The Great Song nation.
The Imperial Palace.
Inside the vast, empty grand hall, only two figures were present. Song Meng sat dressed in a golden dragon robe, an ingratiating smile plastered across his aged face.
“Qingyu, you’re finally back. You’ve been gone for so long without a trace with you out of the imperial palace, my heart feels unsettled.”
Jun Qingyu sat lazily upon a large armchair in a long black robe, a silver mask covering his face, revealing only a pair of crimson lips.
Propping his head on one hand, he lifted the outer corner of his eye lazily. “What this King chooses to do seems to have nothing to do with His Majesty.”
“Yes, yes, of course it has nothing to do with you. However, I hear the Crown Prince of the Yuanqi nation is arriving shortly. Mu Yuting sent him here with no good intentions, and I want you to make him disappear without a trace, quietly and seamlessly.”
Once he reached the imperial capital, he would still be expected to put on a show of magnanimity and greet him in person!
The Crown Prince of a petty, crumbling nation expected him, the Emperor of a great power, to welcome him?
That old fox Mu Yuting certainly didn’t harbor any honorable intentions.
Calling it an academic exchange between two nations was just a pretty excuse; in truth, he was merely planting a spy within the Great Song.
Jun Qingyu’s pitch-black eyes lacked a shred of color, his entire face exuding a pale, ghastly chill. “Very well.”
Song Meng felt a sudden, icy shiver crawl down his spine, thinking that Jun Qingyu didn’t quite look or feel like a normal human being.
Nothing in this world could stir his emotions. Even so, he had to rely entirely on this man; with him around, there was no need for him to worry about any threat.
“Father… Father! I hear the Crown Prince of the Yuanqi nation is almost here. I want to go to the city gates to welcome him personally, to demonstrate the majestic might of our Great Song nation!”
Song Jinxuan burst into the hall in a fluster, lifting his robes as he ran. Catching sight of Jun Qingyu, he snapped his mouth shut and came to an abrupt, obedient halt.
W—why is he here too? Didn’t they say he was missing? I was actually rejoicing over that for a good few days.
Song Meng furrowed his brows, eyeing his son with deep disgust.
“Jinxuan, when will you ever act with poise and maturity, instead of running about in such a panic? When will you ever learn to be as steadfast as your Imperial Uncle?”
Among his nine sons, not a single one resembled Jun Qingyu.
They were all more useless and profligate than the last!
Song Jinxuan curled his lip, rolling his eyes in secret.
He’s younger than me, yet he gets to be Imperial Uncle does he even deserve it?
Aside from putting on a front, he can’t do a single thing.
“Yes, Father. How could I ever compare to Imperial Uncle? He is, after all, the Little Regent of the Jiuzhou Continent, whose very name strikes terror into the hearts of men.”
Song Jinxuan offered a respectful, formal bow toward Jun Qingyu.
His father and Jun Qingyu addressed each other as brothers, which inexplicably left all nine Imperial Princes standing a full generation lower than Jun Qingyu.
Song Meng said coldly, “Jinxuan, you just mentioned wanting to welcome that Crown Prince personally you need not go. Your Imperial Uncle will handle it.”
“Him? Father, you cannot let him go! If he goes, he’ll surely frighten the Crown Prince to death!”
His great beauty hadn’t laid eyes on him in two full days; he missed him terribly.
The great beauty was so frail what if Jun Qingyu accidentally scared him?
Song Meng furrowed his brow. “Jinxuan, enough of your nonsense. Your Imperial Uncle has already agreed.”
A young maidservant dressed in pink palace attire approached, holding a tray of tea. As she drew close to Jun Qingyu, her face flushed red, and she couldn’t resist casting an extra glance in his direction.
Though rumors claimed the Little Regent was entirely disfigured, the overwhelming aura radiating from his entire being was enough to make anyone inexplicably drawn to him.
As her hand drifted casually, a single drop of water slipped from the cup, landing directly upon Jun Qingyu’s garments.
The maid dropped instantly to her knees, her legs buckling beneath her as tear-filled, pitiful eyes looked up.
“Spare my life, Your Highness! Spare my life, this servant did not mean to.”
“This servant will change your clothes personally…”
Jun Qingyu lowered his gaze. Hanging from his waist was a rather ugly, poorly made yellow accessory, upon which a single droplet of water had splashed.
“This servant will personally…”
Before the maid could finish her sentence, a sharp, agonizing pain erupted across her chest, and her body flew backward through the air!
Cracking with the sound of snapping bones, the woman clutched her chest, groaning in agonizing torment as fresh blood gushed from the corners of her mouth.
Standing frozen in place, Song Jinxuan trembled from head to toe, terrified that he would be the next one sent flying.
“Qingyu, she was merely a maidservant why fly into such a rage?”
It was the first time Song Meng had ever witnessed Jun Qingyu display such intense anger, and his cloudy eyes flickered with probing curiosity.
Jun Qingyu picked up the pouch hanging from his waist, an undetectable gentleness flashing through his dark eyes as he carefully wiped away the moisture, cradling it in his hand as though it were the most precious treasure in existence.
Out of the corner of his eye, Song Jinxuan caught sight of the pouch in his hand, feeling as though he had seen it somewhere before…
Upon a bed constructed of fine, fragrant sandalwood lay a delicate, exquisitely sculpted beauty.
He stirred slightly, his long, butterfly-like eyelashes fluttering as his finely arched brows furrowed, as though plagued by some lingering nightmare.
“Ah-Xun!”
Mu Chengyan snapped his eyes open. The surrounding scenery was entirely unfamiliar—magnificent pearl curtains shimmering with dazzling light, exquisitely carved beds and chairs, everywhere exuding an air of extreme luxury and indulgence.
Where is this?
Where is Ah-Xun?
Where did the men in black go?
Mu Chengyan pushed himself up into a sitting position, his disheveled, ink-black hair cascading across the mattress. His delicate waist appeared impossibly slender, and the collar of his inner robes sloped downward slightly, revealing his refined, snow-white collarbone.
“Yueying…”
“Your Highness, you’re awake!”
Yueying burst through the door and sprinted over, a white bandage wrapped tightly around his arm and slung securely across his neck.
“Yueying, you’re injured…”
“It’s nothing, Your Highness need not worry. It’s just a minor scratch, it’ll be fine by tomorrow. How is your injury? Does it still hurt?”
Yueying was still consumed by guilt; it was entirely due to his own negligence that His Highness had been wounded.
Their Crown Prince was the one who feared pain the most a noble of the highest order, who had never suffered an injury in his life.
Mu Chengyan shook his head. “I… I am fine. Where is Ah-Xun? Where has Ah-Xun gone? And what is this place?”
“This… this is the Great Song imperial palace, Your Highness. We have arrived.”
“We’ve arrived? Then where is Ah-Xun?”
Yueying continued, “He said that since Your Highness was injured, he needed to go find medicinal herbs for you personally. He disappeared before we even entered the imperial palace.”
Mu Chengyan gave a couple of low coughs and slipped on his shoes. “I must go look for Ah-Xun; he cannot enter the imperial palace alone.”
“I hear the person staying here is none other than the sickly Crown Prince of the Yuanqi nation. Bringing him straight into the imperial palace aren’t they worried our entire palace will be cursed with his bad luck?”
“Seventh Imperial Prince, what… what are you doing here?”
“The entire imperial palace belongs to this Prince; this Prince can go wherever he pleases!”
The doors were shoved open violently. A youth strode inside with a high ponytail, dressed in a simple golden-embroidered robe, arms crossed over his chest with an air of supreme arrogance.
“You must be that sickly Crown Prince?”
Song Jinx星 raised his eyes, and an exquisitely beautiful face fell into his view…
“Song Jinxing, did this King give you permission to enter?”
A chilling voice rang out from behind him freezing to the bone, devoid of a single trace of emotion, like a sound echoing straight from the depths of hell.
Song Jinxing felt an icy shiver run down his spine. Trembling from head to toe, he spun around and bowed deeply, his posture rigid with absolute reverence.
“Imperial Uncle…”
Mu Chengyan raised his head, and the towering figure of a man swept into his field of vision.
A silver mask concealed the greater part of his face, and he was draped in a golden-embroidered dragon-patterned robe. His entire person radiated a freezing, impenetrable aura of frost that never melted away with the seasons!