Yun Hen wasn’t idling either. He covered their front, swinging his sword forward as if in a dance, successfully obstructing the swarm of imperial guards.

Brows perked up, Zhan Beiye unsheathed his sword in a burst of laughter that spread across all doors while dragging Pei Yuan along by her throat. “What bad luck to have to touch you, wretched woman.”

Pei Yuan’s face was as pale as a sheet, and she was about to pass out. She shot a sorrowful glance at her father, only to see that he was completely under Meng Fuyao’s control. Her whip was going up and down, left and right, and there was no way for him to pass through.

“Open the door! Open it bigger, or your princess’s bosom will shrink for sure!” Meng Fuyao cackled.

The men on her side exchanged glances, their faces instantly darkening in agreement that that woman had no filter and was rather vicious. Commenting without regard about an unmarried princess’ bosom, before the Taiyuan palace door and between tens of thousands of soldiers? How was the princess going to face the world from then on?

They weren’t really concerned about Pei Yuan’s well-being neither did they view her as a human being. Nevertheless, they found Meng Fuyao’s behavior shameless.

Meng Fuyao’s resounding laughter traveled through the palace doors. Yuan Zhaoxu paused, breaking into a humble smile and his long misty eyelashes drooping down to cover part of his profound, dream-like eyes.

Lord Yuan Bao drilled his head out of his robe, looking behind and squeaking in scorn. Yuan Zhaoxu lowered his head, instantly understanding Yuan Bao’s thoughts.

He nodded wholeheartedly, and spoke after some thought, “You’re right, her breasts are pretty small too…”

The second palace door opened slowly. The strong alliance between the trio and the fact that they had gained the upper hand made it impossible even for 500 guards to obstruct them. The first palace door entered their sight.

Between them and the first door was a hundred over meter long, sheltered greenstone passageway, and at the end of it stood 1,000 guards, waiting in inaction and not daring to fire their arrows since their princess was held captive.

Without the threat of arrows raining down, the trio moved with ease. Meng Fuyao almost looked as though she was taking a leisure stroll, swaying behind Zhan Beiye with her whip in hand.

It wasn’t that Meng Fuyao wanted to walk without poise, but the blood on her thigh wound had congealed and was stuck to the skirt. Each step brought splitting pain, and since it wasn’t a good time to treat her injury, she was forced to walk in this manner to conceal it.

The careless fellow beside turned to look at her, his gaze brushing across her skirt. If not for Pei Yuan, he couldn’t have contained his urge to peel it off.

Not noticing Master Zhan’s strange stare, Meng Fuyao set her gaze forward, eyes squinting, at Yan Jingchen, who was stationed before the palace door and whose face was colorless. His full attention was on Meng Fuyao, and she knew that it had to be because of her amazing figure. Even if no one could recognize her face, she wouldn’t have been able to fool people like Yuan Zhaoxu and Yan Jingchen.

“Hello.” she waved. “I’ve brought your little poodle, Young Master Yan. How are you going to thank me?”

Yan Jingchen’s face turned snow-white, as though a layer of frost had been applied over his skin, his formerly gentle appearance fading into the darkness.

A long time later he responded, “Let her go.”

“Sure.” Meng Fuyao nodded. “If you open the door.”

After a brief silence, he bargained, “You stay here, and I’ll let them through. Otherwise, I’ll have this place fully surrounded by guards.”

Pei Yuan whipped her head around, her eyes almost popping out. As if unable to believe Yan Jingchen’s answer, she trembled with so much intensity that a fallen leaf, upon sliding off her skin, withered instantly.

Meng Fuyao opened her eyes wide in astonishment. He had already shocked her silly once in the past with his outrageous suggestion, but how dare he propose something like that in front of Pei Yuan?

Zhan Beiye was furious. He tightened his grip on Pei Yuan’s neck bone while glaring at Yan Jingchen. “I don’t need to sacrifice a woman to escape, you stupid gigolo. If you dare to retain her life, I’ll dare to take yours.”

Yun Hen said nothing. Instead, he took a step forward to fend Meng Fuyao.

Yan Jingchen’s face changed as he swept his eyes to and fro between Zhan Beiye and Yun Hen. The fire in his eyes scorched a malicious impression onto his usually mild face. The flames danced passionately, distorting the light on his face. Steeling himself for some time, he took a step back and thrust his palm down and toward Zhan Beiye.

Pei Yuan spurted a mouthful of blood, and Zhan Beiye flung his sleeve, growling. “Puke if you want, but don’t taint me with your dirty blood.”

Behind then, General Pei could be seen dashing forward. “Yan Jingchen… you!”

“Father-in-law! I’ve been ordered to guard this door, and mustn’t delay something so crucial because of personal feelings,” he explained without making eye contact.

Meng Fuyao took note of Yan Jingchen’s hand gesture, clear that his attack was targeted at Zhan Beiye and Pei Yuan and not herself. She crossed her arm, smiling coldly.

Thousands of blades were pointed at Zhan Beiye and Yun Hen, and Yan Jingchen called her out with an ashen face, “Come over.”

Meng Fuyao ignored him, keeping her eyes on the sky.

Yan Jingchen inhaled a deep breath. He had been guarding the first door since nightfall, and seeing that there had been a turn of events, mainly that the crown prince had escaped, he knew that the situation at the doors wouldn’t proceed as planned. The Pei and Yan families’ glorious dream had been shattered, so there was no point accounting for Pei Yuan. Moreover, a bout of jealousy had arisen when he had spotted Zhan Beiye and Meng Fuyao billing and cooing, which had led him to borrow this opportunity to detain her.

He would rather clip her wings than see her ride off into the sunset with another man.

“Come over here, or I promise to mince them up,” Yan Jingchen warned through gritted teeth,

Meng Fuyao side-eyed him before declaring, “I’d rather join them if you will.”

Her tone was light yet loud. Yun Hen threw her a complicated glance, the sparks in his eyes condensing.

Zhan Beiye roared, “Well done, girl––– I’m marrying you.”

Meng Fuyao was struck dumb. Was he in his right mind? Did he know her place of residence, her age, her character, her likes and dislikes, her bra size, her shoe size, her family name and so on? How could he spout such b*llcrap? Was that a joke?

After some thought, she was certain that it was indeed a joke.

What she was unaware of was that Zhan Beiye’s nonsense had drifted into the ears of a certain someone. “Hey. Someone’s after my woman,” the man, who had halted before getting onto his horse, lowered his head and whispered into his robe.

Lord Yuan Bao waved his claws frantically. ‘Woman? Is it Meng Fuyao? Great, let him have her and life will be great! Hahahaha.’

Yuan Zhaoxu wiggled his brows. “Do you think I’m a disgrace?”

Lord Yuan Bao squeaked non-stop, excitedly revealing his chest and flashing the big white teeth he took great pride in.

Yuan Zhaoxu’s brows perked as he gave him a strange look. “Not interested, sorry.”

Zhan Beiye’s laughter continued reverberating through the doors, and Yan Jingchen’s face was almost green.

He tightened the grip of his fingers as if attempting to wring any sweat out of his palm. The veins on his forehead were popping, and net-like blood streaks were floating in his eyes. They were like devilish ropes, clinging around and lusting after the girl that he loved but couldn’t keep.

Opposite him, the girl stood looking up at the sky, the flame torches carving out a firm outline of her features and jaw. Behind her were Zhan Beiye, smirking coldly, and Yun Hen, whose eyes were dark as night. No one was paying him any additional attention.

Only Pei Yuan, who was weakly squirming under Zhan Beiye’s steady grip, glared at her fiancé with seething anger and hopelessness. She gagged, which amid the thousands of armed guards and dead silence sounded especially stifling.

Yan Jingchen overlooked her grieve-filled eyes, hopefully focusing his attention back onto Meng Fuyao. Finally, after a long time, he loosened his fingers.

Deep crescent moons had been engraved onto his palm, to the point where blood seeped out, turning into a faded red as it mixed in with his sweat and dripping onto the stone floor before vanishing into the cracks.

A merciless, almost exploding desire to kill took over him.

“Give–––”

Boom–––

Before he could complete his sentence, an explosion sounded, followed by a ground-shattering wave of buzzing. It was as if a heavy object had slammed into to brass palace door, causing it to shake slightly.

It was a dull sound, seemingly generated from a collision between a live body and a concrete object. A short while later, fresh blood started dripping from the balustrade, snaking its way toward the inner side of the door.

Everyone’s attention had been caught by the blood rippling toward their feet. It wasn’t a lot, but overall an eerie sight, as if something completely unexpected was about to happen. The horror, the cold, and the splattering of blood, instantly had them suspend their breathing.

Countless pairs of eyes flickered in the dark and looked toward the door that had been struck.

Time passed, and another boom sounded. This time, overpowering shouts and painful cries could be heard. The smell of blood shot through the air and a pinkish red puff of smoke rose.

“Obstruct and be killed,” a bellow was heard.

“Ahh! Guards!–––”

The screaming of humans and neighing of horses blended into the rising flames as waves of black smoke, smelling like fresh blood, drifted through the door and into the noses of those inside. Bodies slammed heavily and incessantly onto the palace door, and sounds of objects hitting everywhere followed after. One could imagine that the objects were indeed limbs.

One could also imagine that the huge brass nails on the palace door would have bits and pieces of flesh attached to them. They would be permanently stained red, an apt reminder of that historical night of chaos and massacre within Taiyuan Imperial City.

At that moment, the clamor on the outside flared, intensifying the contrast between that and the dead stillness that hung on the inside.

Not only had the crown prince escaped the wrath of the assassin, but he had also exited the palace safely and made it to the main guard camp stationed within the city. Upon gathering his men, he had retraced the route Fang Minghe had taken and arrived at the palace.