Chapter 2: The Incident in the Golden Throne Hall!
Whoosh!
He was not yet visible, but his presence was unmistakable by the sound alone. A broadsword, three feet six inches long and gleaming with silver light, came flying straight toward Tang Yu and landed with a heavy thud, embedding itself two feet deep in the ground. The blade vibrated with a clear, resonant hum.
Tang Yu’s eyes sharpened—what a magnificent sword! It had penetrated so deeply into the earth, yet remained unbroken.
From the doors of the Golden Throne Hall strode a woman, her features marked by striking confidence and a cold, noble bearing. She exuded the air of a true heroine. She stepped forward, both hands gripping her sword as she bowed with fists clasped, dropping to one knee.
“Your servant arrives late to rescue the Emperor.”
She showed not the slightest hint of fear at the situation before her, radiating an aura as though she alone could stand against a hundred foes.
Tang Yu’s eyes lit up with admiration. She was more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen: eyes like glistening almonds, lips red without rouge, brows lush without artifice—an ethereal beauty, worthy only of the heavens.
Consort Su suddenly turned to look, catching sight of the newcomer’s face. Unable to contain herself, she cried out in astonishment,
“Ye Yue?!”
“I thought you were already—”
Her face was awash with shock and disbelief.
At the sound of the name Ye Yue, a sharp pain stabbed through Tang Yu’s head. Memories flooded in like scattered fragments—so it was her!
He pressed a hand to his forehead, bracing himself on the dragon throne with the other, his gaze brightening as he looked at Ye Yue.
Ye Yue: the shadow guard who served the Emperor, the foremost master in the land. During the late Empress Dowager’s reign, she had adopted an orphan girl, who from childhood had accompanied Tang Yu, protecting him faithfully. All these years, she had been his ever-present guardian, foiling countless plots and schemes of Consort Su. Without Ye Yue, Tang Yu would long since have met his end.
Yet, poor Ye Yue. The former ruler had taken power at seven, orphaned early, trusting only Consort Su, his betrothed since infancy. He had met Ye Yue only with cold mockery, scorn, and even blows and banishment. Were it not for the Empress Dowager’s saving grace, Ye Yue would have long since abandoned this foolish emperor.
Ye Yue fixed Consort Su with a frosty, mocking glare.
“Did you truly think the assassins you summoned could kill me? Today, the evidence is before us. Even if the Empress Dowager herself were alive, I would have to end you. Much less now, when your defeat is sealed!”
Her voice echoed through the hall, filled with commanding authority, as though pronouncing judgment on the day’s outcome.
Consort Su’s eyes flickered with panic, but she quickly recovered, surveying the hall with the air of one still holding power.
“How laughable! So you’ve returned—what of it? Can you alone stand against the palace guards? Today, you will die here!”
She snapped her command.
“Do it!”
“Who dares?!”
A deep, booming voice resounded once more.
A flurry of footsteps followed, and then dozens of imperial guards in full battle dress, wielding long spears, stormed into the hall.
The faces of those present paled instantly.
“It’s Commander Murong!”
“It’s the Murong Army!”
“Wasn’t Murong stationed on the frontier? When did he return?”
“This is bad!”
Shock turned to terror on every face, and panic and doubt crept in as thoughts of retreat overwhelmed them.
Ye Yue, the greatest master in the land; Xia Yang, commander of the Imperial Guard; and now the Murong Army, each a pillar of loyalty.
Consort Su’s expression became ashen.
The Murong Army—the most fearsome force in the Great Xia, its soldiers clad in the finest steel armor, weapons impervious to blade or spear. Each of them had sworn a blood oath to Commander Murong Yun: death before betrayal.
Now, with her plan in ruins and the tables turned, Consort Su was trapped—her only hope, to strike first.
“Don’t just stand there! Block them for me! I will deal with that wretched emperor myself!”
Consort Su drew a short dagger she had hidden in advance and rushed straight for Tang Yu. The die was cast—there could be no return.
“Damn!” Tang Yu cursed aloud. This woman meant to kill him for real!
“Help! Save the Emperor!” he shouted, running toward Ye Yue. A true man must know when to fight and when to flee; survival first—so long as he lived, hope remained.
Ye Yue and Murong Yun were both stunned—since when had the Emperor become so peculiar?
For a moment, all were struck dumb.
The situation shifted once more. The Murong Army charged into the fray, and chaos erupted in the hall.
Blades and spears clashed with a metallic clamor amid the shouts of battle.
Ye Yue wielded her sword with swift steps, her body bending gracefully to avoid a guard’s sweeping attack, then steadying herself to thrust her sword backward with force—a single stroke to the neck.
Blood spurted forth like a fountain.
Seeing Tang Yu in danger, she rushed to his side, shouting angrily,
“Demonic Consort, how dare you attempt regicide?!”
Tang Yu watched as the dagger was about to plunge into his chest, but suddenly, its deadly point turned toward Ye Yue instead.
“Die, you wretch!” Consort Su’s eyes glinted with triumph.
“Miss Ye!” Commander Murong Yun had not anticipated such a move from Consort Su. Now, even if he tried to assist, he was too late.
“Damn!” A furious roar boomed like thunder.
Bang!
Tang Yu raised his foot and kicked Consort Su hard, without a hint of mercy—a venomous woman like her deserved no pity.
“Touch my people, and you answer to me!”
Crash!
Consort Su tumbled to the ground, the force of the blow sending her sliding several feet, her face bloodied—a pitiful sight.
“Your… Your Majesty…”
Ye Yue stood frozen in place. She could have evaded that dagger, but the Emperor’s reaction left her utterly astonished.
Was this truly the same timid, weak Emperor she had known?
Tang Yu’s face was flushed, and he panted heavily—what a thrill!
He drew the broadsword, raised it high, and roared,
“Why are you all standing there? Arrest them—every last traitor!”
Murong Yun snapped out of his daze and immediately ordered his men to seize the rebels.
Consort Su, feeling the pain from her bruised backside, realized in horror it was Tang Yu who had struck her. In the past, a mere frown from her would have him scurrying after her, but now he dared to raise a hand against her!
“Tang Yu, how dare you! You actually struck me?!”
She made to rise and retaliate, but a cold blade pressed to her throat, a trickle of blood already falling to the floor.
Ye Yue, at some point, had placed her sword against Consort Su’s neck—one move, and her head would fall.
“Your Majesty, the traitors are all captured—please pass judgment!” Murong Yun called out.
Ye Yue glanced at the battered hall and sneered,
“Demonic Consort, your fate is sealed—be executed on the spot!”
In an instant, the situation had reversed. Corpses littered the hall, blood staining the golden floor, the air thick with the stench of death.
Tang Yu could not help but frown; he had never witnessed such carnage, and nearly lost his composure.
He forced down his nausea, straightened his posture, and declared in regal tones,
“Rise. Your loyal service in rescuing the throne shall be rewarded most generously!”
Murong Yun was stunned—when had the Emperor ever addressed him with such warmth? In the past, he was always scolded for meddling and banished to the frontier. Had it not been for Ye Yue’s secret message, today the Great Xia would have fallen!