Chapter 6: The Young Prince

Title: Shadow of the Silent Blade

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Your Highness?

After a moment of silence, the hall erupted into whispers.

When did she return?

How would we know? Not a single word was heard!

She… she’s still alive.

Song Ce sighed. Beneath his sleeve, his hand trembled uncontrollably, unable to hide his fear.

Ning Xiaoling froze for a moment before realization struck.

Could it be her?

Ning Changjiu frowned.

Who?

Xiaoling leaned closer and whispered.

In the palace, when they say Your Highness, they don’t mean the Crown Prince, nor any of the royal princes, nor a princess. They mean… the adopted daughter of a certain consort.

An adopted daughter?

Xiaoling nodded.

More than ten years ago, the late emperor returned from a military campaign. On the city ramparts, he met a woman of extraordinary beauty. He brought her back, built a grand hall for her, and revered her as though she were divine. By her side was a little girl, perhaps four or five years old. Some said she was his illegitimate daughter; others claimed she was an orphan the woman had taken in. Either way, both lived within the palace.

But soon after the hall was completed, the emperor—still in his prime—fell gravely ill and died. Since then, that consort lived in seclusion, never showing herself.

Xiaoling glanced around nervously as she spoke, only breathing out once she saw no one was listening.

Ning Changjiu’s eyes sharpened.

So the consort who died twenty days ago was her.

Xiaoling froze, then slowly realized what he meant.

Among the people, countless rumors swirled about that mysterious consort hidden deep within the palace. Many called her a demoness who had cursed Zhao’s destiny, claiming she was the cause of the emperor’s untimely death. But for over a decade, none dared touch her.

Though unseen, her deeds spread far: a sword flying ten thousand miles to slay demons in Qianyu Palace, the Azure Dragon descending from the Nine Heavens to bow before her.

To the people of Zhao, she was legend itself—whether deity or demon, none could say.

Xiaoling’s heart pounded. If it truly was the Empress who died… then as her daughter, how could the princess possibly forgive?

No wonder the gathered officials looked so stricken with fear.

Changjiu frowned.

Even if so, why should they be afraid? If they dared kill the mother, why not kill the daughter as well?

Xiaoling tugged his sleeve quickly, urging silence.

At that moment, outside the eaves, a graceful figure appeared faintly through the curtain of autumn rain. The whispers fell silent.

A young girl in a snow-white robe, waist bound by a plain sash, descended the stone steps. Her hair was black as ink, her features fine and cold, untouched by worldly dust. In her hand she held a crimson oil-paper umbrella, its surface still dripping with rain.

The officials lowered their heads as she passed, none daring to meet her gaze.

She entered the hall slowly. Her footsteps echoed clearly against the wet stone, as if time itself held its breath.

Twenty days ago, the one who raised me left this world. You all know this well, don’t you?

No one answered. The silence pressed heavily over them.

She tilted her head, her expression calm.

Strange. Since you already knew… why does it look as though none of you expected me to return?

Song Ce finally forced himself to speak.

Your Highness, the Empress… she passed away of natural causes. None among us would dare—

Her eyes sharpened.

Natural causes? Do you truly believe that?

Song Ce lowered his head, sweat forming along his brow.

The girl smiled faintly, though her gaze carried a chill that pierced straight to the bone.

My mother spent over ten years in seclusion, stepping beyond the mundane world. Her body was stronger than jade, her breath like the flow of heaven and earth itself. Tell me, Song Ce… how could such a person die so suddenly?

Her words struck like thunder. Many officials trembled where they knelt.

Xiaoling clutched Changjiu’s sleeve, her heart pounding violently.

The girl continued, her voice still even, though each syllable was edged with steel.

In these twenty days, I’ve walked through the palace halls. I’ve seen the marks of talismans burned into the walls, and the traces of formations that should never have been drawn. Tell me again, Song Ce… was it truly natural causes?

The silence deepened.

Song Ce did not dare look up.

The girl’s words cut through the hall like a blade.

Song Ce’s lips parted, but no sound came. At last, he forced out a strained reply.

Your Highness, you mustn’t speak such things… If rumors of this spread, it will shake the very foundation of the state.

Her gaze lingered on him for a long while. Then she turned slightly, her eyes sweeping across the rows of trembling officials.

The foundation of Zhao? You fear for the dynasty’s fate, yet when my mother was murdered, none of you dared raise a voice. When the palace trembled with the cries of talismans burning, not one of you stood in her defense. And now you speak of the state?

Her tone never rose, yet the weight behind it made hearts sink like stone.

Some officials pressed their foreheads deeper against the ground, hoping to vanish into the floor.

She finally stepped closer to Song Ce.

Tell me… who ordered it?

Song Ce’s shoulders stiffened.

Your Highness, I… I do not know.

Her eyes narrowed.

Then what use are you?

The words were spoken quietly, but Song Ce’s body shook as though struck by lightning.

Xiaoling pressed her lips together, too frightened to breathe. Beside her, Changjiu’s frown deepened.

The girl’s expression did not change. She lifted the crimson umbrella, still damp from the rain, and let it rest gently against the floor.

Since no one dares to answer, I will find the truth myself.

Her voice carried a calm certainty, one that chilled the blood of everyone present.

The hall remained utterly silent.