At these words, Mohan was overjoyed and immediately dragged Yan Zhao up onto the roof beam.

Yan Zhao was about to ask whether they were just going to abandon the men he had brought, when suddenly, from below, a unified cry rang out—

“We return to the Eternal Heaven!”

One by one, they collapsed, black blood seeping from their mouths, their expressions eerily serene.

Mohan said solemnly, “They have fulfilled their duty to Nanman. Let us go, Imperial Son-in-law!”

Yan Zhao was stunned for a moment before sneering, “Are you so afraid of him? You’d rather let all your men die than face him directly?”

Mohan knew exactly who he meant. His gaze flicked toward the wheelchair below. “Yes. Before coming to Great Xia, the Young Khan himself warned us: if we encounter this man, flee without hesitation.”

Yan Zhao scoffed. “Even Amuze holds him in such high regard? Isn’t he supposed to be invincible in battle? Why would he fear a cripple?”

Mohan remained silent, but a mocking glint flashed in his lowered eyes.

A cripple?

This Imperial Son-in-law truly knew nothing about his elder brother.

This was the only man who had ever escaped the Young Khan’s grasp—the only one who had ever made him suffer a defeat!

After fleeing from Hangu Pass, he had briefly sought refuge in Prince Akebie’s camp. No one knew what he said to the prince, but it was enough to make the arrogant Akebie halt his pursuit and return to the royal court overnight.

Within two days, the Khan issued nine consecutive decrees, forcing the Young Khan to abandon his ambitions of capturing Hulao Pass and penetrating the heart of the Central Plains.

That was why the Young Khan had once lamented, pounding his chest in frustration: “Yan Xu and his son may be troublesome, but at least they fight honorably. Not like this Third Yan, who plays political games—using even Prince Akebie to obstruct me!”

“Imperial Son-in-law, do you know the Young Khan’s greatest regret in life?”

“What?”

“Letting the man you call a cripple return alive to Great Xia!”

The Orchid Fragrance Courtyard was littered with corpses.

Chu Ruolan nearly fainted at the sight of the bodies strewn across the ground. Chu Ruoyan quickly helped her into a room before stepping out to see Meng Yang leading a group of men, already clearing the corpses and scrubbing the courtyard clean.

She frowned, glancing around. “How is it that with such a commotion, Father and Aunt haven’t noticed?”

Yan Zheng’s temple twitched as he shot a look at Meng Yang. The man, who had been rolling up his sleeves to wipe away bloodstains, hurried over. “Young Madam, you should know—before Mohan and his men entered, they spread a sleeping incense throughout the Duke’s Mansion…”

“What?” She immediately turned to run.

Yan Zheng caught her wrist, glaring at Meng Yang, who hastily added, “Don’t worry, Young Madam! Mohan only wanted to avoid drawing attention, so the incense was harmless—just a deep sleep. The Duke and the others will wake by morning!”

Chu Ruoyan exhaled in relief, surveying the mess. “Then clean it thoroughly. No traces can remain.”

If her father found out the Duke’s Mansion had been overrun by Nanman and Yan family members like a marketplace, he would fly into a rage—perhaps even post a sign at the gate: “Nanman and Yans, keep out!”

Meng Yang assured her, “Rest easy, Young Madam. We’ll scrub this place so clean, not even an ant will find a speck of dirt!”

While they worked, Chu Ruoyan wheeled Yan Zheng inside.

Chu Ruolan, still shaken, jumped up at their entrance.

Yan Zheng spoke gently, “Apologies for disturbing you, Third Miss.”

Chu Ruolan froze in surprise. Even Chu Ruoyan was taken aback—since when did this ruthless man become so polite? She quickly said, “Third Sister, you’ve had quite a fright. Why don’t you rest in the side chamber? I’ll fetch you once everything’s settled.”

Chu Ruolan nodded, but after two steps, she hesitated. “That fish—I mean, Sixth Young Master Yan… Will he be safe back in Nanman?”

Chu Ruoyan’s brow arched. Since when had her sister cared so much about Yan Xiaoliu? “Don’t worry. If the Nanman wanted him dead, they wouldn’t have come all this way to retrieve their Imperial Son-in-law.”

She emphasized “Imperial Son-in-law” deliberately, hoping to dispel any misguided notions.

But Chu Ruolan seemed oblivious, murmuring, “Oh… That’s good. He’s foul-mouthed, but he’s actually quite pitiable…”

Perhaps realizing it was improper to say such things in front of the man’s elder brother, she smiled awkwardly at Chu Ruoyan and retreated to the side chamber.

The room fell silent.

Chu Ruoyan sighed, studying Yan Zheng.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if your Yan family is some kind of curse on us Chus. How did Sixth Yan end up in my sister’s bedchamber of all places?” She rubbed her temples.

Yan Zheng swiftly distanced himself. “He is his own man. I am mine.”

Chu Ruoyan shot him a look. “Then how did you end up here tonight?”

Yan Zheng fell silent.

He didn’t dare admit that after the incident at Cuiping Mountain, he had planted spies in the Duke’s Mansion—which was how he’d arrived so quickly when Yan Zhao appeared.

Chu Ruoyan clearly guessed as much but tactfully avoided pressing further. “Speaking of which, you let Xiaoliu go tonight… Was it out of consideration for the Princess?”

Yan Zheng nodded. “Yes. In Nanman, at least he has his status as Imperial Son-in-law for protection. But in the capital? An Sheng would tear him apart.”

Imperial Son-in-law Cao hadn’t even spared a child like Wen Jing.

If An Sheng learned Yan Zhao was alive, she’d surely carve him into pieces.

Chu Ruoyan frowned. “But one thing puzzles me—how did he know the Princess was the mastermind?”

So far, An Sheng had only confessed to them. To the world, she remained the benevolent Princess.

How had Yan Zhao uncovered her role in the Yan family’s massacre?

Yan Zheng tapped the armrest thoughtfully. “What if… the Nanman told him?”

“Then how would the Nanman know—” Her voice cut off as realization dawned. “You mean the Princess actually dared to collude with Nanman?”

She recalled Imperial Son-in-law Cao’s words at Cuiping Mountain—how he had advised Nanman to split their forces and attack Hangu Pass.

What if it wasn’t him, but the Princess pulling the strings?

“What is she after? Conspiring with Nanman to kill the Grand General—is she selling out her own country?”

Yan Zheng handed her a cup of tea. “A-Yan, drink some water first.”

She drained it in one gulp but kept her eyes locked on him. He sighed. “An Sheng is the imperial Princess. What would she gain from betraying Great Xia? More likely, she’s overreaching—grasping for what lies beyond her reach.”

Chu Ruoyan understood instantly. “She wants the throne.”

Being Princess wasn’t enough. She wanted to be Empress Dowager.

Not some figurehead confined to the inner palace, but a regent wielding absolute power behind the scenes.

“No wonder she keeps saying everything is for your sake, Yan Zheng. She’s trying to put you on the throne…”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep