Meng Fuyao snorted coldly, wracking her brain to recall when she had taken off her mask and who had seen it. But how on earth could she remember when she had taken off her mask in these past few years? And even when she had, the people nearby had either been a girl selling flowers or an old man delivering vegetables. Or perhaps, it had been a child that she had not had her guard up against? Who would remember who had taken down her real appearance? The reason why she wore a mask was that it was convenient to move around in, not because she, in any way, needed to hide it away. How would she have her guard up against something she believed was insignificant?

“Fuyao, my daughter.” Feng Xuan no longer bothered himself with Feng Jingfan and, instead, looked up at her and gave her a fatherly smile. With his arms wide open, he gently called to her, “Here, let father take a good look at you.”

In the palace, Feng Xuan opened his arms, welcoming Meng Fuyao into his warm embrace as he portrayed himself as a perfect father.

Meng Fuyao leaned back against another pillar with her hands crossed. She sat there, watching Feng Xuan emotionlessly.

“Father?” She laughed after a while.

Feng Xuan’s eyes lit up. On the other hand, Feng Jingfan turned pale.

Ignoring the obvious joy that Feng Xuan exhibited, Meng Fuyao slowly but clearly enunciated each and every word, “Zhong Ze Ning’s husband, the father of Feng Jingfan. You don’t deserve to be the father of Meng Fuyao.”

The corners of Feng Xuan’s mouth twitched, in that instant, his features contorted with fury. It took him a while to return to his composure, plastering a forced smile on his face. “Fuyao, I know you hate me, but I had no choice back then. Since you’ve already killed the Empress, oh well, I’ll just strip her of her status and massacre the entire Zhong Family as criminals who attempted to rebel. You can do whatever you want with the Zhong Family until you are no longer angry.

“And this.” Feng Xuan lifted up imperial decree and tried to entice Meng Fuyao with it. “I’ve decided to pass the throne to you. From today onwards, you are the Empress. You can decide another’s life or death and control your subordinates. You will be standing at the peak of authority and glory, where everyone will be dancing in your palm. How’s that? Do you like it?”

“No!”

A shriek shattered the heavy silence that lingered in the air. Feng Jingfan, who had been supporting herself with the couch, suddenly pounced over, attempting to snatch the imperial decree.

Feng Xuan’s expression changed as he clutched the imperial decree closer to his chest. Feng Jingfan’s long, slender fingers reached out, eager to grab the scroll over, without a care for the manicured nails that were well-laced with poison or the fact that the poison might take her father’s life with even the smallest scratch.

In the huge palace, Zhangsun Wuji and Meng Fuyao watched coldly without moving. Meanwhile, Tang Zhong Yi had already avoided the trouble and retreated, busying himself with instructing the soldiers on how to rebel.

Feng Jingfan lunged forward like the wind. Feng Xuan snorted coldly and slammed the imperial decree down on the desk and took a step back.

The scroll landed on the table and unrolled itself. Feng Jingfan reached out and grabbed it, immediately tearing it apart.

“Shhh—”

The quiet, barely audible sound of tearing paper resounded in the room. Suddenly, something rang from below the table, and in the dark palace, one could vaguely see a faint glowing green light. It flashed past, and a blood-curdling screech reverberated.

“Ah—”

Blood spurted out. Yet, oddly enough, it was pale green, resembling nothing like blood. Rather, it looked like two weird green flowers.

The last flower of light.

A trap was laid under the table, and in that instant, when Feng Jingfan had grabbed the decree, the trap was triggered, and the metal nails were launched with such a force that they pierced into Feng Jingfan’s forehead!

One headed straight for her eyes, and the other nailed down the corner of her eyes. Both her eyes were blinded!

Feng Jingfan’s miserable cries seemed to shake the entire palace to its core, threatening to crumble it to dust. She shrieked with all her might, as though she would not stop till her vocal cords tore.

This youngest, most pampered princess was protected her entire life. She had never once had someone touch her precious hands; she had never even broken a nail before. Because she was afraid of hardship and pain, coupled with her lack of innate potential, despite having a renowned teacher, she had not managed to master even 50% of what Epsilon had taught her. Her focus mainly laid on training her inner energy so as to protect herself in times of need. So how could she bear the pain of her blinded eyes?

Her manic, shrill cries pierced through the air. Blood gushed out of that deep wound, glazing her skin as her messy, untidied hair stuck to the crimson liquid. Black and red engulfed her features, leaving the once noble princess utterly unrecognizable. Only her pale lips could be seen, but it was quickly covered up by the blood rushing out from her throat with every scream she mustered.

Meng Fuyao shut her eyes. No emotions could be seen on her face.

The beautiful golden and red dress resurfaced in her mind as she heard a ‘kacha’.

The sound of the lock falling.

‘Today, it is your turn.’

‘This is the evil you brought upon yourself.’

Feng Jingfan cried pitifully. Suddenly, she fell silent. Not a sound came from her anymore. She turned back and ‘glared’ in Feng Xuan’s direction with her bloodied eyes.

Her eyes were no longer eyes; they were merely two balls of bloody meat. The bloodied balls were burning with such hatred, and the few intact blood vessels dilated with every heartbeat, thumping ever so slight. Being ‘stared’ at with such ‘eyes’, even Feng Xuan, the cruel man who had emerged from a bloodbath, could not help but flinch, retreating backward slightly.

Feng Jingfan suddenly pounced over.

She pounced over so ferociously. The blood running down from her eyes splattered, forming a stream of blood in the air. Before that blood hit the ground, she was already right beside Feng Xuan.

Feng Xuan did not expect that she still had the strength to attack him with her severe injuries and cried out fearfully, “Fuyao, save me— Fuyao save me—”

Meng Fuyao immediately leaned backward against the pillar and made herself comfortable.

Feng Xuan cries for help resulted in nothing. Watching Feng Jingfan’s vicious attacks, it was apparent that she would drag him to hell as a company. In an instant, Feng Jingfan’s head had already smashed into his chest.

He could feel his stomach acid rise up his throat with that impact, and his vision went black for a moment. With a flash of light, Feng Jingfan once against raised her hands. He quickly pulled a golden dragon head beside his couch.

Swoosh!

Countless of daggers flew out from all four corners of the couch.

Heading straight for every part of Feng Jingfan!

Feng Jingfan heard the change in the wind direction. As an expert in inner energy, she was able to avoid the flying daggers since there was still some distance between the daggers and her.

At the top of the palace, Meng Fuyao gently flicked her finger.

Feng Jingfan felt that there was something blocking her back, as if a wall had been suddenly built, cutting off her escape route.

Her body went cold. Countless parts felt empty, as though a tightly knitted, beautiful silk cloth had been pierced many times, becoming a net. That tattered net fluttered in the wind, braving the bloody seas.

Thousands of daggers piercing through her body—a divine punishment.

At this moment, Feng Jingfan no longer screamed. She couldn’t, nor was there a need to. Her entirety was soaked in blood, washing away everything she once wanted to say in her lifetime.

She only swiveled around, dyeing her moon-white dress into a crimson flower. That mournful, vibrant flower needed a blood sacrifice to become what it was… from a once slightly cool tone white to an eye-catching red… Moon white… Moon white… Her most hated color… She hated those quiet sorrowful colors… From a long time ago, she only loved the loud colors of gold and red. She loved the huge hibiscus that bloomed so stunningly. She loved the colorful jewelry, ah, the jade ones, the emerald ones, the crystal ones that her grandmother had given her… She loved the bright, flamboyant colors that revealed their beauty in all their glory… But for him, for that lotus, she would always wear a plain, white dress. She took off her luxurious jewelry and replaced everything she had with lotus. She could study those boring scriptures… All that hard work… All that hard work… A love that bloomed in her heart since she was 7… But today… today…

She craned her head back and started to laugh. So crazily, so silently. But no one could tell what her smile looked like.

She laughed as she stumbled around. Covered in daggers, she charged towards Zhangsun Wuji’s direction. She didn’t know why she wanted to do so, to die with him, perhaps? Or was it to tell him her love was him was but her own endless obsession and vanity?

Obsession… Obsession… The Feng Jingfan, who never had anyone go against her, never knew the taste of rejection and would never accept rejection. And so, he became her obsession. She no longer knew if that obsession was love or hatred. She only knew she wanted to have him, needed to have him. Something that was but an illusion.

‘It turns out everything in this world is an illusion… That handsome young man is… Her being born with a lotus is… Her inheriting the throne is… Father’s love for her… All the love and hatred..is…’

It turned out, her schemes, her hard work, her insistence, and her bloodied hands were all for naught—they were but for the illusion of life. For this, she had spent her life being a person that wasn’t her.

What for? What for?

She laughed as if she had seen through the worldly affairs. But the truth was, she never did. Right until the end, until her very last struggle, her gaze was still, in his direction.

Zhangsun Wuji remained at the top of the palace, looking down, with hatred and disdain in his eyes, at this woman that still attempted to make her way to him even till her last breath… If not for her, Xu Wan and Fuyao could have waited for him to go back and save them. Fate would have gone in another direction. If not for her, Fuyao would have not been locked in that cupboard, witnessing the terrible torment that Xu Wan had to go through. She would not have to have her memories sealed and go through 19 years of hardship. If not for her, Fuyao would not have been so hurt. If not for her, there would not have been a gap between him and Fuyao, one that he could not bridge even till now.

Calmly, he waved his sleeves.

A powerful force surged up and stopped the Feng Jingfan from coming any closer, 30 feet away from him. He did not want her near him, even if it was underneath him.

Colliding into that force was akin to banging against a wall, driving all the daggers deeper into her. Blood started spurting out profusely, blooming in mid-air.

She slowly collapsed. Before she did, her hands seemed to be trying to grab something, as if wanting to grab open the invisible wall between her and Zhangsun Wuji, as if wanting to choke the illusions of her enemies to death—Zhangsun Wuji, Meng Fuyao, Feng Xuan… Those that she had been entangled with all her life, that had given her her beginning as well as her ending.