Prince Jin thought

  “I’m sorry? My father?”

  “Enough, lad, I’ve already purged all the spies within my court… you can speak freely.”

  “I see…”

  Prince Jin didn’t know how to feel about that. Ever since he’d left the Longyan and the Dragon Palace, he felt as though he couldn’t trust anyone. It took him a while to trust Shi Xiu, but the bodyguard had been so fervently loyal in his protection that he had no choice but to trust him.

  …or he would have been dead.

  Prince Liang, on the other hand had suggested that I use the alias Song Yun, just in case there were spies within his court.

  Now those spies were gone, magically.

  “I’ve done some digging into the candidates,” Prince Liang continued, “There are four candidates for the title of Emperor. Me, Prince Haoran, Prince Mingyu, or Prince Zhenjin.

  “Congratulations…” Prince Jin said, trying his best not to show his annoyance.

  “This is all show boy,” Prince Liang said, biting each word.

  “What do you mean?” Jin asked confused.

  “The councilors have elected to select the next emperor to avoid war. We cannot have a Civil War when the barbarians are burrowing at our doors.”

  “…you’re right.”

  “I’m always right!”

  Jiang lifted his cup of tea and downed it one gulp. The tea was meant to calm him, but the anger that filled his eyes, told Tian Jin everything he needed to know. “My prince,” He said calmly. The other selected candidates have the means, motive, and ambition to commit the act of killing your family.

  Jin’s hands clenched into fists beneath the table, but he forced himself to remain calm. “What do you mean?”

  Prince Liang leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he began. “These princes have grievances with your father. They have the highest probabilities of resenting him; they also have the power and connections to perform the act.

  Prince Haoran was your grandfather’s favored son. It was expected that he would have taken up the throne, but once your father returned from the dead, Haoran’s chances of becoming Emperor were dashed instantly. He was groomed for the throne from a young age, educated in the art of governance and warfare. But as the years passed, the Emperor grew disillusioned with him. Haoran’s arrogance and impatience became his own undoing. He openly criticized his father’s policies, particularly the Emperor’s decision to centralise power and reduce the influence of the provincial lords. This angered many of the nobility, but it also put Haoran at odds with his father.”

  Liang paused, his gaze fixed on Jin; he waited for the young prince to speak his mind, but the young prince just sat there, listening. “The final blow came when the Emperor publicly stripped Haoran of his title as crown prince. It was a humiliation Haoran could not forgive. He retreated to his estates in the west, where he has been gathering allies and resources ever since. If anyone had the motive to see the Emperor dead, it was Haoran. He believed the throne was his by right, and he would stop at nothing to reclaim it.

  “…and what of Prince Mingyu, my father always spoke well of him…I find it hard to believe that he would be one of the princes who sought to take my father’s throne…further betray him?”

  “Everyone has their own ambitions, young prince. Prince Mingyu is no different,” Liang continued. “Furthermore, he might be the most dangerous of the three princes.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He was never in line for the throne. Mingyu is a master strategist, a man who thrives in the shadows. He served as one of your father’s advisers for years, but their relationship was fraught with tension. Mingyu believed the Emperor’s policies were too lenient, too focused on appeasing the common people at the expense of the empire’s stability.

  Mingyu advocated for harsher measures—martial law, increased taxation, and the suppression of dissent. When the Emperor refused, Mingyu began to quietly undermine him. He formed alliances with the military and the merchant class, promising them power and wealth in exchange for their loyalty. The Emperor eventually discovered Mingyu’s schemes and exiled him from the court. But Mingyu is not a man to be underestimated. He has the resources and the cunning to orchestrate the Emperor’s death, and he would see it as a necessary step to restore order to the empire.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “…I will remember his name.”

  “You should.”

  “…and Prince Zhenjin?”

  “Prince Zhenjin,” Liang said with a cough. “Your uncle is a man of charm and charisma. He was beloved by the people and respected by the court. But Zhenjin’s relationship with the Emperor was…complicated. The two brothers were once close, but their bond fractured when the Emperor accused Zhenjin of conspiring against him.

  The truth of the matter is unclear. Some say Zhenjin was framed by jealous courtiers, while others believe he was indeed plotting to seize the throne. Whatever the case, the Emperor banished Zhenjin to the eastern provinces, far from the seat of power. Zhenjin has spent the last decade building his own power base, cultivating alliances with the eastern lords. He has every reason to want revenge, and the Emperor’s death would clear the way for him to claim the throne.”

  “…I see.”

  Jin’s mind raced as he sat there processing Liang’s words. Each prince had a compelling motive and was capable of orchestrating his father’s death. But the question remained: who had actually done it?

  “Thank you, Uncle,” Prince Jin said.

  “Uncle?”

  “Yes… uncle, I prefer to call you that; cousin… seems inappropriate, especially with seniority in place.”

  “Ah… understood, young prince.”

  “You’ve painted a grim picture,” Jin said, “but how can we be certain it was one of them? The Emperor had many enemies, both within the court and beyond.”

  Liang nodded, his expression grave. “I am not certain, but in terms of the best possible candidates, these would be the three. They’re also the strongest candidates to gain the Dragon Throne.”

  “Ah…and why wouldn’t you be in the mix, Uncle?”

  “…because you would have been dead already,” Prince Liang said coldly.

  Before Jin could respond, a door opened from behind Prince Liang and a silhouetted man wearing white and grey long, sweeping robes appeared. A shadow cast across his upper body, making him seem mysterious. The way he carried himself made him seem familiar, regal even.

  As the silhouetted man got closer, Prince Jin’s eyes widened as he recognised the walk anywhere. The cast shadow across his face disappeared and Prince Jin instantly knew who it was. The man had a diamond-shaped face, with a short pointed beard. His wrinkles started from his forehead and went straight down to his cheeks. His lips curled into a knowing smile that made Prince Jin's heart jump for joy, but he kept himself seated. “Teacher!” he shouted, unconsciously.

  “Young Prince,” Qin Wen said with a deep bow. “It has been too long.”

  Jin rose to his feet, a mixture of relief and surprise flowing within him. He sat back down, realising he was acting beneath his station and did his best to keep his face poised. “Scholar Qin Wen,” he said with a cough, trying his best to hide his elation. “It has been a few months; how are you?”

  “I’m well, your highness; it is good to see that you're alive.”

  “It is. What are you doing here?”

  A subtle smile flashed across his lips. He turned slightly and gestured to Prince Liang, “Prince Liang has requested that I teach his nephew, a young Lord Song Yun.”

  “Ahh… that is magnificent news. Lord Yun would be elated to have you as a teacher.”

  “The honor is mine, of course… The man who moves a mountain begins.”

  “…by carrying away small stones,” Tian Jin answered.

  “Good good,” Scholar Wen said with a smile, “it’s good to see your mind is still as agile as ever. You will need it in the years to come.”

  “Years to come?” Prince Jin asked, confused.

  “Of course…I take it you plan to take back your father’s throne?”

  Prince Jin’s heart raced as Scholar Qin Wen’s words hung in the air. The question was direct, cutting through the layers of pretense and formality that had defined the conversation so far. He glanced at Prince Liang, who sat with an unreadable expression, his fingers steepled in front of him. The room seemed to grow smaller, the weight of the moment pressing down on Jin.

  “Take back my father’s throne?” Jin repeated, “That is a bold assumption, Teacher. I am but a guest here, seeking refuge from the chaos that has consumed the empire.”

  Scholar Qin Wen smiled, his eyes twinkling with a knowing light. “You are more than a guest, Your Highness. You are the last son of the Emperor, the rightful heir to the Dragon Throne. And Prince Liang knows this.”

  Jin’s gaze flicked to Prince Liang, who remained silent, his expression inscrutable. The pieces began to fall into place in Jin’s mind. The mansion, the protection, the careful cultivation of his education—it had all been part of a larger plan. Prince Liang had not merely offered him refuge; he had been preparing him for this moment.

  “Uncle,” Jin began slowly, addressing Prince Liang, “do you plan to support me?”

  Prince Liang leaned back in his seat, his sharp features softening for the first time. “You are my blood. Your father wasn’t just good to me. He was a great friend. How could I not help his son, who has reached out to me for help, hmm?”

  Jin’s breath caught in his throat. The realization washed over him like a wave, carrying with it a mix of relief, gratitude, and newfound determination. Prince Liang had not been an indifferent host or a distant relative; he had been an ally, a mentor, and a protector.

  “I…I…thank you, Uncle…” Jin whispered, voice barely audible.

  “You were right to be skeptical of me, young prince. I wouldn’t trust anyone either, especially with my father dead…but you kept your head down and studied as if the worms of books were in your veins…I understand how trust is a fragile thing,” Liang replied. “Hearing about your diligence was key for me to understand your strength and resilience. The throne is a burden…not a right. Once you understand that. You will be fine…if you don't, then my help would cease to exist for you!”

  Jin stood and bowed deeply, a gesture of respect and gratitude. “Thank you, Uncle. I will not forget what you have done for me.”

  Prince Liang nodded, his expression unreadable once more. “See that you don’t. Nothing comes for free.”

  “I understand.”

  As Jin and Shi Xiu left the chamber, the weight of the conversation lingered in the air. The mansion, once a place of seclusion, now felt like a fortress—a stronghold from which Jin would launch his campaign to reclaim the throne. And as he walked through the halls, the echoes of his father’s legacy and the promise of his own future filled his heart with determination.

  The game had begun, and Prince Jin Tian was ready to play.