Chapter 99
The air was thick with the remnants of battle, the acrid scent of blood and burnt flesh, the lingering hum of dissipating magic. The once-grand imperial hall lay in ruins, its marble tiles fractured, its golden pillars marred with deep gashes, its walls stained with the dark residue of void creatures now reduced to nothing but mist. The bodies of the fallen, both enemy and ally, lay strewn like discarded chess pieces, testaments to a battle waged at the very heart of the empire.
Feng Jiao Xue stood among the wreckage, her senbon needles still gleaming with fresh crimson, her stance relaxed yet poised like a blade waiting to be drawn. She barely felt the exhaustion in her limbs, the sting of minor wounds. Instead, her gaze remained sharp, scanning the aftermath, the battlefield instincts honed in blood and steel whispering to her. Something was missing.
At her side, Liang Feng stood just as still, his sword dripping, his expression carved from stone. He, too, felt it. The unnatural silence, the way tension still crackled in the air despite the last enemy having fallen. A battle had ended, but the war had not.
The emperor’s voice rang out, firm and commanding, issuing orders to secure the palace. Guards scrambled, rushing to fortify the halls, their hurried footsteps echoing against broken stone. But even as they moved, neither Feng Jiao Xue nor Liang Feng turned their heads. Their instincts whispered of something unfinished.
And somewhere within the ruins, a shadow slipped away.
The third prince moved like a whisper, his dark silks flowing seamlessly into the ruined corridors, his steps light, soundless. His heart pounded, but his breath remained steady fear was for the weak, and weakness had no place in the game he played.
He had lost this battle But the war? The war had only begun.
Navigating through the palace was second nature to him each hallway, each hidden passageway carved into his memory since childhood. The guards, preoccupied with securing the emperor, did not notice the phantom weaving through the chaos. The stench of smoke, iron, and death clung to his robes, but he pressed forward, unbothered.
Failure was not something he ever intended to accept.
His plan had unraveled before his very eyes, the void creatures destroyed, his accusations shattered, his once-loyal allies beginning to waver. But he would not be caged, not be executed like a fallen traitor. No, if he could not seize the throne today, then he would tear the empire apart and build a new one from the ashes.
Somewhere deep within him, rage simmered beneath his calm façade, cold and quiet, a beast held on a fragile leash. Feng Jiao Xue, Liang Feng, the emperor, they had stolen his victory, humiliated him before the court. They would pay for that.