FID – Chapter 717

Chapter 717: A Perfect Exit

There was a strong possibility that the attack would happen inside the royal tomb.

The procession ahead had already stopped.

They had reached the entrance of the royal tomb. The civil and military officials needed to disembark from their carriages and follow the emperor on foot into the mausoleum grounds.

Duan Ting lifted the curtain and glanced toward the tomb.

Since it was a burial site, the atmosphere naturally carried a solemn and eerie sense of foreboding.

Around the tomb’s perimeter, in areas hidden from the outside, lay the defenses quietly set up by the royal family.

He racked his brain, still unable to figure out how those people could infiltrate the tomb undetected and set up an ambush inside.

“An insider.” The faint sound of two words drifted past his ear like a breeze.

Duan Ting’s expression changed instantly, his eyes darkening with a sudden chill.

It took him a long moment to suppress the surge of emotion before turning to look at the man beside him. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Is there a chance you’ve overlooked something? What if they plan to attack on the way back instead, during the return journey?”

“They won’t.” Feng Qingbai slowly opened his eyes, his gaze calm and unreadable, and his tone carried no trace of doubt.

Duan Ting pressed his lips together, silently observing him.

“The procession for the royal tomb ritual has too many carriages. No one knows who is in which one. Even you don’t know where the emperor or the other princes are,” Feng Qingbai said as he stood up, brushing past Duan Ting and stepping off the carriage first. His voice drifted back, calm and unwavering, “Without a guarantee of a sure strike, he won’t act.”

Staring at the man’s unhurried, composed figure, Duan Ting squeezed his eyes shut tightly for a moment.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he had to. Feng Qingbai was right.

There must be an insider within the royal family, working with the assassin, helping them infiltrate the royal tomb without anyone noticing.

Shoving aside these unsettling truths for now, Duan Ting spent the rest of the journey deep in thought. Besides the Emperor, who else in the royal family had enough power and influence to make such a thing possible?

The procession’s order of entry into the tomb followed strict rules.

Because this ceremony was meant to report the alliance between the two nations to their ancestors, the envoys of Nanling were positioned to the emperor’s left, while the right side was occupied by members of the Beicang royal family.

Behind them, civil and military officials followed, ranked according to their status and seniority.

“Enter the royal tomb—”

At the front of the procession, the sharp, high-pitched voice of the ceremonial eunuch announced their entry. Everyone adopted solemn expressions, bowed their heads slightly, and followed behind the Emperor as they stepped into the royal tomb.

As they walked side by side Duan Ting deliberately maneuvered his wheelchair to align himself with Feng Qingbai, seizing an opportune moment to stay close and match his pace.

Feng Qingbai glanced down at him briefly before withdrawing his gaze, uninterested.

This reaction brought a rare flicker of satisfaction to Duan Ting’s face.

If an assassin really struck later, he planned to stick to Feng Qingbai like glue. Only by staying near him could he ensure his safety.

After all, the nearby Imperial Guards and Feathered Forest Guards were utterly unreliable in his eyes.

In times of danger, no one would care about him.

After all, he was just a cripple.

His eyes lifted slightly, peering through the gaps in the crowd at the figure dressed in imperial yellow at the very front. A faint, icy smile tugged at the corner of Duan Ting’s lips.

It was also fortunate, in its own twisted way, that he was a cripple.

As the procession reached the Temple of Heaven, the Emperor ascended the platform, lit incense, performed the rites, and recited the ceremonial text, finally informing the ancestors of the newly established diplomatic alliance.

Everything proceeded in an orderly manner.

Everyone maintained a solemn demeanor, outwardly displaying respect and reverence.

Feng Qingbai gazed at the altar, his peripheral vision discreetly observing the behavior of the princes nearby.

Unfortunately, every member of the royal family was an expert at hiding their thoughts, and no one betrayed any unusual behavior.

The situation changed in the blink of an eye.

On the platform, someone suddenly saw the Emperor pull a eunuch beside him and use him as a shield. Moments later, blood spurted from the eunuch’s chest.

After a brief moment of stunned silence, chaos erupted, followed by panicked shouts and frantic movement.

“Protect His Majesty!”

At the sound of this command, the Imperial Guards rushed toward the altar in unison.

Feng Qingbai calmly stepped aside slightly, while Duan Ting, in contrast, grabbed onto his sleeve at lightning speed, clinging to him like sticky rice candy.

“Feng Qingbai, don’t leave me behind. I’m a cripple now. If even you abandon me, I’ll be left with no one, utterly pitiful.”

“Is something wrong with your brain?”

“Call it what you like, staying alive is what matters.” Duan Ting was determined to stick with Feng Qingbai, who was far more reliable than any guard.

Being mocked a few times didn’t matter at all compared to saving his own life.

The crowd around them had already descended into chaos, with shouts ringing out as people surged toward the altar, rushing to shield the Emperor by placing themselves in harm’s way.

At times like this, anyone who dared flee would face certain death later, even if they survived the attack. It was better to act bravely, gain favor in front of the Emperor, and rise to power if they lived through it.

Just as Duan Ting was about to ask Feng Qingbai whether they should also push toward the altar to avoid being accused of lacking loyalty and filial piety, he suddenly felt a force.

Feng Qingbai had grabbed the armrests of his wheelchair and effortlessly shifted him and the chair to a new position.

Right where Duan Ting had been moments before, two hidden weapons were now embedded in the ground!

Cold sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Quick! Protect the princes!”

Another urgent shout rang out. Duan Ting looked up and saw that two people had already collapsed where the princes had been standing. One of them was Prince Yuan!

Amid the chaos, a group of black-clad assassins moved seamlessly through the onslaught of imperial guards, cutting through them with ease.

One assassin, after delivering a fatal blow to an opponent’s throat, glanced to the side—and his gaze locked with Feng Qingbai’s cold, unwavering stare.

A flicker of mockery flashed through the assassin’s eyes.

Feng Qingbai’s lips pressed into a thin line as his eyes narrowed. He let out a cold snort and prepared to lunge forward, only to be grabbed tightly by Duan Ting, who clung to his arm.

“Hey, hey, Feng Qingbai! Don’t go! I’m scared!”

“Let go!” Feng Qingbai snapped, clearly exasperated. This deadweight!

Bang!

A soft sound echoed.

Immediately, white mist filled the royal mausoleum grounds, enveloping everything in a thick haze and obscuring everyone’s vision.

“Protect His Majesty! Protect His Majesty!”

“Don’t act recklessly! Guard him!”

“Hold your breath! The smoke is poisonous!…”

When the mist finally dispersed, the scene before them turned the Emperor’s face ashen with fury.

His eighth son, Prince Yuan, was dead!

The lifeless body lay there silently, with a thin sword wound across the neck. Fresh blood continued to trickle from the cut, the vivid red a glaring, agonizing sight.

Staggering down step by step from the altar, the emperor approached Duan Yuan’s body. He bent down, placed trembling fingers near his son’s nose, and after a moment, lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot with rage.

“Search! Find them!” he roared, his voice thunderous. “I want them torn apart limb to limb!”

Not far from the chaos, Duan Ting slowly released Feng Qingbai’s arm. His face was expressionless as he watched the scene unfold, as he watched that man descend into madness. His eyes, however, were cold—and full of mockery.

This man, who had always stood above everyone else, finally tasted the anguish of losing a loved one.

He had always treated the lives of others like mere weeds. And now, wasn’t it ironic that he suffered in this way?

The assassins had already withdrawn.

A perfect exit.

The entire confrontation had been brief. Yet, within that short time, the bodies strewn across the mausoleum grounds were all imperial guards—every one of them, clad in the attire of the imperial defense force. Not a single corpse wore black.

Feng Qingbai stood with a blank expression, his gaze icy as he watched the aftermath unfold.

So, this was how Gong Ling executed his plan.

By killing the Beicang Emperor’s most beloved son, he would set off a chain reaction, causing the emperor to turn his suspicion toward every other prince.

Because only those with ambitions for the throne would have reason to eliminate the crown’s heir.