Posa City was ablaze.

Flames raged to the sky like angry waves, covering the night and obscuring the moon. Sparks and dust drifted lightly for a li, the crackling sound of burning timbers like the tearing of human flesh. The acrid tang of lamp oil and the smell of charred wood rushed into people's noses.

Cheng Wei's stomach churned violently, his throat bobbing up and down, yet he forced himself not to show the slightest hint of wanting to vomit. He feared that if he showed even a trace of fear, he would lose his life before the King of Hell.

Fortunately, the King of Hell did not turn back. His long, well-defined fingers pressed down on a teacup, as if suppressing a wave of exhilarating fear.

The tea in the cup had been cold for half the night, and no one dared to refill it.

Cheng Wei opened his mouth, only to realize he had lost his voice. Both his hands and feet trembled slightly. He finally managed to utter a sound, but it was like a rooster's strangled crow.

"Lord, l-lord."

That trembling voice made his legs go soft with fright first. He spoke with increasing tremor: "Prince, Prince of Ping has been executed. W-why don't we stop, stop the city's..." The last character lingered indistinctly on his tongue, swirling around, and vanished into thin air the moment the King of Hell lightly tapped his teacup. He instantly knelt with a thud.

A soft chuckle.

The King of Hell's dark blue collar and narrow-sleeved everyday clothes were smoothed out by his fingertips, making the small exposed section of his nape appear fair and cold, and highlighting the chill in his soft chuckle. He remained with his back to Cheng Wei, softly saying, "Lord Cheng."

Cheng Wei hurriedly scrambled closer on his knees.

"How do you say Xin Zhenxiao died?"

He dared to call Prince of Ping by his given name directly; Cheng Wei wouldn't dare even if beaten to death. Cold sweat poured down Cheng Wei's forehead. He didn't dare to respond carelessly, yet he dared even less not to respond. He could only bite the bullet and stammer: "Rebellion, a serious crime. The Prince, Prince of Ping went, went too easily..."

"So he didn't die well?"

Cheng Wei's voice was forced into a whimper. He said: "N-no, no, it's good, good, a good death."

The King of Hell let out a soft hiss. The teacup at his fingertips was tossed onto the small table, then rolled and tumbled to Cheng Wei's knees. He said: "A good death, but not what I wanted. I only reached outside the city, and he set the fire, not even glancing at His Majesty's imperial decree. I haven't even counted down yet, so this death doesn't count."

"Then, then..." Cheng Wei was sweating profusely from anxiety, unsure how to reply. This person was famously unpredictable in court, and he absolutely dared not trifle with him.

"How about this?" The King of Hell smiled. "Lord Cheng, pull him out of this fire, and we'll kill him again."

Cheng Wei's entire body went limp, his face drained of color from fright. He exclaimed: "Lord, L-lord, Prince of Ping is, after all, an imperial k-k-kinsman, if, if His Majesty were to investigate..." The Brocade Uniform Guards on either side dragged Cheng Wei's round, plump body, striding towards the fire. He trembled all over, his fat jiggling, and he was already weeping with snot running down his face, urgently pleading: "Lord, L-lord! Lord, you're right! Lord, spare me, spare me..."

The King of Hell turned a deaf ear, still gazing at his clean fingertips, sighing: "Lord Cheng, as Prince of Ping's patron, how can you abandon your master and flee?"

Cheng Wei was dragged away and had his mouth gagged. The dignified Prefect of Posa City, a fourth-rank official, was so frightened that he lost control of his bladder and fainted. Xie Jingsheng frowned and waved his hand, instructing them to drag him further away, lest he offend his eyes and trouble his lord's nose.

The King of Hell sat, pondering who knows what, then looked back at Xie Jingsheng. His cold, narrow eyes were half-lidded, a smile extending from his lips. He merely asked: "Where is the person?"

Xie Jingsheng bowed and replied: "He is in the tent." Prince of Ping had set fire to himself and Posa City, so they could not enter the city and had set up camp outside.

The King of Hell stood up. His dark blue satin robe enveloped his tall, upright figure, making his legs appear even longer when he stood. He wore a first-rank official's hat with seven beams, his hair neatly arranged. His face was originally strikingly handsome, but a hint of cold malevolence was concealed within his rich, distinctive brows and eyes, giving him an air of danger.

Xie Jingsheng knew his lord intended to take a look, so he walked steadily ahead, leading the way. He was originally from the Brocade Uniform Guards, but was now a proper provincial administration commissioner, yet he was as humble as dust before this man.

They arrived at the tent, where Flying Fish Robe Pattern guards stood on all sides. Xie Jingsheng dared not enter with him; he merely stepped forward to lift the tent flap, and after his lord entered, he stepped back a few paces, standing respectfully outside the tent.

The man entered the tent, raised his eyes and swept them around, immediately spotting the boy curled up asleep soundly by the foot of the bed.

The boy was almost curled into a shrimp, thin and small, dressed in coarse, ragged clothes. His exposed arms were crisscrossed with whip marks, skin clinging to bone.

He walked to the side of the bed and sat down, observing the boy at his feet for a long while. No ripples appeared in his narrow eyes; there was not the slightest alarm one might expect upon seeing a fallen imperial grandson. He merely tapped on the edge of the bed with his finger, and the boy suddenly woke with a start, his dark, bright eyes darting around in panic, shrinking even more tightly into a ball.

"Come onto the bed." The King of Hell looked down at him.

The boy just hugged himself tightly, curling further into the shadows.

The King of Hell watched in silence, then slowly said: "You are the Prince of Yan's heir."

The boy's dark eyes were hidden by long lashes. He didn't look at the man, only stared at the ground beneath his bare feet, and did not utter a sound in reply.

The King of Hell did not need him to reply.

Because the Prince of Yan's heir was a mute, this was something all of Great Lan knew.

"I am the one who came to take you home." The man's voice was not deep, but calm and serene, a coldness that was quite contrary to his often-smiling lips, yet at this moment, it was surprisingly reliable.

The boy moved his shoulders, as if he had heard something extraordinary. His clear, black and white eyes fell on the man's chin, dazzled by its fair complexion. Moving upwards, from the straight nose, they settled on the man's long, deep eyes.

The King of Hell leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the boy's face, scrutinizing his features clearly. A smile, enigmatic and chilling, finally appeared at the corner of his lips.

"You are the Little King of Hell, we have a destined connection."

In the autumn of Hongxing 58th Year, Prince of Ping rebelled with his army, crossing Great Lan from his fiefdom, Shanyin Li River, igniting war everywhere. In the spring of Hongxing 59th Year, Prince of Ping pressed directly on Posa City, intending to borrow a path south. On the twenty-sixth day of summer, he was intercepted and repelled at Posa City by the Right Chancellor. The Prince of Ping then set fire to the city. The entire household of Prince of Ping was executed.

From then on, the Right Chancellor's name resounded throughout Great Lan once more.

Thirty days later, upon returning to the capital, the Right Chancellor was enfeoffed as Prince of Pingding, bestowed with a gold and silver imperial patent, and a first-rank official's robe and crown. Thus, this man now bore the combined honors of a prince of a different surname, presided over the Right Chancellor's affairs, and concurrently served as the Brocade Uniform Guards Commander.

For a time, the court was in an uproar. Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices Liu Sheng was the first to submit a memorial based on impropriety, followed by Vice Minister of the Grand Council He Anchang and Minister of the Court of Judicial Review Zuo Kai, who submitted memorials in unison. However, His Majesty gave no response to any of them.

At this very time, the Prince of Yan's orphan, the sixteen-year-old Little Prince of Yan, Xin Yi, returned to the capital. The people of the capital calculated with their fingers that this was the mute heir's first return to the capital after four years, since the Prince of Yan's lineage died in battle in Beiyang.

Four years ago, the Prince of Yan's lineage guarded the Beiyang border. After Prince of Yan died in battle, the heir was young and taken in by Prince of Ping for upbringing. Now that Prince of Ping had been executed, as an imperial kinsman, he ought to return to the capital to be seen by His Majesty.

Except.

"It's a pity that His Royal Highness Prince of Yan, who was loyal his entire life, left behind only a mute son."

An old man in a capital teahouse, stroking his beard and sipping tea, laughed heartily upon hearing this, then shook his head, closed his eyes, and listened to the opera on stage, saying:

"What do you know? Even if he's mute, he's still the Prince of Yan's son. As long as the Beiyang people still call him Little Prince of Yan, then he is the master of Beiyang Three Jins. Moreover, things are different now." The old man took a few copper coins from his bosom, neatly stacking them on the table. "Since Bai Jiu brought him back, no one else will be allowed to lay a hand on him. If there are no mistakes, you, ah, should change your address to Little King of Hell. Big King of Hell brings Little King of Hell, how interesting, how interesting." He clapped his hands and laughed heartily.

The young man opposite the old man shook his head, sighing: "A tyrannical minister, perhaps difficult to deal with."

Indeed.

Bai Jiu now held immense power in court; even His Majesty would find it difficult to restrain him. Calling him a tyrannical powerful minister would be no exaggeration.

But why did this man suddenly have a whim to bring back a mute heir?

For what purpose?