Chapter 61: Even If He Didn’t Strike the Blow Himself

Chapter 61: Even Though He Didn't Do It Himself

"So this is how it is. You want me to dote on you, is that it? You want me to cherish you, is that it?"

The Crown Prince glared at her ferociously, his eyes nearly splitting open, his expression twisted beyond recognition—like a demon from hell eyeing her flesh, as if he wanted to gnaw her bones and swallow her blood.

She flinched, instinctively shaking her head, an inexplicable dread washing over her from head to toe.

"Now let me show you."

He grabbed her wrist and roughly pulled her forward to feel—the same softness, but utterly unresponsive.

She looked up in shock, frantically trying to pull her hand back, but it was held fast, pressed down violently, roughly rubbed back and forth, hoarse cries escaping her throat.

"Feel that, don't you? I'm a cripple now. I'm a cripple. You can't get any satisfaction from me anymore. Well? Disappointed? Feeling let down?"

"No..."

"I told you I was set up—why won't anyone believe me? It's that bastard. He wanted to ruin me. He wanted to ruin me. No one believes me. Why?!"

He roared like a madman, let go of her, and collapsed into the chair.

His face was ashen.

Ever since that shameful incident, he'd been beaten, forced to kneel as punishment, and confined—his wounds eventually healed, but he found his body had been left with lasting damage.

No matter the cause.

He knew he could never recover.

The Crown Princess quietly adjusted her robes, straightened her collar, took out an embroidered handkerchief, wiped the unsightly mess off the table, and tucked it into her bosom.

Her heart was heavy with mixed emotions.

She had married the Crown Prince in her youth, when he'd just been named Crown Prince—a spirited young man, as refined as jade.

She'd given her maiden heart all too easily.

She'd never wanted to see things come to this, nor face it.

Even though her husband was no longer the man he used to be, she still willingly endured his rage and blows, dutifully doing everything a wife should, carefully tending to his needs.

"No matter what state Your Highness is in, Rong'er has always respected and loved you just the same, never wavering."

She offered him the tea.

She'd thought this would soothe the turmoil and trauma in his heart, but the moment she offered it, he knocked it away with a single swipe, and a hand as strong as iron clamped around her throat.

"Are you pitying me? After everything I've done to you, you still act like this—is it on purpose? Trying to humiliate me, huh?"

"No..."

She couldn't speak.

"I'm already ruined, ruined. I'll never have a shot at the throne again. Hahaha—you all drove me to this! It's all your fault..."

His grip tightened and tightened, the woman beneath his hands turning blue in the face, unable to even cry for help.

Bang.

The table crashed over, the loud noise startling the guards outside.

He squeezed until his wife went limp, then, panicking, he let go, stumbled back a few steps, and shouted, "Someone! Someone come!"

The maidservant rushed in at once.

There stood the Crown Prince, his face ghastly, leaning against the wall as if completely drained, swaying on his feet.

The Crown Princess lay on the floor, her delicate face blue, motionless.

"Your Highness, the Princess—"

"Drag her away! Get her out!"

The Crown Prince shouted, his eyes bloodshot as he glared at her, his nearly deranged look making everyone's legs tremble.

Several guards rushed in and immediately carried the Crown Princess out.

The maidservant, frantic with worry, hurried after them, checked her breathing—still alive—and immediately sent for the imperial physician, then brought the Princess back to her chambers.

Meanwhile, with a whoosh, an arrow carrying a letter flew into the room.

The Crown Prince calmly retrieved it.

The contents were even more vicious provocations than before, rubbing salt in the wound again, destroying everything he'd carefully hidden.

He started smashing things again, like a husky wrecking the house, leaving total chaos in his wake.

The imperial physician came by once.

The Crown Princess was saved, but she remained unconscious.

The Crown Prince was summoned to see the Emperor and was punished again.

No one knew what the Emperor had said to him, but when he returned, he was completely out of sorts—as if traumatized, dangerously unstable. In the middle of the night, he suddenly burst out of his room.

"Your Highness!"

The maidservant jolted awake in terror.

He stared darkly at the still-sleeping Crown Princess—his own wife—a vicious glint in his eyes. Without warning, he drew his blade and ended her life in one stroke.

"Your Highness!!"

The maidservant's piercing scream shattered the silence of the night.

Word of the Crown Prince's midnight madness spread like wildfire. The Crown Princess was the daughter of a great general, personally chosen by the Emperor—her status was hardly insignificant.

As for what exactly happened, the outside world was full of speculation and rumor.

But everyone knew the result.

Li Zhiming knew that the whole Crown Prince affair had originally been orchestrated by Sang Yu, so he'd been quietly keeping tabs on the Crown Prince's movements and the fallout—until...

Word came that the Crown Princess had been killed, and the Crown Prince had repeatedly crossed the Emperor's lines. In a rage, the Emperor ordered the Crown Prince executed.

Executing a Crown Prince—something unprecedented.

But the Emperor did it anyway.

Sang Yu seemed not at all surprised by this, even seeming creepily pleased, which definitely caught Li Zhiming's attention and made him suspicious.

He asked directly, "Did you pull something again?"

"I didn't tell him to kill her."

"What do you mean, you didn't tell him to kill her? So you're saying you planned the Crown Princess's murder?"

Sang Yu let out a laugh, "I only said a few words. He was just guilty and insecure—couldn't stand facing how low he'd sunk."

"You... you..."

Li Zhiming choked for a long time before forcing out a sentence, "She was innocent."

Sang Yu's smile dropped, like he couldn't even understand the pity, and went cold, "I just needed her for something. Who she was—why should I care?"

His coldness was scary, and it chilled Li Zhiming to the bone.

"Sang Yu, you're a real psycho."

With that, Li Zhiming turned and headed straight to his room, not wanting to face him again, and even less willing to accept he had a ruthless killer beside him.

Even if he hadn't done it himself.

During this time, he took the opportunity to re-examine all the loops and anomalies that had occurred, finally reaching a conclusion.

'Apart from my own death and time reversal, if Sang Yu dies, I die too. If I ignore his major schemes, I unlock all sorts of bizarre and absurd causes of death.'

And Sang Yu was like a piece of sticky taffy—no matter what, you couldn't get rid of him.

This was his home; he had no skills, no omniscient perspective, and in this unfamiliar world, he truly didn't know what to do.

But that wasn't for him to worry about—even if he left, Sang Yu would surely find him.

No point in wasting the effort.