Chapter 1925: [Who Is More Ruthless?] (Part 1)

Xue Lingjun was also jerked back to reality by the sharp sound of breaking bones, seeing Dong Bing Tai still clutching the heads of his two sons even in his gruesome death on the spot, Xue Lingjun's phoenix eyes widened in shock. She slowly turned her head to look at the deathly pale Xue Shengjing, pointed at him and said: "It was him… it was him and Li Chen Zhou who conspired to kill my mother, the Empress. Consort Shu Dong killed herself out of guilt, he personally assassinated the Emperor, and then he pinned all the blame on my second royal brother…" Xue Lingjun spoke through tears, feeling that even her most unforgettable night was not as humiliating and painful as this moment. What she said was part truth, part lies; with her intelligence she naturally understood what her second brother wanted her to say.

Back then, Xue Daohong really did die at Xue Daoming's hands; the palace coup in Cien Garden ended with Xue Daohong killed and Xue Shengjing fleeing. As for the so‑called last edict, it was entirely forged by Li Chen Zhou. Xue Lingjun felt her soul had already died; she only wanted to end this as quickly as possible.

She seemed to hear Xue Shengjing angrily cursing her as a lowly person, and at the same time she seemed to hear his triumphant, unrestrained laughter.

After Xue Lingjun finished saying what she had to say, her consciousness had completely left the scene. She didn't know what she should do, nor where she should go. No one knew who first dropped to their knees, shouting "Long live!"; then, one by one, all the civil and military officials knelt down.

Prince Yan Xue Shengjing, unanimously recommended by the civil and military officials, finally sat upon the long‑awaited Dragon Throne with a hypocritical smile. The Tianhe Dian was littered with bodies strewn every which way, blood flowing across the floor, yet this did not affect his mood in the slightest. He smiled at the scene before him, reveling in the pleasure of being bowed to by the ministers.

Although Xue Lingjun was present, she moved like a walking corpse. After the slaughter, revelry began again. She did not know whether Da Yong could endure this turmoil, nor how much time had passed, until someone came to guide her and bring her to Xue Shengjing's side.

This was a separate chamber; besides the siblings, no one else was inside. Xue Shengjing personally lit the candles. Only then did Xue Lingjun realize that, in her dazed state, a whole day had passed. After she had accused Xue Daoming and Li Chen Zhou, she wondered what had happened—she could no longer remember anything at all.

After lighting the candles, Xue Shengjing gazed at the flickering orange‑yellow flames and smiled. "Do you still remember how I used to sneak you out of the palace to watch the lanterns when we were children?"

Xue Lingjun pressed her lips together. Back then she had been simple and happy, and in her heart her second brother had been warm and close. But times had changed, everything was different now. She slowly shook her head. "Too much time has passed; I don't remember at all."

"Even if you don't remember, I do. After the Lantern Festival that year, I never saw your genuine smile again. I never understood what had happened—until now."

"Shut up!" Xue Lingjun screamed with all her might, a startling shriek.

Xue Shengjing was also startled by her scream, froze for a moment, then a glimmer of sympathy appeared in his small eyes. He sighed, sat down at the table, and looked at his much‑withered sister, feeling as if she had aged greatly in just one day.

Xue Lingjun seemed frightened by her own outburst; after a while she slowly knelt down.

Xue Shengjing's body leaned forward slightly, as if he were about to help her up, but he quickly dismissed the idea and spoke softly: "Why are you doing this again?"

Xue Lingjun said: "Please, Your Majesty, grant me death!"

Xue Shengjing replied: "I am not the Emperor yet, and even if I one day ascend the throne, you need not kneel before me—in my heart you will always be my true‑blood sister."

Xue Lingjun said: "In this world I have no relatives left; the Emperor is the same."

Xue Shengjing stared for a moment, then slowly shook his head. "Actually, I still have a daughter."

"You will lose her sooner or later."

Xue Lingjun's words displeased Xue Shengjing; he furrowed his brows, turned his face toward the flickering candlelight, and said: "In fact, among us three siblings, Mother always favored the eldest brother most. As the saying goes, 'Knowing a child is knowing the mother.' She has always understood my mind and ability."

Xue Lingjun said: "So she saw that you would not be content to remain beneath others."

"No! I never wanted to be emperor, nor did I ever want to contend with the eldest brother for anything!" Xue Shengjing's voice began to rise with agitation. This matter is an unbridgeable chasm for him; whenever it is brought up, he becomes uncontrollably agitated.

"They forced me! To prevent me from competing with him for the throne, my elder brother actually arranged a singer for me. When I fell for that singer, she returned my feelings and bore me children. Then he secretly reported the affair to our father, making the Father Emperor utterly disappointed in me."

Xue Lingjun sighed. "If you truly loved your wife and children, why wouldn't you dare to go with them? You're not afraid of death; you're reluctant to give up that fame and profit, reluctant to relinquish Da Yong's imperial authority."

Xue Shengjing stared coldly at Xue Lingjun, his hands gripping the chair's armrests tightly as he struggled to contain his anger.

Xue Lingjun, however, rose to her feet: "In truth, what you care about most has always been the throne. You've merely been deceiving yourself, constantly telling yourself that you are a victim, a good husband, a good father, that the elder brother pushed you to this point, that Father Emperor and Mother Empress forced you here—in reality, everything is just an excuse for your ambition to seize power."

Xue Shengjing's eyes turned icy cold, and he suddenly let out a harsh, grating laugh: "I never expected you to still be defending that beast. It seems what he did to you back then was not forced."

Xue Lingjun felt as if a whip had lashed her deep inside; she clenched her teeth so hard that her lips split, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth.

Xue Shengjing felt no pity; instead, a sense of vengeful satisfaction rose within him. He whispered: "Mother Empress surely knows about this, yet she not only failed to give you justice, she actually urged you to endure humiliation and bear the burden—'family disgrace should not be aired,' right?"

Xue Lingjun stared at Xue Shengjing, hatred filling her gaze, and said: "Human nature can be this ugly: 'Why don't you kill me?'"

Xue Shengjing said: "Although Da Yong's territory is vast enough to hold millions, it can accommodate only one emperor. You and I are merely the family's discards."

Xue Lingjun gave a bitter smile. "You've already gotten what you wanted—why keep saying these things to me? To you I am now utterly useless."

Xue Shengjing nodded, indicating his agreement with her words. After a moment's thought, he said softly: "Do you know where the string of prayer beads Mother Empress used when chanting sutras is kept?"

Xue Lingjun took off the single prayer bead hanging from her neck, handed it to him, and said: "I have always worn this one close to my body; the remaining one hundred and seven beads are all at my residence, hidden inside the screen decorated with the phoenix‑perch‑paulownia motif."

Xue Shengjing took the bead; the light in his small eyes grew brighter.

Xue Lingjun said: "Can you grant me death?"

Xue Shengjing's short, thick fingers rubbed the bead, and he said softly: "Wait until I have found all the beads."

"Will I still have a chance to see Li Chen Zhou one last time before I die?"

Xue Shengjing's hand suddenly stopped moving; he looked at Xue Lingjun, puzzled, and after a while said: "He is at the Marquis of Jingguo's mansion."

"As long as the green hills remain, I need not fear running out of firewood." When Li Chen Zhou successfully escaped the palace, that was his thinking. He believed that at least Da Yong's southern navy was still under his control, and that if he could flee Yongdu he would have a chance to make a comeback. But when he felt his entire right side grow numb and lose sensation, he realized he had been poisoned—no wonder the one‑armed man and Shi Kuang did not pursue him. Li Chen Zhou's steps grew slower and slower. The Sword Palace's Qiu Xian Guang led his disciples in pursuit, though they did not rush to close in, they followed him all the way to the Li Clan Ancestral Hall inside the Marquis of Jingguo's mansion.

The poison began to take effect. Li Chen Zhou gazed at the spirit tablets inside the ancestral hall but dared not enter; he simply stood in the courtyard, letting the wind and snow lash him. He felt numbness spread through his whole body, strength and warmth being drawn away bit by bit. Finally his legs could no longer support his weight, and he knelt in the snow, facing the ancestral hall. The light was dim, he could not see the ancestors' tablets, yet the names of his forebears flashed in his mind.

All was lost for want of a nail. If he had been a little more decisive, a little more ruthless back then, perhaps the outcome would not be what it is now. Li Chen Zhou was unwilling to accept this; he did not want to die just like that, but reality offered him no chance.

In his mind rose the image of his kind‑hearted father, who had endured humiliation and bore the burden, leaving home for decades only to end up in such a miserable state. Dakang had already imprisoned him, and Da Yong had branded him a traitor. Loyal to the country, yet he was never given a fair hearing; in Da Yong's history, his father may forever bear this shame.

He had once planned to fight with his back to the water, to overturn heaven and earth, believing that only by grasping Da Yong's power could he save his father. Yet all his painstaking efforts were ruined in Xue Daoming's hands; now he had no chance left, and neither did his father.

Li Chen Zhou's vision grew blurry; he seemed to see a pale figure approaching, wearing thin clothes, a deathly pale face—his heart lurched, almost crying out—but the white garments suddenly turned blood‑red in his sight.

Li Chen Zhou's breathing became rapid and heavy; he shook his head hard, trying desperately to make out what lay before him, but his vision only grew more blurred.

The sound of footsteps warned him that someone had arrived before him; he caught a familiar scent—Xue Lingjun? How could she have the nerve to face him? Was she coming to mock him, to laugh at his plight, or to kill him outright and prove her loyalty to the court? Li Chen Zhou gripped his dagger tightly.

Xue Lingjun gazed at the heroic Li Chen Zhou at his end, and a profound, indescribable sorrow welled up inside her—she had been the one who forged him into a true man, and also the one who drove him into an abyss from which there is no return.

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