[Day 27 · Regent's Residence · Banquet Hall · 5-7 PM]
The atmosphere was frozen solid.
Yin Wuwang's hand rested on his sword hilt. Xie Qingyan's shadow guards stood between him and their master. Both sides were at a standstill, tension thick enough to cut.
Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice echoed in his mind: "Reminder: According to plan, after the Regent says that line, flip the table in public."
I know. I don't need you to remind me.
He watched Xie Qingyan across the hall, silently counting down.
This is it. The crucial moment we've been planning for. Everything comes down to the next few minutes.
Don't mess this up, Yin Wuwang. Fuguang is counting on you.
Three, two, one—
Xie Qingyan waved his hand, dismissing the shadow guards.
He looked at Yin Wuwang, his expression cold and distant: "Since the Duke has already surrendered his military tally, he should know his place."
Yin Wuwang's eyes flashed with anger.
This is the line Fuguang mentioned before. Next, he'll say—
"Don't harbor any more delusions." Xie Qingyan's voice turned frigid, each word deliberate and cutting. "Lest... you invite disaster upon yourself."
The entire hall went deathly silent.
Those words were vicious.
In front of every civil and military official, the Regent was nakedly warning the Duke of Zhenguo—You're a stray dog now. Behave yourself.
Even knowing it was an act, Yin Wuwang felt something twist in his gut. Fuguang's voice was so cold, so distant—exactly like the Sword Deity who had hunted him across the Three Realms. For three thousand years, that voice had haunted his dreams. Now it was directed at him with calculated cruelty, and even knowing the truth, it stung.
Focus. This is the plan. Fuguang is doing his part perfectly.
Zhou Yanling nearly laughed out loud.
Yes, yes, yes! That little brat Xie Lan still has that poisonous tongue! Hahaha! The Duke is going to lose his mind now!
He wanted to applaud. His two political enemies tearing into each other while he reaped the benefits—was there anything more beautiful under heaven?
He raised his wine cup, pretending to drink, actually hiding the smile at the corner of his mouth.
That brute Yin Lie, pushed this far—he'd be crazy not to snap. I'm just waiting for the show.
Prince Huai's eyelids flickered.
Is Xie Lan... deliberately provoking the Duke? Or is he truly that arrogant?
He stared at Xie Qingyan's expression, searching for cracks.
But that face was cold as thousand-year ice, revealing nothing. The eyes, the tone, the posture—all of it the bearing of a high-and-mighty court minister.
No... could this be a trap? These two have always been at odds, but something about tonight's banquet feels strange...
He looked toward Yin Wuwang—
The Duke's face was flushed crimson, veins bulging at his temples, the hand gripping his sword trembling visibly.
These past days—stripped of his military tally, confined to his residence, mocked by the entire court...
Anyone would be seething with rage.
No. Prince Huai made his judgment. That brat has always been arrogant and overbearing. Saying something like this isn't strange. The Duke's fury is real. This isn't acting.
Yin Wuwang's grip on his sword hilt tightened.
Fuguang's acting... is ten times better than mine. Those words—I almost believed they were real.
It's fake. It's all part of the plan. But hearing these words come out of Fuguang's mouth...
His chest felt tight.
Forget it. Time for my entrance.
He took a deep breath—
BANG!
His palm slammed down on the table before him, sending wine cups and dishes crashing to the floor. The sound echoed through the silent hall like a thunderclap.
Perfect. That's the sound of a man who's finally snapped.
"XIE LAN!" He roared. "You've gone too far!"
Every eye in the hall was on him now. Good. Let them watch. Let them remember this moment—the moment the Duke of Zhenguo lost control.
Yin Wuwang drew his blade.
The blade gleamed like snow, pointing directly at Xie Qingyan.
"You took my military tally! Destroyed my reputation! And now you dare humiliate me in public?!"
He advanced step by step, killing intent radiating from every pore: "Today—this Duke will have justice!"
Xie Qingyan stepped back. The shadow guards moved to shield him again.
"Duke, are you trying to rebel?"
"Rebel?" Yin Wuwang laughed coldly. "This Duke just wants your life!"
He swept aside the shadow guards and charged at Xie Qingyan.
Flashing blades!
The two clashed.
To the watching officials, it looked like a desperate battle between two deadly enemies. They couldn't know that every move had been choreographed, every strike calculated.
First move: Yin Wuwang's blade swept horizontally toward Xie Qingyan's left shoulder. Xie Qingyan dodged sideways, his sleeve torn by the blade wind.
This move is a feint. Fuguang will dodge right.
He did. Perfectly timed, perfectly angled—just like they had practiced in that late-night conversation.
Second move: Yin Wuwang pivoted his blade, thrusting straight at Xie Qingyan's throat. Xie Qingyan leaned back to evade, the blade tip grazing past his chin.
This move forces him backward. Now—
Their eyes met for a fraction of a second. In Fuguang's gaze, Yin Wuwang saw calm trust.
Do it.
Third move.
Yin Wuwang's blade—plunged into Xie Qingyan's chest.
Half an inch from the heart. Not more, not less.
He had practiced this strike countless times.
Angle, force, depth—all calculated to the fraction. Deep enough to look fatal, shallow enough to avoid vital organs. The Pain Suppression Talisman hidden beneath Fuguang's robes would handle the rest.
The instant the blade pierced flesh, crimson bloomed.
Real blood. Real wound. But Xie Qingyan's expression didn't even flicker—the talisman was doing its work. The blood spread across his dark robes, warm and wet and terrifyingly authentic.
It looked exactly like—a heart had been pierced.
Officials scrambled backward, screams erupting throughout the hall. Tables and chairs toppled, cups and plates shattered. The banquet hall descended into chaos. Some officials fled toward the doors. Others stood frozen, too shocked to move.
"Someone! Stop the Duke of Zhenguo!" Zhou Yanling shouted.
But though he shouted, he himself cowered in a corner, not daring to step forward.
Prince Huai sat in his wheelchair, eyes narrowing.
These two... are they serious?
He stared at the scene before him—the Duke's blade buried in the Regent's chest, blood flowing freely.
The Duke's bladework... vicious and decisive. He genuinely intended to kill. Xie Lan's martial skills... weaker than I imagined.
He made his judgment: The Duke truly hates Xie Lan to the bone. This isn't acting.
Xie Qingyan's body went rigid.
He looked down at the blade in his chest, "disbelief" flickering in his eyes.
His performance was flawless—the slight widening of the eyes, the parting of the lips, the way his hand reached toward the wound but didn't quite make it. Every detail calculated to convince the watching audience.
"You..."
His mouth opened, but he couldn't finish.
Then, he collapsed.
His body crumpled gracefully, folding like a puppet with cut strings. He hit the floor with a soft thud, and the blood pooled beneath him, spreading outward in an ever-widening circle.
The entire hall fell silent.
Yin Wuwang stood there, his blade still dripping blood.
He looked at Xie Qingyan lying in the pool of blood—
That pale face, those closed eyes, that spreading scarlet...
His hand trembled slightly within his sleeve.
It's just a flesh wound... Fuguang took the feigned death pill... the talisman blocked the pain... he's fine...
He told himself over and over.
But seeing that image, he still felt like his heart was being crushed in someone's fist.
He couldn't breathe.
For three thousand years, he had watched Fuguang from afar. He had seen him bleed, seen him fall, seen him rise again against impossible odds. Every wound Fuguang took had felt like a wound to his own soul. He had spent countless nights planning how to protect him, how to shield him, how to ensure no harm ever touched him.
All these years, he had seen Fuguang wounded countless times, but he had never hurt him with his own hands.
Now—he had driven a blade into Fuguang's chest himself.
Even though it was fake. Even though Fuguang was only acting. Even though the pain suppression talisman would keep him from feeling anything.
But that image—Fuguang lying in a pool of blood, motionless—
It was his nightmare made real.
Yin Wuwang, calm the hell down! This is acting! Fuguang just took the feigned death pill!
He drew a deep breath, forcing himself to steady. His hands wanted to shake. His legs wanted to carry him to Fuguang's side, to check his pulse, to verify he was still alive. But he couldn't. He had to play his part.
Then, his voice cold, he said:
"The Regent... pushed too far. He deserved death."
With that, he turned and walked away.
"Stop him!" Zhou Yanling shouted. "The Duke of Zhenguo killed the Regent! Stop him!"
Guards swarmed forward.
But Yin Wuwang was too fast.
The mighty Demon Sovereign—even with his spiritual power sealed, he had trained this mortal body far beyond normal human limits. Speed, strength, reflexes—all honed to perfection through sheer willpower and three thousand years of combat experience.
He swung his blade, knocking aside several guards, vaulted through a window, and in a few leaps, vanished into the shadows of the estate.
The guards in this broken world are too weak. In the Demon Palace, trash like this wouldn't even make it through the front gate.
He raced through the night, but his mind was still on Xie Qingyan lying in that pool of blood.
Fuguang... you'd better be alright.
Six hours. I just have to wait six hours. Then you'll wake up, and this will all be over.
But those six hours are going to feel like six centuries.
The banquet hall was in chaos.
"Chase him! Chase him!" Zhou Yanling stomped and shouted.
The guards rushed out, but where would they find him now?
Officials exchanged horrified glances, still reeling from shock.
Zhou Yanling rushed to Xie Qingyan's side and reached out to check his breathing—
No breath.
His fingers trembled as he pressed them to the Regent's neck—
No pulse.
He checked again, pressing harder, searching desperately for any sign of life.
Nothing.
His face went pale: "The Regent... is dead?!"
The words hung in the air like a solemn death knell.
The entire banquet hall exploded.
"The Regent is dead!"
"The Duke of Zhenguo killed the Regent!"
"Quick! Report to the authorities! Notify the palace!"
Prince Huai sat in his wheelchair, saying nothing.
He looked at Xie Qingyan lying in the pool of blood, a complex light flickering in his eyes.
The Duke of Zhenguo and the Regent... have finally destroyed each other.
The corner of his mouth curved slightly.
A heaven-sent opportunity.
But he was a suspicious man by nature.
Wait... isn't this too convenient? The Duke publicly assassinating the Regent—isn't that too reckless?
He frowned, carefully replaying the scene in his mind.
The Duke's fury—that neck with bulging veins, that flushed face, that trembling hand...
No. He shook his head. That kind of rage can't be faked. The Duke truly hates Xie Lan to the bone. Stripped of his tally, publicly humiliated—anyone would snap.
Besides, even if there were something suspicious, what does it matter? Xie Lan is dead. The Duke is a murderer. The outcome is the same either way.
He dismissed his doubts.
"Summon Physician Lin." He said quietly to the attendant behind him. "This prince will personally verify the corpse."
Just to be completely certain. It never hurts to be thorough.
"Yes."
The attendant departed.
Prince Huai leaned back in his wheelchair and closed his eyes.
Xie Lan is dead. The Duke is now a murderer. No one in court can oppose me anymore.
This empire... will finally belong to the Li family.
He allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. Years of scheming, years of playing the invalid, years of watching and waiting—all of it was about to pay off. With Xie Lan dead and the Duke on the run, he would be the most powerful man in the empire by morning.
He didn't notice—
In the chaos, several shadow guards silently approached Xie Qingyan's "corpse."
Under the pretext of "protecting His Highness's remains," they lifted him and carried him toward the inner chambers. Their movements were swift and utterly professional—practiced, even. As if they had done this before. As if they had been waiting for this exact moment.
And in the shadows outside the estate, Yin Wuwang was watching that direction.
Fuguang... wait for me.
Six hours. I'll be counting every single second.
No one knew that this—was only the beginning of the plan.
The prey had sprung their trap. And the hunters, so confident in their schemes, had walked right into it.
[End of Chapter 26]
Next Chapter Preview:
The Regent is "dead." The Duke is a fugitive. And in a hidden chamber, Yin Wuwang begins the longest night of his existence.
Six hours of watching. Six hours of waiting. Six hours of staring at Fuguang's still face and reminding himself to breathe.
Chapter 27: The Regent "Dies," and This Duke Begins the Long Night's Vigil