Tantai Jun lay sprawled across the crude wooden bed, his face drained of all color. Compared to the wounds on his back and hips, it was some terrible, suffocating mental pressure that had truly broken him, leaving him dazed and barely lucid.
Only after Tantai Zhang called his name several times did he finally come back to himself.
At the sudden sight of the Eldest Prince, his lips trembled a few times before he nearly burst into wailing. “Big Brother, Big Brother! You’ve finally come to see me… I almost thought my life was over.”
For a favored son of heaven, when had he ever suffered like this?
Under Emperor Taichu’s fury, those who carried out the punishment certainly held nothing back. They had beaten Tantai Jun until his flesh split open. Even after his confinement ended, he might not be able to climb out of bed.
Tantai Zhang glanced outside and spoke softly. “Too many people are watching. I can only stay a quarter of an hour at most. What exactly did you do yesterday to provoke His Majesty’s wrath?”
Tantai Zhang had a gentle temperament, and most of his brothers in the palace were happy to keep his company, especially Tantai Jun. Their mothers, the imperial consorts, were also on good terms, and since childhood Tantai Jun had followed at Tantai Zhang’s heels, so there was some genuine brotherly affection between them.
Besides, with things reaching the point where he needed helpers, Tantai Zhang couldn’t help but wonder at Tantai Jun’s sudden confinement.
Could it be that Emperor Taichu was sending him a warning?
In too much pain to speak without wincing, Tantai Jun slowly told him about the events of the previous day.
“A cat?” Tantai Zhang frowned, his hesitant tone tinged with surprise. “His Majesty beat you this badly over a mere pet?”
Tantai Jun paused, hesitated for a long while, and finally continued. “Not entirely.”
A look of bewilderment came over his face as he began to murmur.
“Big Brother, do you remember when I was seven, and I fell into the water…?”
“Of course I remember.”
Back then, the young Tantai Jun had fallen through the ice of a frozen lake, and it was Tantai Tian who fished him out. But after the fever set in, he raved in delirium, and for a long time afterward, the mere sight of the Crown Prince would send him into frightened tears.
The imperial physicians at the time only said the Sixth Prince had suffered a bout of hysteria, nothing more than delirious rambling.
But Tantai Jun didn’t believe that.
How could he have been hysterical? He had seen it clearly!
It was snowing that day. Young Tantai Jun, eager to play, had shaken off his palace attendants. By the time he reached Moon-Gazing Lake, his were the only footprints marring the silent palace path.
The young Sixth Prince began to feel afraid, sniffling as he turned to walk back, and that was when he heard a strange sound.
He shrank back and hid behind a tree.
And he witnessed something shocking.
The Crown Prince, collapsed on his knees in agony, was more fragile than anyone could have imagined.
It was that very fragility that made Tantai Jun linger, for he had never once seen the magnificent Eastern Palace betray such a loss of composure.
“…Third Brother, no… the Crown Prince seemed to be talking to someone, but there was nothing in front of him, only Moon-Gazing Lake… The snow was heavy, and then somehow, someone really was standing beside the Crown Prince, and then, and then…” Tantai Jun’s voice trembled, adrift, as though he had fallen back into that childhood moment of terror. “…The Crown Prince killed him.”
Murder.
For Tantai Jun, who had long since grown numb to such things, killing alone was nothing he couldn’t speak of.
But that scene…
That horrifying, bone-chilling moment had become a nightmare that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
The Crown Prince’s face, when he lifted it, was pale as the swirling snow itself. But those thick, ink-black eyes set in it were hollow as an abyss, and young Tantai Jun’s skin crawled all over, as if that damp, cold chill had coiled around his own neck.
The Crown Prince was in agony. That weakness had never gone away.
But that extreme pain was like some violent fuel, transforming him into a malicious ghost crawled up from hell, cold and clammy.
He attacked the person without warning.
The sudden burst of strength dragged the body down at the lake’s edge, and the Crown Prince seized him by the hair, forcing him under the water again and again.
“Sixth Brother, you know as well as anyone that on that day… the only hole in the ice of Moon-Gazing Lake should have been the one from your fall.” Tantai Zhang had listened quietly all this while, and only now did he speak softly.
It had been bitterly cold that day. The lake was frozen over.
And aside from Tantai Jun himself, no body of any kind was ever found.
“I know, I know none of you believe me, but I’m telling the truth!” Tantai Jun clutched at his own hair in anguish, letting out a tearing howl. “Why? Why won’t any of you just believe me?”
He had seen it with his own eyes.
He had watched the Crown Prince, like a violent phantom, drown that person in the most terrible way.
Offering the chance to escape again and again, as if letting the victim believe release was possible, only to destroy every hope once more. It wasn’t merely killing. It was savage, deliberate toying.
Only after the person was dead did the Crown Prince finally let go.
And on his face, Tantai Jun saw something terrifying: satisfaction. That slightly tilted neck, trembling faintly. It wasn’t fear. It was intense, electric excitement.
That smile.
And then, all at once, those hollow eyes found him.
Panic seized Tantai Jun.
He’d been seen. He’d been seen he’d been seen he’d been seen he’d been seen he’d been seen he’d been seen…
…
Tantai Zhang left in a state of confusion.
In the room behind him, Tantai Jun had slipped into unconsciousness. When his hysteria flared up, Tantai Zhang had been forced to knock him out to keep him from biting off his own tongue in his frenzy.
As for Tantai Jun’s story, Tantai Zhang harbored some doubts.
Tantai Jun had been far too young when it happened. It was only natural that his memory of so much of it was unclear.
The Crown Prince had been barely more than ten years old at the time. With his abilities, could he really have hidden such a secret beneath the Late Emperor’s very eyes? Not to mention that the Grand Empress Dowager held power in the Inner Palace even then.
Those were all sharp-eyed hawks. They could not be easily fooled.
And yet Tantai Jun’s terror and frenzy had seemed far too genuine to be an act. Together with what he had just said, it was enough to give Tantai Zhang some faint understanding of Emperor Taichu’s true nature.
Unfortunately, Tantai Jun was to be returned to confinement later that day, and Tantai Zhang would have no suitable opportunity to speak with him in detail about today’s revelations.
Sighing, Tantai Zhang had only just stepped out of the frigid narrow passage when an earth-shattering roar rolled in from the distance. For a heartbeat he nearly thought the earth dragon had turned over, and the palace attendants behind him hurried to steady him.
Their voices were panicked. “Your Highness, please, follow this servant to safety!”
Tantai Zhang shoved them aside, his face twisting.
No. This was no earth dragon!
And God, he would rather it were an earth dragon than what it actually was: the thunder of cannons!
He knew full well this should not be happening. And whatever had been hauled to this place at such a time, how could it possibly be anything ordinary?
A hundred paces away, atop the high wall.
The ministers standing behind Emperor Taichu wore wildly different expressions as they stared at the New-Style Cannons. Some were euphoric, some were aghast, and some cried out “long live” and threw themselves to their knees.
One man knelt, and the crowd followed.
Long live, long live, ten thousand years long live…
…
In the moment before the cannons fired, Rendong was hard at work completing yet another Side Quest.
Thanks to the cat’s tireless efforts, he had already raked in a full 50 Points!
Backflips on command, delivering a few dead mice, catching snakes. Nothing was beyond him.
Cats are amazing.
Small points grew into bigger points, which grew into a full 50.
The System had abandoned its old question-and-answer routine and switched to a caring-for-toddlers mode. After proactively opening a Side Quest tab for the cat, it had gone on to teach the cat the equation 50+100=150 as the points rolled in.
The System was utterly baffled.
There was no way 50 Cat Puree Treats plus 100 Cat Puree Treats could make 150 Cat Puree Treats. Fifteen had clearly been eaten by the cat. All of them. Gone!
System: .
The System felt its Host needed to go back to basics.
Too easy to fool.
Rendong was strolling down the corridor when he suddenly whipped his head around.
Ha!
Nobody.
The fierce cat twisted back around.
But the cat couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
His fur quietly bristled a little, and he still made sure to ask the System, “What did the cat get fooled out of?”
[The money in your pocket. All of it swindled away.]
“Rendong doesn’t have any money,” the cat said pitifully. “Or any pockets.”
A fluffy little cat without a single cent to his name.
System: .
[What is Host looking at?]
“It feels like someone’s watching the cat.” Rendong crouched down and scratched at his own ear. “But the cat doesn’t see anyone.”
The moment he finished speaking, the cat opened his tiny bloody maw and yawned.
Sleepy cat.
He’d been busy all night and half the morning. The cat was very, very sleepy.
Even his walk was a little wobbly.
[Tantai Tian sent someone to follow Host.]
The half-asleep cat caught an earful of this, gave a little grumbly whine, and Qinglian and Qingyun came to meet him.
They had been released that morning. Aside from pale faces and dazed expressions, they showed no outward sign of injury.
Rendong gave them a thorough inspection and was deeply satisfied.
If you feel unwell, just eat a bit more and you’ll recover, meow.
So thought the gluttonous little cat.
The Two Qingqings said nothing, but their manner toward Rendong grew more deferential, more attentive.
Far more than before.
“Little Ancestor, are you sleepy?” Qinglian asked in a soft, gentle voice. “We’ve prepared several new small blankets. This servant hopes the Little Ancestor finds them to his liking?”
Qingyun, meanwhile, brought over the Baa-Baa Milk and several of Rendong’s favorite snacks from recent days.
Rendong had just been about to bury his face in his Cat Bed for a nap when the earth-shattering roar split the air.
The cat shot out of his bed like a bullet, puffing up into a little fur ball of pure fright.
His back arched, his tail shot straight up, and his bright golden cat eyes fixed on the sky beyond the door.
Qinglian and Qingyun realized something was terribly wrong and moved to shut the doors and windows tight, but the frightened Black Cat had already squeezed through the door crack, racing off into the distance like a small whirlwind.
…
The Imperial Carriage rolled along the packed stone road.
The retinue that followed was utterly silent, as if the cannon fire had been nothing but an illusion, the cries of “long live” already fading behind them. Emperor Taichu paid them no mind.
The heavy hanging curtains kept out the winter chill. Within the carriage, the Emperor sat with his eyes half-closed. There was no triumph of victory on his face, no satisfaction at the reverence of his ministers. Beneath that cold expression lay something closer to bored indifference.
Xu Zhao, who had already finished delivering his report, glanced at Liang Ze beside him. Liang Ze gave the slightest shake of his head.
So no one dared disturb His Majesty in this moment.
Xu Zhao had served under the Eastern Palace’s banner for many years, and yet he still could not read this man’s mind.
The Emperor regarded the throne as something already cupped in his palm, a prize to be seized without question. And yet ever since the coronation, Xu Zhao had felt a strange, unsettling certainty… His Majesty might not wish to sit on that throne for long.
It was a presumption that overstepped all bounds, one deserving of ten thousand deaths.
But Xu Zhao could not help thinking it, because His Majesty was unpredictable…
“Meow-ow!”
From far off, drawing closer, an abrupt cat’s cry cut through Xu Zhao’s thoughts.
Before he could collect himself, the seated Emperor Taichu opened his eyes and ordered the curtains drawn aside.
The Imperial Carriage came to a halt.
Boots pressed into the thin snow with a strange, faint crunch as Emperor Taichu walked forward a few steps, then crouched down and caught a Black Cat charging toward him across the white expanse.
The cat was small.
And burning hot all over.
That blazing heart was probably tiny, yet it pounded fierce and fast, like a little furnace pumping fresh, living blood out to every limb.
Mew.
Another mew.
The fluffy little head tilted upward, and a cold nose nuzzled against Tantai Tian’s neck, carrying that scalding warmth straight into him.
Mew.
This time even more pitiful, more aggrieved.
Tantai Tian’s fingers went stiff for a moment before they finally settled on the cat’s back. Some strange, warm current followed that heat, and with tremendous force it eroded the walls of his restraint.
“Such a timid little cat.”
Tantai Tian’s voice lifted softly, like a soundless sigh, carrying a peculiar chill.
The cat burrowed into the man’s embrace, panting hard, little puffs of white breath landing on the back of his hand.
In truth, somewhere along that mad dash, the System had already explained things to Rendong. The humans he raised were at least not dead, since the System’s quests showed no abnormal fluctuations.
But hearing that only made the cat angrier!
“System! Surveillance Camera!”
Rendong, recovered now, worked himself up into a flurry of meows and whines that sounded, fittingly, like pure cat gibberish.
What did he mean, at least not dead? They absolutely could not die!
Useless System. The cat would just have to keep watch over his human himself!
