Zhao's eyes sharpened, cold and cutting, like blades forged to pierce through the heart of the man before him. His gaze bore into King Yǒnghǎi Jīnyún, who sat calmly at the head of the table, raising a golden goblet without the slightest tremor. The king sipped leisurely, utterly unbothered by the venom that dripped from the young prince's eyes.
"Do not judge me so lightly, boy," the king finally said, his voice low, heavy with restrained force. "At the very least, I had enough restraint not to stab your father in the back long ago. And now, it is I who saved you after last night's chaos."
Zhao did not reply. His skepticism held firm, his mind weaving a pattern of suspicion. Why would the ruler of Liángzhōu go to such lengths to save him? It could not be kindness. There had to be a grander design.
"King Yǒnghǎi," Zhao's tone was cold, each word deliberate, "whatever you are plotting against the Xuánhǔ Emperor… I am certain it involves me."
The king's lips curved in the faintest smile, as though amused by Zhao's sharpness. "You are not entirely wrong. Since last night, the bounty for your head has soared high enough to purchase a mountain of gold. And we both know the 'gold' spoken of is not mere metal… but Gogonit. As I said before, your life is worth far more than you realize."
Zhao's jaw tightened.
"After Qingliǔ's fall," the king continued, "I dispatched a team to investigate your kingdom's ruins. Everyone believed the people of Qingliǔ had perished. No one survives when an emperor unleashes an entire legion. Yet, whether by the mercy of heaven or the decree of fate, my men discovered the greatest treasure left behind… you, Zhao Han. The crown prince of Qingliǔ. Among thousands who lay dead, you alone lived. If this is not destiny, then what?"
The words sank deep, bitter as poisoned daggers.
"That is why my men secured you immediately," Yǒnghǎi said, his voice colder now. "Yes, in truth, I abducted you. And you are correct—if I wished, I could trade your life for tons of Gogonit, granting my army strength to rival Emperor Xuánhǔ himself. With such power, the Great House would grant me prestige beyond measure, allowing me to seize dominion over the western territories."
The king paused, eyes narrowing with ambition that blazed like fire.
"But I desire more than that. My goal has never changed—to claim Qingliǔ for myself. I will not stand by while Xuánhǔ claims it. With you at my side—the sole threat the emperor truly fears—our chances of striking him down are slim, yes… but not impossible. If we play our hand wisely, if our aims align, we may yet bring the tyrant to his knees. Join me, Zhao Han. Together, we will avenge your parents!"
The king's conviction was fierce, almost infectious. For a fleeting heartbeat, Zhao nearly believed. But the moment passed, and laughter burst from his chest—loud, mocking, cruel.
King Yǒnghǎi's brows furrowed, offense flashing across his features. "What so funny, boy?"
Zhao smirked, his voice cutting as a whip. "You call me a naive child—spoiled, ignorant, weak. But look at yourself. Your desires are no different from a child's tantrum for sweets. You cry for what you want without realizing how powerless your hands truly are. Compared to Xuánhǔ, who rules nearly half the known world, Liángzhōu is nothing but a grain of sand. And you dare dream of toppling him? It is laughable."
The king's face hardened, but his reply was cold steel. "You forget one truth, Zhao Han. Armies are not the only path to overthrow a ruler. With Xuánhǔ hoarding Gogonit, the only weapon left is… politics."
The word struck Zhao. His mind whirled. Politics…
And then a thought sparked. "Perhaps you are right. If I remember correctly, the emperor's daughter is still unwed. If I were to marry her… would that not grant me a claim to the throne of Xuánhǔ itself?"
Yǒnghǎi's reaction was immediate. He threw back his head and roared with laughter, louder than Zhao's mockery earlier. "You… you are absurd! You dream of wedding a princess of the emperor when you possess nothing but your life? Yes, by title you remain a prince. But is Qingliǔ still a kingdom? I'm telling you Zhao, you need more than ruins if you want to propose to her."
The words cut deeper than any sword. Zhao clenched his fists, though his gaze remained cold and unwavering.
At his side, Ruo Yun tightened her grip on his hand. Her chest ached; even knowing Zhao's words sprang from desperation, the thought of her betrothed seeking another woman—even for power—pierced her heart.
King Yǒnghǎi straightened, composure regained. "For now, cast away such foolish notions. The emperor's daughter is not so easily claimed. Do you know why she remains unwed?"
Zhao chuckled bitterly. "What, because she inherited her father's madness, and no man dares touch her?"
This time, the king did not reply with sarcasm. His gaze sharpened, silent, weighty. Zhao's smirk faltered, unease creeping in.
"Wait," Zhao muttered, "that is the truth, isn't it? She is untouched because she is as crazy as her father?"
The king drank again, his tone flat. "Indeed. By all appearances she is beautiful, near flawless. But cruelty and hunger for power run in her blood. Many suitors have tried. None endured after meeting her. Hear me, Zhao Han: abandon that thought. The princess is not someone you can control."
Yet Zhao only smiled faintly, his eyes glinting. "Perhaps. But still… I find myself wanting to try."
At the same time in Imperial palace of Xuánhǔ.
In a vast courtyard, the princess danced with her weapon—Thunder Whip. A blade that could shift from sword to whip, its edges gleamed with lightning. Each strike cracked the air, sparks scattering like stars.
Craaaakk!
The weapon lashed into a wooden pillar, splinters exploding outward. Still, she did not stop. Her arms swung harder, faster, every motion fueled by growing fury.
Behind her stood a man cloaked in black robes stitched with golden beasts—her father, the Emperor himself. His gaze carried power, but today it wavered with confusion.
"My daughter…" his voice rumbled, low as thunder. "What drives you to wield such rage?"
The princess did not answer. Breath ragged, eyes blazing, she suddenly hurled her weapon straight at him.
The blade shrieked through the air.
The emperor's eyes widened—his daughter, striking at her own father. He shut his eyes, bracing for the wound.
But—Craaaakk!
The Thunder Whip lodged into the pillar beside him, vibrating violently. The emperor opened his eyes, unharmed, his face grave.
"Are you trying to kill me? What happened to you?"
The princess turned, her face cold, voice ringing with accusation.
"This is your fault, Father. You promised me Qingliǔ would be erased. Yet from all you slaughtered, the prince survived. The one who alone could rise against us still lives!"
The emperor exhaled heavily, his voice firm but weary. "Calm yourself down. I have done all you asked. I unleashed a legion, even declared a bounty for his head. What more do you demand? He is just one child, without land, without people, without strength. What can he do? Throw a rock?"
"No, Father! You do not understand! You stripped him of everything—his home, his people, the parents he loved—gone, all in one night, before his very eyes. Now he has nothing left but vengeance! Do you not see? That boy will spend the rest of his life gathering power, and one day he will return for you!"
The emperor's face tightened, but his words stayed dismissive. "Enough. The boy will not survive long. You worry too much. Do not underestimate the power of my man."
"And you underestimate the power of hatred! Mark my words, Father. One day Zhao Han will come to these gates. He will stand before you, and he will take your head… just as you took his father's."
The princess stepped forward, eyes blazing with wrath. She tore her weapon free from the pillar, the crack of lightning echoing across the courtyard.
"By tomorrow," she hissed, "I want Zhao Han dead. Do not fail me again."