"Close the city gates! Hurry, close them! Don't let the prisoner escape!"
The deputy general, sent to escort the Southlyn King into the capital in Victor Phoenixfield's stead, inwardly cursed his bad luck. What should have been the highest honor had suddenly turned into a disaster.
The deputy swung off his horse and immediately gave the order. The soldiers stationed outside the city reacted swiftly, slamming the gates shut. The black-clad men escorting the Southlyn King were a step too late—they could only watch helplessly as the gates closed.
"What do we do now?" The Southlyn King’s face was stricken with panic. His legs gave out, nearly sending him to the ground. One of the black-clad men holding him up tried to reassure him: "Your Majesty, don’t worry. Even if I die, I’ll get you out of here."
"Please rest assured, Your Majesty. I swear to protect you with my life." As soon as the Southlyn King was pulled out of the chaos, the black-clad men tightened their formation, shielding him in the center. Again and again, they used their own bodies as a living wall to block the oncoming attacks.
The Southlyn King didn’t see the blood-soaked carnage or the loyal men dying around him. All he could see was the hope of escape burning in his eyes...
One of the black-clad men, never letting go of the Southlyn King, kept him behind as a shield. From a pouch at his side, he pulled out a grappling hook and hurled it hard at the city wall...
With a sharp clang, the hook caught on the wall. The man gave it a hard tug to make sure it would hold his weight, then slung the Southlyn King onto his back and leapt upward.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty." The black-clad man jumped, carrying the Southlyn King halfway up the wall. He kept climbing, almost reaching the top—when suddenly, another group of black-clad operatives appeared above them.
The Southlyn King thought these newcomers were reinforcements. To his shock, their first move was to sever the rope holding the grappling hook.
"Ah—!" The Southlyn King and his black-clad protector fell together. In the split second before they hit the ground, the guard twisted his body, cushioning the king’s fall with his own flesh.
A cold smile flickered across the face of the black-clad man atop the city wall. With a flick of his wrist, there was a sharp swish—a flash of silver arced down from the wall, hurtling toward the Southlyn King...
The rescuers desperately tried to intercept the flying dart, but they were overwhelmed—unable to reach in time, even if they threw themselves in the path. All they could do was watch in horror as the dart buried itself in the king’s throat...
With a sickening thud, the Southlyn King died with his eyes wide open, unwilling to accept his fate. As his body hit the ground, it bounced once before settling.
"The emperor is dead—avenge him!" someone shouted. The black-clad men erupted in a frenzy, slashing at the Eastlyn soldiers with reckless abandon, determined to fight to the bitter end.
"Save the little prince!" The loyal dead-soldiers, seeing the Wang concubine clutching the infant prince, surged toward her. Hope flickered in her eyes—only to be snuffed out by deeper despair moments later...
Suddenly, the black-clad men atop the city wall leapt down, instantly blocking the path of the Southlyn dead-soldiers. Blades flashed—each strike ruthless, each move a killing blow.
"Who are you?" The Southlyn dead-soldiers grew more alarmed with every clash. Their attackers were no ordinary men—every move was deadly, more terrifying than even their own suicide squad.
The black-clad killers were as cold and merciless as Zuo An—forget answering, they didn’t even spare a glance. As their victims tried to speak, a single slash ended the conversation—and the life.
With the help of these black-clad men, the Eastlyn soldiers quickly regained control. But now, two groups of black-clad fighters were entangled in a chaotic brawl, and the Eastlyn troops couldn’t tell friend from foe—so they detained them all.
"We can leave now." Serena Feng set down her cup and turned to go, Zuo An quickly following behind...
The later-arriving black-clad men vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. Without warning, they melted into the crowd and darted toward the heart of the city.
"Quick, after them!" The Eastlyn soldiers gave chase, but the black-clad men ducked and weaved through alleys, finally disappearing near the Grand Protector’s mansion...
"What now?" The junior soldiers hesitated, turning to their commanding officer for direction.
Even the commander—let alone a minor officer—wouldn’t dare storm the residence of one of the Three Excellencies. He steeled himself, ordered the street surrounded, and went to report up the chain of command.
The death of the Southlyn King was no small matter—no one dared delay. The news was quickly brought before the throne for judgment.
Nolan Dongling and the assembled officials were all waiting for the triumphal presentation, expecting the Southlyn King to submit a surrender letter. Instead, they received word of the king’s death—and that the killers had vanished near the Grand Protector’s mansion...
"Your Majesty, I am innocent!" The Grand Protector stepped forward, his wrinkled face pale with fear. A veteran of court intrigue, he knew something was wrong—this was too coincidental. If this wasn’t a setup, he wouldn’t believe it.
"I believe you," Nolan replied crisply. "But the state has laws, and families have rules. Since the killers disappeared near the Grand Protector’s mansion, we must search to prevent them from harming the women inside."
Without waiting for further debate, Nolan ordered the street sealed and a thorough search. All captured black-clad men were to be sent to the Bloodcloak Guard for interrogation—he wanted to know who was truly behind it all.
Nolan acted swiftly, giving no one a chance to speak before settling the matter. As for the triumphal ceremony—now that the Southlyn King was dead, it was canceled, and the surrender document would be presented by the infant prince instead.
"Your Majesty, the ministers—" The prime minister barely began before Nolan rose, curtly tossing out, "Court is dismissed," and vanished from sight.
"Your—"
Now it wasn’t just the Grand Protector— the other three regency elders were uneasy too. They had planned one last desperate gamble: to accuse Serena Feng of infidelity and claim the crown prince was not Nolan’s son. But they never even got the chance to speak.
What now?
The Three Excellencies and the prime minister exchanged anxious glances. Cold sweat drenched their backs, and a chill wind made them shiver. Their minds, accustomed to the center of power, suddenly cleared—too late. Everything was already out of their hands...
It wasn’t Nolan who struck first, but Serena Feng. She didn’t follow the plan set by Nolan and William Wang Jinling to pin the poisoning of Little Dumpling on the regency elders and prime minister—instead, she gave them an even heavier charge: colluding with Southlyn, treason, and murdering the Southlyn King to silence him!
Serena suspected the wet nurse who poisoned Little Dumpling might not have acted on Lady Min’s orders, but she refused to clear Lady Min’s name or let anyone else take the blame.
No matter who actually gave the order, Serena insisted the crime must rest on Lady Min. She wanted Nolan to remember for the rest of his life that his own mother tried to kill his son!
"Why?" Nolan came to question Serena as soon as court adjourned.
Why hadn’t she consulted him first? He wouldn’t have objected.
Serena had just returned to the palace, still wearing her plain clothes from outside. She ignored Nolan’s dark expression and beamed at him: "Don’t you think this charge is better? Accusing the Three Excellencies and the prime minister of poisoning the crown prince was far too flimsy."
"It’s too risky—it’s easy for cracks to show." Little Dumpling’s poisoning was a fact, and easy to investigate. Nolan and William Wang Jinling chose that charge because they knew the Three Excellencies would have trouble defending themselves and could be convicted quickly.
But treason is much harder to prove—the investigation would be messy, and in the short term, it would be impossible to convict the Three Excellencies and the prime minister. They might even overturn the case.
"But I’ve already done it—so what now?" Serena spread her hands, looking innocently at Nolan...