PFC Chapter 520
Chapter 520
Deep within the dungeon, the Soul-Suppressing Bell gleamed with an ancient bronze hue, its surface etched with grotesque taotie patterns that seemed to come alive under the torchlight. Dongfang Wan'er inserted the key into the bell's groove and, with all her might, pushed the pendulum. A deep, resonant chime echoed, causing the ground to tremble slightly. The assassins controlled by the Gu worms suddenly stopped, clutching their ears in agony, black blood seeping from their seven orifices. But at that moment, the Crown Prince's laughter echoed from within the smoke: "Too late!"
He tossed out a golden token, and suddenly the deafening sound of horses' hooves echoed outside the palace. Dongfang Wan'er's heart sank—it was the Imperial Guard's war drums! It seemed the Crown Prince had already bribed the city guards. She gripped the soft sword at her waist, watching the approaching Imperial Guard formation, thinking to herself: This bloody battle for imperial power has probably only just begun...
The late spring night fog, carrying the stench of blood, bathed the Regent's Palace in a scene of carnage. The black armor of the Imperial Guards gleamed coldly in the torchlight, their boots crushing bits of flesh and blood on the blue bricks, like a horde of demons from the underworld, surging over the palace's vermilion gates like a tide. Iron hooves shattered the moonlight, halberds tore through the night, and the white marble railings in the courtyard collapsed amidst the flashing blades, the flying shards mingling with blood, staining the fallen crabapple blossoms a sinister crimson.
The Regent stood beside a Taihu rock in the center of the courtyard, drops of blood from his black iron sword blooming like red plum blossoms on the bluestone slabs. His dark python robe was stained with blood, and his hair ornament was askew, yet it could not conceal the chilling glint in his eyes. Watching the Crown Prince strut arrogantly over the corpses, he suddenly sneered, the laughter startling the owls under the eaves. "My nephew's eating manners are even uglier than those of a street ruffian."
Dongfang Wan'er held her soft sword horizontally before her chest, the blade reflecting her taut profile. A chilling mist swept across her neck, carrying the lingering, sweet stench of poisonous insects. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the pile of corpses of assassins in the corner, her nails digging deep into her palms—these puppets controlled by poison were nothing more than pawns discarded by the Crown Prince. The instant her gilded and silver-inlaid sword pierced the night sky, she spun and unleashed a flourish, the soft sword clashing against the longswords of the Imperial Guards, sparks illuminating the flickering flame in her eyes.
"Royal Uncle, today is your death day!" The Crown Prince's maniacal laughter mingled with the booming war drums, and the shouts of the Imperial Guards exploded like rolling thunder. Dongfang Wan'er felt a sharp pain in her eardrums, but at the critical moment, she glimpsed the moon gate on the east side of the Prince's mansion suddenly being smashed open. In the darkness, dozens of dark figures darted out like ghosts, their curved blades gleaming with a cold, eerie blue light, and in the blink of an eye, they slit the throats of the Imperial Guards in the front row. Warm blood rained down on her, the stench almost making her vomit.
"The Crown Prince is plotting rebellion! We are here to protect the Emperor, as ordered by his last will and testament!" The powerful shouts shook the roof tiles. Dongfang Wan'er looked closely and saw the leader clad in black chainmail, his long silver beard fluttering in the wind—it was none other than Li Chongshan, the Grand General who had supposedly "died of illness" three years prior. His nine-ringed broadsword cleaved through the night, its blade whipping up a fierce gust of wind, cleaving the imperial guards who tried to stop him in two. Moonlight grazed the newly added scars on his face, making his tiger-like eyes shine like cold stars.
The tide of battle turned in an instant. General Li's elite assassins worked in perfect unison, their curved blades targeting the lower body with deadly precision. The Imperial Guards' formation began to crumble, and soldiers at the rear even started to flee. The Crown Prince's gilded silver sword clattered to the ground. He staggered backward, his brocade robes stained with mud, his once-noble face contorted in a skeletal gray. "Impossible...you're all dead..." he screamed incoherently, but his words were drowned out by General Li's furious roar: "The late Emperor foresaw this before his death, leaving a will ordering us to lie in wait in secret!"
The Regent's black iron sword suddenly flew from his hand, slicing through the sky like a black lightning bolt. The moment the blade pierced the Crown Prince's shoulder, a scream and the dull thud of metal entering flesh exploded simultaneously. Dongfang Wan'er watched as the Crown Prince collapsed in a pool of blood. His cloak, embroidered with golden dragons, was lifted by the night wind, revealing the already tattered silk lining—beneath this seemingly luxurious exterior, he was already riddled with holes.
As the embers flickered, General Li knelt on one knee, presenting a roll of blood-stained yellow silk: "Your Highness, this is the late Emperor's edict." The Regent's fingers trembled slightly as he took the edict, and Dongfang Wan'er saw tears welling up in his eyes. The distant sound of the night watchman's clapper echoed, waking them with a start that it was already past 3:45 AM. This breathtaking power struggle had finally come to an end in the darkness before dawn, but she knew that this was merely the tip of the iceberg of a much larger conspiracy.
The embers shattered into stardust in the drafty breeze, a half-inch layer of ash clung to the edge of the bronze incense burner, and three petals of the white chrysanthemum in the slender-necked vase withered, still clinging to the undried night dew—a stark reflection of the treacherous and precarious political situation. General Li's knees pounded against the bluestone slabs, the gilded beast heads on his armor digging painfully into his thighs, yet he remained oblivious. His black cloak trailed behind him, sweeping across the scattered candle wax, making a soft rustling sound, like the silent lament of time itself. The crisp sound of armor striking the ground mingled with the distant cracking of ice on the moat, a clear yet mournful melody, like a dirge bidding farewell to a bygone era.