As Princess Lingmeng spoke, His Majesty the Emperor’s expression grew increasingly grave, his eyes glinting with colder light. Head bowed, he remained utterly still, simply listening in silence.

This affair undeniably involved the life and death of his own daughter, but it also entangled another, very “pivotal” individual. This person, in isolation, was inconsequential to the grand scheme, yet the consequences spiraling from his involvement were too vast—so vast that even he, the Emperor, might not be able to bear them, let alone wish to endure them!

An Emperor, whose own daughter had been attacked, preoccupied instead with a standard, profligate wastrel. Was there truly no kinship in the Celestial House? What sorrow!

Finally…

“According to Meng’er’s account, Jun Moxie gave you a warning before the assassination attempt? At least, something to alert you?” the Emperor mused aloud.

“Yes, though I cannot be certain, Jun Moxie’s motives should not be suspect, or perhaps he noticed some subtle clues beforehand,” Princess Lingmeng replied, her voice low but firm.

“Subtle clues? With Jun Moxie’s meager Dao cultivation, what capacity does he have to discern any subtle clues? ... Never mind, these are trivialities. Later, Jun Moxie was rescued by another master. That means Jun Moxie did not die, is that correct?” The Emperor’s gaze deepened.

“Precisely, Father,” Princess Lingmeng consciously avoided mentioning Ye Guhan’s name, mindful of her father's reservations, even though His Majesty was already aware of that incident.

“If that is the case… then why did Jun Zhantian go mad? Why did he recklessly sound the Assembly Drum!” His Majesty pondered. “His grandson did not die; the Jun family has not been reduced to extinction. This action of his is thus baffling. Such a drastic move is truly…”

He rose, pacing slowly, tapping his forehead lightly. “The grandson lives, yet Jun Zhantian has inexplicably lost control. Hmm… perhaps one thing can be ascertained: Jun Moxie has definitely not returned home yet. Ah, it seems Jun Zhantian received word of his grandson being in peril, and upon seeing him fail to return for so long, he reacted aberrantly. Heh heh, it seems I underestimated them? How many birds is this aiming to kill with one stone?” The Emperor smiled coldly, a chilling amusement in his eyes.

Princess Lingmeng suddenly recalled something, her pretty face draining of color. If that were so, even if it were merely a misunderstanding, the fallout could be catastrophic!

“Since Jun Moxie was not in mortal danger at the time, why did you not immediately send someone to notify the Jun family?! Meng’er, you handled this matter too carelessly... Meng’er, have you remembered something?” Seeing the marked change in the Princess’s expression, the Emperor managed a smile, fighting to suppress his rising ire, though the tension in his brows and the corners of his eyes was becoming harder to contain. His daughter was usually so composed; why such a lapse in judgment today? Had the assassination attempt unsettled her usual stability?

“Father, when I discovered Jun Moxie’s corpse... no, when his body vanished, I did… I did send someone to inform the Old Master Jun. Just as the messenger left, that old man arrived and carried the injured Jun Moxie away,” Princess Lingmeng stammered, utterly flustered.

“And then? The message was already sent, but after you realized Jun Moxie was alive, did you take no remedial action?” The Emperor looked at his daughter with a trace of disappointment, yet a thought sparked in his mind: The old man? Could there be someone else secretly protecting my daughter besides that fiend Ye Guhan?! If so…

The Emperor kept his expression perfectly impassive as his mind raced.

“Such critical news naturally required damage control. My personal guards were all severely wounded, so I instructed Murong Qianjun, who was sent for protection, to dispatch someone to inform Old Master Jun that Jun Moxie was alive. If Old Master Jun ultimately never received the news of Jun Moxie’s survival, then the only possibility is…?”

“There’s no need for ‘possibility.’ It’s clear: Murong Qianjun never reported it, or perhaps the report he sent was confirmation of death. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be…” The Emperor sighed, deep lines of grimness briefly etching themselves onto his austere, thin face before vanishing. He softened his tone. “It is not your concern now; you should rest.” He stroked Lingmeng’s hair, his vacant gaze fixed on the hazy, golden expanse of the Imperial Palace shrouded in darkness. The Emperor suddenly found this color symbolizing nobility—this imperial yellow—to be jarring, sickeningly tiresome.

This assassination affair was rather bizarre, hehehe... truly unexpected. The Emperor mused quietly, a sharp glint flashing through his eyes.

Perhaps it was time to cleanse the Imperial Palace.

Would washing it with the blood of men make it shine brighter, I wonder?

In the distance, the earth-shattering war drums had fallen silent, yet the air between heaven and earth remained thick with the oppressive atmosphere of an impending storm.

I hope, Jun Zhantian, I hope you don’t make this too difficult for Us...

The Emperor’s eyes displayed a flicker of profoundly complex emotion before fading.

Watching his daughter’s retreating figure, the Emperor stood with his hands clasped behind his back. After a moment of contemplation, he suddenly said, “Shadow, go and observe. Do not intervene unless absolutely necessary. Tell Jun Zhantian that his grandson is alive. He may cause a commotion, but he must not overstep the line! Oh, and bring something back for Me while you’re at it. Hmm, incidentally; that old fellow has been bottling things up for years now…!”

With that, the Emperor picked up his brush, inscribed a few characters, rolled the paper swiftly, and passed it backward. “Go.”

A gust of wind rose, and a figure that seemed both substantial and ethereal drifted out. The next instant, the slip of paper in the Emperor’s hand was gone, and a faint shadow shot rapidly out of the palace.

“Though I allow you one bout of indulgence, I must also borrow a sharp blade!” the Emperor murmured to himself, a knowing, enigmatic smile crossing his face.

The Emperor, usually meticulous in his planning, had severely underestimated the depth of Jun Zhantian’s fury at this moment! And sending someone now was too late...

“Attendant, summon Great General Dugu Wudi at once,” the Emperor exclaimed loudly, taking a calming breath. Well, might as well throw the situation into further disarray. Hopefully, everyone—those with understanding—would temper their actions. Those without understanding, naturally, would not warrant the privilege of remaining.

It is not that I forbid you to fight; only through struggle can the strong emerge! But even fighting requires restraint! Exceed that boundary, and it leads to eternal ruin...

...

Princess Lingmeng took her leave of the Emperor and only as she returned to her own chambers did she suddenly realize something: throughout her entire report of the assassination, her Father had relentlessly questioned only about the Jun family, entirely focused on Jun Moxie. He hadn’t asked a single thing about her, the primary target!

Why?

Could it be that in the Emperor’s mind, this perplexing assassination—involving a Princess, concerning herself, and potentially touching upon a major case involving other Imperial figures—was less important than the Jun family?

Or was Father avoiding something?

Or perhaps...

Recalling the deep intensity in her Father’s eyes, Princess Lingmeng trembled slightly. Thank heavens I have Uncle Ye to protect me, and that mysterious powerhouse besides...

Lost in thought, Princess Lingmeng reached into her robes and pulled out the three small, exquisite throwing knives. She toyed with them in her hand. Each knife was only slightly larger than half her palm, its slight curve elegant and natural, truly as thin as a cicada's wing. Stacked together, the three blades formed only a thin layer. Princess Lingmeng was immensely curious: how could such tiny knives possess such terrifying power, enough to make a band of ruthless assassins flee without a fight?

The knives were silent, their blades catching the light with a crystalline sheen, refracting into a rainbow of colors under the lamp, dazzlingly bright. Anyone seeing such knives would mistake them for toys belonging to children in wealthy households. Who would imagine these were the fatal weapons of an unparalleled master?

But if these unique throwing knives appeared before me again, I would recognize them instantly! Princess Lingmeng thought happily, filled with longing: I wonder what kind of person this peerless master, whom even Uncle Ye holds in such high regard, must be?

...

l; This chapter has been revised countless times since this morning. I just don’t feel satisfied. When dealing with matters leading up to this kind of ** point, perhaps it is the most arduous time for any author. Hehe. Although my head aches from thinking, there is a certain sense of accomplishment. Is this… painful yet joyful? Regarding the update schedule, I once again ask my brothers and sisters for your understanding! &g;