Chapter 4: A Dark and Windy Night of Murder! The Empress Leads a Raid on the Academy!
Days passed, and the atmosphere in the Taiping Courtyard grew increasingly tense.
Ye Qingmei’s belly grew larger, making movement difficult, but her spirits remained high. She often sat in the courtyard, gazing at the sky in silence, occasionally exchanging a few words with Wu Zhu, the ever-silent figure shrouded in black cloth beside her.
“Is everything prepared?” Ye Qingmei stroked her belly, feeling the movements of the two little ones inside.
Wu Zhu stood in the shadows beneath the corridor, his voice flat. “Mn.”
“Those people outside… still haven’t given up?”
Ye Qingmei smiled faintly, a mix of resignation and self-mockery in her expression. “Tell me, after all this trouble, was it worth it?”
Wu Zhu paused briefly before answering. “If you think it was, then it was.”
“True.” Ye Qingmei’s smile faded as she sighed softly. “Wu Zhu, if… just if, something happens to me, I leave these two children in your care.”
Wu Zhu didn’t respond, but his already still figure seemed to grow even more rigid.
Finally, the day arrived.
Midwives were ushered into the delivery room, while hot water and clean towels were carried in like a steady stream. In the courtyard, Wu Zhu remained in his spot, unmoving as a boulder.
From inside the delivery room, Ye Qingmei’s cries of pain came in broken intervals.
In the midst of his hazy consciousness, Li Changsheng suddenly jolted awake. It’s time! The moment has come! He could sense Fan Xian’s consciousness stirring beside him, also struggling to push forward. No! The elder must come first—I have to be the older brother! Summoning his weak but tenacious will, he fought to push ahead. Forget the passage—just charge! I must get out before that guy next to me!
Fan Xian (muddled consciousness): “??? Pushing again? Can’t you let me live?!”
A powerful force surged as Ye Qingmei let out a final, exhausted cry. Li Changsheng felt himself break through some invisible barrier—light flooded his vision, followed by the sharp, cold bite of fresh air.
“It’s a boy! A young master!” The midwife’s delighted voice rang out.
Li Changsheng had successfully stormed the beachhead! He could practically imagine Fan Xian’s dumbfounded confusion in his own newborn consciousness. I am the older brother—no contest!
Unlike a typical infant, he didn’t wail or thrash. Instead, he simply opened his eyes, curiously taking in this new world, feeling the softness of the cloth wrapped around him.
Not long after, another commotion arose, accompanied by the sound of crying—Fan Xian had arrived.
“Another one! Another young master! Twins—a pair of boys!” The midwife’s voice grew even more excited.
Ye Qingmei’s face was pale, her temples damp with sweat, but when the two tiny infants were brought before her, an astonishing light shone in her eyes. She reached out first, carefully cradling the quiet baby who stared up at her with wide eyes—Li Changsheng.
A warm, soft sensation enveloped him. Nestled in a fragrant embrace, he could clearly see Ye Qingmei’s face.
She was beautiful. Even exhausted and weak, she radiated an extraordinary charm—a blend of intelligence and vitality.
So this… is my mother?
The legend of the Joy of Life world, the woman who had single-handedly stirred storms.
Ye Qingmei gazed at the eldest son in her arms—the one who neither cried nor fussed, simply watching her quietly—and her heart swelled with tenderness. She leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Li Changsheng’s forehead.
The warm touch carried the scent of a mother’s love. Li Changsheng’s heart trembled, and an unfamiliar sense of belonging surged within him.
He wanted to do something—to protect this woman who had just given him life. But as he reached into the depths of his soul, he found only a faint flicker of the Nether Lotus Demonic Flame, lying dormant. It couldn’t even rise to the surface, let alone shield anyone.
Too weak… I’m still too weak! Against the coming storm, I’m powerless.
A deep sense of helplessness gripped him.
Just then, the air outside the courtyard seemed to freeze.
Wu Zhu moved—so fast he left only an afterimage.
At the same time, three figures clad in gray robes appeared atop the courtyard walls, their presence so faint they seemed almost illusory. Their gazes locked onto Ye Qingmei and the two infants inside the delivery room.
“The Temple…” Ye Qingmei’s expression shifted.
Wu Zhu was already blocking the doorway, his empty hands radiating a danger sharper than any blade. Without a word, he engaged the three intruders.
There were no earth-shattering clashes—only the blur of impossibly fast movements and the dull thuds of collisions.
Wu Zhu fought one against three, his movements ruthlessly efficient, each strike aimed at a vital point. The gray-robed figures were clearly elite fighters, coordinating seamlessly, yet against Wu Zhu, they seemed restrained.
After a brief exchange, Wu Zhu appeared unwilling to prolong the battle. With a flicker, he ghosted past them, darting into the distance.
The three gray-robed figures exchanged glances before giving chase without hesitation, vanishing into the night in an instant.
The courtyard returned to silence, as though nothing had happened.
Ye Qingmei held Li Changsheng, gently patting his back, but her gaze lingered in the direction Wu Zhu had disappeared, a trace of worry in her eyes.
She looked down at the eldest son in her arms, then at the younger one, Fan Xian, asleep in his crib after crying himself out. A soft smile touched her lips.
“Changsheng… Fanfan…” she murmured.
Li Changsheng nestled against his mother, savoring this fleeting moment of peace.
But it didn’t last long.
A sharp cry shattered the silence—