In those murky eyes, an unnerving light of pathological, sadistic excitement was now flickering! Disgust, mingled with a cold, bone-chilling "understanding" (理解), dropped into Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) stomach like a lead weight, leaving him shuddering with cold.
He finally and completely confirmed it—the mind of his Imperial Father, Emperor Dipper Huǎng (皇帝北斗晃), had long deviated from a normal path, riding rampant and delighting in the wasteland constructed of malice, suspicion, and madness!
Dipper Huǎng (北斗晃) struggled, using his skeletal, seemingly brittle arms to barely prop up his dehydrated, timber-like upper body. He began to babble, speaking in a boastful tone about how he had extended this cruel testing to all court officials, how he engineered traps, how he enjoyed the degrading sight of those who failed to "pass the test" collapsing in fear, and... his repulsive, self-satisfied grand blueprint of planning how to concentrate and execute those ministers who were "not loyal enough" or "too foolish to escape his notice"...
The vile, twisted plan, which treated human lives as playthings, spewed forth from his shriveled mouth. Every syllable seemed to contaminate the air.
"Imperial Father (父皇), you are truly..."
Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) voice trembled again, but this time, the tremor contained not just fear or anger, but a desperate resolve, like the explosive force gathering before a volcanic eruption—a sense of having burned his bridges and made his final choice!
After endless torment, suspicion, and psychological abuse; after witnessing the tragic ends of his eldest and second brothers; after confirming that the man before him was utterly mad and beyond redemption—a single thought, like scalding magma long brewing beneath the earth, violently broke through all hesitation and restraint concerning human morality, filial piety, and the bond between ruler and subject. It surged forth with a burning, ferocious momentum capable of destroying everything!
He slowly, slowly extended his hand. That hand, which moments ago had tightly gripped a sword hilt and captured banners on the battlefield, now reached past his father's thin, ugly body, which exuded illness and the scent of medicine, and resolutely grasped the huge, fluffy, comfortable down pillow at the head of the bed.
Old, sickly, and lost in his own morbid fantasy, the Emperor (皇帝) was so crushingly vulnerable against his own son's sudden, overwhelming strength—completely without resistance.
When the soft, yet lethal, pillow was violently pressed over his mouth and nose, he couldn't even manage a proper cry for help. Only a few muffled, futile, raspy gasps, like those of a trapped beast being choked, leaked out from beneath the pillow.
Dipper Aureus (北斗煜) felt a slight astonishment at his father's physical frailty—a profound contrast to his spiritual cruelty. But this surprise vanished instantly, replaced by a cold, almost cruel determination.
"You should have died long ago, Imperial Father (父皇)."
He whispered, as if not speaking to the man before him, but delivering a final judgment to the dark fate that had bound him for more than twenty years. His arm muscles bulged, veins standing out, using every ounce of his strength to press that soft "instrument of execution" (刑具) fiercely and deeply against the face he had once feared so deeply.
"Someone like you... who wantonly toys with human hearts, treating kinship and loyalty as cheap games... someone like you, who never trusts anyone and sees everyone as a mere pawn and plaything in your hand... someone like you, is simply unfit to wear this crown!"
"Your existence has been a curse to this Empire (帝国), to your sons, and to all who have had to live in your shadow!"
"For the sake of everyone... you must die!"
His father's muffled groans of death struggle, along with the faint, futile twitching of his body, stubbornly transmitted through the thick, sound-dampening pillow to Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) palm and arm. That dying, weak vibration was like countless cold needle points fiercely piercing the deepest part of Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) heart.
A sudden, overwhelming fear seized him—Patricide (弑父)!
Though he had a thousand reasons to convince himself that this was just, necessary, and even a deliverance for the people, the taboo rooted in his bloodline and branded onto his soul was now emitting a chilling shriek! The immense panic of violating human morality and natural law surged up from deep within his chest, violently choking his throat. The rock-splitting strength in his arms involuntarily relaxed for a mere instant.
But!
It has come to this! There is absolutely no turning back!
If he were to let go now... if he allowed this demon, who was just boasting of his cruel plans, to catch even a single breath... what would await him?
A hundredfold, a thousandfold mad retribution! Torture worse than death! Total annihilation! Not just for himself, but potentially for everyone with whom he had any connection!
No! Absolutely not!
The last shred of hesitation born of human morality in Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) eyes was utterly shattered and frozen by this cruel reality! He clenched his jaw fiercely, once again putting all his explosive power into the act. His arms, like red-hot iron tongs, poured his entire weight, his entire resolve, and all his hatred and fear, without reservation, onto that soft pillow.
Pressing down...
Pressing down tightly...
Pressing down even harder...
Until all sound, all struggle, and all signs of life beneath the pillow completely ceased, finally culminating in an eternal, suffocating silence.
...
The heavy redwood door slowly opened again amidst an atmosphere of strained silence.
The Winter Duke (寒公爵) Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) figure reappeared before the court officials, who held their breath and harbored their own thoughts.
The young commander, famed throughout the Empire (帝国) for his valor in battle and composure in crisis, now had a complexion as pale as if he had just endured a long, grave illness. His lips were entirely drained of color, and his eyes were hollow, as if his soul had been extracted. The silver-white armor, stained with dust and sweat, did not emphasize his heroism; instead, it made him look utterly crushed by some invisible, unbearably heavy burden. Even his posture, usually as straight as a pine, seemed slightly stooped.
Noblemen, noblewomen, high court officials, personal attendants... a "human wall" (人墙) composed of luxurious garments, shimmering jewels, and countless pairs of scrutinizing, speculative, or falsely sympathetic eyes, instantly and silently surrounded him.
After a brief, unsettling silence, someone finally and carefully broke the solidified air, asking in a tone that was as respectful and sorrowful as possible:
"Your Highness Hán (寒殿下)... has the... farewell ceremony... for His Late Majesty (先皇陛下)... been completed?"
Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) gaze slowly focused, as if he were just emerging from a distant, terrifying dream. Like a soulless puppet, he stiffly nodded.
His demeanor perfectly affirmed "deep father-son affection and overwhelming grief" (父子情深,哀恸逾恒) in the eyes of most onlookers—which led them to simultaneously sigh in relief, having found a rational and relatively safe explanation for the oppressive scene.
Immediately, words of comfort, such as "Your Highness, please restrain your grief," "His Majesty (陛下) is now riding the dragon to heaven, which is a great misfortune for the Empire (帝国), and we share your pain," and "Please take care of yourself, Your Highness; the Empire still needs you to take charge," poured down like a well-timed summer shower—hypocritical, yet appearing extremely "sincere" and "ardent."
A few of the highest-ranking and most senior ministers in the crowd were, according to protocol, permitted to enter the Imperial Chamber to pay their respects to the "Late Emperor's Remains" (先皇遗容) and prepare for the subsequent funeral arrangements.
Amidst this atmosphere of genuine or feigned sorrow, there was one person who was noticeably different.
He did not push forward to offer cheap condolences, nor was he eager to exchange glances or information with other dignitaries. He just quietly, almost invisibly, leaned against the wall in the shadows far from the crowd, his sharp, hawk-like eyes calmly observing the human drama unfolding before him without any visible emotion.
This was Mentiel Mont, Lord of the Raven Kingdom (渡鸦国主孟契尔), one of the six Elector Kings (选帝王) of the Empire (帝国) with the power to elect the Emperor, and only twenty-six years old.
He had soft, dark brown short hair, deep black eyes, a medium-to-thin build, and a refined appearance that bordered on delicate, seemingly out of place among the Empire's blood-and-iron, power-mongering elite. Anyone seeing him for the first time would find it difficult to associate him with heavy terms like "power" (权势), "authority" (威严), or "ambition" (野心).
But if one were able to peel back that highly misleading, harmless exterior, they would be horrified to discover the immense tenacity and cool intellect, and the abyss-like, unfathomable ambition surging within that seemingly slender frame.
Only a few people were capable of seeing through this.
Dipper Aureus (北斗煜), who had just gone through the storm of patricide, happened to be one of those very few—they were not only peers but also classmates at the Royal Academy, spending years competing and understanding each other.
The young Lord of the Raven Kingdom (渡鸦国主) silently isolated himself from the surrounding torrent of false grief. On his seemingly harmless face, which usually carried a faint, subtle smile, a fleeting, razor-sharp edge passed by, almost imperceptible.
His gaze seemed to sweep casually across the hall, but in an instant, it landed precisely inside the chamber door, on the conspicuously large down pillow carelessly tossed at the foot of the massive bed.
Something is not right...
Mentiel Mont's (孟契尔) brow furrowed slightly, imperceptibly.
He strolled slowly and naturally toward the chamber, as if only wanting to get closer to the open door. As he passed the pillow, he pretended to adjust the hem of his robe, bending down very naturally. In the very moment he straightened up, his fingertips casually brushed the surface of the pillowcase.
His action was lightning-fast and utterly covert.
But his sight, like that of the most cunning hunter, caught the faint, yet fatal trace—
On the surface of the expensive, gold-embroidered silk pillowcase, a few nearly indistinguishable, slightly darker wet marks remained... were those... traces of saliva?
And even... in the folds near the edge of the pillow, something seemed to be stuck... a faint... trace of... a tooth mark?!
Could it be...
Mentiel Mont (孟契尔) whispered internally, his breathing momentarily suspended. A staggering, yet seemingly the only logical, deduction flashed across his calm mind like lightning!
He slowly raised his eyes, his gaze sweeping again over the men and women busy performing grief or probing each other—these lavish, vulgar people layered with wealth, status, and power.
Just then!
Another gaze, like a tangible, solid sword, tore through the air and shot fiercely toward him!
It clashed thunderously mid-air with Mentiel Mont's (孟契尔) cold, probing gaze!
It was Dipper Aureus (北斗煜)!
In the instant their eyes met, the air seemed to solidify and combust! The gazes of the two men, like two invisible, venom-tipped snakes, instantly coiled, bit, and struggled fiercely against each other! The silent confrontation reached its absolute climax at this moment!
However, after only a fraction of a second, the first to look away was Dipper Aureus (北斗煜) —
This was not due to internal retreat or a show of weakness, but an external interruption—the Palace Scribe, bowing low, had approached his side, respectfully consulting him in a very low voice about the complicated matters of how to officially issue the Emperor's obituary to the foreign envoys stationed in the capital.
Dipper Aureus (北斗煜) took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, and nodded. He took heavy steps, yet they carried a certain forcibly-injected, undeniable willpower, walking across the mirror-smooth marble floor that reflected his pale face, toward the depths of the hall. His silhouette finally disappeared behind the thick oak door, which seemed capable of isolating all secrets.
Mentiel Mont's (孟契尔) sharp gaze, like a hawk locking onto its prey, followed Dipper Aureus's (北斗煜) figure until the door completely closed, cutting off his view.
Two bright, almost untamed, flickering flames instantly ignited in the Lord of the Raven Kingdom's (渡鸦国主) beautiful blue-gray eyes! But after only a breath, he quickly lowered his eyelids, a placid, harmless mask of neutrality returning to his face, strictly and deeply hiding all the inner turmoil and blazing fire.
But deep inside, he was absolutely certain.
Indeed... Dipper Aureus (北斗煜) committed patricide (弑父).
Although there was no direct evidence, not even circumstantial. But he trusted his observations, his intuition, and most of all, his understanding of the twisted relationship between Dipper Aureus (北斗煜) and the old Emperor (老皇帝).
"The ice has cracked..."
He silently recited in his heart, feeling something long suppressed awakening and swelling in his chest.
"Once cracked, it can never be restored to its original state..."
The giant dragon named "Ambition" (野心), which had been dormant in the deepest recesses of his heart, felt an unprecedented, bloody opportunity at this moment. Slowly and excitedly, it raised its hideous head and opened its long-coveted maw.
Its target was the entire tumultuous Divine Frostbreath Empire (神圣霜息帝国), and the vacant Throne (皇座), which symbolized supreme power!
The young nobleman, harboring this latent dragon, quietly watched the dramatic, impending chaos unfold before him. Then, in a voice only he could hear, he asked himself, low and with a cold excitement:
"So, what is my next move (落子)...?"
End of 1-4.