Chapter 877

It hadn’t made sense from the start.

These were members of the imperial family, not Chunshik’s family next door. Why would they all gather in Qianqing Palace and live together like one big happy family?

Besides, I’d been there. The place was closer to a fortress or a labyrinth than the Emperor’s living quarters.

Its passages twisted around like the Yeonsan Rotary in Busan. I wouldn’t have been particularly surprised to turn a corner and run into a Minotaur.

And that wasn’t all.

Assassins swarmed everywhere like Chinese cockroaches, and mechanisms and formations had been installed to deal with unwelcome visitors.

At that point, even the dungeon beneath the dormitory of some British school of magic would’ve looked like a five-star hotel.

But the Emperor couldn’t have created such a hopeless place simply because he was crazy.

He had a clear purpose.

Ironclad security.

That was why he’d stationed enough force there to stop any assassin from breaking through and filled Qianqing Palace with loyal servants he could trust.

And that security had held perfectly—until today, when some young ruffian fresh from Murim realized Aehyang was there.

Until he guessed one of the secrets the Emperor had tried hardest to keep.

Pregnant?

I felt as if someone had hit me in the back of the head with a sledgehammer. Across the table, Hong Jin and Hyuk Mujin looked just as stunned.

“Pregnant…? Is that true?”

“I can’t be certain yet, but it’s highly likely.”

Hong Jin answered Hyuk Mujin’s dazed question, then added quietly, “It would be best if all of this were utter nonsense.”

I nodded heavily.

To hell with family ties—the Emperor had seized the throne after practically bathing in his relatives’ blood.

If a child of his own blood were born under these circumstances, it was obvious what would soon happen to Prince Shangshan.

Pulling up the weeds by the roots.

The child who’d once had to leave the imperial palace in a rush, wrapped in swaddling cloth, had now grown into a proper young boy. And the seed of a towering tree, sprung from the same root, had taken hold and flourished.

That was more than enough reason for a suspicious Emperor to eliminate Prince Shangshan.

Clearing the line of succession.

Just as there couldn’t be two suns in the sky, there couldn’t be two Sons of Heaven.

The current Emperor ruled over the court and the people by suppressing their discontent, but he remained a tyrant and a traitor.

No, that legacy would pass to his new heir as surely as the blood in his veins.

Along with the label of a traitor’s child.

The powerful men holding back their resentment toward the Emperor wouldn’t welcome that. Those who’d drawn up the pledge—basically a rolling paper for signatures—already had an excellent alternative in Prince Shangshan.

And if Prince Shangshan disappeared, the Emperor couldn’t ask for a better outcome.

The air in the pavilion was heavy and cold, as if everyone were thinking the same thing I was.

Hong Jin had been staring into space, his gaze sunk deep, and a long silence had passed before he suddenly spoke.

“How did you guess?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know a fair amount about the imperial palace, but Young Master Jin couldn’t have made that guess just from knowing that a woman named Aehyang was staying in Qianqing Palace.”

I thought back to what had happened.

“I couldn’t have guessed from the sound alone. There was one other thing.”

“What was it?”

“The smell.”

“The smell?”

“Yes. It was faint, but I could clearly smell medicinal herbs. More precisely, a decoction.”

“A decoction…”

“To be honest, I do have people around me who know a lot about that sort of thing, but I don’t know exactly which herbs were used or what went into it. Still, when I thought about it, I could work out the general answer.”

I went on slowly.

“People take decoctions when they’re sick or need to build up their strength. So why would the Emperor be giving Aehyang one now? Was she simply ill, and he was worried about her? Or was there another reason?”

Fit all the circumstances and clues together, and a picture emerged.

This time was no different.

From what I’d seen, the Emperor was no lovesick romantic, and Qianqing Palace was no ordinary place.

“I could hardly believe it myself. That’s why I came back as quickly as I could.”

Hong Jin let out a low groan.

“How likely do you think it is, Young Master Jin?”

“Do you want the cold, hard answer?”

“Yes. The cold, hard answer.”

“At least ninety percent.”

“……!”

“I’m sorry. But everything fits together too perfectly, as far as I can tell.”

It was a damnable reality, but I had to acknowledge it.

Why had the Emperor, after leaving Prince Shangshan alone for over a decade, suddenly summoned him to the imperial capital? Why had he all but forced him to stay in Qianqing Palace?

And… why might he want to harm him?

One answer resolved every question.

A new heir.

Hong Jin couldn’t have missed it, either.

No, he was probably more certain than anyone.

Even Ma Sanbao, who’d visited the night before, hadn’t said a word about something this important. The Emperor had kept Aehyang’s condition secret even from the East Depot.

Hong Jin, who’d held a fairly high position within the East Depot, couldn’t fail to understand what that meant.

Call it a guess, but read it as certainty.

The Emperor’s seed was growing inside Aehyang. It was all but a foregone conclusion.

He just doesn’t want to believe it.

I muttered to myself and watched Hong Jin in silence. Then I brought up one of the questions that still hadn’t been answered.

“I know this isn’t the best time, but may I ask you something?”

Hong Jin’s voice was subdued. “Anything.”

“Why didn’t the Emperor eliminate Prince Shangshan sooner? I mean…”

“Why didn’t he kill him?”

I nodded silently, and Hong Jin continued.

“I can’t know exactly what was in the Emperor’s heart, but one thing is certain. He was probably afraid of the backlash if he killed even a young prince who hadn’t been weaned yet.”

“Hadn’t he already killed countless people?”

“The purge didn’t happen overnight. Especially not the purge of the imperial family.”

“Tell me more.”

“Right after the Fourth Prince’s rebellion succeeded, the late Emperor and the other members of the direct imperial family were confined under strict surveillance. Then, over the course of a year, they died one after another, as if they’d arranged it among themselves. Strange, isn’t it?”

His voice was calm, but he couldn’t hide the shock and fear that lingered beneath it.

With a trembling hand, Hong Jin drew a long-stemmed tobacco pipe from inside his robe and lit it.

Hoo.

He took a deep breath and exhaled a pale plume of smoke.

For a moment, I thought I’d smelled it somewhere before. Then I turned my attention back to his story.

“I mobilized the East Depot’s full strength to rescue the late Emperor and the other royals, but every attempt failed. Everything I did was already being watched. It wouldn’t have surprised me if they’d thrown me in prison the very next day.”

“But the Emperor didn’t kill you.”

“That’s right. Maybe it was our old ties, or maybe it was a whim. Either way, the Fourth Prince let me live.”

“Old ties?”

“I spent decades in the imperial palace. I served the late Emperor closely, so I crossed paths with the Fourth Prince often enough. He was a talented, sharp-minded boy in many ways. At least back then.”

Hong Jin watched the smoke drift toward the ceiling, his gaze empty.

“In any case, I survived. I was finally allowed to see the late Emperor shortly before he passed away. His mind was clouded, almost as if he’d gone mad, but he still entrusted Prince Shangshan to me.”

“Wait. Gone mad?”

“Yes. But why would that—oh.”

Hong Jin realized what I was getting at. Confusion crossed his face.

“Surely not?”

“It’s possible. What exactly were his symptoms?”

“I saw him for less than fifteen minutes, so it’s hard to say. He’d been healthy enough to father a child at his age, but he was old.”

“I know. The rebellion and confinement must have been a terrible shock. But I need you to tell me exactly what you saw. That’s the only way…”

“We can see whether it was like what happened to the City Lord of Sichuan Province?”

“……!”

Hyuk Mujin, who’d been listening with a dry swallow, widened his eyes. I nodded quietly.

Two words came to mind—Dark Heaven—along with the cursed creature I’d seen only about two weeks ago.

Blood Soul Gu.

A venomous creature that even Sichuan’s most renowned physicians had failed to detect.

It left almost no trace as it drove its host to death. Created centuries ago by the Five Poisons Sect of Nanman, it had been found in the corpse of the City Lord of Sichuan Province.

And the City Lord of Sichuan Province started showing strange symptoms months ago, on his way back from the imperial capital.

Could it really be a coincidence?

Hong Jin’s face had gone so rigid that I thought I could find the answer there.

“How likely do you think it is?”

After a silence, Hong Jin answered.

“Ten percent. No… twenty.”

“Do you know how the other royals confined back then died?”

“It was never made public. They were simply forgotten.”

“Then…”

“I’m going to contact Eunuch Ma tonight at the latest. His Highness’s life… may be in immediate danger.”

Right.

If the Emperor had planted Blood Soul Gu in the City Lord of Sichuan Province a few months ago and in the late Emperor more than a decade ago—or if Dark Heaven had done it with his help—Prince Shangshan was as good as dead.

But…

“I entrusted His Highness with a precious artifact I’d been carrying. We don’t need to worry too much right away.”

The Myriad-Poison Ring.

The Sichuan Tang Clan’s divine artifact had detoxified the Formless Ultimate Poison that had brought down even Jeok Cheongang, the Fire King, though he’d suffered a serious injury.

Blood Soul Gu was, in the end, a venomous creature created by the Five Poisons Sect. It couldn’t be beyond the Myriad-Poison Ring’s power.

No. It had to work.

“And one more thing. There’s something I’d like to ask Eunuch Ma to do for me personally.”

Hong Jin’s eyes widened at what I said next.

Hangzhou, in Zhejiang Province, had been one of the finest cities in the world for pleasure-seekers even before the imperial court moved there.

It had countless historic sights and beautiful views. Vast quantities of goods and wealth moved along its canals, and its brightly lit streets bustled with people late into the night.

A city that never slept, in every sense.

So there was nothing unusual about a customer arriving late at one of the many shops lining the imperial capital’s main road.

The employee’s attitude toward him was a little unusual, though.

“Go on, take a look around. If you like anything, ask me then.”

The middle-aged employee looked bored to death, his manner dripping with brusqueness. The customer studied him for a moment, then parted his lips.

“I’ve brought a message from the Blazing Flame Divine Dragon.”

“……!”

Beneath a sign that read Hyuk Family Textile Shop, the middle-aged employee—no, Jeok Cheongang, the Fire King—opened his eyes wide.