A tall, imposing figure slowly turned, dressed in a white brocade shirt, overlaid with a cape embroidered with silver threads. He exuded arrogance and wildness, his hair bound by a jade hairpin, cascading like three thousand strands of black brocade over his shoulders.
His chiseled jawline was as gracefully curved as a silver wave, his nose proud and aquiline, his lips sensual and thin, glowing with a moist sheen, outlining a subtle, elusive cold smile.
That smile was mere facade, failing to reach his heart or eyes. His black pupils, like the cold stars of midnight, held a shimmering, clear light, so deep as to resemble a fathomless abyss, utterly unreadable.
A butterfly-shaped mask covered the upper half of his face, revealing a pair of narrow, long eyebrows. These brows were sharp as blades, beautiful yet possessing a danger that promised ruin upon touch, like a blooming flower bud that crumbles at the slightest contact.
This man was too terrifying. Sima Qingyun, a loyal old minister, felt his spirit crushed merely by looking at him, his heart trembling.
The malevolent aura and domineering presence emanating from this man far surpassed Emperor Shangguan Yao, instilling even greater dread. He was an incredibly formidable adversary, and he was none other than the Palace Lord of the Divine Dragon Palace.
Murong Chong.
What was he doing here? And why had he ordered his men to save him last time?
“What exactly do you want?”
Sima Qingyun trembled, pointing a finger at Murong Chong. He did not fear death, but facing such a powerful opponent, he couldn't suppress his fear. This man exuded a chilling, captivating glint that struck fear into the very core of one's being.
“Lord Sima has been incessantly worried about his household being implicated. Why not embrace a new life born from near-death?”
He turned again, raising his head to gaze at a calligraphy and painting on the wall behind Sima Qingyun’s desk. At this moment, his pupils softened, clear and luminous like a ripple of turquoise water, his voice magnetic and lazy. Though tinged with a chill, there was no hint of killing intent.
The artwork on the wall was the handiwork of his father, the late Emperor. Seeing his father's calligraphy here brought him a profound warmth. Murong Chong raised his hand.
The artwork flew off the wall and into his grasp. He couldn't help but gently stroke it, his father’s loving face seemingly before him. He believed his father’s spirit had protected him, allowing him to survive.
Upon seeing Murong Chong’s action, Sima Qingyun forgot his fear and stepped forward, crying out, “Quickly put it down! You can kill me, but don’t touch that.”
“This is the former Emperor’s calligraphy. Do you, Sima Qingyun, even qualify to hang such a painting?”
Murong Chong’s voice suddenly turned as cold as the eternal snow on a mountain peak, piercing to the bone, making one’s teeth chatter and rendering them speechless.
Sima Qingyun’s face turned ashen. He couldn't explain why he feared this man so profoundly, a fear that stemmed from the very marrow of his bones.
Yet, he did not believe he had done anything to betray the late Emperor. Thus, he feigned composure and spoke, “Who are you? Who exactly are you? Whether I qualify to hang the former Emperor’s painting is none of your business.”
It was said that Murong Chong of the Divine Dragon Palace was as inscrutable as a mystery, his appearance unseen by anyone. Because no one had ever laid eyes upon him, it led to rampant speculation as to his true identity.
“Me?”
Murong Chong suddenly laughed, his laughter arrogant and fierce, imbued with a regal pride, like a golden lion cub of the grasslands, declaring his sole dominion over the world.
He abruptly raised his hand, and the mask fell off with a clatter. In the lamplight, he slowly turned.
What a ravishingly beautiful countenance it was, capable of toppling kingdoms and mesmerizing cities. Its radiance was so blinding that one could only sigh, marveling that such unparalleled beauty could exist in the world.
A pair of narrow, long brows, as if exquisitely tailored by moonlight and frost. His eyes, like peaches in bloom, emanated a dazzling brilliance. Long, thick lashes, like natural, ornate fans.
Within the ethereal glow, they cast a circle of shadow, making those deep, fathomless eyes as beautiful as gemstones, even more so like pearls. His nose was proud and aquiline, his lips sensual.
A cascade of ink-black hair served to accentuate the breathtaking handsomeness of his face. Such a visage would shame even the most beautiful women, yet it lacked feminine softness or the artificiality of makeup. Instead, it possessed a sharp, resolute intensity, a commanding presence that could conquer all.
Whether man or woman, it was likely impossible to escape such enchantment, a being that seemed celestial, demonic, human, and otherworldly, blurring the lines of reality.
However, what truly horrified Sima Qingyun was not his exquisite beauty, but the fact that his radiant countenance was a perfect mirror of the Empress Dowager.
Yes, the unseen Palace Lord of the Divine Dragon Palace bore an uncanny resemblance to the current Empress Dowager. He was even more like the Empress Dowager than the current Emperor, while his regal bearing, commanding the world with icy dignity, resembled the late Emperor. He, he was?
Sima Qingyun stumbled back two steps to regain his balance, then fell to his knees with a thud, his heart filled with terror. He cried out uncontrollably, "The Crown Prince?"
Sima Qingyun could never have dreamed that the Palace Lord of the Divine Dragon Palace, a figure universally condemned, was none other than Crown Prince Shangguan Yao. If that were the case, then who was the current Emperor in the palace? No wonder he had said earlier that Sima Qingyun did not qualify to hang the late Emperor's calligraphy.
If the person before him was the true Crown Prince, the bloodline of the late Emperor, then they, the court officials, had supported a false heir, allowing him to masquerade openly in the imperial court, issuing commands and directing the fate of the empire.
“What in the world is going on?”
Sima Qingyun’s mind was numb, shrouded in confusion, his thoughts a tangled mess. The more he tried to unravel it, the more chaotic it became. Finally, he could only lift his head to gaze at the man who loomed over him.
His features resembled the Empress Dowager, but his aura was that of the late Emperor. Born a natural leader, a paragon of imperial and military might, possessing unparalleled beauty. But why had a Crown Prince become the leader of a martial arts sect, and a fake have become the Crown Prince, even the Emperor?
“Your Highness, Crown Prince, what has happened? Why has the Crown Prince not seen the Empress Dowager? Her Ladyship must also be unaware of this deception.”
Sima Qingyun found it almost unbelievable, even difficult to imagine, that the Empress Dowager, with her deep maternal love for the Emperor, could fail to detect that the Emperor in the palace was an impostor.
Murong Chong’s hand gestured, and the fallen mask was re-worn. His deep black pupils, like a bottomless abyss, sent tendrils of cold air through the gaps. He slowly turned back, pacing to sit behind the desk, speaking with a steady voice.
“Prime Minister Sima, please rise.”
“Thank you, Crown Prince.”
Sima Qingyun was utterly shaken this night, more so than if the Emperor had threatened to kill him. Following the shock came a profound guilt towards the late Emperor.
The late Emperor had loved the Crown Prince dearly and had entrusted them, the old ministers, with his care. Yet, in the end, the Crown Prince had been cast out, allowing a false Crown Prince to ascend the throne.
That person was truly formidable, having deceived them, the court officials, and even the Empress Dowager.
If the person before him was the true Crown Prince, then who was the one in the palace? That person bore a strong resemblance to the Crown Prince, not perfectly, but perhaps sixty to seventy percent.
Moreover, the Crown Prince had left the capital at the age of thirteen, a mere child, and returned at eighteen, a young man. Who would have suspected such a perfect substitution?
“Crown Prince, what exactly is going on? Should we contact the Empress Dowager and the Grand Tutor regarding this matter?”
Sima Qingyun stood, his anxiety evident on his face, and asked with urgency. Now that he knew the man before him was the true bloodline of the late Emperor, he could not allow the imposter to harm others.
It was no wonder the Emperor had seemed narrow-minded, entirely unlike his former demeanor; it was because he was a complete fabrication.
“Silence.”