The Emperor's body felt surprisingly shriveled and hard.
The earth trembled.
The palace shook.
No one could care for anyone else.
Even the devoted guards couldn't keep their balance.
The Seventh Prince knew it was the final moment.
Victory belongs to the conqueror.
Every climb to power requires stepping over corpses.
Once he becomes the ruler, history will be written by him.
Perhaps it won't be pretty, but time is forgetful.
He went berserk.
Thrust and withdrew the blade with force.
He didn't know why he harbored such hatred for his own father.
Perhaps it was because of favoritism.
The same things others had, he didn't.
Why?
He hated the Emperor.
At the same time, he hated his birth mother.
He knew his birth was merely a tool for that woman to gain favor, but when she discovered that the child she nearly died giving birth to couldn't bring her the love she sought, she became filled with disgust for him.
Since childhood, he had wanted to find a woman completely different from his mother - someone from a noble family, innocent and pure, without schemes. He would love her well, treat her right, build his own family with her, have children, and treat their children well.
What his father and mother couldn't do, he would accomplish.
His dark inner self needed a bright facade to sustain it.
So even though Yu Luan couldn't bear children, he still loved her.
But he gradually realized he was becoming just like his father.
He could even drink and chat with Jiang Er despite knowing Jiang Er had killed his child.
He had ultimately become the person he despised most.
He was young and strong; he grabbed the knife.
He stabbed at the man before him.
The man before him wasn't his father anymore, but an obstacle to his success and progress - one he had to eliminate.
The earth shook violently, making heads spin and vision blur.
Some were fleeing for their lives, others taking lives.
Mianmian knew attending the palace banquet would be risky.
Otherwise, there would be no plot to unfold.
But she never imagined it would be this dangerous.
It was like thinking meeting someone online only risked having your heart broken, not realizing they wanted not just your heart but your organs too...
It was life-threatening.
This wasn't just risky - it was a deadly trap.
Choosing New Year's Day for a palace coup.
Well, well, well, what perfect timing.
Future celebrations might as well all be on New Year's Day.
Mianmian huddled in a corner.
Protected fiercely by Princess Grandma.
At times like these, don't run around - running around carelessly would get you killed.
Stay put first, deal with attacks when they come.
Seeing Mom still able to "accidentally" push people nearby to cover them, Mom should be fine too.
During an earthquake, don't run - just crouch under tables.
Originally the Seventh Prince controlled the situation.
The earthquake slightly changed things.
When people finally came to their senses, they saw the Seventh Prince stabbing the Emperor.
Countless people shouted:
"Your Majesty!"
"Your Majesty!"
"Your Majesty!"
"Protect the Emperor!"
"Stop!"
The Emperor looked down at his abdomen.
The imperial robe was pierced.
Stained with blood.
Beautiful.
The dragon on it had never looked so lifelike before, as if about to come alive.
But he felt himself dying.
In this dying moment, he could still review the past.
Look back on bygone days.
The past was blank.
Nothing particularly regrettable.
Nothing particularly exciting either.
He didn't have many regrets in this life.
He had become Emperor - what regrets could he have?
If there were regrets, perhaps there were some.
Like now, this child raising a knife against him was his child - he had failed not only as an Emperor but also as a father.
It wasn't like this in the beginning.
Initially, he governed diligently, seriously taught his children to read.
He didn't know how it had come to this.
Looking at his little Seventh Prince before him.
The Emperor smiled with acceptance.
He had never hugged this child, because this child's birth mother disgusted him, and seeing this child always made him feel guilty.
But before death, he embraced him, tightly.
The hug he owed him, he finally gave back.
The Seventh Prince didn't know why - he struck with a knife, yet received an embrace in return.
Why now?
Why didn't you hug me earlier?
Why?
Why did you call my mother a whore?
All the women in the palace were whores, which one wasn't?
But his rebuttal was so laughably weak.
He didn't dare say his mother wasn't a whore, no, not at all.
He only dared say others were too.
But it didn't matter.
It didn't matter, he had won.
Kill those people, and he would win.
And Jiang Er, who rushed to save Third Prince, both fell.
They fell behind the dragon throne.
Witnessing the scene of father-son bloodshed.
As if stunned.
Second son of Jiang family shouted: "Your Majesty, protect the Emperor, protect the Emperor!"
In that moment of extreme tension, no one could protect the Emperor anymore.
Fate had decreed it so.
He had underestimated his little Seventh Prince.
He was more ruthless than him.
Second son of Jiang family had the weakest foundation, but he had Third Prince.
The Emperor asked, Wenxin, can I trust you?
Second son of Jiang family didn't ask, but he trusted him.
Others couldn't bring weapons in, but these people already lived inside.
Guards killed chaotically.
Like a mantis catching a cicada while a sparrow lurks behind, a snake hides in the grass behind the sparrow, and an eagle circles above the snake.
Second son of Jiang family rose and kicked the Seventh Prince away.
Meanwhile, Qin Luoxia threw over a silver plate - pure silver, extremely heavy - hitting Chu Xi right on the forehead.
Eunuch Yan caught the Emperor.
The Emperor, now dyed red with blood.
Eunuch Yan shouted hoarsely: "The Seventh Prince has committed patricide, the Emperor has fallen!"
"Fire! Fire!"
Amid the rising and falling shouts.
A dragon banner fell from the wall with a rustle, the wind carrying the dragon, floating and drifting, floating and drifting.
