Opportunities were fleeting.
They could not be missed.
Hua Yuan's main body took advantage of his student's death to temporarily regain consciousness. He had wanted to commit suicide and end all his troubles, but he did not expect to be stopped by the crowd. How could he fight against so many people alone? After a series of struggles, his sword was taken away, and his mouth was gagged when he tried to bite his tongue. All his energy was in vain, and he ended up in a sorry state. He was filled with grief and indignation.
He finally understood what it meant to be 'begging for death but unable to live'.
Hua Yuan only wanted to die. Why did everyone act as if he wanted their lives? Why were they fighting so hard?
After a stalemate, Hua Yuan was exhausted. His arms and legs were weak and powerless, and he could only gasp for air through his mouth.
Seeing that he did not have the energy to court death, the others secretly sighed in relief.
Even though they did not like Hua Yuan, An Cui would lose an arm if Hua Yuan died. Their interests would be tied to An Cui's. To put it simply, protecting Hua Yuan was protecting their own interests. Naturally, they had to try their best to stop him.
"You guys, you guys are unreasonable!"
Hua Yuan's head was spinning. Waves of dizziness and nausea washed over him.
This feeling was too familiar.
Before he lost consciousness, Hua Yuan felt a pair of murky red eyes open in the darkness. The owner of this pair of eyes was looking at him coldly. There was no sadness, no joy, no shock, no anger, but Hua Yuan felt as if he was being stared at by the Nine Hells. No, perhaps it was not a hallucination.
The owner of this pair of eyes could really drag people into Hell when he went crazy!
Hua Yuan's heart trembled. All the hair on his body stood up in protest. He knew that "that person" was about to wake up!
"The advisor has fainted!"
Someone shouted. Only then did the crowd realize that Hua Yuan's face was pale, and his eyes were closed as he leaned back.
He looked more like a corpse than the one on the bed.
The crowd pressed him down, called into Hua Yuan's ear, and sent for a doctor …
After all this, they were all drenched in sweat. It was as if they had run several kilometers with a hundred-kilogram sandbag on their backs.
Heaven did not disappoint those who worked hard. Their efforts were still useful. Before the doctor arrived, Hua Yuan slowly woke up and opened his eyes.
Someone said, "Military Advisor, the current situation is critical, and we still need you to put in effort to plan. How can you abandon the lord for the young master?"
The old official who had wanted to kill Xichang's Princess Concubine had also calmed down. He said a few words and did not continue fighting.
They sincerely persuaded Hua Yuan to give up on the idea of dying, but the person in question had a look that said, "Are you all pigs?"
"I'm fine!" Hua Yuan propped himself up on his weak legs and noticed that there was some sort of sticky liquid on his neck. He raised his hand to wipe it off and brought it before his eyes to take a look. It was actually bright red blood. He curled the corners of his lips mockingly and said indifferently, "The Young Master has just passed away. Prepare the funeral rites and send someone to inform the Lord. The cause of Young Master's death is not honorable. To the public, we will say that he suddenly died of a serious illness … "
When everyone saw that Hua Yuan had regained his composure, they could not help but feel relieved.
Even if Hua Yuan's expression was deathly still, it was still better than drawing his sword and seeking death at the slightest provocation.
As long as he didn't want to kill himself and sacrifice himself for his master, everything was fine.
"Yes!"
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
Just like that, the curtains fell on the farce. A doctor hurried over to treat the wound on Hua Yuan's neck.
Hua Yuan did not move at all, allowing the doctor to do as he pleased. He was like a lifeless porcelain doll.
When the doctor saw this, he thought that Hua Yuan had failed to sacrifice himself for his master and was disheartened. He sighed and said, "You must avoid eating for the next few days. Your wound must not come into contact with any filth to prevent bad luck from entering your body and causing your wound to swell and rot. I will prescribe some medicine for you. Take it regularly and you will get better. "
Hua Yuan asked him, "Is the wound deep?"
The doctor replied, "It's not deep, but the location is dangerous."
Hua Yuan remained silent when he heard that. However, the emotions that flashed in his eyes made the doctor's heart palpitate.
"You may leave. I want to be alone and rest. I still have to arrange the Young Master's funeral rites later …"
Hua Yuan chased him away. The doctor's lips quivered, but he did not say anything to dissuade him. He could only leave quietly.
The moment the doctor left, Hua Yuan flicked his sleeves and knocked everything in sight to the ground. His elegant and handsome face was filled with malevolence.
"I'm not a lunatic, I'm not … I am me!!!"
He suppressed his roar in his throat. Even though his voice was not loud, it was extremely penetrating and infectious, causing the hair of those who heard it to stand on end.
Unfortunately, he was the only one in the room. No one else could hear him.
The chaotic night was dispersed by the morning sun. The news of the Young Master's sudden death from an acute illness spread everywhere as if it had wings.
This news naturally reached An Cui, who was at the frontlines.
An Cui received two letters. One was a normal funeral announcement, and the other was a secret letter that Hua Yuan had kept under wraps for a long time.
This secret letter described in detail how the Young Master had bullied his pregnant concubine mother, causing her to have an unstable pregnancy and almost losing her child.
Apart from that, Hua Yuan also added the truth of the Young Master's death. He had not died a sudden death. Instead, he had committed suicide out of fear after doing something wrong.
The two letters arrived one after the other.
When he read the first letter, An Cui felt grief and indescribable joy at the same time.
His adopted son had died, and the stumbling block that had been weighing on his heart was gone. No one could stop his biological son from ascending to the throne.
When he read the second secret letter, An Cui's anger shot through the roof. The veins on his forehead swelled up and down, as if there were green snakes coiling around his forehead. He was so angry that his hands were shaking, his face was ashen, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. He wanted nothing more than to dig out his stepson and whip his corpse.
He had bullied and humiliated his concubine mother while he was away, causing her to have an unstable pregnancy and almost have a miscarriage …
An Cui did not know that he had actually raised an ingrate who could not be tamed. He had actually done such a shameless, treacherous thing!
"Well done!"
These three words were almost squeezed out through his molars.
When he thought about how his woman, a woman who was pregnant with his child, had been tainted by his stepson, an intense feeling of humiliation surged into his heart, causing his hatred to shoot to the heavens. Committing suicide out of fear of punishment? That was too easy for this brat. At the very least, he should be executed by a thousand cuts!
Despite his anger, An Cui could not spread the word about what his stepson had done. Similarly, he could not reveal the truth of his death to the public.
Not only could he not, but he also had to clean up the other party's mess and ensure his reputation after his death.
If he did not do this, the outside world would inevitably speculate that his stepson's death had been incited by An Cui, that he had harmed his stepson in order to clear the way for his biological son.
This would inevitably leave behind a negative impression that An Cui was vicious and merciless, that he would do anything to achieve his goals.
More importantly, the world would also know that An Cui had been cuckolded by his stepson.
For a man, being cuckolded was the most unbearable humiliation.
For the sake of his own reputation, An Cui could not act on impulse. At most, he would use some small methods to vent his anger behind the scenes.
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