This man, though skilled in martial arts, was no match for three opponents, especially with Mu Qingyao’s wild, unrestrained fighting style mixed in. He was quickly overwhelmed.
Mu Qingyao leaped forward, snatched the soft sword from Mo Chou, and plunged it in. Two inches from his heart; not that she didn't want him dead, but it wasn't time yet. She wanted to hand him over to someone else.
"Qin Hao, you damned wretch, for defiling Qingxiang and killing Chun Han, I will not forgive you."
Mu Qingyao panted, pushing the sword in further with her grip. Qin Hao’s face contorted in pain, his eyes bloodshot. His sword clattered to the ground, and he collapsed to his knees, unable to support himself. Blood flowed from the sword wound in his chest, dripping onto the ground, drop by drop, more and more.
By this time, all the black-clothed assassins were dead. The street was awash with a macabre scent of blood, staining the entire avenue red.
The sound of hooves echoed, and a troop of cavalry in military uniform galloped swiftly from a distance, surrounding them. It was the capital’s imperial guards. The man leading them spoke sternly, "What is happening here?"
Hua Lige coolly raised the token in his hand. The commanding officer of the guards kowtowed in fear, "This subordinate deserves to die."
"Take all these assassins away and bury them."
"Yes, Commander Hua," they responded in unison. Dismounting, they respectfully waited by their horses.
Hua Lige and Bing Xiao invited Mu Qingyao into the imperial carriage. Mu Qingyao sternly commanded Hua Lige, "Give Chun Han a proper burial, and bring Qin Hao back to the Prime Minister's mansion for me."
She intended to hand him over personally to Group Two, to let her deal with the man who had defiled her purity.
A gentle breeze blew, dispelling the intense aura of killing, leaving only the pervasive scent of blood.
Mo Chou stood beside her mistress, gazing at the cold, breathtaking beauty of her face, her dark eyes clouded with a mist. She reached out to support her, "Mistress, let's go back."
"Yes," she turned and entered the carriage. Inside, Mei Xin was weeping as she looked at Chun Han, who had been peacefully laid on the ground. Chun Han could have lived well, yet he had died.
So, his actions that day truly had a hidden reason. Why didn't he tell the Empress?
"Proceed," the carriage slowly began to move. Hua Lige instructed the guard commander to ensure Chun Han was buried well. He led his guards, mounting his horse, and Bing Xiao followed. A large contingent headed towards the Prime Minister's mansion.
Inside the carriage, Mu Qingyao remained motionless, her entire being radiating coldness. It seemed some things were not a matter of whether to do them, but that they had to be done. Where did these assassins come from?
Assassins typically required ten to twenty years of training. They were trained without blood or emotion in a confined space, devoid of seven emotions and six desires, with no attachments, merely weapons of death.
This was not something ordinary people could cultivate. Who could dispatch such assassins to target her?
Whose path had she obstructed? What did Chun Han’s last words, "Yue Jue Temple," mean?
Xiang Hua Mountain, Yue Jue Temple. She had visited the place once, where she met the Prince of Beijin. What was the connection between them?
Could it be that these assassins today were sent by the Prince of Beijin? If the Prince of Beijin could dispatch these assassins, it meant he himself was a formidable expert. Yet, he seemed completely incapable of fighting, and she had tested him, finding he truly had no internal energy.
Mu Qingyao’s thoughts were a jumble, constantly interrupted, until the carriage finally stopped.
A thunderous sound echoed from beyond the silken curtains: "Your subjects respectfully welcome Her Majesty the Empress."
They had arrived at the Prime Minister's mansion. Mei Xin and Mo Chou suppressed their grief, lifted the curtain, and disembarked first, attending her from either side, "Your Majesty, please alight."
Before alighting, Mu Qingyao saw a dense crowd kneeling outside the grand gate of the Mu mansion. At the forefront was the current Left Prime Minister, Mu Hen, her father.
After a month’s absence, her Prime Minister father appeared much the same, only the circumstances had changed. Now, her father had to bow to his own daughter, for she was the Empress of the current dynasty. The protocol for returning to the mansion for a visit could not be neglected.
A clear, bell-like voice flew from within the carriage, "You may rise."
"Thank you, Your Majesty the Empress," the patriarch of the Mu family adhered to protocol, scrupulously maintaining his position, never overstepping a single boundary.
After receiving the imperial grace, the entire family lined up on either side. Mu Qingyao, leaning on Mo Chou's arm, alighted from the carriage. Her delicate face was veiled with a layer of frost, and her white palace attire was now stained with crimson blood, exuding an unusual killing aura.
Upon seeing his daughter's state, Prime Minister Mu was immediately startled. He stepped forward, his affectionate voice trembling slightly, "Your Majesty, what has happened?"
"Let's speak within, Zhengting," Mu Qingyao said slowly. It was inconvenient to speak at the mansion gates. As soon as she spoke, Prime Minister Mu regained his composure and immediately said respectfully, "Your Majesty the Empress, please."
Prime Minister Mu personally led his daughter towards the main hall of the Mu mansion.
Mu Qingyao stepped onto the familiar bluestone path, her heart filled with a myriad of emotions. Although she had only been in the palace for a month, it felt like a year. So much inexpressible sorrow was mingled within.
The Mu mansion, which she had once found unbearable, now felt exceptionally dear. Compared to the people in the imperial palace, the people in this mansion were nothing; at most, their schemes involved petty jealousies, not matters of life and death.
In the main hall of the Mu mansion, Mu Qingyao sat in the principal seat, with Mu Hen seated beside her. Everyone else stood respectfully.
Mu Qingyao looked up, surveying Madam Mu the First and Madam Mu the Second. Both wore expressions of kindness now, their previous harshness gone. Mu Qingzhu and Mu Qingxiang also stood in a corner. Mu Qingzhu appeared to have recovered well, her complexion much rosier. Mu Qingxiang, however, seemed withdrawn, her face pale, as if she had not yet emerged from her inner turmoil. Nevertheless, Mu Qingyao observed that her demeanor and etiquette were much more normal.
"You may all sit down. There's no need to be so formal amongst family."
When Madam Mu the First and Madam Mu the Second heard Mu Qingyao’s words, though delivered with coolness, the heavy burden in their hearts was lifted. They slowly bowed, "Thank you, Your Majesty the Empress. It is all thanks to Your Majesty that Qingzhu and Qingxiang were able to leave the palace."
It seemed Mu Qingzhu had told her mother everything that happened in the palace, which had cleared the misunderstandings of the two madams towards Qingyao, and they were now exceptionally cordial.
"First Aunt and Second Aunt are too kind," Mu Qingyao waved her hand indifferently. In truth, they had been implicated because of her.
As they chatted in the living room, a young maidservant repeatedly beckoned from outside the door. Mu Qingyao saw Mei Xin peeking out and mouthing words to the maid, knowing she wanted to play with Xiao Lian and the others. She waved her hand, "You may go out and play with them. Mo Chou, you go out and play too."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The two maids departed. In the main hall, the servants withdrew, leaving only the Mu family to converse.
Mu Qingyao raised her teacup, taking a light sip, and looked at Prime Minister Mu, "Is Father well?"