Chapter 3: The Emperor’s Scheme Concludes! Ye Qingmei Approaches Labor!
The Emperor’s thoughts swept across the vast land like the frigid winds of the northern frontier—silent, yet carrying a deadly chill.
The name Ye Qingmei had become a thorn in his heart.
For the sake of his supreme imperial authority, for the unshakable foundation of the Qing Kingdom, she had to disappear.
As for the child in her womb—whether it lived or died—perhaps hinged on nothing more than a fleeting thought of his.
But the more likely outcome was complete eradication, leaving no room for future consequences.
Taiping Villa remained warm as spring, shielding its inhabitants from the outside storms and hidden threats.
Ye Qingmei reclined lazily on a soft couch, her fingers gently stroking her swollen belly.
A maternal glow softened her features, brimming with tender anticipation for the new life growing within her.
Wu Zhu stood nearby like a shadow—silent, his eyes covered by a black cloth, his posture as unyielding as a mountain. He was the villa’s most reliable guardian.
“Wu Zhu, once they’re born, you’ll have to help me keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t get too rowdy.”
Her voice was soft, laced with amusement, her tone full of hope.
“Mm.” Wu Zhu responded with a single syllable—simple, steady, and as reassuring as solid stone.
Ye Qingmei laughed, her smile radiant as she lowered her head and whispered to her belly, as if conversing with the unborn children.
Inside the womb, Li Changsheng basked in the warmth and love radiating from his mother, his heart at peace.
He didn’t forget to reinforce his status as the “big brother,” giving Fan Xian beside him another subtle nudge.
Feeling the familiar retreat, Li Changsheng gloated inwardly—his position as the eldest was secure!
Time flowed silently beneath the surface of this tranquil scene.
Deep within Li Changsheng’s consciousness, a system notification chimed.
A flood of profound knowledge surged into his awareness.
Golden Light Divine Mantra—it sounded impressive.
It could protect the body, purify the soul, and had countless applications. In critical moments, it could even manifest as a shield of golden light to repel powerful enemies.
Li Changsheng marveled—what a treasure! His sense of security instantly multiplied.
He faintly sensed a wisp of golden radiance slowly swirling around his fragile life essence.
Days later, his mother’s gentle touch came again.
Though only a fragment, the pill contained such immense vitality that it instantly merged into Li Changsheng’s body.
He felt as though he were soaking in a warm spring—every cell in his body rejoiced, his life force growing noticeably stronger.
His dominance over Fan Xian’s presence also became more pronounced, as if the latter’s “territory” had shrunk yet again.
A palm technique? Li Changsheng nearly laughed.
His tiny arms and legs could barely touch a pebble, let alone shatter stone.
Still, something was better than nothing.
The foundational principles and energy circulation of the technique imprinted themselves into his mind as if they had always been there.
Li Changsheng clearly sensed that with every sign-in, his “potential” was growing at an astonishing rate.
Especially the Nether Lotus Demonic Fire he had obtained earlier—though still just a tiny ember hidden deep within his soul, untouchable for now—its scorching, pure power gave him an inexplicable confidence.
Even if unforeseen events occurred in the future, he might still have a fighting chance, rather than being completely helpless.
He nudged Fan Xian again, reaffirming his dominance.
Fan Xian (future version, still in a daze): “…” What’s going on today? Why am I getting shoved around so much? Can’t we just get along, brother?
Jiangnan—misty rain fell like fine silk over a secluded estate.
Chen Pingping sat in his wheelchair, his expression dark.
His fingers tapped rhythmically against the armrest, emitting a dull tap-tap sound.
Fan Jian stood across from him, brows furrowed in deep concern.
“Something’s wrong. Very wrong.” Chen Pingping’s voice was rough, like gravel grinding against stone. “The young mistress is about to give birth—this is the most critical moment. Yet, His Majesty has chosen now to send both of us away from the capital! One to investigate so-called ‘disturbances’ in the south, the other to handle non-urgent grain logistics in the Ministry of Revenue. This is clearly a ploy to lure the tiger from the mountain!”
Fan Jian’s expression was grave. “I share your unease. The Ministry of Revenue’s affairs are complex, but they don’t strictly require my presence—any vice-minister could temporarily take over. His Majesty’s intentions are obvious.” His fists clenched subtly.
“Intentions? Hah! What else could they be?” A sharp glint flashed in Chen Pingping’s eyes. “He’s removing all possible forces that could protect the young mistress, giving those vile creatures a clear opportunity! Even the capital’s defenses have been replaced—by whose men? This is a meticulously planned conspiracy, step by step!”
Their gazes met—both filled with urgency, worry, and a trace of grim resolve.
“We can’t wait any longer!” Fan Jian’s voice was firm, decisive. “I’ll mobilize my Tiger Guards immediately and return to the capital at full speed. Consequences be damned!”
“The Black Knights must move out as well!” Chen Pingping responded without hesitation, his fingers tapping faster. “Let’s just hope… we’re not too late. The young mistress is at her weakest now, exhausted from the impending labor. Those who covet her position and resent her will not let this golden opportunity slip.”
They both knew—Ye Qingmei’s enemies weren’t limited to the cold halls of the imperial palace.
They included the old nobility, their interests uprooted by her reforms, their hatred festering.
The Emperor’s move had effectively unchained these vicious hounds, tacitly permitting—even encouraging—them to strike.
“Who is truly behind all this?” Fan Jian murmured, the question weighing heavily between them.
The answer hovered on the tip of their tongues, yet it was too horrifying to voice aloud—too terrible to believe.
Two elite forces, representing the pinnacle of the Qing Kingdom’s covert military strength, secretly assembled in separate locations.
Horses’ hooves wrapped in thick cloth, they raced toward the capital day and night.
Jiangnan and the capital were separated by a thousand li—even at full gallop, the journey would take time.
Yet above Taiping Villa, the dark clouds grew heavier, pressing down like an inescapable fate.