Chapter 130 Two Dragons, One Trap
The jolt nearly threw me out of the carriage. Luckily, Lian reacted fast—he grabbed me mid-lurch and hauled me back, half-pulling, half-pressing me into his arms.
I hadn’t even caught my breath when he was already frowning.
“Hua. What happened?”
A gust of wind swept past outside, followed by a thin, high-pitched voice that dragged at the end of each word:
“Honored Sect Master Hao, Protector Hua—this humble servant has been ordered to invite you both for a private audience with my lord—”
The phrase “this humble servant” stretched unnaturally long, trembling slightly at the tail—uncannily like a palace eunuch delivering an imperial decree.
I froze, then narrowed my eyes.
That tone. That wording… why did this sound like it belonged in some court intrigue drama?
Could it be the Eighth Prince’s people?
Then again—no. That didn’t add up. He’d already sent my brother and me to infiltrate Lian quietly. Why would he suddenly switch tactics and openly intercept us?
I turned slowly toward Lian.
“You hear that? ‘By order,’ ‘invite for a talk’—does that sound like the Eighth Prince’s style to you?”
Lian’s expression darkened slightly. His hand had already settled on the hilt of his sword.
My stomach dropped.
—The Eighth Prince thread isn’t even resolved yet. Don’t tell me we just triggered another storyline?
[System notification: Main quest updating.]
My face went green.
“System,” I muttered through clenched teeth, “I don’t need updates. I need—an uninstall.”
No response.
It just looped once through my head like a dead program and went silent. Not even a courtesy notification tone.
Great. Again.
The sense of foreboding thickened.
Before long, the three of us were “invited”—which, frankly, meant escorted under watch—into another carriage led by that eunuch-voiced group. We traveled north until we stopped by a lakeside.
“Please.”
They said “please,” but we all knew better. This wasn’t an invitation. It was an escort with blades.
The lake was called Stillwave Lake. Elegant name, and the scenery lived up to it. Rippling water reflected pavilions and winding corridors—if you didn’t know better, you’d think this was a leisurely gathering.
Except the pavilion—inside and out—was packed three layers deep with armed guards. Blades at their waists, armor on their bodies. Even the wind seemed frozen by the killing intent.
Lian, Hua, and I exchanged a look.
Right.
—We’re in trouble.
At the center of the pavilion sat a young man, holding a teacup. His fingers stirred the leaves lightly, sending golden ripples across the surface.
Plain brocade robes, ink-dark hair. Every movement carried quiet authority—effortless, but impossible to ignore.
“Who’s that?” I whispered.
Hua gave a wry smile.
“Who else? Sect Master… looks like we’ve wandered into deep waters.”
“How so?”
“Look at the fabric. That jade at his waist. Imperial.”
My heart skipped.
Lian spoke first, voice low and steady.
“Your Majesty.”
I nearly choked on my own spit.
—The Emperor himself?!
Honestly, I’d guessed it might be someone from the palace. I just didn’t expect him—the Son of Heaven of the Great Sheng dynasty.
He’d taken the throne at sixteen. Now just past thirty. I’d once gone to court with my family when my elder brother was granted the title of General. Back then, I barely saw more than a distant silhouette in the freezing cold.
Now, face to face—
The man was… absurdly good-looking.
Skin pale enough to glow, features refined yet sharp. That kind of noble composure—you couldn’t fake it.
Though honestly, what did it matter?
I scoffed inwardly. In the end, we were all just side characters in the same story. By the system’s logic, nothing but “NPC data packets.”
—He was just a top node on the narrative tree.
So when Lian and Hua offered their martial-world style greetings, I followed suit with a casual fist salute.
Very much a “peasant barges into court” vibe.
He glanced at me.
“My informants reported,” he said mildly, “that the young master of the Nangong household has been traveling alongside the Blood Lotus Sect leader.”
He paused, lips curving faintly.
“I didn’t believe it. Now that I see it… reputation does not disappoint.”
I was done for.
The buzz in my head was immediate.
First the Eighth Prince, now the Emperor himself had his eyes on me.
My brother and I—the last remnants of the Nangong family—were practically being written straight into the “rebellion route” of the final act.
Lian stiffened slightly beside me.
The air turned suffocating.
I glanced at him, about to speak, but the Emperor’s gaze pinned me in place.
“Sit.”
The word was soft, but absolute.
Lian and Hua sat without hesitation. I tried to edge back, only for a guard’s blade to ring sharply from its sheath. I snapped upright immediately.
Tea steamed. The lake shimmered.
The Emperor took a sip, then said calmly,
“I am aware that my younger brother—the Eighth Prince—has designs on you.”
My heart tightened.
“Designs” sounded mild. It was anything but.
“The Eighth Prince?” Lian’s tone remained even, though something flickered in his eyes.
“He is erratic. Morally unsound.” The Emperor set his cup down gently, smiling faintly. “I also know… he forced you to take poison.”
My entire body went rigid.
Lian and Hua both turned toward me at once. Their gazes—sharp, questioning—cut straight through me.
I shrank under the pressure.
The Emperor glanced at me again, voice almost conversational.
“He is erratic. Morally unsound.”
Lian tilted his head slightly, eyes calm but edged, settling on me.
“So Your Majesty knows quite a bit,” Hua said, snapping his fan shut, tone measured.
“If I didn’t,” the Emperor replied with a soft laugh, “why would I invite you here?”
He leaned forward slightly.
“I’ll speak plainly. You already know what the Eighth Prince wants—the Blood Lotus relic.”
A pause.
“What I want,” he continued quietly, “is the Eighth Prince himself.”
Silence.
Even the wind over the lake seemed to stop for a breath.
—He was serious.
“I don’t ask where your loyalties lie,” he said, rising slowly, robes shifting like a passing breeze. “I offer you a choice.”
“You will find what the Eighth Prince seeks. When you do—bring it to me.”
“Why?” Lian asked.
“Because I intend to cut the problem off at the root.”
Those words sent a chill straight down my spine.
He turned, smiling faintly.
“Well? Cooperation—or not?”
I had no idea what to say.
And of course, the system chose this exact moment to chime in.
[System notification: Critical branch triggered—“Twin Dragons Contend for the Seal.” Host must choose between the Emperor and the Eighth Prince. Incorrect choice increases death probability to 87%.]
“Say that again?” I asked coldly in my head.
[System: Please choose carefully—]
“Shut up!”
I nearly said it out loud.
Lian shot me a glance—he’d clearly noticed something off.
I forced a smile.
“Your Majesty, that’s… quite the joke.”
“I do not joke.”
He leaned slightly closer, voice soft but unmistakable:
“The Nangong family was loyal. I would prefer not to see its descendants die without burial.”
—A threat. Plain and simple.
Hua narrowed his eyes, chuckling lightly.
“That almost sounds like you’re asking for our help.”
“If I were asking,” the Emperor said, turning away with hands behind his back, “I wouldn’t have brought so many men.”
A gust of wind swept through. Outside, the three layers of guards stamped in unison, dust rising.
“Consider your options.”
With that, he set down his teacup and walked away.
I stared after him, unease tightening in my chest.
The Eighth Prince wants the relic.
The Emperor wants the relic—and the Prince.
Two factions. Two madmen.
And me—
stuck in the middle, like a character waiting to be deleted.
I muttered under my breath,
“…This script is getting way too intense.”