Tonight was the Crown Prince’s and his family’s day of death.
Tonight, the people at the hunting ground were the prey, while the Third Prince was the true hunter.
“Kill—”
……
……
When the sounds of slaughter reached inside, the Crown Princess still sat in the tent without moving, not even lifting her head.
“Your Highness—” The palace maid stumbled in, her hair disheveled. “Someone is attacking! Someone is attacking—”
The Crown Princess seemed not to hear, carefully wiping the Crown Prince’s face with a damp cloth.
The Crown Prince lay on the bed. His clothes had been changed—clean and tidy, he looked no different from usual. But half his face had been crushed, a bloody mess, grotesque and terrifying. No amount of wiping could clean it.
“This face needs to be arranged by the coroners,” the Crown Princess said.
The palace maid threw herself before the Crown Princess and clutched her legs: “Miss, please wake up! Wake up—something has happened!”
The Crown Princess looked down at the palace maid: “I’m quite awake. Of course I know something has happened.”
Her gaze fell on the Crown Prince again. She suddenly smiled slightly. This was probably the quietest time the Crown Prince had ever spent with her—no one to disturb them, and he wouldn’t sit briefly then rise and leave.
She had never expected such a day to come. Who would have thought it actually would?
She had also never imagined the Crown Prince would die. Who would have thought—the Crown Prince had actually died.
“Miss, the Crown Prince is already dead. You cannot come to harm too,” the palace maid said, rising to pull the Crown Princess along and dragging her away without allowing refusal. “Let’s go quickly! Let’s hurry!”
“We can’t escape,” the Crown Princess said, her expression sorrowful. “The Crown Prince just had his accident, and immediately people attacked. This is no coincidence—this was premeditated. They mean to eliminate the roots—”
“We can escape!” the palace maid shouted, clutching the Crown Princess’s arm and dragging her outside. “We can escape!”
The Crown Princess was pulled by her out of the tent. Outside, firelight was everywhere—crying, shouting, people running everywhere, and corpses everywhere—
Ahead, swords flashed. In the firelight, black clouds rolled from the horizon, pressing down from all directions with nowhere to escape.
“Save the Crown Princess! Save the Crown Princess!” the palace maid shouted. “Protect Her Highness! Protect Her Highness—”
But everyone was frantically fleeing for their lives. No one paid attention.
Protect Her Highness—the Crown Prince had already departed on a crane to the west. There was no Highness left to protect!
“Your Highness,” the palace maid said tearfully, turning back. “Don’t be afraid. Master Three—Master Three will surely come save you.”
Yanfang. A smile appeared on the Crown Princess’s calm face.
“Yes, don’t be afraid. Yanfang is still here,” she said. In the firelight, darkness, and chaos, her originally wooden eyes shone brightly. “I will not—”
She didn’t finish her words. In the firelight and darkness before her, cold gleams came whistling through the air.
The palace maid screamed and reached out to embrace the Crown Princess.
……
……
Streams of cold light pierced through the thick dark clouds. The dark night seemed momentarily torn apart.
The dark clouds scattered, but the next moment converged again.
“Protect the Third Prince!” Minister Zhao shouted sternly.
The Third Prince sat on horseback, his body stained with considerable blood. He had personally joined the killing—it felt truly satisfying. But just as they were about to kill their way into the hunting ground to burn and slaughter at will, they were split from behind.
“Damn it, who is that?” he cursed, raising his hand to wipe blood from his face.
Why did it feel like there were troops everywhere, front and back, killing everywhere?
He could barely tell who was killing whom anymore!
The front was chaotic with slaughter. The rear pressed closer and closer—so close that an arrow actually pierced through layers of troops and horses toward him. Fortunately, Uncle was constantly by his side. He reached out and pulled him aside, narrowly avoiding it. The arrow grazed past his face.
Uncle Zhao was shaken but his mind was exceptionally clear.
His gaze looked toward the rear, where a figure appeared in his line of sight.
“It’s Xie Yanfang,” he said.
That person rode a black horse with loose hair, wearing white clothes—to be precise, white undergarments, as if he had risen from sleep without even changing his clothes.
He held a crossbow in his hand, a long blade strapped to his back, shield and armor hanging from the black horse’s sides.
His clothes were disheveled, yet he was fully armed, killing his way out of the dark night.