Chapter 654

Chapter 654: Step by Step, Kneeling Forward

Outside the Infinite Palace, the court officials of Eastern Ling stood anxiously, their faces marked with unease.

All had their heads lowered, neither whispering among themselves nor daring to meet each other’s eyes.

The Eastern Ling King despised factionalism, and when he ascended the throne, nearly half of the court was purged. Now, having lost his sanity and becoming increasingly unpredictable, the officials found themselves with no path of escape.

General Mo felt a twinge of unease upon witnessing the scene.

“Is His Majesty in good spirits today?” he murmured.

“Shh…” A minister shook his head slightly. “I heard someone went to the Ancient Buddha Temple and invited the Little Imperial Uncle back…”

General Mo’s expression stiffened, and his instincts told him to retreat immediately.

Back when Xuan Ji Chuan was a hostage prince in Northern Zhao, the imperial heirs of Eastern Ling had fought fiercely among themselves. Many perished, while others were grievously wounded. One Little Imperial Uncle, believing himself unfit for the struggle, voluntarily entered the Ancient Buddha Temple to cultivate.

At that time, Eastern Ling found itself without a suitable heir.

Only then did they remember the hostage prince in Northern Zhao.

The court had been in turmoil, and with the throne left vacant, Chancellor Zheng had taken control. General Mo, being his adopted son, had naturally followed suit.

For a time, Eastern Ling was entirely under their command.

They had assumed the hostage prince—raised in Northern Zhao—would be timid and easy to control. Thus, Chancellor Zheng insisted on bringing him back.

The first order of business upon his return was arranging for the chancellor’s daughter to enter the palace as consort.

It seemed a perfect plan—his daughter securing the Empress’ seat, the court firmly in his grasp, and Xuan Ji Chuan reduced to nothing but a puppet king.

But who would have thought…

Instead of a malleable pawn, they had brought back a cold-blooded, ruthless, and calculating demon.

Within half a month, Chancellor Zheng’s faction was dismantled.

Within a single month, the chancellor himself had fallen, and the newly crowned Eastern Ling King ordered the complete extermination of the Zheng clan—over six hundred people, from elders to gatekeepers, even their hounds, were dragged to the execution grounds and beheaded.

Even the chancellor’s daughter, awaiting entry into the palace, did not escape.

General Mo had defected early, thus preserving his life.

For three months following the new emperor’s ascension, the kingdom was awash in blood before order was restored.

“He’s returned? Didn’t he once claim he had no interest in the throne?”

When the struggle for succession was at its peak, the Little Imperial Uncle had fled into monastic life rather than compete. It made sense at the time—whoever claimed the throne would be stepping onto a battlefield riddled with arrows.

One of the ministers chuckled. “Emerging now, of all times? Of course, it’s to ‘save’ the nation.”

General Mo had the urge to retreat.

Just as he turned, a sharp voice from within the hall called, “General Mo, His Majesty summons you!”

Suppressing his apprehension, General Mo lowered his head and followed the eunuch into the grand chamber.

The atmosphere within was heavy, almost suffocating.

A middle-aged man clad in plain robes stood solemnly, exuding an air of compassion.

“This humble monk has long abandoned worldly desires, dedicating himself to prayers for the people. My heart is free of ambition. However, His Majesty is afflicted with a grave illness, and as his elder, it is my duty to consider the well-being of the realm.”

“Thus, I implore His Majesty to focus on his recovery while I temporarily oversee the government.”

“For the sake of the nation, such measures must be taken.”

“Though I have renounced the world, I remain a son of the Xuan lineage. I cannot bear to see His Majesty rule in sickness. As the only surviving members of the royal family, we must support one another.”

The Little Imperial Uncle pressed his palms together, his expression serene, his eyes filled with feigned sorrow.

General Mo felt his eyelids twitch uncontrollably.

The young Eastern Ling King, seated upon the throne, wore an unreadable smile at the corners of his lips.

“Oh? Should I then thank Imperial Uncle for his benevolence?”

In an effort to suppress his own killing intent, the young king toyed absentmindedly with a string of Buddhist prayer beads, rolling them between his fingers.

Years had passed since he was that frail boy—now, he was tall, imposing, his very presence suffocating.

At this moment, his gaze was fixed upon the middle-aged monk, his expression unreadable.

“Let us not speak of formalities,” the Little Imperial Uncle said evenly. “Eastern Ling belongs to the Xuan family. It is only natural that I contribute.”

Xuan Ji Chuan leaned back against his chair and chuckled softly.

“How amusing.”

“During the struggle for the throne, countless heirs fell to treachery and death. The mighty Xuan clan, unable to produce a single worthy successor…”

“The court officials kneeled at the gates of the Ancient Buddha Temple, begging Imperial Uncle to return and take the throne, to save Eastern Ling.”

“But you, devout as ever, ignored them.”

“And now—without invitation—you emerge of your own accord.”

A hint of crimson flickered at the corners of Xuan Ji Chuan’s eyes, a dark undercurrent in his tone.

The Little Imperial Uncle’s expression darkened.

“Ji Chuan, how can you think this way? We are the last of the royal bloodline. If we do not protect each other, how can Eastern Ling endure?” His face contorted as if wounded by Xuan Ji Chuan’s words.

The young king regarded him with lazy indifference.

“Does it matter if we endure? We can simply burn together.”

“Life and death—it’s all the same.”

Madness laced his voice.

The Little Imperial Uncle’s face twitched.

“Imperial Uncle,” Xuan Ji Chuan chuckled, “did you truly think I was an easy target?”

Was there anyone foolish enough to mistake him for a good man?

Xuan Ji Chuan rose slowly, his steps measured as he approached.

The monk stumbled backward.

“If I acknowledge you, you are Imperial Uncle.”

“If I do not—you are nothing.”

He advanced with a predator’s patience.

The robed man faltered, panic flaring in his eyes.

“Enough, if you do not wish for my aid, I shall return to the monastery…” He turned sharply, making for the exit.

He took but a single step.

Shing!

With fluid grace, Xuan Ji Chuan unsheathed the sword from a guard’s waist.

A single stroke.

A dull thud echoed.

The monk’s head hit the floor, his lifeless eyes wide, his consciousness still lingering in disbelief.

“Imperial Uncle,” Xuan Ji Chuan murmured, “I was never a kind man.”

“This palace is not a place one enters and leaves at will.”

With a casual toss, the bloodstained sword clattered to the ground.

Servants scurried forth, cleaning the crimson stains with meticulous care.

There was no hesitation, no mercy. Only an eerie, almost supernatural cruelty.

Even General Mo, a hardened warrior, found himself paralyzed beneath the weight of the young king’s gaze.

He had faced countless enemies on the battlefield, yet none as terrifying as the man before him.

Steadying himself, he knelt. “Your Majesty, an envoy from Northern Zhao has arrived.”

“She ridiculed your time as a hostage prince, spoke with undisguised contempt.”

“She demands… that Your Majesty kneel step by step to the palace gates to personally welcome her.”

A deathly silence fell.

Once an abandoned pawn, he was now the supreme ruler of Eastern Ling.

Such words were akin to dancing upon a grave.