Now that it is known that the King of Bo is not the true Emperor, although Nangong Haotian is shocked and finds it hard to believe, the scene before him and the thought of such capable individuals surrounding the once-benevolent Emperor make him furrow his brows in deep contemplation.
“Since it’s confirmed he isn’t the real Emperor, should I reach out to some court officials who oppose him and then make further plans?”
Seeing the worried expressions of the others, Nangong Haotian recalls that they were originally his invited guests, yet they remain so passionate despite encountering such a situation. Though he still struggles to accept that the man he has addressed as “Emperor” for nearly two decades is an imposter, he turns to them and asks.
“Don’t act rashly for now,” Feng Moli immediately intervenes, looking at him. “We must first determine who the current Emperor of Bo truly is before making any moves. If the people you contact turn out to have direct ties to him, it could spell trouble.”
Nangong Haotian nods in silent agreement to his warning. “Very well, then we’ll wait for the princess to awaken first. However, I only remember that the princess of Bo—the sister of the current Emperor—was said to have eloped over sixteen years ago and vanished without a trace. Yet now she appears in the palace…”
He frowns, clearly puzzled by the woman’s claim to be the princess.
“Whether she is truly the princess or not, we can only confirm once she wakes and explains herself,” Feng Moli replies, his elegant brows knitting together. “But the current Emperor is indeed shrouded in suspicion. We’ve also learned that, although he sits on the throne, many state affairs—even major decisions—are controlled by the Empress. This is undeniably suspicious.”
By the next evening, the woman finally regains consciousness.
Taking the opportunity to visit her, they inquire again about her past.
“It seems you still doubt me, but I truly am Princess Ziyang of Bo. As for the claim that I eloped—that is utterly baseless,” the woman responds, her eyes dim behind her veil as she looks at them.
“How so?” they ask, startled by the contradiction to Nangong Haotian’s account.
“Sixteen years ago, my elder brother, Long Zijun, and the then Prince Yong, Long Zizhen, went to battle. The campaign was initially successful, and upon hearing of their victory, I joyfully led the people to welcome them outside the palace. But soon after their return, I noticed something strange about my brother—until I realized he was actually Prince Yong in disguise. Shocked, I sought allies to expose him and uncover my real brother’s whereabouts. However, our plan was discovered prematurely. The officials I contacted were either exiled or executed on false charges. As for me, Prince Yong and the current Empress, Ziyan’er, attempted to kill me. They gravely injured me and threw me into a dry well, sealing it shut, believing I would drown.”
“I thought I would die, but I eventually regained consciousness. Though severely wounded, the well had dried up and connected to an underground river, allowing me to escape to the outskirts. Over time, my injuries healed, but my skills never fully recovered, and my face… became like this. All these years, I’ve searched for evidence of their treachery, only to discover that the Empress isn’t even the original Ziyan’er—she’s merely a lookalike, a master of poisons who controls Prince Yong.”
Her voice is low and sorrowful as she recounts this, her eyes brimming with tears.
“So it was Prince Yong all along. Your words have enlightened me, Princess. But do you have any proof of your identity?” Nangong Haotian kneels respectfully, rising only at her gesture. Though her face is disfigured, her noble bearing remains. Still, he cautiously asks for verification.
“Lord Nangong, here—my token.”
Princess Ziyang smiles faintly and hands him a jade pendant from her robes.
“Your servant greets the Princess. May you live in eternal blessings.” Nangong Haotian bows deeply, recognizing the royal insignia. The butterfly-shaped birthmark behind her ear—unique to her—further confirms her identity. Heartbroken by her suffering, he asks urgently, “Then, Princess, have you learned of the true Emperor’s fate? Was he ambushed on his return?”
“For years, I’ve hidden in the palace, gathering evidence against them while searching for my brother. Just days before your arrival, I finally found him.”
“The Emperor is alive?!” Nangong Haotian exclaims in relief, echoed by the usually reserved Feng Liusu.
“Yes. Only upon meeting him did I learn the truth. On their way back to the capital, he and his loyalists were ambushed by Prince Yong. Though severely wounded, they managed to escape. Their injuries were so grave that they only returned to the capital a month ago. During the recent assassination attempt in the palace, I recognized them and helped them escape—but some were poisoned by the Empress and remain injured. I dare not seek them out recklessly, nor do I know their current condition.”
“Did he tell you where they’re hiding?” Nangong Haotian presses, recalling the recent rumors of the palace attack.
“He did. They’re in a village outside the city—Wangjia Village, in the home of a family named Niu at the village entrance.” Princess Ziyang’s voice trembles with emotion as she kneels before Nangong Haotian. “Lord Nangong, now that you know the truth, I beg you—for the sake of Bo’s centuries-old legacy, for my brother—help us restore the rightful rule and destroy Prince Yong and that vile woman!”
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