The mad princess forces love upon him, and the aloof imperial advisor trembles every night.

"Imperial Preceptor..." The Chu Emperor's voice was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper scraping, "Che'er... is he really...?"

"His Majesty witnessed it with his own eyes." Si Chen's voice remained calm.

"He wielded the late emperor's Fish Intestine Sword, his killing intent soaring to the heavens, wanting to take the blood from my heart."

"The array's influence triggers a heavenly tribulation—this is a heavenly restriction set up by the founding emperor when he made his vow, and I cannot interfere with it."

The Chu Emperor's gaze slowly shifted to Si Chen's chest.

The purple robe was perfectly intact, without even a single wrinkle.

If he hadn't witnessed the sword pierce in and then withdrawn with his own eyes, he would have almost doubted that everything just now was an illusion.

But the corpses on the ground were real.

The burnt smell is real.

The fear was real.

"Then..." Emperor Chu's Adam's apple bobbed as he asked with difficulty, "The position of Crown Prince..."

Si Chen looked up at the sky. The celestial phenomena tonight were strange, with a dark, blood-red light swirling around the Purple Star.

"The celestial phenomena are in disarray. The sacrificial ceremony to Heaven may be disrupted. Your Majesty should postpone the investiture and allow me to reassess the celestial phenomena before making a final decision."

"Return to the palace," the Chu Emperor spat out through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse. "...Take the eldest prince into custody."

He took one last look at Si Chen.

Under the moonlight, the Imperial Advisor's silver hair cascaded down like a waterfall, and his appearance remained so perfect that it seemed unreal.

Those silver eyes reflected the Milky Way, and also the emperor's current state of disarray, suspicion, and fear.

For four hundred years, this man has stood there, watching the six generations of the Chu family rise and fall, witnessing the rise and fall of dynasties.

He never takes sides, never wavers, and only follows what he calls the "Way of Heaven".

But tonight, for the first time, the Chu Emperor had a doubt—

Is the so-called Way of Heaven the will of Heaven or the will of the people?

————The Residence of the Princess Zhenguo———

Chu Qingyue was standing by the window when the lightning struck.

She watched as the crimson-purple lightning bolt tore through the night sky, illuminating the entire imperial city and her pale face.

A slow smile crept onto his lips.

That smile was cold and eerie, like a flower blooming from hell.

"Liu Yun." She turned around, her voice calm. "Set up an incense table. I will personally see the Crown Prince off."

Liu Yun was taken aback: "Is Your Highness going to perform a ritual for the Crown Prince's soul?"

Chu Qingyue chuckled, her laughter filled with mockery: "No... I'm informing the underworld, informing those who died because of Chu Xuanche—"

She paused, a mad glint flashing in her eyes:

"Treat him well in hell."

"Don't let him die too easily."

Liu Yun trembled and bowed his head, replying, "Yes."

She turned to prepare the incense table, her steps slightly unsteady.

She knew that His Highness hated the First Prince, but she never expected that the hatred would reach such a level—not even sparing his soul after death.

The incense table was quickly set up.

Chu Qingyue walked to the incense table and looked at the rising smoke. The smoke went straight up and twisted and changed in the candlelight, like countless struggling souls.

She suddenly said:

"I have consulted the oracle; tomorrow is an auspicious day, suitable for marriage."

Liu Yun was lighting a candle when she heard this, and her hand trembled, almost extinguishing the flame.

She looked up, her eyes filled with astonishment: "Your Highness?"

Chu Qingyue turned around and looked at Liu Yun, her eyes filled with an unprecedented seriousness, a seriousness bordering on madness:

"Liuyun, decorate the new house properly. Red candles, nuptial wine, wedding quilt... nothing can be missing."

She paused, her voice softening, carrying a strange gentleness:

"Tomorrow night, I will...have my wedding night...with candles burning."

Liu Yun trembled, almost bursting into tears: "Your Highness, do you really want to..."

"Go do it." Chu Qingyue interrupted her, her voice returning to a calm, eerily calm tone.

Liu Yun lowered her head, tears silently streaming down her face: "Yes."

Chu Qingyue stopped looking at her, slowly walked to the incense table, and picked up the peach wood sword.

The sword trembled slightly, emitting a low hum.

Chu Qingyue closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and when she opened them again, her eyes were completely empty.

She began to practice swordplay.

It's not a sword technique for killing, but a Taoist blessing sword dance.

Her figure was as light as a swallow, her sword shadows fluttered like butterflies, her purple robes billowed, and her silver hair flowed. In the candlelight, she was so beautiful that she seemed otherworldly, like a fairy who had sneaked down from the moon palace.

But there was no peace and blessing in that dance, only a chilling cold and a kind of madness that was almost desperate.

As she danced, she sang softly, her voice ethereal and ghostly:

"O soul, return! The East is no place to entrust yourselves..."

"O soul, return! Do not linger in the south..."

"O soul, return! The scourge of the West has spread like sand for thousands of miles..."

"O soul, return! You cannot linger in the North any longer..."

She was summoning a spirit.

Summon the souls of those who died because of Chu Xuanche.

To summon the souls of those who were killed, wronged, or tortured to death by Chu Xuanche.

She wanted them to give this eldest prince a proper "welcome" on his journey to the underworld.

The sword dance grew increasingly rapid, and the chanting increasingly mournful.

The candlelight flickered wildly in the wind, casting her shadow on the wall, which stretched and shortened, like countless entangled ghosts.

The final sword light slashed down.

Chu Qingyue sheathed her sword, stood up, her chest rising and falling slightly.

The incense in the incense burner has burned out.

As the smoke dissipated, her pale face was revealed, along with the striking red cinnabar scar on her forehead.

She looked at the incense burner and spoke softly, her voice so low that only she could hear it:

"Chu Xuanche, may you rest in peace."

"You will not be alone on the road to the underworld."

————The Third Prince's Residence————

The candlelight in the dormitory was gentle.

The whip marks on Chu Xuanjing's body had mostly healed. He leaned against the headboard, his black hair hanging loosely over his moon-white nightgown.

There was someone resting on her lap—Zhou Qingchen.

The twenty-three-year-old boy had his black hair spread out, covering his knees.

With red lips and white teeth, her peach blossom eyes were closed, and her long eyelashes cast a light shadow under her eyes.

More beautiful than a woman, yet clearly a man's handsome features.

"Aqing." Chu Xuanjing twirled a strand of his hair around his fingertip. "I dreamt of Mother Consort again... She was crying. She must be blaming me."

Zhou Qingchen got up, straddled his lap, and cupped his face in her hands.

Peach Blossom's eyes were filled with heartache: "Your Highness, please don't say that. You had no choice... If Her Majesty's spirit is watching over us, she would surely want you to live well."

He lowered his head, his forehead touching Chu Xuanjing's, his voice as soft as a feather:

"And aren't the living often more miserable than the dead?"

"Your Highness, you must live well and watch for Her Majesty... watch those who drove her and you to the brink of despair, how they gradually head towards their deserved fate of eternal damnation."

Chu Xuanjing looked at the person in front of him.

Seven years ago, they first met by the lotus pond. Zhou Qingchen was still the son of a Hanlin Academy scholar, dressed in a moon-white robe, holding a white jade fan, reciting "rising from the mud unsullied." In that one glance, he knew—he was doomed for life.

The purity nurtured by the classics and the incorruptibility of officialdom—this was the only moonlight he wanted to hold onto tightly in this murky, deep pool of water.

"Ah Qing." His Adam's apple bobbed, and his voice was terribly hoarse.

"If one day... I become unrecognizable, my hands stained with indelible blood, and venomous snakes roam my heart, so that even you find me strange and frightening... would you leave?"