Three days later, in the Heaven Dou Imperial Palace.
A brilliant moon hung high in the sky, and the stars glittered above. The entire palace, bathed in cold moonlight, seemed calm and peaceful, no different from any other quiet night. But on the dragon bed, Emperor Xue Ye, who had been sleeping soundly, suddenly awoke.
He gasped violently, his forehead beaded with cold sweat. A sense of oncoming doom gripped his heart with a heavy, inexplicable palpitation that made breathing difficult.
"Huff… huff…"
Leaning on the soft cushions of the dragon bed, he struggled to sit up and tried to steady his breathing, mind in turmoil. No matter how he thought about it, he could not understand the source of this crushing panic. The more he dwelled on it, the worse his disquiet grew. The deathly silence of the palace only amplified the oppressive atmosphere.
Xue Ye felt his mouth go dry, and a nameless irritation welled up inside him. Suddenly, he shouted sharply at the palace doors:
"Guards! Guards!"
As was routine, no matter how late the hour, there were always eunuchs and palace guards waiting outside the doors, ready to answer any summons at a moment's notice.
But this time, his voice echoed through the empty palace as if it had sunk into the sea. No answer. No footsteps, no careful responses, not even the sound of breathing beyond the doors.
Utter silence.
A deathly silence.
"Guards! Come in at once!!"
Feeling both anger and a desire to dispel the rising unease in his heart, Xue Ye stumbled toward the gates studded with gold and jade.
Summoning what strength he had left, he forced open the heavy palace doors—
The scene that greeted him shrank his pupils to pinpricks and froze his blood.
Outside his bedroom, the corridor was not empty as he'd imagined.
On the contrary, not far from the door—in the main hall where he usually received his ministers—lamplight glowed. Four people sat in silence, as if they'd been waiting a very long time.
Xue Ye's heart pounded wildly, threatening to burst from his chest. He forced himself to retain the majesty of an emperor, scanning the four figures by the lamplight—lingering for a moment on the unfamiliar silver-haired man and a golden-haired girl.
"Your Excellency Wisdom Brain Douluo, Young Master Chen… Why have you come to my bedchamber so late? And these two… who are they?"
His gaze landed on Chen Yi, as if seeking an explanation for this bizarre scene.
Chen Yi stood slowly, smiling politely.
"Your Majesty, this is the Fifth Elder of the Spirit Hall, Glowing Feather Douluo."
Glowing Feather Douluo—Worship of the Spirit Hall...
Xue Ye's heart sank completely, his face turning ghostly pale.
The fact that, in the dead of night and without the sound of guards, high officials from the Body Sect and Spirit Hall had appeared together outside his bedroom… the implication was clear.
But Chen Yi's introduction wasn't over yet. He nodded to the golden-haired girl and continued,
"This is…"
The golden-haired girl stepped forward, meeting Xue Ye's shocked, uneasy gaze under the lamp's glow. Her exquisitely beautiful and noble features struck Xue Ye with both a pang of deep familiarity and an ominous foreboding.
Then, she spoke—in the voice Xue Ye had heard for more than twenty years.
"Your subject, Xue Qinghe, greets Your Majesty."
Xue… Qinghe?
Xue Ye's pupils shrank to dots. It was as if he'd been struck by lightning, staggering back half a step and trembling uncontrollably.
It was as though thunder had struck, freezing Xue Ye in his tracks, his pupils reduced to pinpoints. He stared at the young woman's face, then suddenly snapped his gaze to Chen Yi and the others, frantically looking between them and Qian Renxue. His lips quivered, but no words came out.
"You… you… you…"
He pointed at Qian Renxue, his face drained of color, deathly pale.
"Where is my son!? Where is Crown Prince Xue Qinghe?! What have you done to him?!"
His answer was Qian Renxue's now-calm voice:
"He's dead."
"He died thirteen years ago."
He died... thirteen years ago.
"Hahaha… hahaha…"
Xue Ye stood frozen for a moment, then burst into a wild, desolate laugh that rang through the night—a laugh full of self-mockery, despair, and ultimate realization.
He understood. He understood everything.
Spirit Hall… What a Spirit Hall!
What a blatant swap!
For thirteen whole years, the enemy and usurper had been raised as the most outstanding heir, entrusting the empire's future to their enemy.
After he finished laughing, Xue Ye abruptly stopped, cold hatred and dying madness flaring in his eyes as he stared at the four people before him.
"So—you're here tonight to kill me, aren't you?"
"No."
Chen Yi shook his head, correcting him coolly.
"Your Majesty has been in poor health, bedridden for a long time. This is well known throughout the palace and the realm."
"Your Majesty succumbed to an incurable illness and passed away. It is a tragedy caused by Heaven's envy of heroes and a deep loss to the world."
Before Xue Ye could retort or curse, Chen Yi's icy words further slashed away his last defenses.
"In addition, Prince Xue Xing died suddenly of a heart attack out of grief over Your Majesty's passing. Prince Xue Beng also passed away due to overwhelming sorrow and a relapse of his old wounds."
"What—?!"
Xue Ye stared at Chen Yi in terror and disbelief.
"Xue Beng… he lost his martial spirit, became a cripple! He's already been demoted to commoner and placed under house arrest. What threat does he pose? Couldn't you let him go?!"
Chen Yi did not reply, simply regarded him silently. Qian Renxue gave a faint, mocking smile as she stepped forward, golden eyes full of scorn.
"Father, you taught me that if you do something, do it thoroughly."
"But when it comes to your own son, why the sudden mercy?"
Xue Ye was speechless, his breath catching, face first blue, then green.
Looking at the four indifferent faces, he realized that negotiation was useless.
They had already planned for everything, left no hidden dangers behind.
The last glimmer of hope vanished, and Xue Ye grew quiet. Finally, a faint light appeared in his eyes, and he asked in a hoarse voice:
"Then… what about Xue Ke?
She's the child you've watched over all these years, raised by your own hand. Don't you feel anything for her?"
At the mention of Xue Ke, Qian Renxue only responded coldly,
"That is not something to trouble the late emperor about."
She stepped forward, her soul power flickering, and a magnificent long sword appeared, its tip pointing diagonally at the floor. She looked at Xue Ye.
"How do you want to die?"
Xue Ye swallowed, staring at the coldly glinting sword. Light of indignation and humiliation flashed in his eyes: he was, after all, the Emperor—the titular ruler of the Heaven Dou Empire.
"An emperor has his own way of dying!"
Even on this snowy night, he forcibly straightened his hunched back, clinging to his remaining dignity. His trembling voice still held traces of imperial stubbornness.
"Why should I be cut down by sword or spear? That would be a humiliation to the nation!"
Swaying backward he raised a trembling hand, trying one last time to gather a trace of soul power in his palm—a final act of resistance.
Still, he kept glancing toward the closed bedroom door, as if hoping for a miracle.
But Chen Yi's expression was only a cold sneer. Without even showing the slightest hint of soul power, he flicked his hand gently toward the palace gates.
Creak! Thud!
The two heavy palace doors were flung wide open as if by invisible giant hands, slamming against the walls with a dull boom.
In the next instant, everything outside the bedroom lay clearly before Xue Ye's eyes.
Across the palace square, corridors, and stairways, royal guards stood in dense formations, fully armed. Their armor gleamed, swords drawn, faces solemn—completely surrounding the palace.
For one fleeting instant, Xue Ye's eyes lit up at the sight of the guards. But the hope vanished the moment he saw where their gazes fell.
None of the guards looked at their former Emperor. There was no loyalty, no heroic urge to protect him; instead, every eye watched Qian Renxue. They now served the new ruler of the palace, not the old emperor.
The final ray of hope that Xue Ye had clung to—the military power needed to preserve his authority—had been replaced without his knowing.
"…Heh…"
A gasping, ragged sound escaped Xue Ye's throat. Deprived of all support, he nearly collapsed to the floor, as if his very bones had been removed.
He looked at the four before him—unreadable Chen Yi, composed Grand Elder, cheerful Glowing Feather Douluo, and icy-eyed Qian Renxue with her long sword.
"I… have something to say!"
He mustered his last strength to shout, as if to buy himself just a little more time—a little more dignity.
But Qian Renxue shook her head, as if out of patience. Her wrist flicked as she raised the sword, eyes cold as frost.
"You're not even concerned about your dignity anymore. So, let me help you preserve your face."
Xue Ye quivered all over, the fear of death finally overcoming everything else. He raised his shaking hand, pointed at Qian Renxue, and sobbed out a final plea:
"Wait! Wait! After all, we were father and child! I called you my emperor's son for thirteen years! You… you…"
Qian Renxue's gaze grew even colder, but her footsteps did not stop.
"One last question! Just one!"
Xue Ye screamed. He spun his head, looking not at Qian Renxue but at the Grand Elder, who had sat in calm silence from beginning to end. With a light of despair and longing in his eye, he pleaded,
"Grand Elder! Can you tell me—
Is immortality possible at the divine realm!?"
The question sounded as though it took all the strength he had left—a final obsession clinging to possibility, even at the moment of death.
The Grand Elder looked up, gazing down as if at an ant.
"No."
"...No…"
All light in Xue Ye's eyes vanished at those words, uttered in a low, defeated voice. He was left with only emptiness and perplexity.
"Kill."
Qian Renxue pointed like a sword, sending a thread of exquisitely refined, golden soul power quietly into Xue Ye's heart, shattering its already fragile pulse.
Xue Ye's body trembled violently, then froze. Slowly he dropped his head, looking down at his chest. No blood, no wounds—just the cold, dying numbness spreading from his heart, chilling his entire body.
He tried to speak, but could no longer form a voice; the last light in his eyes was extinguished.
Thud.
His body suddenly went rigid, then fell softly to the floor, eyes wide and staring at the cold, bright moon outside the doors. The light in his pupils faded rapidly, at last turning to a lifeless gray.
Qian Renxue quietly withdrew her hand as if brushing dust from a sleeve, glancing indifferently at the corpse on the floor. No emotion crossed her face—only pronounced loathing.
"Even at the end, you still cared about that…"
She muttered, turning her back without another look at the growingly cold imperial corpse. Her gaze fell toward the deep night outside the palace, toward the direction of Seven Treasure City, and a cold smile slowly curved her lips.
"Next…"
"I've been waiting,
my… good teacher."