[Capital City · Streets and Alleys · Morning]
The news spread like a plague.
"The Regent is dead!"
"The Duke of Zhenguo killed the Regent and fled!"
"The court has no leader!"
"I heard Prince Huai is stepping up to take charge!"
In teahouses and wine shops, on street corners and in alleyways, everyone was discussing the news. In a single day, the entire capital had been shrouded in an eerie atmosphere—some fearful, some secretly pleased, some watching and waiting, some sharpening their knives.
At that moment, in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, Prince Huai sat beside the dragon throne, reading aloud an imperial edict.
"...Regent Xie Lan was tragically assassinated, and the court has lost a pillar of strength. In this time of national crisis, this prince, as a member of the imperial clan, must step forward to temporarily assume governance..."
His voice echoed through the vast hall, each word hammering into the ears of everyone present like a nail.
The young Emperor sat on the dragon throne, his face so pale it was nearly transparent.
He was only seven years old. A seven-year-old child should be playing at his mother's knee, reciting lessons before his tutor, growing up without a care in the world. But now, his imperial uncle had "died," his maternal uncle had "fled." The two people he trusted most had vanished overnight.
His small hands gripped the armrests of the dragon throne, knuckles white. He wanted to be brave. Imperial Uncle had always told him that an emperor must be brave, must not show fear before his subjects. But he was so scared.
He looked at Prince Huai sitting beside him, his lips moving slightly.
He wanted to say: "Imperial Uncle won't die. Uncle won't run away."
But he didn't dare.
Prince Huai's hand rested on the armrest of his dragon throne. That hand looked gentle, but it made him feel cold all over. He had met Prince Huai before—the sickly prince who always smiled kindly and gave him sweets. But today, that smile looked different. Today, it looked like the smile of a cat watching a mouse.
"...Tomorrow at dawn, this prince will hold the regency ceremony in the Hall of Supreme Harmony and receive the homage of all officials."
Prince Huai's voice was steady, carrying an unquestionable authority.
"Do any of you ministers have objections?"
The civil and military officials exchanged glances.
Silence like death.
Prime Minister Zhou Yanling stood in the ranks, his face dark enough to drip water.
Regency? A pretty word for usurpation!
He gritted his teeth, his nails digging into his palms.
The Regent is dead, the Duke has fled. In this court, Prince Huai now stands alone at the top. Who would dare say half a word against him? What would be the point? Three thousand private soldiers outside the city, a hundred armored guards in the hall—Prince Huai has arranged everything.
He had spent decades building his power base. Cultivating connections. Placing his people in key positions. And now, in a single night, it had all come crashing down. The Regent he had wanted gone was gone—but not by his hand. The Duke he had tried to use was gone—but not under his control.
I schemed for half my life, only to make wedding clothes for another...
A fierce light flashed in the Prime Minister's eyes.
Prince Huai, don't celebrate too early. You think you've won? This game isn't over yet.
"Since there are no objections—" Prince Huai surveyed the assembled ministers, the corner of his mouth curving slightly. "Then it's decided. Tomorrow at dawn, this prince will await you all."
In his heart, he sneered: The Regent is dead. The Duke has fled. This empire finally belongs to me. Ten years playing the invalid, ten years acting the useless cripple—now I can finally sit in that chair.
Mother said I would never amount to anything. Said I was too sickly, too weak, too easily dismissed. She was wrong. They were all wrong. And tomorrow, they'll see.
"Court dismissed."
[Regent's Residence · Hidden Chamber]
Candlelight flickered, illuminating two calm faces.
Yin Wuwang reported every piece of intelligence he had gathered to Xie Qingyan.
"Prince Huai announced his regency for tomorrow." He let out a cold laugh. "That old fox finally showed his true colors. Ten years playing the invalid—when he stood up today, his legs were shaking. Hard to tell if it was excitement or guilt."
Xie Qingyan leaned against the bed, still somewhat pale, but his gaze had regained its usual sharpness.
"As expected." He said mildly. "With the Regent dead, no one in court can oppose him. It would be strange if he didn't seize the opportunity."
"What about the Prime Minister?"
"Looking awful." Yin Wuwang's tone carried a hint of schadenfreude. "He's probably smashing cups in his residence right now. He thought Prince Huai was his pawn—never imagined he'd be used as Prince Huai's weapon instead."
The corner of Xie Qingyan's mouth curved: "The snipe and the clam fight."
"And the fisherman profits." Yin Wuwang completed the saying.
Their eyes met, and both saw understanding in the other's gaze.
Mortal schemes are so much simpler than the cultivation world. Prince Huai, the Prime Minister—two self-proclaimed chess masters who are actually just pieces. They think they're playing the game, never knowing the board was switched out long ago.
This was what it meant to have a true partner. Someone who understood the plan without needing every detail explained. Someone who could anticipate your moves and complement them perfectly. In three thousand years of enmity, they had learned each other's minds better than anyone else in the world.
And now, for the first time, they were using that knowledge together instead of against each other.
"So tomorrow we—"
"Tomorrow." Xie Qingyan's voice was soft, but every word carried weight. "Is when we draw in the net."
Yin Wuwang nodded: "I've had Zhao Meng move the troops to five li outside the city. Three thousand elite soldiers, all brothers who've fought alongside me. One word from me, and they'll be inside the city walls within half an hour."
"The 'treason' charges against him?"
"Dropped the moment I 'died.'" A cold smile crossed Yin Wuwang's face. "The Prime Minister was so eager to celebrate my downfall that he forgot to follow through. Zhao Meng slipped out of the city three days ago, rallied the men who were scattered after I surrendered the tiger tally. They've been waiting in the hills, moving only at night."
The tiger tally controls who can officially command the imperial army. But loyalty? Loyalty isn't stored in a piece of bronze. Those men fought beside me for years. They don't need a tally to know whose orders to follow.
"The shadow guards?"
"Already positioned around the Hall of Supreme Harmony. However many private soldiers Prince Huai has, we have just as many. He thinks he has everything under control—doesn't know he's already surrounded."
Xie Qingyan inclined his head slightly: "Good."
Little Deer Assistant 9527's voice chimed in: "Suggestion: Strike preemptively. No need to wait for Prince Huai's ceremony. Attack first."
Yin Wuwang snorted coldly.
Strike early? Striking when he's most pleased with himself will make his fall the most spectacular. What does this broken system know?
It's like killing a snake—you strike at the seventh inch. Wait until he thinks he's already sitting in that chair, then slap him dead. That expression will be priceless.
He ignored Little Deer and continued discussing details with Xie Qingyan.
"The city defenses?"
"Already replaced with my people." Yin Wuwang said. "If Prince Huai's ambush wants to enter the city, they'll have to ask my blade for permission first."
"Provisions?"
"Three days' worth. More than enough."
"Retreat route?"
Yin Wuwang was startled: "What retreat route?"
Xie Qingyan looked at him, his gaze calm: "In case we fail."
Yin Wuwang was silent for a moment.
Then he smiled.
"No retreat route."
His voice was soft, but carried absolute certainty.
"I never leave myself a way out."
It wasn't bravado. It was simply the truth. In three thousand years, he had never once planned for failure. Not because he was arrogant—though he was—but because planning for failure meant accepting the possibility of failure. And he refused to accept that.
Especially now. Especially with Fuguang counting on me.
Xie Qingyan looked at him without speaking. Something flickered in those amber eyes—surprise, perhaps, or something harder to name.
Besides... Fuguang, you're here. How could I possibly fail?
With you beside me, failure isn't an option.
Night fell.
The Regent's residence was utterly silent.
The moon was hidden behind clouds, the sky so dark you couldn't see your hand in front of your face. Somewhere in the distance, a night watchman's wooden clapper sounded—one, two, three beats. The third watch. Still hours until dawn.
Yin Wuwang sat in a chair in the hidden chamber, staring at the pitch-black sky outside the window, motionless.
He couldn't sleep.
Tomorrow was the decisive battle.
Prince Huai, the Prime Minister, private soldiers, court officials... all the pieces were in place, all the arrangements complete. He only needed to wait until tomorrow morning for the board to flip, for heaven and earth to reverse.
He should be nervous.
Back when he was still a minor demon, on the night he was hunted by the righteous sects, his hands had trembled with fear. He had hidden in a cave, bleeding from a dozen wounds, certain he would die before dawn.
But now, he was the Demon Sovereign.
The Demon Sovereign doesn't get nervous.
Yet he couldn't sleep.
In the cultivation world, opponents of this level—I could destroy them single-handedly. But now, without spiritual power, I can only use mortal methods. Troops, schemes, human hearts... troublesome.
But also... not entirely unpleasant. Not when Fuguang is here to share it.
Because his mind wasn't on tomorrow's battle at all.
Fuguang said "you will catch me"...
He closed his eyes, and that sentence echoed again in his mind.
"It's just trust."
He said it so casually, as if trusting me was the most natural thing in the world...
Trust. Such a simple word. Such an impossible concept for someone like him.
I've waited so long. No one has ever trusted me like that.
Not even... not even I trust myself like that.
In the cultivation world, trust was a weakness. Trust got you killed. The Demon Sovereign trusted no one, relied on no one, expected betrayal from everyone. That was how you survived. That was how you rose to the top.
But Fuguang...
Fuguang had let him drive a blade into his chest. Had swallowed a pill that stopped his heart for six hours. Had put his life in the hands of someone who had been his enemy for three thousand years.
Why?
Why would he trust me like that?
He shook his head, trying to clear these chaotic thoughts.
Yin Wuwang, get a grip. Tomorrow is a battle, not a romance.
He opened his eyes and looked toward Xie Qingyan on the bed.
Xie Qingyan lay there, eyes closed, breathing even.
But Yin Wuwang knew he wasn't asleep.
Over all these years, he had seen Xie Qingyan's profile countless times on the battlefield. He knew Xie Qingyan's breathing rhythm when truly asleep, knew the curve of his brow and eye when feigning rest, knew the angle of his shoulders when genuinely relaxed.
He had spent three thousand years studying this person. Every expression, every habit, every tell. Not because he wanted to defeat him—though that was what he told himself—but because he simply couldn't look away. Fuguang was the only thing in three thousand years that had ever truly captivated him.
Right now, Xie Qingyan was clearly pretending to sleep.
Is he thinking about tomorrow too? Or is he thinking about... something else?
"Can't sleep?" Yin Wuwang spoke.
Xie Qingyan opened his eyes without denying it: "Mm."
Silence.
Wind blew through the window, bringing a hint of coolness. The night air was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of autumn—dried leaves and distant wood smoke and something else, something that smelled like change.
Tomorrow, everything would be different. One way or another.
Yin Wuwang didn't know where he found the courage, but the words slipped out as if possessed:
"...Want to sit on the roof for a while?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Yin Wuwang, have you lost your mind?! The roof? Inviting someone to the roof the night before a decisive battle? Do you think this is some romantic scene?!
What are you going to do up there? Watch the stars? Talk about feelings? You're the Demon Sovereign! The Demon Sovereign doesn't do rooftop conversations!
He was about to make an excuse to take it back—"Never mind, forget I said anything"—when he saw Xie Qingyan push aside the blanket and get off the bed.
Then, without looking back, he walked toward the door.
Yin Wuwang froze.
He agreed? He actually agreed?!
Why did he agree? Is he mocking me? Is this some kind of test? Or does he actually want to...
He hurried to follow, heart pounding like a drum. His palms were sweating. The mighty Demon Sovereign, who had faced down armies of righteous cultivators without flinching, was nervous about sitting on a roof with one person.
Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
But he followed anyway.
For Fuguang, he would follow absolutely anywhere.
[End of Chapter 30]
Next Chapter Preview:
On the rooftop under the stars, two former enemies share a jug of wine. And when Xie Qingyan speaks four simple words—"You will catch me"—Yin Wuwang's heart skips three beats.
Chapter 31: Drinking on the Rooftop—He Says "Just Trust," and This Duke's Heart Skips Three Beats