The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Tang Xiye's gaze fell on the Reincarnation Pendant.

His pupils contracted slightly.

He recognized it.

"ha."

"What a magnificent Heavenly Punishment Hall."

He spoke slowly and deliberately, each word and sentence like carving a knife into stone.

Every stroke is so deep it reveals the bone; every line is stained with blood.

"In the name of reincarnation, we uphold the justice of Heaven."

The Heavenly Punishment Hall never considered itself a cult.

They see themselves as embodiments of justice.

Acting on behalf of Heaven to commit calamities.

To act on behalf of Heaven.

Cleanse those who defy orders.

To maintain the balance between heaven and earth.

In their eyes, this is the noblest cause, the most sacred mission, and the most inviolable faith.

The word "reincarnation" is so grand and majestic.

That's not killing, that's sending people into the cycle of reincarnation.

That's not doing evil; it's maintaining the natural order.

That was not a bloodthirsty executioner, but a person who held a reincarnation pendant and respectfully sent off those who defied fate to their next life.

But whose life is being taken away in their cycle of reincarnation?

Whose way of heaven do they uphold?

Tangxi Ye suddenly remembered Tangxi Xue's face.

Thinking back to those spring days with their willows and painted bridges, she was like a soft, fluffy little tail; wherever he went, she would stumble and run after him.

She was so small, a tiny little thing, and not very steady on her feet, yet she insisted on stepping on his shadow, refusing to fall behind him.

In the deep of night, with the moon shrouded in cold snow, she nestled beside him, curled up into a small ball, like a little animal seeking warmth, like a cloud that had fallen to earth and refused to leave.

At that time, she was as soft and delicate as jade, as fragile as glass, and always hovered on the brink of life and death.

Every time she woke up from her coma, the first thing she did was frantically look around. Only when she saw him beside her would her brimming eyes calm down.

Her tiny fingers groped and tugged at the hem of his clothes.

It was as if I had grabbed onto the only thing I could rely on in the world.

She leaned against him, her breath soft and shallow, like a petal falling onto the water.

That year, the white dew turned to frost, and she was sick for more than half a month before her fever finally subsided.

She leaned against the headboard, her small face, streaked with tears, still showing signs of weakness from her illness.

But as he approached, she suddenly smiled at him, her eyes crinkling.

That smile was as radiant as the morning sun, like a newly blossoming crabapple, glistening with morning dew.

In that instant, he felt as if the whole world had cleared up and the moon had shone brightly.

He remembered every time she called him "Royal Brother".

The voice was soft and gentle.

When she's being affectionate, she calls him "Brother Xuan Yin".

She nestled in his arms, calling his name over and over again, as if calling his name made her fearless.

The sound was like a wind chime shattering, or like pearls falling onto a jade plate, stirring his heart and making him never tire of hearing it.

He poured far too much affection into her.

There were so many that he couldn't count them all, so many that he could never take them all back.

His love for her lasted until death.

Time flies by unnoticed, and youth is wasted in vain.

Those innocent childhood memories unfolded in his heart like a series of ink paintings.

She was the apple of his eye, the cinnabar of his heart, and the moonlight he most wanted to protect in this vast world.

At that time, he thought he would protect her for the rest of his life.

May she always be radiant.

Time flies, and years pass by.

She no longer followed him closely, no longer tugged at his sleeves, and was no longer just his personal knitting companion.

He wanted to get closer, but he adhered to the boundaries of his brotherhood, suppressing all those feelings deep in his heart, turning them into a wound he dared never touch.

But now, she doesn't even have the chance to tug at his sleeve anymore.

"My Zhizhi is just alive, how is that an eyesore to them?"

She is merely alive.

I just want to live a good life in this mortal world.

How did it offend those people?

How come... even living isn't allowed?

A sweet, metallic taste surged in my chest.

That metallic sweetness surged up from the depths of my heart, up to my throat, up to my lips and teeth, like a pool of blood-red tide, threatening to engulf everything.

He pressed it down.

It wasn't suppressed.

"puff--"

A mouthful of blood spurted out, splashing onto the scorched earth and spreading into a shocking red.

"His Majesty!"

Feng Yi was shocked and quickly stepped forward to help him up.

Tang Xiye raised her hand and stopped him.

The gesture carried an undeniable air of authority.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his lips with his thumb, glanced down at the dark red stain on the back of his hand, and his expression was eerily calm.

But in those eyes that were usually calm and deep, a turbulent undercurrent was surging.

The bright moon, which even he himself dared not desecrate.

He himself couldn't bear to hurt Zhizhi in the slightest.

He carefully nurtured her as she grew up, watching her transform from a soft, chubby little dumpling into the stunning beauty she is today.

She was afraid of the dark, so he placed countless luminous pearls in her palace.

She loved reading medical books, so he searched all over the country and found rare copies one by one.

She disliked being restrained, and he never confined her to the deep palace, allowing her to come and go as she pleased.

She loved desserts, so he had the imperial kitchen prepare them daily so she could have them whenever she wanted.

He never said it. But he gave her the very best.

But those people.

Those people used heavenly fire to burn her to ashes.

How terrified she must have been.

When the heavenly fire fell, was she calling for him?

Are you thinking, "Why hasn't my brother arrived yet?"

Are you waiting for someone who will never come?

How much pain she must be in.

He couldn't imagine the pain of being burned alive.

All he knew was that it must be a thousand times, ten thousand times, more painful than the pain in his heart at that moment.

"I regret it."

He suddenly said.

The voice was very low, so low it was as if the speaker was talking to himself.

It was as low as a sigh about to dissipate.

"I truly regret it."

He preferred to keep his Zhizhi by his side.

He would rather she resent him, blame him, and hate him.

He would rather she ignore him for the rest of her life.

I also don't want to see her disappear from the world like this.

We will no longer leave him with even the slightest bit of wishful thinking or delusion.

His Zhizhi will never come back.

When he realized this, his world collapsed.

That kind of collapse wasn't a loud, booming sound.

Instead, it happens silently.

It was as if someone had ripped something out of his chest, leaving behind an empty, bleeding abyss.

It was as if the world had suddenly lost its color, leaving only endless gray and white.

He stood there, surrounded by kneeling soldiers.

But he felt that he was all alone in the world.

All that remains is that scorched earth, that abruptly ended set of footprints, and that heart that can never be pieced back together.

"Hidden Dragon Guard".

He spoke.

The voice was deep and steady, yet it seemed to contain thunder.

Like a storm brewing.

"Investigate all forces involved in this operation. Anyone involved—"

"Kill without mercy."

Those three words were as cold as the ice of the deepest hell.

It harbors a raging fire powerful enough to incinerate the heavens.

It harbors an overwhelming hatred.

It hides a pain that has nowhere to go.

"Yes, sir!"

The Hidden Dragon Guards obeyed the order and left, their figures disappearing into the night.

They are the sharpest blades of emperors.

The sword is now drawn; I will not return until blood is drawn.

In the distance, dark figures were moving about.

They were those who, upon hearing that Emperor Shengchen had left the palace, intended to take advantage of the chaos.

They lurked in the shadows, like a pack of jackals who had smelled blood, eager to make their move and gain some advantage in the chaos.

Tang Xiye didn't even glance at them.

He simply raised his hand.

The black longsword was drawn, its light spreading out like a bolt of lightning, drawing a cold arc in the moonlight.

When the sword light shone, the world darkened for a moment.

Wherever the sword energy passed, the dark figures didn't even have time to cry out before their heads fell to the ground.

Blood splattered three feet deep.

It dyed the scorched earth red, and it also dyed the moonlight red.

Tang Xi sheathed her sword at night and didn't glance at them once from beginning to end.

His gaze remained fixed on the ruins ravaged by the fire.

There, once stood his weaving.

Tangxi Ye, who is usually known for her benevolence and saintly reputation, is like a sword that has finally been drawn from its sheath at this moment.

Wherever its sharp edge points, no one dares to challenge it.

He still had that refined and otherworldly face, and that upright and dignified figure.

But the undercurrent surging in his eyes made everyone understand at that moment—

Once gods and Buddhas fall into the abyss.

More terrifying than any demon.