[Prince Huai's Residence · Southern District · That Same Evening]
In the southern district of the capital, in a residence that had been quiet for ten years, a man sitting in a wheelchair slowly rose to his feet.
He stretched his limbs—limbs that had supposedly been paralyzed for a decade—and walked to the window with steady, powerful strides.
The Regent and the Duke of Zhenguo... working together?
Prince Huai's eyes glittered in the candlelight.
Interesting. Most interesting.
[Imperial Palace · Taiji Hall · Next Morning, 5-7 AM]
The great doors swung open. A figure strode in with powerful steps.
Every official in the hall gasped—the prince who had been confined to a wheelchair for ten years was standing!
No, not just standing. He walked with the confident gait of a man in his prime, each step firm and measured, as if he had never known a day of illness in his life. His robes were immaculate, his bearing regal, and his eyes... his eyes held the sharp gleam of a predator who had been biding his time.
"Your servant Li Yuan greets Your Majesty." Prince Huai knelt in the center of the hall, his voice booming and resonant. Where was the frailty of an invalid?
The young Emperor stared blankly at this great-uncle he had never met, taking a long moment to recover. "G-Great-Uncle, please rise quickly."
Prince Huai stood, his gaze sweeping across the assembled officials before finally settling on Xie Qingyan. A smile played at his lips. "Regent. It has been too long."
Xie Qingyan's expression remained impassive. "Prince Huai. You are well."
"By Your Majesty's blessing, this old minister's leg ailment has finally healed." Prince Huai beamed with warmth. "Henceforth, this old minister wishes to share Your Majesty's burdens and contribute what little he can."
What he didn't mention was that "healed" was a generous term. His legs, though functional now, still tired easily after a decade of calculated disuse. The muscles had atrophied during ten years of pretended paralysis, and rebuilding them was proving slower than expected. He could walk—could even stride with apparent confidence for short periods—but half a shichen was his limit before the trembling began. The wheelchair would remain a necessity for extended court sessions and formal banquets.
But today? Today, maximum dramatic impact was required. Let them see Prince Huai walk. Let them remember that he could rise when he chose. The wheelchair would return tomorrow—but by then, everyone would know it was a choice, not a prison.
The young Emperor nodded eagerly. "That Great-Uncle has recovered is truly a blessing for our dynasty."
Standing among the military officials, Yin Wuwang narrowed his eyes as he studied Prince Huai. This man had feigned illness for ten years, and the moment he "recovered," he appeared at court—the timing was impeccable. It coincided precisely with the Prime Minister's devastating losses, when the old fox desperately needed reinforcements.
Ten years in a wheelchair. Ten years of playing the invalid while the court forgot he existed. And now, at the exact moment when the political landscape has shifted, he miraculously recovers?
This is no coincidence. This was planned.
This sly old fox was probably waiting for exactly this opportunity. Yin Wuwang calculated silently. He let the Prime Minister and the Regent fight each other, weakening both sides, while he conserved his strength in the shadows. Now that he's entered the court, the entire political landscape is about to shift.
Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice crackled in his mind: "Suggestion: Kill Prince Huai now to eliminate future troubles! Don't let the situation drag on!"
Yin Wuwang didn't even blink. Acting without evidence would get me branded as a traitor. Does this broken system have holes in its brain?
He ignored the system's suggestion and continued observing the situation.
Throughout the court session, Prince Huai conducted himself with humble courtesy, showing warmth to everyone he encountered. He took the initiative to praise the Regent, complimenting him on the excellent handling of the currency case. He expressed solicitous concern for the Duke of Zhenguo, claiming he had long admired the general's reputation.
His performance was flawless—the picture of a loyal imperial relative, eager to serve after years of illness had kept him from his duties. Every word, every gesture, every expression was calibrated to project sincerity and goodwill.
If Yin Wuwang hadn't already known this man's true nature, he might have been fooled by the performance.
Impressive acting. Yin Wuwang admitted grudgingly. Almost as good as mine. Almost. But I've had three thousand years of practice—what's his excuse?
When court concluded, the young Emperor kept Prince Huai behind to catch up. Yin Wuwang made an excuse about having business to attend to and left Taiji Hall early.
[Duke of Zhenguo's Residence · Study · Noon]
The moment Yin Wuwang returned to his residence, he picked up his brush.
"Prince Huai has entered court. The timing is suspicious. This man feigned illness for ten years; his sudden recovery must serve some purpose. The Prime Minister has suffered heavy losses and urgently needs outside support. Prince Huai's appearance at this moment suggests the two have likely joined forces. Please proceed with caution."
He sealed the letter and handed it to his guard. "Deliver this to the Regent's residence."
The guard had barely left when a servant arrived to report: "A messenger from the Regent's residence has arrived with a letter."
Yin Wuwang blinked in surprise. He accepted the letter and unfolded it to find: "Prince Huai is the true opponent. You and I see this the same way."
He stared at that cool, elegant script, and the corner of his mouth lifted involuntarily.
"You and I see this the same way."
Fuguang said it again. Does this mean they really do share such perfect understanding?
Yin Wuwang suppressed the joy bubbling in his chest and composed his reply: "If that is so, how should we proceed?"
Half a shichen later, the response arrived.
"Hold steady. Wait for him to reveal his weakness first."
Yin Wuwang studied those eight characters and nodded. Fuguang was right—an old fox like Prince Huai couldn't be brought down without leverage. Rather than alerting the snake by disturbing the grass, it was better to watch and wait.
He was about to put the letter away when he noticed a line of small characters on the back of the paper: "Tonight at the hour of Xu, come to the Regent's study for a discussion."
Yin Wuwang's heart rate spiked.
Fuguang is inviting me to meet?
Calm down! Calm down! He lectured himself internally. It's just to discuss strategy! Don't read too much into it!
But his hands had already begun to tremble slightly, and the smile on his face refused to be suppressed.
[Regent's Residence · Study · 7-9 PM]
Night fell. Lanterns blazed throughout the Regent's residence.
Xie Qingyan sat alone in his study, a dossier on Prince Huai spread before him. He had ordered its compilation over the past few days—a detailed record of Prince Huai's every movement over the past decade. Shadow guards had been dispatched, informants questioned, records cross-referenced. The result was a portrait of a man far more dangerous than anyone at court suspected.
Ten years of feigning illness while secretly cultivating his power. He calculated silently. According to his scouts' reports, Prince Huai's residence housed at least three thousand private soldiers, with additional forces hidden outside the city. This man's ambitions likely extended far beyond what was visible.
He recalled Prince Huai's performance at court today, and his brow furrowed slightly. The man had appeared humble and courteous, but his depths were unfathomable. When those eyes had swept over him, Xie Qingyan had distinctly sensed a probing, calculating intent.
Compared to Zhou Yanling, this Prince Huai is the true opponent.
Just as he was pondering this, a soft knock came at the door.
"Enter."
The door swung open, and Yin Wuwang strode in wearing fitted black attire, cutting a dashing figure.
"You're here?" Xie Qingyan glanced up at him. "Sit."
Yin Wuwang settled into the seat across from him, instinctively noting the details of the room—the arrangement of the furniture, the placement of the candles, the stack of documents on the desk. Old habits. Even in a safe space, a three-thousand-year-old Demon Sovereign never fully let down his guard.
His gaze fell on the documents spread across the desk. "Intelligence on Prince Huai?"
"Mm." Xie Qingyan pushed the dossier toward him. "Have a look."
Yin Wuwang took it and began to read. The further he went, the deeper his frown became. Three thousand private soldiers. Hidden forces outside the city. A list of officials he had secretly recruited... Prince Huai's power base was even more extensive than he had imagined.
"This man has grand schemes." He set down the dossier, his voice grave. "From the look of things, he's aiming for that dragon throne."
"My thoughts exactly." Xie Qingyan nodded. "The Prime Minister is greedy and power-hungry, but he's merely a pawn. Prince Huai is the true mastermind."
Yin Wuwang considered for a moment. "So what do we do next?"
"Wait." Xie Qingyan's tone was measured. "Prince Huai has only just entered court; his foundation is not yet stable. He will certainly make moves and reveal weaknesses. Our task is to watch him closely and wait for him to deliver himself into our hands."
Yin Wuwang nodded. "This sovereign understands."
He gazed at Xie Qingyan's cool, composed profile and suddenly spoke: "Xie Lan, have you ever thought about what the ending of this world will be?"
Xie Qingyan paused, slightly taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"In the original novel, the Regent and the Duke of Zhenguo destroy each other, and Prince Huai benefits from their mutual destruction." Yin Wuwang's voice was low. "The author wrote us as pawns in someone else's game—expendable pieces meant to clear the board for the real villain. But we won't follow the original path. I want to know—how do you plan to end this?"
Xie Qingyan was silent for a moment before speaking slowly: "Bring down the Prime Minister. Eliminate Prince Huai. Return governance to the Emperor. And then... leave this world."
"That's it?"
"That's it." Xie Qingyan met his gaze, his eyes calm. "This world is not our home. Once we've repaired the plot, we still have to go back."
Yin Wuwang felt something sink in his chest. Right. This is just an instance, a mission world. We'll have to leave eventually.
Yet for some reason, he suddenly felt reluctant to go.
"What is it?" Xie Qingyan asked, noticing his silence.
"Nothing." Yin Wuwang collected himself. "I was just thinking—there's some intelligence I haven't shared with you yet. Over the past few days, Prince Huai has been secretly making contact with people in the Ministry of Rites and the Ministry of War."
Xie Qingyan's eyes sharpened. "The Ministry of Rites? The Ministry of War?"
"Yes." Yin Wuwang lowered his voice. "This sovereign suspects—he wants to replace the Emperor."
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
Xie Qingyan's expression didn't change, but his fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the edge of the dossier.
Ministry of Rites handles succession protocols. Ministry of War controls military forces.
If Prince Huai has infiltrated both...
"We need to move faster than I thought," he said quietly.
Yin Wuwang nodded, but his gaze lingered on Xie Qingyan's face a moment longer than necessary.
"This world is not our home."
The words echoed in his mind. He understood the logic—they were transmigrators, temporary visitors in a story that wasn't theirs. Once the mission was complete, they would return to the Nine-Worlds Transit Station and move on to the next broken narrative.
But sitting here in this candlelit study, watching the warm light play across Fuguang's features, he found himself wishing—just for a moment—that they could stay a little longer.
Don't be foolish. He chided himself. This is just a mission. Nothing more.
Before he could dwell on it further, Little Deer's voice crackled in his mind: "Alert! Unusual activity detected at Prince Huai's residence! Multiple messengers dispatched in the past hour!"
Yin Wuwang's expression sharpened. He rose from his chair.
Prince Huai. The supposedly bedridden prince who had "declined" the Prime Minister's invitation just this morning. Now suddenly sending messengers in the dead of night?
He strode toward the door, mind already racing through possibilities. Prince Huai had been playing the invalid for ten years. Ten years of watching the Regent and Prime Minister tear at each other's throats while he sat in his wheelchair, feeding fish and pretending to care about nothing but his own health.
And now he moves. Right when both sides are bleeding.
The board was shifting again. And a player they had almost overlooked was making his move.
Fuguang needs to know about this. Tonight.
[End of Chapter 12]
Next Chapter Preview:
A mysterious beauty appears at Prince Huai's banquet. Yin Wuwang receives an invitation he can't refuse. And somewhere between political scheming and romantic complications, the Demon Sovereign discovers something worse than assassination attempts:
He's been cast as the other woman.
Chapter 13: First Date: The Demon Sovereign Has Become the Mistress?!