The heavy doors of Taiji Hall were violently kicked open from the outside.
A wild wind, carrying the pungent stench of blood from outside, rushed fiercely into the empty hall.
Chu Yan was clad in heavy black armor with gold trim, already thoroughly soaked in blood.
He held a bloody longsword backward in his right hand, taking heavy, measured steps as he walked in.
The tip of his longsword dragged against the polished golden floor tiles, producing a grating, bone-chilling screech.
The grand hall was completely empty.
Only the old Emperor sat alone, perched high upon the dragon throne.
Clad in his imperial robes, he sat with his upper body rigidly straight, attempting to maintain the final shred of his imperial majesty.
Seeing Chu Yan slowly approach from below the dais, the old Emperor's eyelids twitched. He forced himself to stay composed, desperately feigning an air of calm indifference.
Chu Yan stopped at the bottom of the steps.
He lifted his eyelids, casting a fleeting, indifferent glance upward.
It was not the look one gave a living person, but rather a corpse.
The old Emperor gritted his teeth in secret and broke the silence first.
“Chu Yan, that armor of yours has no place in Taiji Hall!”
Chu Yan sneered. With a flick of his wrist, he casually drove the longsword into the gap between the floor tiles with a sharp thud.
“There are too many dead bodies outside. Without armor, it is too easy to get my clothes dirty.”
The old Emperor stared at him heavily and suddenly asked, “Do you hate me?”
“Hate?”
Chu Yan spoke as if he had just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Hate takes too much effort. A man like me only cares about winning and losing.”
The old Emperor fell silent.
He reached out a withered hand, rubbing the armrest of the dragon throne with force.
It was as if he wanted to wring some form of solace from the cold, hard wood.
“You are nothing like your father...”
The old Emperor's raspy voice echoed through the grand hall.
“He and I were born of the same mother. Back then, we made a pact: he would guard the borders, and I would guard the court. But sitting high above, where the cold is unbearable, I was forced to do things I did not want to do. I had no choice but to harden my heart.”
Invoking their past bond, he seemed to look through Chu Yan to see the brother he had once fought alongside.
“And your father? How is his health?”
Chu Yan stood tall. Looking up at the high-and-mighty old Emperor, his lips curled into a smirk as he delivered the most merciless blow.
“He is dead.”
The old Emperor nearly collapsed forward from the dragon throne.
“What did you say?!”
“He died long ago.”
There was not a single trace of emotion in Chu Yan's voice.
“On the day you decreed my third uncle's execution, my father was overcome with grief and anger, spitting up blood and fainting in the military camp. After I returned to the Southern Realm, he barely held on long enough to pass the title to me before drawing his last breath just a few days later.”
The old Emperor's mouth hung open, his fingers digging desperately into the carved dragon armrest.
“That is impossible!”
He shrieked, his voice cracking. “If the Prince of Zhennan had passed, there is no way I would not have received a secret report!”
“Of course you wouldn't.”
Chu Yan mercilessly ripped away his final shred of dignity.
“As long as he was alive, you were certain the Southern Realm would not rebel. Because you knew your brother was a fool who only understood loyalty to his sovereign.”
“He was loyal to a fault, but I... am not.”
Chu Yan flicked his wrist, tilting the blade by three inches, no longer concealing his murderous intent.
“I suppressed the news and kept his death a secret. For two whole years, bite by bite, I swallowed up every single spy you planted in the Southern Realm.”
Chu Yan let out a low chuckle, his laughter echoing eerily through the empty hall.
“The peaceful world you have seen from your dragon throne these past few years was nothing but a play I staged specifically for you.”
The old Emperor sat frozen on the dragon throne, his breathing as heavy and ragged as a leaking bellows.
He finally understood, with absolute clarity, where he had lost.
He had spent his entire life guarding against the civil and military officials, and fighting the noble clans.
Yet he had overlooked this very nephew of his, who had spent ten years pretending to be useless trash right under his nose.
“Before he died... did he leave any words?”
The old Emperor's voice was completely withered, sounding like dried tree bark.
“No.”
Chu Yan did not leave him even a single second of hope.
“I did not lead my troops in here today to chat with you. Have you written the abdication decree?”
The old Emperor gritted his teeth, intense resentment bursting from his eyes as he roared with all his might:
“Guards! Protect the Emperor!!!”
The shrill cry crashed against the golden pillars, echoing repeatedly through the hall.
One breath.
Two breaths.
Three breaths.
Outside Taiji Hall, apart from the howling wind whistling through the corridors, not a single soul appeared.
Chu Yan merely watched him go mad with cold eyes, not even lifting an eyebrow.
“Save your breath.”
“Lin Zheng has taken the city defense seal. The hundred thousand armored troops outside only answer to me now.”
The last speck of light in the old Emperor's eyes died out completely.
He collapsed back into his chair, looking as if his entire spine had been ripped out on the spot.
“So... you were in league all along.”
He let out a self-deprecating, miserable laugh, reaching into his wide sleeve to pull out a scroll of bright yellow silk.
He had long sensed today's dead end.
The imperial court was rotten to the core.
His sons had slaughtered each other to seize this throne, ending up either crippled or dead.
In this current world, the only one who could keep those arrogant generals and fierce soldiers in check, the only one who could suppress this chaotic, crumbling era...
No matter how he calculated, was actually none other than the rebel standing at the bottom of the steps.
The old Emperor raised his hand and threw the succession decree down the steps.
The silk rolled down the white jade steps, stopping right beside Chu Yan's combat boots.
Chu Yan bent down to pick it up, casually unfurling it with one hand.
The imperial seal's imprint was glaringly red, and the decree of succession was written without a single error.
“You have the decree.”
The old Emperor's face was ashen. “I have only one condition.”
Chu Yan rolled up the silk unhurriedly. “Speak.”
“Spare my children.”
The old Emperor's voice trembled. “They have crippled each other in their struggles. They are all useless now and pose no threat to you.”
Silence fell over the grand hall once more.
It was a long while before Chu Yan spat out two words.
“Very well.”
“As long as they stay quietly in their fiefs and keep their mouths shut, I will guarantee they live to a ripe old age.”
Having secured this promise, the old Emperor's heart finally settled.
Trembling, he reached deep into his sleeve and pulled out a porcelain vial.
He bit off the wooden stopper, tilted his head back, poured the pills inside straight into his throat, and swallowed.
Chu Yan just stood below, watching the old Emperor's actions calmly, without even a flutter of his eyelashes.
Before long, a stream of blackened, poisonous blood seeped from the corner of the old Emperor's mouth.
His body began to spasm uncontrollably.
Clawing at the dragon throne with both hands, his eyes bulging, he used the last of his strength to glare at Chu Yan.
“The remnants of the Second Prince rebelled... committing regicide and usurping the throne...”
He gasped for air like a broken bellows while vomiting black blood, desperately paving the final golden path for the usurper before him.
“The Prince of Zhennan, Chu Yan... led his army into the capital to purge the court... and inherit the throne!”
This was the final and greatest chip he could offer.
He was using his own life to wash away any taint of "usurpation" from Chu Yan.
Chu Yan stood at the bottom of the steps, his posture as cold and rigid as stone.
He pulled the longsword from the golden floor tile, turned around, and strode toward the exit.
His blood-stained boots stepped down the jade stairs, one step, then two.
When he reached the high threshold of Taiji Hall, Chu Yan paused.
With his back to the old Emperor, whose life had now completely faded from the dragon throne, he did not look back.
“My father did leave words before he died, in fact.”
Chu Yan raised his head, gazing at the gray, chaotic sky outside the hall.
“He never blamed anyone.”
“His only regret... was being born into the imperial family.”
With those words, he finished.
Chu Yan stepped over the threshold.
Behind him, the heavy, red-lacquered doors slammed shut with a resounding boom, completely severing the old era from the new on either side of the threshold.
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