Chapter 117: You Talked the Emperor to Death!

Pulling back the curtain, a girl in a green dress looked at Fang Can’s face and asked:

“How’s it going? You don’t look happy—did you get hurt?”

“No injury, just disgusted. Lost the fight and still begged for mercy, playing the victim—ruined my mood,” Fang Can sneered.

“This… isn’t it reasonable to beg after losing?” Ye Qingshi whispered.

“I just feel sorry for the kind—they’re all alike—but I doubt that Wan guy would beg; it was just his followers acting on their own.”

Fang Can said: “Then if I lost, wouldn’t it be your father and the others kneeling before me begging?”

At that moment, Ye Qingshi realized—he’d been thinking about this. She couldn’t help smiling: “Then don’t lose.”

“Easy for you to say. There are so many strong ones, but I can’t afford to lose even once,” Fang Can muttered.

“Hey!” Suddenly, Ye Qingshi’s eyes widened: “You’re not going to have your Dao heart shattered, are you? I’ve heard rumors—after a martial artist loses his way, his realm regresses.”

“Shoo, shoo,” Fang Can waved dismissively. “Just venting. It’s not that serious—just boring, that’s all.”

“I occasionally listen to NetEase Cloud Music. Otherwise, wouldn’t I be just like your world’s martial arts lunatics?”

“And this is nothing yet.”

Fang Can tapped his fingers lightly on the wooden table: “The more enemies coming, the better. Best if the Emperor drops dead suddenly, pulls me into the imperial struggle, then a fugitive Empress emerges—I barely survive, help her rise step by step, reclaim the throne, then bombard the Golden Throne Hall. That’s how most martial arts novels go.”

Ye Qingshi stared blankly at the boy as he spoke with bright enthusiasm. She didn’t speak, but her eyes clearly said: his imagination was too wild—this couldn’t possibly happen.

Over the next two days, the party continued northward. Perhaps because a top-thousand Qianlong-ranked martial artist hung from their pole, no one disturbed them.

But by midnight, as a cold wind swept through, Ye Yonglie and the others noticed: the Wan Chenyu and other noble youths hanging from the pole had vanished.

Gone without a trace. No one saw who took them.

Inside the palanquin, Ye Yonglie knelt on one knee to report this to Fang Can. Fang Can’s expression remained calm.

“Gone? Let them go. Those boys all have powerful sects backing them. Someone seeing it and acting is normal.”

Fang Can spoke plainly—noble houses value face. Win, fine. Lose and parade your heirs in humiliation? Unbearable.

Just now, he’d faintly sensed his fortune turning—his strength surged several times over. Likely, someone lurking nearby hesitated whether to strike.

Without Jiejian Mountain’s backing, a fight might’ve already broken out.

“But my captives—do you think they’re that easy to snatch?” Fang Can smiled faintly.

Hundreds of miles away, a gaunt old man exerted all his power.

Combined with the alchemy of a second-transformation expert, within minutes the boy’s sunken face, broken limbs, and blind eyes had fully recovered.

“Your humble servant arrived too late. Master suffered,” the old man said slowly, watching the boy meditate.

“Where are Li Xiangyang and the others?” Wan Chenyu opened his eyes.

“Already sent back to their respective noble houses,” the old man replied.

“Uncle Gui, I want Fang Can dead,” Wan Chenyu hissed. This humiliation would haunt him forever.

The old man sighed: “Fang Can is a disciple of Jiejian Mountain. We cannot oppose him by force.”

“Master has ordered you not to leave home during this time. Stay safe inside.”

“Besides, the capital is in chaos. His Majesty drowned several days ago.”

“What? The Emperor died?” Wan Chenyu’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Yes. Shortly after you left to trouble Fang Can, His Majesty drowned for no clear reason.”

Seeing the old man nod, Wan Chenyu reluctantly accepted it—realizing things had turned dire.

“How could His Majesty drown with a dozen first- and second-transformation guards watching?” Wan Chenyu blurted.

“Rumor says the Emperor went incognito to a brothel, so his guards were reduced to the minimum. Then the guards went to brothels too. A chain of accidents led to the Emperor being dead for half an hour before they found the body.”

The old man repeated what he’d heard: “They arrested the first-transformation guard afterward. After brutal interrogation, they found nothing wrong—but everyone knows there’s a cover-up.”

Though the Hundred-Year Martial Ban forced the Emperor to be a non-martial commoner,

such an abrupt drowning was clearly no accident. Everyone knew a political rival had orchestrated it.

Hearing the full account, even Wan Chenyu couldn’t accept this absurd outcome—it was too ridiculous.

Worse, the Wan family were staunch imperial loyalists. They’d helped the late Emperor ascend the throne and rose to power because of it.

Now, with the throne changing hands, the Wan family might face upheaval.

Thinking of this, Wan Chenyu calmed himself: “It’s fine. We’ve already backed the Crown Prince. Once he ascends, everything will return to normal…”

Before he finished, he noticed the old man’s face twist into awkwardness.

“Master, the Crown Prince also…”

“The Crown Prince died too?” Wan Chenyu gasped.

The old man, called Uncle Gui, nodded reluctantly: “The Crown Prince was sleeping in his chamber. Suddenly, the ceiling beam fell and crushed him.”

‘Conspiracy! This is definitely a conspiracy!’

Wan Chenyu firmly believed it—how could such coincidences happen? The culprits must be the other families.

“Now’s a sensitive time. Each house suspects the others but has no proof. The clan lord has ordered all disciples back to the capital—to avoid giving enemies any leverage to attack us.”

Hearing this, Wan Chenyu, who’d wanted revenge, could only grit his teeth: “Fine. Let’s go back to the capital.”

“Good. Fang Can’s heading there too—I’ll set the stage and wait for him in the capital!”

“No one has ever humiliated me like this. I’ll reduce him to ash.”

On the other side, news of the Emperor’s death spread like a tidal wave across Dajiangnanbei, delivering another crushing blow to the weakening empire.

Though in Dayan, imperial power had been reduced to near nothing, even a dying camel outweighs a horse—it sent tremors through Dayan and beyond.

As the news reached him, Fang Can heard it: “You say the Emperor died? Drowned? How’s that possible!”

Recalling his own words from days ago, Ye Qingshi instinctively covered her mouth and stared at Fang Can.

You talked the Emperor to death!!!

(End of Chapter)