Chapter 151 The Victor is King, the Vanquished a Bandit

Chapter 151: The Winner Is King, the Loser a Bandit

The turmoil in the palace continued all night.

At first light, the square outside the Hall of Golden Chimes had been cleaned up. Discarded armor and weapons were piled in the corners, bloodstains covered with sand and soil. Only the faint smell of rust still lingered in the air, a reminder of the battle that had just taken place.

Xiao Yan and Liu Qingci hadn't slept a wink all night, nor had they had any time to speak.

Calming the officials, dealing with the surrendered troops, settling the Black Armored Guard forces... they kept busy until dawn.

The light at the horizon grew brighter, transitioning from pale white to soft gold, then from soft gold to orange-red, painting the whole imperial city in color, layer by layer.

Then, a commotion arose from the direction of the palace gate.

"Xiao Qi! Where is Xiao Qi? Let your father see you!"

A figure in bright yellow hurried in, his steps light and swift, not showing any signs he'd been bedridden by poison for days.

The Emperor, eager to see his son who had returned from the dead, entered the hall and immediately saw Xiao Jing kneeling at the base of the imperial dais, right in the center of the hall.

Having heard what had happened in recent days and knowing about today's coup attempt, the Emperor's face immediately darkened.

He strode angrily up to Xiao Jing and slapped him hard across the face.

Xiao Jing staggered sideways, his face swelling instantly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He knelt there, his body swaying.

The Emperor stood before him, chest heaving violently. The earlier joy of seeing his son had vanished completely, replaced by a face ashen with rage.

His voice was furious: "Sixth son, Sixth son! Do you think I'm dead?"

Xiao Jing looked up, disbelief etched on his face.

"Impossible... impossible!" He shook his head like a madman. "How could you...?!"

He still had some wits about him, knowing he couldn't finish that sentence.

How could his father, whom he had personally poisoned, appear here unharmed?

That poison had no antidote at all!

"Impossible what?!" The Emperor raged. "You really wanted me dead, huh?"

Xiao Yan stepped closer and said softly, "Father, take care of your health."

Hearing the voice, the Emperor finally noticed Xiao Yan behind him.

He suppressed his anger, his gaze lingering on Xiao Yan's face. His voice cracked hoarsely: "Xiao Qi, it really is Xiao Qi! My son, you are alive!"

Xiao Yan didn't know how to respond, just gave a faint smile.

But Xiao Jing, still kneeling on the ground, let out a cold laugh.

His hair was disheveled, his appearance a mess. His smile turned more and more maniacal as he rasped,

"Can't you see he's a fake?! Everyone's mad, the whole world's gone mad! Absolutely mad... He's a fake! He's obviously a ghost!"

The Emperor frowned at what he said, looking disgusted, and ordered:

"Guards, take him away and lock him in the dungeon!"

Two guards immediately rushed forward and dragged Xiao Jing away.

Though the palace hadn't rested all night, there was no rest that morning either.

The Emperor, who had been bedridden for days, returned and immediately held a morning court session, summoning Zhao Chongwu (who'd returned to the capital without orders), the Black Armored Guard, and Liu Qingci (who held no official rank).

However, perhaps out of pity for his beloved son—especially when he saw the bloody wound on Xiao Yan's neck—the Emperor insisted he skip the morning court.

He ordered him to rest and tend to his wound, and even summoned a royal physician.

Xiao Yan had no choice but to let the physician apply some medicine to the nearly healed wound on his neck, putting up with the doctor's work for a while.

Taking advantage of this time, Xiao Yan visited the dungeon.

The dungeon guards, seeing Xiao Yan, didn't stop him and gave a dutiful report.

"Prince Rui has been laughing uncontrollably since entering, and shouting nonsense... It seems he might have lost his mind."

In other words, he had gone mad.

Xiao Yan nodded and walked in alone.

The dungeon was cold and damp, the air thick with the smell of moldy straw and rust, mixed with an indescribable decay that chilled him to the bone.

Xiao Yan walked down the long, narrow corridor. Before he even got close, he heard the voice.

"Mad... the whole world's gone mad..."

Xiao Jing sat in the corner, his back against the cold, damp stone wall, knees drawn up, hands hanging limply at his sides, curled up into a ball.

His crown had been lost somewhere, his hair a mess, half covering his face.

Xiao Yan stood at the cell door, looking at him through the wooden bars.

As if he sensed something, Xiao Jing whipped his head around.

The moment he saw Xiao Yan's face, his eyes filled with rage.

"You." His voice was hoarse, as if scraped from the depths of his throat. He sprang up from the corner and lunged at the wooden bars, his fingers thrust through the gaps, gripping the rails so hard his knuckles went white and veins bulged.

"What exactly are you?!"

"Tell me! Tell me! Why is this happening?! How could I lose?!"

Xiao Yan's expression remained cold, and he replied calmly, "Xiao Jing, the winner is king, the loser is a bandit. Face reality."

He had won this conflict.

But Xiao Yan had no desire to judge anyone from on high.

Both Xiao Jing and he had acted from their own perspectives, looking out for themselves.

There's no absolute right or wrong in matters, but people have their own positions.

Between Xiao Yan and Xiao Jing, whether in the original story or now, it always boiled down to winner king, loser bandit.

"Winner king, loser bandit," Xiao Jing echoed those words, his lips curling into a smile that looked worse than crying.

"Winner king, loser bandit..." Xiao Jing's hands slowly released the bars. He stepped back, stumbling, his back hitting the cold stone wall. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down to sit, muttering, "Yes... winner king, loser bandit. I have lost. But I don't get it—how'd you pull it off?"