The Mirror of Startling Beauty: Her courtiers are everywhere

Shen Cuo stood outside the Hall of Longevity, gazing at the tightly closed hall door.

The palace gates were heavy and lacquered in vermilion and gilded.

At this moment, it stands like an insurmountable boundary marker, sharply separating the human world from the abyss.

He dared not come forward.

Tonight, Emperor Shengchen is eerily silent.

They didn't even keep him by their side.

One person remained at the Hall of Eternal Life.

There were no candles inside the hall.

Only a sliver of moonlight peeked through the cracks in the carved window frame, falling on the figure in black, like a silent memorial.

Tangxi sat by the couch at night.

That was her couch.

He had been here countless times.

He watched her curl up in the blankets, sleeping soundly; he watched her secretly open her eyes and smile at him; he watched her linger in bed, unwilling to get up, and acting coquettishly, wanting a hug.

Those images are still vivid in my mind, but the bed is now empty.

Only the sword of night-weaving lay across his lap.

The sword's blade was dark, like a frozen river at night, deep and serene.

He held the sword.

They held it very tightly.

He tightened his grip until his knuckles turned white, until his veins bulged, until the chill seeped from the sword into his palm, and then spread from his palm all the way to his heart.

But that chill was nothing compared to the coldness in my heart.

He recalled Shen Cuo's words from earlier that day.

"Your Majesty, the Hidden Dragon Guards have searched the area within a hundred miles outside the city, but have not found a single clue."

"As for Young Master Feng... we also found nothing."

"Shan Hai refused to provide intelligence."

"The Seventh Pavilion—also refused to get involved."

"We can't find the mastermind behind this."

The two largest intelligence agencies in the underworld both suffered defeats.

The men he sent out, his sharpest blade, the inescapable net he laid with the full power of Beichen—

The mastermind behind it all could not be found.

"Zhizhi...Brother, aren't you useless?"

Tang Xi closed her eyes in anguish.

"Twice—I couldn't protect you."

"What kind of imperial star am I?"

"What use is this imperial star if it can't protect you or illuminate your path?"

"What's the use...?"

In the darkness, Tang Xixue's voice seemed to still echo in his ears, softly and sweetly calling his name:

"Brother Emperor—"

He suddenly opened his eyes.

"Weave it!"

"Zhizhi, I miss you so much."

The moonlight continued to fall coldly.

The hall was empty; there was nothing inside.

He was all alone.

Only the sword she forged herself rested on her lap.

"Zhizhi...the human world is so cold without you..."

He lowered his eyes, his eyes reddening, and buried his face in his palms.

"This dragon throne is too cold. I didn't feel it when you were here. Now that you're gone, I know what it means to be chilled to the bone."

The once arrogant and unyielding Emperor Shengchen was now hiding alone in the Hall of Longevity, weeping uncontrollably.

My shoulders are trembling.

The hand holding the sword was trembling.

The trembling started from his fingertips and spread throughout his body, causing him to shudder slightly.

Like a string that had been stretched for too long, it finally snapped.

Tears fell silently, one by one.

Only when no one is watching can he, the emperor, secretly grieve and quietly feel vulnerable.

"ha."

Suddenly, he laughed.

Her eyes were filled with tears yet she smiled.

Yet it carried a hint of madness.

"It's alright."

He spoke, his voice so low it was as if he were talking to himself, as if he were speaking to himself.

"At least, there's still Yan Ci's Heavenly Secrets Pavilion."

He paused, his gaze darkening as if into a bottomless abyss.

"I can wait."

He tightened his grip on the sword.

The Night Weaver Sword sensed its master's emotions, and its blade trembled slightly, emitting a faint hum.

It was as if she was echoing him.

Outside the window, the moonlight gradually sank in the west.

The long night is coming to an end.

But his night had only just begun.

"What if it's dawn? Without you, it's still dark even at dawn."

He held the sword and sat on the empty couch.

Not moving at all.

Like a lonely figure left behind in the world, never to return.

"Zhizhi, wait for me a little longer. After I kill them all, I will come to be with you."

"What they owe Zhizhi, I will make them repay a hundredfold, a thousandfold."

We're just waiting for the moment when the real culprit is found.

He then took matters into his own hands.

To question the heavens with a sword.

Blood for blood.

The figure in black stood up.

He gripped the Night-Weaving Sword, gazing at the cold moon outside the window, each word seemingly etched into his very bones:

"Apostle of Heavenly Path—"

"Are you prepared to die a horrible death?"

His black robes fluttered like wings that could topple the sky as he resolutely stepped out of the palace gates of the Hall of Longevity.

"Pass down the order: From this day forward, the Northern Star Empire and the Heavenly Punishment Hall will be locked in a life-or-death struggle."

"Anyone or any force that dares to protect the Heavenly Punishment Hall will be considered an accomplice. They will be punished along with the rest of the population."

"A bounty has been issued to all of China: Anyone who provides clues about the Heavenly Punishment Hall will be rewarded with a thousand gold pieces and the title of Marquis of Ten Thousand Households."

"When the Emperor is enraged, the mountains and rivers change color. I will show them what true divine might is."

Outside the palace, in the snow-covered hut at night.

The snowy night was late, and all was quiet.

All that remained between heaven and earth was a vast expanse of white and an endless chill.

Pei Yanchuan, dressed in white, stood quietly at the door.

He was carrying a lamp in his hand.

The light was faint, a single orange glow flickering uncertainly in the cold night, yet it shone persistently, like the only hope that refused to be extinguished in the deep darkness.

He just stood there.

From the depths of night until the moon began to set.

From the waning moon until the last watch of the night.

He is waiting.

Waiting for His Highness to return home.

"Young Master Pei, it's a cold winter night with snow. You should go back inside and wait for His Highness!"

Li Shuang spoke up.

"Your Highness adores the young master. Wouldn't she be heartbroken if you caught a chill?"

"I'm not cold, I'll wait here for Your Highness to come home."

Pei Yanchuan shook his head.

The wind was cold, making his robes flutter and dance like butterflies.

The chill seeped in through the collar, through the cuffs, and into every inch of skin, making one's fingertips numb and bones stiff.

But he didn't move.

I just gazed at the end of the long street, at that distant place swallowed by the night.

The lamp swayed slightly in his hand. In the lamplight, his face was pale and delicate, but there was no impatience or anxiety in his eyes.

Only obedient.

All we can do is wait.

He just wanted the princess to see him the moment she returned home.

"It's so late, Your Highness, why haven't you returned yet?"

He murmured softly, his voice carried away by the wind and scattered into the vast night, without echo.

"Will she... come back tonight?"

The voice was very soft, so soft it seemed to be spoken to oneself.

"Tap, tap—"

Suddenly, the sound of horses' hooves approached from afar.

The sound was exceptionally clear in the silent snowy night, breaking the silence of the long street and shattering the moonlight scattered on the ground.

"Has His Highness returned?"

He suddenly looked up, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

The surprise was so faint, almost imperceptible, yet it truly shone for a moment, like a spark suddenly bursting forth from dead ashes.

But the light only lasted for a moment before dimming again.

It is not His Highness's carriage.

Only one horse returned alone.

There was no one on the horse's back.

The horse recognized him, slowed down, stopped in front of him, exhaled a puff of white air, and nuzzled his shoulder with its head.

"Why are you the only one who came back?"

He raised his hand and gently stroked the horse's mane, his movements light and soft.

Then, he lowered his eyes and looked back at the end of the long street.

The lamp in his hand was still lit.

"Your Highness, she must be right behind us, right?"