around it.

The sky grew increasingly somber, dark clouds churning and pressing down upon the Imperial City.

"Assassins! Protect the Emperor!" someone cried out. Imperial guards instantly surged forward, long blades drawn, encircling and shielding the crowd.

A few soft, low laughs drifted through the air, and a tall, slender figure slowly emerged from the distant palace gates.

He wore a white cloud-patterned robe and a dark cloak embroidered with gold thread. His exquisitely beautiful face always held a faint smile, yet his brows seemed etched with frost and snow—like ice carved and jade polished, with skin as pale as porcelain and bones as cold as an unfeeling deity.

Not far behind him followed the guard named Si Li.

Step by step, the two approached the hall.

"How could I miss Princess Changle’s joyous occasion?" Mu Chi stood still outside the cordon of imperial guards, his gaze sweeping past the cold, sharp blades and the bothersome crowd, settling on Qiao Wan, who was clad in fiery red robes. His voice was gentle.

The color drained from Qiao Wan’s face in an instant. She stood frozen, pale, her breathing becoming shallow and cautious.

This Mu Chi was identical to the one in her dream who had choked her…

But it shouldn’t be like this.

The palace coup was supposed to happen ten days later, not now…

Jing Lan’s brows furrowed deeply. He subtly shifted forward to shield her. Noticing her ashen expression, he paused and whispered, "Qiao Wan, you’re actually afraid?"

Qiao Wan finally broke free from her daze, looking up at Jing Lan. Her lips moved, but no words escaped.

Jing Lan was momentarily taken aback, then instinctively enveloped her tightly clenched hand.

Mu Chi’s gaze fell upon their clasped hands, and the smile on his lips stiffened slightly.

Yesterday at the princess’s residence, he had witnessed them practicing whip techniques together—her cheeks flushed red as she nearly stumbled, him abandoning his stance to catch her.

In the end, she leaned breathlessly against his arm, triumphantly declaring, "I won!"; he responded in a low voice, his ears turning crimson.

Remarkably intimate.

Jing Lan had said that tomorrow, Qiao Heng would issue the marriage decree, announcing it to the world.

They would become a couple known to all.

And the genesis of this marriage alliance was something he had orchestrated himself, personally pushing her away.

Mu Chi returned alone to his tent and stayed there until late into the night.

Si Li cautiously asked if he was alright.

What could be wrong with him?

He had merely fulfilled his initial intention, finally ridding himself of an insignificant person he had once used.

He detested anything that slipped beyond his control, so he had resolved to never entangle himself again. This was just perfect.

But when dawn broke and he heard that the Dingguo General’s residence was secretly packing silver and valuables, he still showed up here.

He watched her and Jing Lan in their perfectly matched crimson robes, reminded of the scarlet brocade fur coat he had burned.

—Come to think of it, he had never once worn that coat.

He listened to the eunuch’s grating, unpleasant voice reciting the solemn and dignified imperial marriage decree.

So, this was what an imperial marriage decree was like.

Standing together openly before everyone, receiving the attention and blessings of the court.

He recalled Qiao Wan’s unfinished sentence on the cliffs of Yanming Mountain: "I was planning to ask His Majesty to issue a marriage decree for us."

This marriage decree should have been for him and her.

So, at the last moment, he could no longer bear it and casually drew a long arrow, letting it fly.

But now, all he saw was Jing Lan comfortingly holding her hand, standing before him, not even sparing him a second glance.

Mu Chi’s smile widened, his eyes cold as poison, and he remarked sarcastically, "How loving you two are."

Qiao Wan snapped back to reality, slightly loosening her clenched fist. "Is there something you need, Master Mu?"

Hearing her form of address, Mu Chi’s dark pupils constricted. He glanced around briefly before fixing his gaze on Jing Lan and replied with a smile, "To kill."

At these words, the broad blades in the hands of the imperial guards rang out sharply, pointing directly at Mu Chi.

On the jade steps, Qiao Heng’s expression was dark with fear. "Kill this assassin for me! Leave no survivors!" he ordered, turning to instruct those beside him, "Send someone to the Dingguo General’s residence to summon help." Then, allowing the palace attendants to escort him, he retreated into the hall.

Dozens of imperial guards, now without restraint, swarmed forward.

Mu Chi stood still, smiling faintly without moving, but Si Li suddenly leaped forward, his long sword unsheathing with a flash of cold silver light.

The sword gleamed, and one imperial guard already lay dead on the ground.

More and more guards advanced amid the flying blood and flesh. Mu Chi only moved when an attack was directed at him, evading with the swiftness of a soaring bird, but otherwise, he took no action.

Before long, five or six imperial guards lay dead on the ground, the thick scent of blood nauseating.

Among the officials, some civil ministers were already panicking, while military officers held their weapons, cautiously watching Mu Chi and Si Li.

Qiao Wan stood bewildered, unable to understand how things had come to this.

"Don’t move recklessly," Jing Lan’s voice sounded by her ear. Qiao Wan turned her head, only to see a red figure leaping into action.

Si Li was already wounded, yet each of his strikes was fatal. Just as he swung his sword to kill another guard, his blade was suddenly blocked by a long knife, the impact numbing his hand.

Jing Lan, wielding a long knife picked up from the ground, met Si Li’s moves, engaging him in combat.

Their movements were swift and fierce, each strike meant to kill.

Qiao Wan looked up and met Mu Chi’s gaze beyond the chaos. He was also watching her, standing alone apart from the bloodshed, solitary and tall, his eyes deep and dark without a ripple of emotion.

Qiao Wan was momentarily stunned, then averted her gaze to Jing Lan, her worry evident.

Mu Chi’s expression tightened, a cold fury growing within him.

After two sharp clashes, the blades in Si Li and Jing Lan’s hands collided and fell to the ground. Jing Lan, using his incredible lightness skill, leaped up and landed a heavy palm strike on Si Li.

Si Li grunted, a trickle of blood spilling from the corner of his mouth. His body, like a withering autumn leaf, flew backward uncontrollably.

But he was stopped mid-fall by a cold hand pressed lightly against his back.

Mu Chi stepped out slowly from behind Si Li, his gaze fixed intently on Jing Lan. In the next moment, he tilted his head and let out a laugh, his figure moving like a streak of light weaving through shadows as he swept toward Jing Lan like a gust.

Jing Lan felt an immense force, accompanied by a chilling wind, surging toward him from all directions. There was no time to dodge; he could only meet it head-on.

Qiao Wan widened her eyes, watching the two embroiled in combat. In just moments, Jing Lan was already wounded, and Mu Chi’s fist still aimed like a blade at his heart.

She pressed her lips tightly together, gritted her teeth, and rushed forward, closing her eyes as she shielded Jing Lan.

Mu Chi stared blankly at Qiao Wan, who had suddenly appeared, and forcibly retracted his deadly strike. With a muffled groan, his internal energy churned violently. He staggered and coughed up blood.

The surrounding imperial guards seized the opportunity and closed in, surrounding Mu Chi and the others with their broadswords.

The crushing force vanished abruptly. Qiao Wan kept her eyes closed for a long time until a voice from behind said, "I told you not to move." Only then did she open her eyes.

Before her, a streak of blood trailed from the corner of Mu Chi’s lips. His face was as pale as a ghost as he looked at her: "You protected him?" His voice was dead calm, not once glancing at the imperial guards nearby.

Qiao Wan glanced at him, pressed her lips tightly together, and was about to turn away when Mu Chi stopped her.

He took a step forward, and the surrounding imperial guards cautiously advanced in response.

"You actually protected him?" Mu Chi spoke again in a low voice, his deathly pale face cold as frost.

Qiao Wan looked at the person right in front of her, clenching her fists tightly: "Yes, I protected him."

Mu Chi stood calmly in place, then after a long moment, let out a soft laugh.

The imperial guards converged on him, but Mu Chi showed no reaction, passively allowing them to press their blades against the back of his neck.

"Qiao Wan, you protect him. But what about him?" Mu Chi slowly lifted his gaze and said gently, "Will he protect you too?"

"Will he protect you as you protect him?"

As his words fell, a thunderous roar erupted from the palace gates: "Kill—"

An overwhelming wave of slaughter swept through.

Palace guards and external troops clashed in battle.

At the same time, a raindrop fell from the gloomy clouds.

Qiao Wan gazed numbly at the sky.

The skies had changed.

The palace coup had indeed arrived early.

She hadn’t escaped Lingjing. So... it was still possible that she would die here, just as in her dream.

A fast horse galloped from the distance, riding straight to the front of the Taiyi Hall.

Right Minister Wen Xun held high a bronze command tally, quickly making his way through the imperial guards to stand behind Mu Chi. He respectfully called out "Master Mu," then turned and shouted: "The command tally is here! Lay down your arms and live!"

The crowd was shocked, astonished at the Right Minister’s betrayal, and even more stunned that what he held was clearly the Jing family’s command tally.

"Wen Xun," a civil official exclaimed, his face filled with fear but his voice still loud and reproachful, "How dare you commit treason!"

Wen Xun looked at the man: "I have only betrayed the Emperor, never betrayed the people of Great Li!"

No one around dared to respond.

Mu Chi said softly: "Major General Jing, I heard your residence has recently been preparing silver and belongings."

"On one side, your father, the Jing family, and your subordinates fighting at the palace gates. On the other side, your..." He paused here, the rest of his words seeming as if forced out from between his teeth, "...fiancée. You can only choose one."

Though his words were directed at Jing Lan, his gaze remained fixed on Qiao Wan until this moment, when he slowly shifted his eyes to meet Jing Lan’s. He smiled genially: "Who will Major General Jing choose?"

Qiao Wan whirled to face him.

This wasn’t a choice at all—it was a threat!

As if sensing her gaze, Mu Chi lowered his eyes to look at her: "Princess, don’t give me that look," he said slowly, "or I might be tempted to kill them all."

Qiao Wan’s eyelashes flinched. She turned to look at Jing Lan—his body stained with blood, his face pale, his eyes on her. Unlike his usual boldness, there was a hint of desolation in his gaze.

"Jing Lan..." Qiao Wan called his name softly, watching as his eyes flickered, a sudden surge of sorrow rising in her heart.

Looking at Jing Lan, she saw herself on Yanming Mountain.

Forced to see everything clearly, and then... accept it.

But this crumbling dynasty was already rotten to the core. Waiting for its recovery was no different than abetting evil.

She had accepted the palace coup, accepted that Mu Chi had only ever used her. So now, she also had to accept the reality that "she wasn’t actually that important."

Jing Lan was accepting it too.

"Pfft," Qiao Wan suddenly laughed, lifting her chin with the same pride as always. She pushed Jing Lan: "Why are you still standing here? Go save your father and brothers!"

She knew that with his *qinggong*, he could escape.

Jing Lan staggered back from her shove. He looked at her and after a long moment said: "Earlier, I told you not to move."

If she hadn’t moved, perhaps he wouldn’t have to face all this now.

Qiao Wan continued to smile: "This princess acts as she pleases. Why would I fear these rebels?"

Jing Lan looked at her, his voice strained: "He’s my father."

Qiao Wan rolled her eyes. She could hear her heart screaming again and again, 'Don’t leave her, she might die,' but she only smiled more brilliantly: "I know. If I tell you to leave, then leave. Since when do you talk so much?"

Jing Lan gazed at her, and in the next moment, his eyes reddened abruptly. He said again: "I told you not to move, Qiao Wan..."

Qiao Wan only continued to smile at him.

In the end, Jing Lan leapt into the air and fled.

Qiao Wan remained standing where she was, not watching him go. The smile at her lips gradually faded as she looked at Mu Chi, who was watching her intently: "Happy now?"

At this moment, she thought, Mu Chi must hate her for disrupting his plans back then and repeatedly doing things he despised.

That’s why he had reduced her to this point of being abandoned by everyone.

Mu Chi’s gaze as he looked at her was filled with mockery, self-derision, and emptiness, devoid of its former vitality.

It felt as if a sharp blade had cut through her heart, leaving an invisible wound that only seeped blood.

The guards who had escorted Qiao Heng to hide in Linhua Palace came running back, standing on the stone steps and shouting: "By the Emperor’s order, slay the rebels! Those who succeed will be granted titles and high offices!"

The temptation of becoming a noble or high-ranking minister was not small, and in the distance, the armies were still fighting fiercely.

Before the Taiyi Hall were only a wounded Si Li, the civil official Right Minister, and Mu Chi.

Some ambitious soldiers had already stepped forward, hoping to take the heads of these three.

But before they could even get close to Mu Chi, he, without changing expression, seized one by the neck, not even bothering to look at the man before tossing him aside like discarded trash.

His long, jade-like fingers sank into flesh and bone, now stained with blood.

Everything was in chaos.

"Princess," Qiao Wan heard someone call her. She turned to see Yicui, hunched over, pulling her as they fled toward the rear palace.

Mu Chi gave an indifferent glance at their retreating figures before tilting his head slightly toward Si Li, who immediately understood and disappeared from the fight.

On that day, those who survived before Taiyi Hall would forever remember a man like a ferocious ghost, taking lives as easily as reaching into a bag. Behind him, corpses piled mountain-high and blood flowed in rivers, yet he seemed utterly unaware of pain. When the blade of his killing sword grew dull, he casually picked up another from the ground and continued fighting his way into Linhua Hall.

The body of a guard was thrown into Linhua Hall, crashing through the doors.

The hall was filled with the scent of sandalwood and the thick aroma of medicine, the same as the one Qiao Wan carried on her person.

Mu Chi tossed his long blade aside and slowly advanced toward Qiao Heng, who sat on the imperial throne, trying hard to appear calm.

"Li Muxuan!" Qiao Heng shouted sternly.

Mu Chi paused briefly, then continued forward with a mocking smile.

There was no need to explain anything to a dying man.

"Do not forget, I am still Qingni's father!" Qiao Heng's voice was full of fear.

Mu Chi stopped before him, picked up a bright yellow silk cloth from the table, and wiped the blood from his fingertips. He chuckled softly, "So?"

Qiao Heng gripped the throne tightly, making a last desperate attempt: "If you kill her biological father, this will forever stand between you!"

Mu Chi's hand, ready to strike, suddenly stilled.

*

The sky had darkened without anyone noticing, and the rain above fell heavier and heavier.

In the distance, the sounds of battle could still be heard, and the smell of blood continuously wafted in.

Qiao Wan ran desperately after Yicui. Her crimson thin robe had long since slipped messily to her elbows, her hairpins were loose, and her black hair was in disarray.

Not until Yicui pulled her into a palace and shut the doors, cutting off the chaos outside, did she gradually come to her senses. She watched as Yicui lit a faint candle.

Qiao Wan was slightly dazed.

She had returned to Changle Palace.

And not far away, her mother's portrait hung quietly on the wall.

After going around in circles, she had still ended up on the path from her dreams.

Would she die?

Just like in the dream, choked by Mu Chi, suffocating to death.

It was too painful.

"Princess, hide in the clothes chest first. Come out when it's safe," Yicui said urgently, pulling Qiao Wan along.

Qiao Wan looked at Yicui for a long moment before nodding.

As Yicui turned to open the chest, Qiao Wan quietly picked up an inkstone nearby and knocked her out.

"Rest well for now. If I survive, I will come back for you. If..." She didn't finish, only hiding Yicui in the chest and leaving a small gap.

Outside the palace, wind, rain, and fire raged while screams of pain and the clash of weapons mingled together.

Qiao Wan tightly shut the palace doors and returned to her mother's portrait.

Perhaps like a tired bird finally returning to its nest, she couldn't help but reach out and gently touch the hem of her mother's dress, whispering, "Mother."

After a long while, Qiao Wan untied the sachet from her waist, and a pungent smell suddenly assailed her senses.

She took a deep breath, and her stomach turned violently.

Pausing, Qiao Wan recalled what an itinerant doctor had once said: prolonged inhalation or accidental ingestion of this scent could cause one to temporarily lose consciousness.

Gritting her teeth, she took out the herbs inside and stuffed them all into her mouth, chewing them dry a few times before swallowing.

It would be better to just fall unconscious.

If she were destined to die tonight, losing consciousness would at least spare her some pain; if she by some chance survived, all the better.

The churning in her stomach grew increasingly violent, a taste of blood spreading in her throat. Gradually, her consciousness began to drift, the burning sensation in her lungs fading, replaced by an indescribable comfort.

After some time, stern, murderous footsteps echoed outside the palace, and the light of torches illuminated the exterior as bright as day.

The palace doors were pushed open from the outside.

Qiao Wan turned to look. A familiar figure stood backlit by the light at the entrance, though he did not hold Qiao Heng's head in his hands. Behind him stood Qiao Qingni, the Seventh Prince Qiao Yan, and many soldiers.

Qiao Wan felt the dizziness grew stronger. Even as she watched Mu Chi step toward her, she felt no fear, only calmly looked down.

Mu Chi stared intently at the woman seated not far away. When he noticed her eyes go dull upon seeing him, his steps faltered, and he couldn't help but say sharply, "Is Princess Changle waiting for Major General Jing to come save her?"

At this moment, Qiao Wan couldn't even manage a simple action like rolling her eyes.

Mu Chi let out an odd laugh. "I'm afraid the princess will be disappointed—"

Before he could finish, Qiao Wan felt a violent convulsion in her chest and suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood. Summoning her last shred of clarity, she lifted her head and laughed arrogantly, "You're too late."

With that, she fell straight backward, her face devoid of color as she gradually lost consciousness.

Before fainting, Qiao Wan only saw a dark figure rushing toward her in panic, stumbling and falling to the ground, accompanied by a hoarse, desperate shout:

"Get the imperial physician, now!"

Author's Note:

That certain dog: I need to act cool for a bit...

That certain dog: Get the imperial physician, now!!!!