Chapter 125: Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five

At that sound, several short arrows shot in from outside.

With a few thuds, every guard Shang Xiao Hui had brought in was struck by arrows and fell to the ground.

Shang Xiao Hui spun sharply toward the doorway, eyes wide in disbelief.

"You're actually not dead?!"

Shang Xiaomin, dressed in a brocade robe and draped in a black greatcloak, walked into the sleeping hall under the protection of his Personal Guards.

He gave Shang Xiao Hui a faint smile.

"Second Brother sent men to kill me in the dead of night—did you really think I couldn't pull off a deception to cross the sea and a golden cicada shedding its shell?"

He knew the second brother would never be willing to leave Ducheng, so over the past few days he had stayed on guard. He had found a guard whose build was similar to his own and had that guard wear a human-skin mask to impersonate him.

He himself had been hiding in the shadows all along.

"Second Brother really is ruthless—to actually want to kill me."

Shang Xiaomin spoke these words with a wounded look, but his feet never stopped, drawing him slowly closer.

Behind him, the guards escorted Gu Tangping in—disheveled from head to toe, his face still marked with bruises.

"Second Imperial Prince!"

Gu Tangping struggled hard twice, but it was useless; he could only look to Shang Xiao Hui as if begging for help.

Shang Xiao Hui's jaw tightened. He glanced at Gu Tangping with a dark expression, and his grip on the sword hilt tightened.

Can't even watch a door properly!

Useless trash!

"Second Brother, I advise you to give up right now. The Imperial Guard and Bingma Si men are all outside. With only your few hundred guards, how long do you think you can hold out?"

Watching Shang Xiaomin draw closer and closer, Shang Xiao Hui drew his Long Sword and pointed it at the unconscious old National Lord.

"Don't come any closer!"

Seeing this, Shang Xiaomin could only stop in his tracks.

In truth, he didn't care at all whether that old fellow lived or died.

The best case would be for the second brother to cut the old thing down with one sword, then he could use the banners of quelling a rebellion and avenging Father Emperor to deal with the second brother.

Unfortunately, there were too many eyes here, so he still had to put on a show.

Otherwise, word getting out would hurt his reputation.

Thinking this, Shang Xiaomin hurriedly stepped back to soothe him.

"Alright, alright, alright, I'm not coming closer. Second Brother, calm down—please don't hurt Father Emperor."

Shang Xiao Hui watched his movements coldly, the corner of his mouth curling into a mocking, sneering smile.

Fifth Brother really does love putting on an act!

"So fake!"

But thanks to his hypocrisy, he might just get a sliver of a chance to survive.

Hearing that, a dark look flashed through Shang Xiaomin's eyes as he stared hard at him.

"Cough, cough…"

Perhaps the golden needles had taken effect—the old National Lord slowly regained consciousness.

The moment he opened his eyes and saw the Long Sword hovering before him, his heart jolted. He was about to speak, but the moment he opened his mouth a fit of heart-wrenching coughing broke out.

"Cough, cough, cough!"

The old National Lord struggled to sit up, covering his mouth with a bright-yellow handkerchief, coughing as he slapped the bed and questioned loudly.

"Second son, what are you doing? Have you lost your mind?!"

"What am I doing?"

Shang Xiao Hui looked at him expressionlessly.

"Look at this scene, Father Emperor—shouldn't it be very familiar to you?"

He went on.

"It's only been a few years—have you already forgotten? Or do you yourself feel this throne was won in a less-than-honorable way, so you deliberately buried the events of that year?"

"You—"

The old National Lord was so angry his chest heaved violently; a mouthful of blood surged up, and he swallowed it back down, raising a trembling finger to point at him.

"You unfilial son, hold your tongue!"

Shang Xiao Hui continued on regardless.

"You may not wish to remember, but your son remembers it very clearly. You said that what one wants, one must fight desperately to seize, to snatch!"

He pointed outside at the guards fighting the Imperial Guard.

"Your son is doing this now precisely because I listened to your words—I'm learning from you."

"Twisting words to suit yourself!"

The old National Lord slammed the bed hard several times.

"Is patricide and rebellion something I taught you too?!"

"What do you think?!"

Shang Xiao Hui shouted.

"In today's situation, does Father Emperor bear no blame at all?!"

Seeing his attention diverted, Shang Xiaomin gave a look to the guards at his side and to Xiao You, the Left Commander of the Imperial Guard.

The few of them lightened their steps, slowly moving behind the Second Prince, drawing closer in secret.

Shang Xiao Hui was highly agitated, his voice grief and indignation, with a faint, almost imperceptible, indescribable note of grievance beneath it.

"All of this—wasn't it caused by you?!"

"It was you who kept delaying the appointment of the Crown Prince, it was your indecision, it was you wavering between me and the fifth, making me always feel I still had a chance!"

Yet every time he saw hope, he was dealt a crushing blow, left in despair.

As he spoke, Shang Xiao Hui's eyes were bloodshot, the veins at his temples bulging, like a desperate yet furious beast letting out one final roar at the moment of death.

"Reaching this point today — you forced me into it!"

So, this is what he had actually been thinking?

Seeing him like this, the old National Lord opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but his emotions surged too violently, and another mouthful of blood rushed up. This time, he could no longer hold it back.

"Puh—!"

A mouthful of blood spurted straight out, and then he collapsed.

"Father Emperor!"

"Father Emperor, are you alright?"

Shang Xiao Hui instinctively bent down to check on him.

But the moment the sword tip shifted slightly, Qingmu and the Imperial Guard's Left Commander Xiao You, who had quietly come up on his two flanks, struck simultaneously.

One struck straight at his back, the other reached for his weapon.

Shang Xiao Hui had already bent down, so he could only take Qingmu's kick head-on. One step passive, every step passive — and on top of that, he was surrounded by multiple attackers.

He was defeated very quickly.

"Stop!"

The old National Lord forced himself up and called out, reaching out.

"Lock this unfilial son in the Heavenly Prison. Without my command, no one is allowed to visit him!"

Hearing this, Shang Xiaomin's hands instantly tightened, fists clenched hard.

No one allowed to visit?

Hah!

At this point, the second son has already forced the palace and committed rebellion!

Is he still dead set on protecting this son?!

"Cough, cough, cough!"

After saying this, the old National Lord could hold on no longer and collapsed back onto the bed.

"National Lord!"

Steward Zhao scrambled on hands and knees to the bedside, then turned and shouted at the imperial physicians cowering in the corner.

"Imperial physicians!"

"Imperial Physician Feng, come quickly!"

That voice brought Shang Xiaomin back to his senses. He concealed the complicated emotions in his eyes, and an expression of worry instantly settled on his face as he hurried toward the old National Lord.

"Father Emperor! Are you alright!"

The imperial physicians hurriedly crowded around, while Shang Xiao Hui, being escorted out by the Imperial Guard, paused at the great hall's entrance and turned to look deeply at that aged, frail figure surrounded by everyone.

But he quickly looked away and continued walking out. Only at the moment of turning, his eyes grew moist.

The imperial physicians exhausted every means at their disposal, and finally managed to bring the old National Lord back to consciousness.

"Cough, cough."

The old National Lord was helped by Steward Zhao to lean against a soft pillow, and waved his hand at everyone.

"The fifth stays. Everyone else, leave."

When only the two father and son remained in the sleeping hall, the old National Lord's aged yet still sharp and piercing gaze scrutinized this fifth son before him.

"You truly have plenty of tricks, and you're ruthless enough."

Shang Xiaomin lowered his head slightly.

"Father Emperor's words — this son truly cannot understand. May Father Emperor make it clear."

The old National Lord gave a cold snort of laughter.

"I can write the Edict of Succession right now. You don't want to Ascend the Throne without legitimacy and leave people something to talk about, do you?"

Hearing this, Shang Xiaomin's breathing quickened for a few seconds.

"But I have two conditions."

"First, send the second son back to his fief, to live out his life as an idle, wealthy King/Prince."

Hearing this, Shang Xiaomin's hand beneath his sleeve clenched so tightly his fingernails dug into his palm.

"As for the second…"

The old National Lord continued, his tone firm and brooking no argument.

"The Cheng Family people by your side cannot stay!"