“If you hadn’t repeatedly embarrassed the Emperor, how would things have escalated to military confrontation? If not for protecting you, why would Jing Yuan delay for three months, reluctant to start a war, causing the Emperor’s suspicions?!” His face unusually stern, he pressed relentlessly: “My lord claims to care for Jing Yuan, but have you ever considered why the Emperor suddenly wanted his life?”
Duan Guihong was bewildered by the successive questions. He had only seen Yan Xiaohan from a distance in the capital, initially thinking him a soft, decorative figure, never expecting him to be so imposing when fully provoked. Swept by that frost-like gaze, he even felt an impulse to step back.
Yan Xiaohan continued: “You colluded privately with the Lord of Ying, using his hand to transport Qiu Ye Bai to the capital, thinking your plan was flawless and undetectable. Now exposed, you’ve implicated Jing Yuan to bear your blame. He once preferred an arranged marriage to rebellion, and now, because of your and the Lord of Ying’s schemes, his life’s work is destroyed. And you still dare to cry injustice?”
My lord, frankly, if you truly want him to live longer, control your own actions, don’t do what you shouldn’t, and don’t harbor inappropriate thoughts.”
Yan Xiaohan was mad, holding nothing back, his questioning almost directly confronting the Lord of Xiping. But Duan Guihong was too distracted to care about the offense.
“The evil you’ve sown, the one struck by lightning is him,” Yan Xiaohan said, “My lord, can you please let Jing Yuan go and stop dragging him down?”
This strike was precise and devastating, leaving Duan Guihong speechless.
“Enough,” Du Leng, busy with rescue efforts inside, finally couldn’t stand it and shouted, “Master Yan, come help!”
No one stopped him this time, and Yan Xiaohan walked straight in.
With just one glance, he felt his soul had been emptied, pain piercing his lungs mixed with post-disaster fear. Drifting like a wandering spirit, he silently approached the sickbed.
Fu Shen lay with closed eyes, pale as paper, lips bluish, half his body filled with golden needles. If not for the slight chest movement, he would be indistinguishable from a corpse.
