A few days later, the news of Ning Yan’s injury made its circuitous way to the hands of Prince Ping in Xuancheng.

He read it with visible delight. “Is this true? That little upstart Ning Yan—wasn’t he supposed to be quite formidable? How did he get himself hurt so easily? Could this be some elaborate act meant to deceive us?”

“Your Highness, it’s absolutely true. That Ning Yan, arrogant and self-important because of his skills, refused to let his armored guards handle things and insisted on doing it himself. No matter how skilled he is, he’s still only one man—he can’t take on ten and come out unscathed. Our scouts report he hasn’t stepped out of his carriage in days.”

“So he’s seriously injured, then?”

“Indeed, Your Highness. The weapons our men carried were all laced with poison. No matter how highly people speak of Ning Yan, he’s still made of flesh and blood, not some immortal being with endless lives. The fact that his side is working so hard to keep this quiet shows they don’t want anyone to know how bad it is.”

A slow smile curled at the corners of Prince Ping’s lips, his brows loosening as satisfaction settled over his face. “That man’s always been proud and combative—too proud to stage a stunt like this. If this is true, then the heavens truly favor me. Truly, the heavens are lending me their hand!”

He’d thought Ning Yan, with his Ironscale Guards at his side, would be untouchable along the journey. Who would’ve guessed he’d be reckless enough to get himself injured? To miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity like this would be nothing short of a crime.

Prince Ping couldn’t hide the joy in his expression. “Since he’s chosen the path to ruin, he has no one to blame but himself. Send word to the Southwest—whatever happens, Ning Yan must not be allowed to cross its border.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“And summon Fu Yi. There are things he should know.”

Fu Yanghong stroked the beard at his chin, his expression tinged with emotion. When Fu Yi arrived, he looked at his son with solemn eyes, a touch of wistfulness in his gaze.

“I’ve always thought your temperament too straightforward—unyielding to a fault, lacking in flexibility. But in these past days, I’ve seen you grow. It brings me comfort, more than I can say.”

“I still have much to learn, Father,” Fu Yi said respectfully. “I hope you’ll continue to guide me.”

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Fu Yi’s obedient demeanor pleased Fu Yanghong immensely—this was the son he had always hoped for. “Good, good. I will guide you well. There were things I never told you before, fearing your youth would make you too rash. But now, the time has come.”

Fu Yi’s expression flickered with a trace of surprise, though it was barely noticeable. He appeared completely trusting, but inwardly, his heart was sinking.

After Bai Qingqing told him that the one who had framed the Bai family was none other than Fu Yanghong, he hadn’t fully believed her. But after quietly observing in secret, the truth began to emerge with chilling clarity—so undeniable that he could no longer deceive himself. Worse yet, it all seemed to be entangled with the long-buried treason case of General Ling Binyu.

In recent days, Fu Yi had been dismantling everything he once believed, starting with his own origins. Now, he loathed the princely estate and all its dazzling wealth, loathed the hollow darkness behind the grandeur. He longed to abandon it all, to walk away without looking back.

But he had given his word to Bai Qingqing—he had promised to help her.

From Fu Yanghong’s mouth, he heard things outrageous yet unsurprising. They confirmed the suspicions he had wrestled with and gave weight to the bitter truths he had begun to uncover.

Every word from Fu Yanghong was draped in righteousness—for the sake of the Fu family’s foundation, for the sake of future generations. He had borne humiliation, endured burdens alone, schemed with painstaking care, all in service of the family. But now, at last, he had someone to share the weight.

Suppressing the revulsion boiling in his chest, Fu Yi feigned just the right amount of astonishment, perfectly playing the part of the loyal son—pained by his father’s sacrifices, and solemn in his vow to carry on the burden.

“I had no idea Father bore so many silent sorrows. I have been unfilial, unable to ease your worries. From this day forward, whatever Father asks of me, I will do without hesitation. I swear to devote myself wholly to the Fu family.”

Fu Yanghong looked at the determined light in his son’s eyes, and in that moment, it was as though he had swallowed ice water on a scorching summer day—refreshing to the very core. Unable to contain his joy, he clapped Fu Yi’s shoulder and declared, “Well said! We are father and son, united in heart. One day, most of Xuan Dynasty will belong to the Fu family!”