Spoiled and mad critic of powerful ministers

The mysterious man let out a cold laugh. The laugh was short and sharp, like a knife scraping across a porcelain plate.

"The plan has changed." The mysterious man pressed closer, his leather boots leaving deep footprints on the muddy ground of the dilapidated temple. "Pei Zhihui has gone mad. All nine gates of the capital have been sealed off, and Fu Chuan'ang's Zhenbei Army has begun searching the mountains, not even sparing rat holes. Twenty thousand men have surrounded the Western Hills like an iron barrel."

His gaze passed over Zhao Qiyan's shoulder and landed on the swaddled baby wrapped in a fox fur coat, a cruel sneer appearing in his eyes.

"You're carrying a burden who only knows how to cry; neither of us can leave."

Zhao Qiyan's pupils contracted sharply. On the back of his hand gripping the knife, veins bulged, like gnarled tree roots. He felt Nian An's warmth behind him, faint yet real, transmitted through the fox fur.

"What do you want to do?"

The mysterious figure raised his soft sword, its tip pointing directly at the fox fur coat behind Zhao Qiyan. Firelight danced on the blade, making the eerie blue gleam of the poisonous light appear even more sinister.

"His Highness has ordered," his tone was icy cold, each word like a judgment dug from a grave, "that bastard's head beheaded and sent back to the capital. Raise the banner, and begin the uprising."

Zhao Qiyan's expression changed drastically.

The image of Nian'an pulling his hair flashed through his mind instantly. That chubby little hand, that carefree giggle, those bright, black grape-like eyes.

She was so small, so small that she hadn't even grown any teeth yet, so small that she didn't even know why she was crying.

"Clang!"

Zhao Qiyan suddenly pulled out the nicked dagger.

The blade rubbed against the scabbard, producing a clear, resonant sound that echoed through the dilapidated temple.

He didn't retreat a single step. Instead, he took a step forward, his boots slamming heavily into the muddy ground, kicking up fine dust.

The firelight danced on his face, casting his shadow on the wall behind him, huge and menacing. He was like a lone wolf protecting its cubs, his fur standing on end, his back arched, all his strength concentrated in the hand holding the knife.

Behind him, Nian'an suddenly fell silent, whether she sensed something or was startled by the clang of the drawn sword.

Zhao Qiyan's gaze slowly moved from the mysterious man's face to the broken crossbow totem on the back of his hand, then to the poisoned soft sword in his hand. Finally, his gaze settled on the man's eyes, and he spoke, word by word.

The sound wasn't loud, but it drowned out the wind and snow.

"I'll save her life."

Before the words were finished, the wind stirred.

The mysterious figure lightly touched the ground with his toes, his figure flashing across the fire like a ghost. His soft sword danced in the air, creating a ghostly blue flower, before stabbing straight at Zhao Qiyan's throat like a venomous snake's tongue.

Zhao Qiyan's pupils contracted sharply. He gripped the fox fur tightly with one hand, and with a sudden burst of strength from his legs, he slid three feet backward.

"Clang!"

The short sword slashed upwards, striking the soft sword precisely at its seven-inch mark. Sparks flew.

The immense force jolted Zhao Qiyan into his tiger's mouth through the hilt of the knife. He groaned as his tiger's mouth instantly split open, blood flowing down the hilt. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything for days, and his strength was already at its limit.

"A dying struggle." The mysterious man sneered, flipping his wrist.

The soft sword bent into a strange arc from the impact, its tip bypassing the short knife and biting like venomous fangs at the fox fur behind Zhao Qiyan.

The goal is to ensure peace.

Zhao Qiyan's eyes were bloodshot. There was no escaping it.

Without any hesitation, he twisted his body sharply and met the poisoned sword blade head-on with his left shoulder.

"Pfft."

The sound of a sharp blade piercing flesh was exceptionally clear in the dilapidated temple. The soft sword pierced Zhao Qiyan's left shoulder, and black, poisonous blood gushed out instantly, staining her tattered clothes red.

A sharp pain tore at his nerves. Zhao Qiyan gritted his teeth, letting out a low, beast-like growl. He didn't retreat; instead, taking advantage of the moment the blade was stuck in his bone, he took a sudden step forward, closing the distance.

His right hand wielded a short sword that transformed into a streak of light, slashing diagonally upwards.

A look of horror flashed in the mysterious man's eyes. He tried to draw his sword and retreat, but found that the sword was firmly stuck in Zhao Qiyan's shoulder bone.

"laugh--"

The blade sliced ​​across the mysterious man's throat. Blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering all over Zhao Qiyan's face.

The mysterious man clutched his neck, making a gurgling sound in his throat, and collapsed to the ground.

Outside the dilapidated temple, hurried footsteps rapidly approached. It wasn't just one assassin. The Broken Crossbow Battalion had surrounded them.

Zhao Qiyan pulled the soft sword from her left shoulder and threw it to the ground. The skin around the wound had already begun to turn black. The poison was spreading.

He scooped up the fox fur coat from the ground and held Nian'an tightly to his chest.

"Bang!"

Zhao Qiyan crashed headfirst into the rotten wooden wall on the side of the dilapidated temple. The planks shattered, and he tumbled out into the swirling snowstorm outside, still clutching the child. Deep in the dense forest, it was pitch black; only the howling wind could be heard.

At the same time, in the capital city, at the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

The floor heater was scalding hot, but the inside of the hall was as cold as an ice cellar.

Pei Zhihui, dressed in a black cloak, stood before the imperial desk. The desk was piled high with memorials, and the imperial seal was placed neatly in the center.

Below, the six ministers and three Grand Secretaries of the Cabinet knelt on the ground.

"Your Highness the Regent!" The Grand Secretary kowtowed heavily, his forehead hitting the ground with a dull thud. "The new emperor's enthronement ceremony is imminent, and the various vassal kings are stirring with ambition. The remnants of Prince Shou's faction have not been eliminated, the nine gates of the capital are sealed, and the people are filled with fear. The country cannot be without a ruler for a single day, and the overall situation cannot be without a leader for a single day!"

"We beg the Regent to take charge!" the ministers shouted in unison.

Pei Zhihui looked down at the group of people. His face was deathly pale, and his eyes were bloodshot. For the past three days, he had not closed his eyes or eaten, and was only kept alive by ginseng.

"The big picture?" Pei Zhihui chuckled softly, his voice hoarse like sandpaper rubbing.

He suddenly reached out and grabbed the edge of the golden nanmu dragon table, which symbolized the highest power in the world.

"Bang—Boom!"

With a loud crash, he forcefully overturned the heavy dragon-patterned table to the ground.

Memorials, writing brushes, and inkstones were scattered all over the floor. The imperial seal, a symbol of imperial power, rolled down the steps, chipping off a corner.

The courtiers were horrified and their breath caught in their throats.

"My daughter's whereabouts are unknown." Pei Zhihui descended the steps, his black cloak billowing behind him like ink-black clouds. He stepped over the memorials, walking step by step to the Grand Secretary. "You're here to discuss the big picture with me?"

He bent down, grabbed the old Grand Tutor by the collar, and lifted the elderly minister, who was over sixty years old, up.

"Listen carefully." Pei Zhihui's voice was so cold it lacked any warmth. "This entire empire of Dasheng is not worth a single hair on my daughter's head."

He released his grip, and the old tutor collapsed to the ground.

Pei Zhihui strode out of the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Outside the hall, Pei An waited, leading a black horse. Three thousand elite cavalry of the Northern Garrison stood in formation in the square, completely silent.

Pei Zhihui mounted his horse, suppressing the metallic taste rising in his throat.

"Let's go to Xishan."

The sound of horses' hooves shattered, breaking through the palace gates.

Pei Residence, Main Courtyard Study.

Shen Qiongju sat behind her desk. In front of her were the general ledgers of thirteen merchant houses, and a huge map of the Great Sheng River and Land.

Du Hengniang stood to the side, holding a stack of newly delivered secret letters in her hand.

"Madam," Du Hengniang swallowed, "the eight money shops under Prince Shou's name have begun to reduce their capital. There was unusual activity at the four abandoned iron mines in Jiangnan last night; a large amount of pig iron was loaded onto ships, ready to travel north by water."

Shen Qiongju raised her head. Her eyes were red and swollen, but her gaze was as sharp as a knife.

"Send a message to the Jiangnan General Chamber of Commerce." Shen Qiongju grabbed a vermilion brush and drew a blood-red X on the canal node on the map. "Dump the market. Sell all the pig iron on the market at 30% below market price. I want to turn the iron in Prince Shou's hands into a pile of unsellable scrap iron."

"Yes."

"And another thing," Shen Qiongju said rapidly without pausing, "we'll gather all the cash and buy up all the unprocessed rice and wound medicine in the markets of Jiangnan and Huguang. Not a single grain of rice or a single packet of medicine will be left behind. Doesn't Prince Shou want to raise a private army? I'll make his men fight on empty stomachs and bleeding profusely."

Du Hengniang's heart skipped a beat. This was a self-destructive strategy that would hurt the enemy a thousand while also inflicting eight hundred casualties on herself. The entire foundation of the thirteen merchant guilds over the past ten years had been poured into it.

"Madam, this will drain the business of its resources."

"Empty my hands, fine!" Shen Qiongju slammed her vermilion pen on the table, breaking the handle. "I only want my daughter! Go and do it!"

Halfway up West Mountain, there is an abandoned ancient temple.

The snowstorm had not stopped. Three thousand elite Zhenbei Army soldiers surrounded the entire mountaintop, making it impossible to move. Torches formed a sea of ​​fire, illuminating the night as if it were daytime.

Pei Zhihui dismounted. He did not put on a raincoat, letting the snowflakes fall on his black cloak.

He entered the dilapidated temple.

The temple was in complete disarray. The bonfire beneath the altar had gone out, leaving only a pile of still-warm ashes. Beside the ashes lay the corpse of a suicide warrior.

Pei An squatted down beside the corpse to examine it, then looked up and said, "Master, it was a member of the Broken Crossbow Battalion. He was stabbed in the throat, killed instantly. The blade is chipped, a mark left by the standard short sword of the Northern Garrison."

Pei Zhihui walked to the pool of blood that had not yet completely congealed. Black, poisonous blood splattered onto the wall in a spray-like pattern.

"Zhao Qiyan is injured." Pei Zhihui stared at the pool of black blood, his eyes sinister. He knew the poison on the soft sword all too well. Without the antidote, she would surely die within twelve hours.

He turned his head and looked at the broken wooden wall. On the snow outside the wall, there was a series of messy and very deep footprints that stretched into the depths of the dense forest.

"Release the dogs," Pei Zhihui ordered.

A dozen or so specially trained tracking dogs were brought up. They sniffed the black blood on the ground, barked wildly, and charged toward the broken wooden wall.

"Light the fire and search the mountain. Search inch by inch." Pei Zhihui drew his long sword from his waist and stepped out of the wooden wall first.

Deep in the dense forest.

Zhao Qiyan trudged through the snow, her steps uneven.

The wound on his left shoulder had completely gone numb. The toxins flowed through his body via his bloodstream, and he felt as if half of his body had fallen into an ice cave, so cold that his teeth were chattering.

My vision began to blur, and the trees in front of me turned into overlapping black shadows.

"Wow--"

Nian'an burst into tears in her arms. Although the fox fur coat blocked the wind, it couldn't keep out the bone-chilling cold.

Zhao Qiyan stumbled and fell heavily onto the snow. He clutched his chest, landing on his back, and smashed a dead tree in half.

He couldn't get up.

Ahead stood a huge, withered tree, its trunk hollowed out into a hole about half a person's height. Zhao Qiyan bit her tongue, using the slight stinging pain to clear her head, and scrambled into the hole.

The tree hollow could barely block the wind.

Nian'an was still crying. Her face was red from the cold, and her little hands were icy.

Zhao Qiyan leaned against the wall of the tree hollow, panting heavily. He glanced at his blackened left hand and knew he wouldn't last much longer.

With trembling hands, he unbuttoned his robe, which was stained with blood and mud.

"Don't cry... Xiao Nian'an, don't cry." Zhao Qiyan's voice was as weak as a whisper.

He pulled Nian'an out of the fox fur coat and pressed her directly against his warm chest, then wrapped the two of them tightly together with the fox fur coat and his clothes.

Skin to skin. Zhao Qiyan used her last bit of body heat to warm the child.

Nian'an felt the warmth, and her crying gradually subsided. She nuzzled her little head against Zhao Qiyan's chest, found a comfortable position, and actually closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Looking at her peaceful sleeping face, Zhao Qiyan forced a smile that was more like a grimace.

He leaned against the tree trunk, humming a nursery rhyme he didn't recognize. The tune was off-key, and the sound was broken and intermittent, yet it conveyed a strange tenderness.

"The moon is bright, the wind is still, and the leaves are shading the window..."

Suddenly, a dog barked outside the tree hole.

Immediately afterwards, a large number of torches lit up. The red light of the torches shone through the gaps in the tree hollow, illuminating Zhao Qiyan's pale face.

Footsteps crunched on the snow, making a teeth-grinding sound.

"There's blood here! Search carefully!"

Zhao Qiyan froze. Through the gaps in the trees, he saw soldiers in Zhenbei Army armor outside, and the large black flag with red characters fluttering in the wind.

Pei Zhihui has arrived.

Zhao Qiyan's heart sank to the bottom.

The information gap became fatal at this moment. Zhao Qiyan had no idea that Pei Zhihui was willing to give up the throne for his daughter. In his eyes, Pei Zhihui was a cold-blooded and ruthless powerful minister.

He believed that Pei Zhihui had led troops to search the mountain to kill him and silence him. How could someone who could even use his own brother allow his daughter to fall into enemy hands and become a weakness?

Once discovered, he will surely die. Nian'an will also die in the chaos of battle.

The firelight grew closer. The barking of the military dogs was almost ten paces away from the tree hollow.

Zhao Qiyan held her breath.

Nian'an in my arms suddenly stirred, as if she had been awakened by the barking of the dogs outside, and opened her mouth to cry.

Zhao Qiyan suddenly raised her right hand and covered Nian An's mouth tightly.

You must not make a sound. You absolutely must not make a sound.

Nian'an's breathing was blocked, her little face turned red, and she struggled violently in Zhao Qiyan's arms.

Zhao Qiyan's heart was bleeding. His hands were trembling violently, but he dared not loosen his grip even slightly.

Outside the tree hole.

Pei Zhihui, holding a torch, stopped on the snow less than ten steps from the tree hole.

The military dogs circled around, having lost their target. The heavy snow had masked the scent.

Pei Zhihui's gaze swept over the huge withered tree.

As long as he walks over, as long as he looks down.

"Master!" Pei An ran over from the other side, "Traces of the Broken Crossbow Camp have been found at the foot of the eastern cliff! There are hoofprints!"

Pei Zhihui withdrew his gaze.

"Chase."

The firelight gradually faded into the distance. Footsteps disappeared into the wind and snow.

Inside the tree hollow, Zhao Qiyan suddenly released her grip.

Nian'an gasped for breath and then burst into tears.

Zhao Qiyan hugged her tightly, her tears mixed with the blood on her face falling onto the fox fur coat.