Chapter 2: A Narrow Escape from Death

A slender figure dressed in red, graceful in posture and wearing an official’s hat, approached with measured steps, her silhouette illuminated by the candlelight. The flickering glow revealed a delicate and youthful face, no more than sixteen or seventeen years old.

Ye Cheng was startled. Wasn’t this just a high school girl? Yet her gaze was icy, her tone tinged with the intent to kill. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, an overwhelming sense of dread gripping him. Memories surfaced unbidden—this girl was none other than Shangguan Feiyan, a fourth-rank female official in the Crown Prince’s manor and a favored confidant of the prince himself. Rumor had it she was ruthless, punishing servants and eunuchs at the slightest provocation. Within the manor, everyone feared her.

“This delicate girl is nothing short of a living demon,” Ye Cheng thought bitterly.

Sure enough, Shangguan Feiyan fixed her gaze on Ye Cheng, curling her thin lips into a cold sneer. “Your Highness, others might not know him, but I do. He entered the manor with me. How could he possibly be the Empress’s spy?”

“You wretched servant, how dare you deceive me! You must have grown tired of living!” Ling Xiaoyue’s willow brows arched in fury, her phoenix eyes glinting with murderous ice.

This audacious eunuch! Nothing incensed her more than deception.

Though his cover was blown, Ye Cheng kept his composure, knowing that panic would only hasten his death. “Your Highness, it’s true that Shangguan Feiyan entered the palace with me, but how much does she know about my life before that?” Ye Cheng replied with calm assurance, though inwardly he was in turmoil.

Shangguan Feiyan frowned delicately. “That much I do not know.”

After all, Ye Cheng had spent two years in the palace as a lowly eunuch, barely noticed by anyone.

“Precisely. I am, in fact, an agent sent by the Empress. Isn’t it odd that I survived the prince’s blow just now?” Ye Cheng countered, turning the suspicion back on them.

The two exchanged glances. Indeed, something was amiss.

Ling Xiaoyue frowned slightly. “It is strange. With my strength as an eighth-rank Martial Lord, how could a mere eunuch withstand a single strike from me?”

“In truth, I am trained in martial arts—second-rank martial artist, thanks to the Empress’s arrangements. She sent me here only to protect the Crown Prince. Now that His Majesty’s health is failing and the court is rife with traitors, the Empress fears for the prince’s safety,” Ye Cheng explained further.

“And how would a lowly eunuch know of His Majesty’s illness?” Ling Xiaoyue’s eyes widened in shock.

“This is a closely guarded secret. Few ministers at court are aware, yet this eunuch knows. Could he truly be the Empress’s man?” Even the cold-hearted Shangguan Feiyan was shaken, biting her silver teeth in doubt.

Ye Cheng felt a surge of relief; his gamble seemed to be working. He pressed on, “Of course, it was the Empress who informed me. How else would someone as insignificant as myself know such a secret?”

“It does appear he serves the Empress,” Ling Xiaoyue conceded. Such knowledge was beyond the reach of a nameless eunuch.

“But he is still suspicious. What if he betrays Your Highness’s identity?” Shangguan Feiyan’s delicate face remained edged with murderous intent.

Ye Cheng quickly protested, “I would never reveal a word to the Empress. If this matter were exposed, it would shake the foundation of Great Zhou. Should others learn of it, our nation would be in grave peril!”

“Who would have thought such loyalty lay within you? I’ll spare you this time, but there must not be a next. Should I hear of any rumors outside these walls, beware for your head,” Ling Xiaoyue declared, waving her slender jade hand.

Leaving the palace, Ye Cheng’s back was drenched in cold sweat, as though he had just returned from the gates of hell.

“That was far too close. I almost died at the hands of that demoness,” he muttered, wiping the cold sweat from his brow.

His knowledge of the Emperor’s illness came from the original owner of this body. In that moment of crisis, memories had returned to him. The body’s previous owner was the former dynasty’s Crown Prince, who, two years earlier, learned of the Zhou Emperor’s illness and infiltrated the Crown Prince’s manor in disguise as a eunuch, intent on assassination.

The current Emperor had only one heir. If the prince were assassinated and the Emperor passed, the Great Zhou dynasty would have no successor and plunge into chaos—giving the former regime a chance to reclaim the throne.

Yet the previous owner was overly upright, lacked cunning, and found no opportunity to approach the prince. His martial skills were mediocre, only a second-rank martial artist. Just days ago, he had offended Chief Steward Li, head eunuch of the manor, and suffered fifty strokes as punishment. Overcome by grief and anger, he died—thus allowing Ye Cheng to take his place.

Just as Ye Cheng prepared to retire for the night, Steward Wang hurried over, holding an official’s robe and a stack of silver notes, grinning broadly.

“Congratulations, Lord Ye,” he announced. “The prince has just issued a decree—your promotion to seventh-rank overseer. Here are your official robes and five hundred taels of silver notes. Don’t forget to thank His Highness for his generosity.”

Ye Cheng was momentarily stunned. Was this faux prince promoting him simply to keep him quiet?

Had he finally made it?

“Thank you for the prince’s gracious reward,” Ye Cheng said, kneeling in salute.

“Little Cheng, you’re something else. A single service for the prince, and you’ve already earned his favor. Your future is bright indeed,” Steward Wang praised.

“I owe much to your guidance, Steward Wang,” Ye Cheng replied with a broad smile, slipping a stack of silver notes into the steward’s hand.

Steward Wang’s eyes widened—there must be at least three hundred taels here. Had Little Cheng suddenly changed his ways? He’d always been a notorious miser, yet now he was so generous.

“Thank you for your support, Steward Wang,” Ye Cheng repeated with a grin.

Though his rank was not high, Steward Wang had long served in the prince’s manor and was well-connected.

“Think nothing of it,” the steward replied with a satisfied smile.

After seeing Steward Wang off, Ye Cheng returned to his room, organizing his thoughts and planning for the days ahead.

Restoration of the former dynasty was now impossible. Even if he succeeded in assassinating the prince, how could he escape the manor? And with his current strength, how could he hope to defeat that demoness? She was an eighth-rank Martial Lord—an unparalleled master in this world of martial arts.

Ye Cheng couldn’t fathom how she had attained such power. In this lair of dragons and tigers, survival was his only goal; a single misstep would cost him his head.

He had barely fallen asleep when a chilling voice whispered at his ear, “Still sleeping? The Princess Consort summons you. Come with me immediately.”

Ye Cheng opened his eyes to see a woman with a cold, exquisite face standing by his bed, her skin pale as jade in the moonlight.

“The Princess Consort wants to see me? What could this be about?” Ye Cheng wondered, suspicion rising in his heart.