The Yandere Came During The Night

Chapter 132

The Fourth Prince's hand clenched into a fist and cracking sounds could be heard from his knuckles, 'kada kada'. He made a move and was about to stand up. However, he saw a guard running into the hall, shouting as he ran, "Reporting to Your Majesty, a great victory has been won on the Western Frontier. The victorious soldiers have returned to the capital. They are waiting at the city gate and seeking permission to enter the city?"

"Great, they've finally returned!" Emperor Cheng Kang withdrew his gaze and laughed heartily. He waved his sleeves, "Let's adjourn this court assembly for the time being. Beloved Courtiers, you can follow me to the palace gate to greet the meritorious officials of the Great Han!" Had he not been ill, he would have led his ministers to the gates of the city to receive them.

"Victorious? Returning to the imperial court? Didn't they lose the war and seek peace in the Western Frontier? Why is there another great victory?" The courtiers were discussing amongst themselves.

A month ago, there was a report that the Han army had consecutively lost two cities and that the Western Barbarians requested to make peace with the Han. At that time, there was an uproar of dispute over the abolition of the Crown Prince and most of the courtiers were in favour of peace, so the Emperor dispatched the head of the Board for the Administration of Outlying Regions[2] to the Western Frontier to discuss the peace agreement.

How did it take only a few months for them to be victorious? And hundreds of thousands of troops have marched back to the capital without a single word spreading along the way. In the entire great Han dynasty, who has this type of prepotent power? In the entire imperial court, who can also manipulate the civil and military civil officials, including every imperial prince in the palm of his hand? And what is his purpose?

The courtiers collectively looked towards the throne at Emperor Cheng Kang. Some with shocked gaze, and joy, while others were with despair.

Emperor Cheng Kang noted every single person's facial expression before he stepped onto the imperial sedan and headed for the palace gate. The courtiers followed, but some of them fell down because their legs had become weak and could not get up for a long time.

Lord Sun's face was ashen, and his heart was as dried as wood. He subconsciously looked at the Fourth Prince, but he saw that the person was as calm as ever. It was as if he had expected the return of the army to the palace.

Hundreds of thousands of troops were waiting on the outskirts of the capital. Could it be to usurp the throne? What throne to usurp? The next moment, the imperial city would be invaded by an army that had not yet lost its bloodlust. Was it a coincidence that the Emperor arranged this? No, not at all! He noted everything, but he did not plan to do anything.

Either a life in seclusion awaited him or he would be killed with a single blow. That had always been the Emperor's style. The courtiers, who were just quarrelling noisily in the imperial court, were now like gourds with their mouths sawed-off, not daring to say a word.

Yu Pin Yan was atop his horse in front of the city gate. Behind him was a dense and endless mass of soldiers, each had a solemn expression. Their hands clutching a sword and halberd, glittering with coldness. That kind of killing atmosphere, created by the bloodstains from fighting for their lives on the battlefield, made the bailiff of Yamen guarding the city walls unable to breathe.

Their faces were white and would frequently tiptoed to look in the direction of imperial city, hoping that the eunuchs who had delivered the decree would hurry over. In particular, the officials standing under Yu Pin Yan's horse felt like they had been poured with water on a cold day as cold sweat trickled down the tips of their hair.

After several battles, the murderous intent exuding from Commander Yu's body intensified. His eyes were dark and devoid of any human emotion. Instead, he looked like a demon in Buddhism or a walking weapon. When he looked down, his gaze was indifferent and frosty as if he was looking at a dead object.