Chapter 97: Xia Jingshi’s Unyielding Defiance

                                    

“That foolish woman!”
The Holy Emperor exploded in fury, kicking over the low lacquered table. The crash echoed through the grand hall, sending palace servants dropping to their knees in terror. The golden plate of purple crystal grapes skittered across the glazed tiles, rolling until it struck a pillar and toppled with a dull clink.

“Keep searching! If you can’t find them—come back with your heads!”

“Your Majesty…”
The Empress Dowager’s face was wan, her eyes ringed with exhaustion from several sleepless nights. “If the mistakes continue, perhaps… we should halt for now. Pressing forward blindly will only worsen matters. I fear we may soon lose even the slightest chance of overturning this.”

The Holy Emperor let out a cold laugh. “Because a dying Xiao Weiran slipped through our fingers, Mother begins to panic?”

“But—”

Before she could finish, hurried footsteps approached.

“Reporting to the Holy Emperor,” the messenger cried, breathless. “The relay stations have discovered a Shusha diplomatic mission. Princess Xingping is with them… as well as Shusha’s Prince Regent, Feng Suige. General Zhenyuan’s wife, Ling Xueying, is also present!”

“What? Feng Suige is here too?”
The Empress Dowager’s expression changed drastically. She cast a worried glance at the Holy Emperor. “Your Majesty, then… what do you intend…”

“How unexpected.”
The Holy Emperor’s voice was ice, the corners of his lips twisting. “I truly underestimated Fu Yi Xiao.”

“Let us stop here, Your Majesty,” the Empress Dowager said bitterly. “A matter that was originally straightforward has become unbearably complicated in an instant. Perhaps Xia Jingshi’s fate is… not yet sealed.”

“Who says his fate isn’t sealed?!”
The Holy Emperor slammed his palm against the table frame, veins bulging. “Has Mother never considered the consequences of letting a tiger return to the mountain? Since the situation is already in chaos—then we shall overturn it completely. Guards! Arrest Feng Xiyang as well. I want to see—who will Feng Suige choose to save!”

—

Xia Jingshi sat cross-legged on a heap of withered straw, eyes half-closed. The frail light filtering through the narrow skylight illuminated his gaunt, shadowed features, yet he wore a small, almost serene smile.

No news of Weiran.
But at this moment… no news was good news.

As long as Xiao Weiran escaped, he would find Yi Xiao. If they reached Yi Xiao in time, her arrival would be the turning point for all of them — the lifeline he gambled everything on when he gave that last order.

Had he chosen to lead his men out of the capital by force, the charge of treason would have been sealed that very day. Once declared rebels, they would be hunted from every direction — and none of them would survive. But now, by calmly delivering himself into the Holy Emperor’s hands, he had forced the throne to shoulder the burden of explanation. The feudal lords were not fools. Someone would see through the cracks.

A low, cold voice broke the silence.

“It seems you find this place quite comfortable.”

The Holy Emperor had arrived without a sound, eyes narrowing in rage at Xia Jingshi’s calm expression. “Don’t think that just because Xiao Weiran escaped, the situation can be reversed. With that broken body of his, even if the Yulin guards can’t restrain him, pursuing him to exhaustion is hardly difficult.”

“This subject has never underestimated Your Majesty,” Xia Jingshi replied softly, opening his eyes — a clear, steady brightness hidden beneath his weariness. “Just as I have never doubted Your Majesty’s ability to fabricate evidence of guilt. Such small matters have always been trivial for Your Majesty, ever since childhood.”

“You’re mistaken,” the Holy Emperor chuckled, voice twisted by fury. “I cannot fabricate evidence. So the evidence… will be whatever you surrender yourself.”

He lowered his gaze, looking down at Xia Jingshi as if from a throne of clouds.
“Tell me — will you hand it over?”

Xia Jingshi looked at him for a long moment, then gave a quiet laugh.
“If even you cannot create it, how could I possibly provide it?”

The Holy Emperor’s laughter echoed harshly through the dank chamber.
He beckoned to the jailer and whispered a few words. The jailer paled.

“You’ve always been sharp,” the Holy Emperor said lightly. “You must know what I intend for today. I will ask once more — will you hand it over?”

“No,” Xia Jingshi answered, resolute.

Footsteps rushed in. Several jailers entered; the original one presented a long iron needle, nearly a foot in length. The keys jingled. The door was opened. Shackles scraped the ground as Xia Jingshi was forced down, limbs pinned beneath rough hands.

The Holy Emperor lifted the iron needle, admiring the gleam along its tip.
He walked slowly to Xia Jingshi’s side, each step filled with calculated cruelty.

“I forgot to mention,” he said with a wicked smile, “Fu Yi Xiao will arrive shortly. I was thinking… if I were to chain your shoulder blades in front of her, break your limbs, twist out your tongue… with your pride, you would beg for a swift death, wouldn’t you?”

Xia Jingshi raised his head, lips curling with mockery.
“If you are foolish enough to do that, I can only accept it.”

“Tsk. So icy, even when speaking of your old lover,” the Holy Emperor said, leaning down. His slender fingers brushed lightly along Xia Jingshi’s collarbone, almost gentle — almost. “Remember this well. If you cannot satisfy me after Fu Yi Xiao arrives, I will tear you apart piece by piece in front of her. I promise… you will feel every moment of agony, yet remain very much alive.”

“You—”
Xia Jingshi struggled, fury flashing across his eyes — then suddenly he calmed.
“I can guarantee this: not only will you gain nothing, but you will pay the price yourself.”

“Perhaps,” the Holy Emperor murmured.

He positioned the needle at Xia Jingshi’s left shoulder — and without warning, drove it downward.

The iron pierced flesh, sinking deep.

Xia Jingshi’s entire body convulsed. His jaw locked, breath tearing from his throat. The pain was so sharp it nearly broke his composure — but he held on.

The Holy Emperor’s smile grew brighter.

“Your body is as stubborn as your mind. Every muscle, every bone — resisting me.” His eyes gleamed with twisted curiosity. “Does it hurt? Why don’t you scream? Why don’t you beg?”

“Would you let me go if I did?” Xia Jingshi hissed, lips pale as death.

“A long time ago, I thought you were born unable to feel pain,” the Holy Emperor murmured. “Later, I realized… you merely endure it in silence. You fear pain more than anyone — yet you refuse to show it. That is why I want to torture you again and again. Watching you suffer brings me incomparable joy.”

Sweat rolled down Xia Jingshi’s face. His breath trembled.
The iron had pierced through.

The Holy Emperor gripped Xia Jingshi’s mangled shoulder and slowly — agonizingly slowly — drew the needle backward. Blood trickled down, landing on the dusty stone floor with soft, trembling splatters.

“It’s not that I disregard brotherly affection,” he said coolly. “You’re simply too stubborn. I gave you three chances, didn’t I?”

More blood slid onto the floor.

“Beg for mercy!”
The Holy Emperor’s voice cracked like thunder.
“If you beg, I will kill you. If not… more games await.”

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