Cut off my tendons in my hands and feet to make me marry? Prepare to die!

Yue Ran flew forward, his long sword soaring into the sky like a dragon, accurately cutting off the arm of the outermost man in black. The black-clothed man's hand holding the knife fell silently to the ground like tofu being cut.

The man in black tilted his body and then realized that he had only one arm. He could not help but let out a wail.

Yue Ran swung the sword again, and the sword in his hand drew a cold arc of light under the moon.

With a strange hissing sound, a big gash appeared in the throat of the man in black with the broken arm, and blood kept gushing out of his throat. He covered his throat and groaned, took a few steps back in vain, and fell to the ground with his head raised.

Dozens of secret guards suddenly jumped out from various corners and quickly subdued the remaining men in black.

Yue Ran shook off the blood beads on the sword and slowly walked in front of Song and Yue Zihuan.

Yue Zihuan hugged Song tightly and sat on the ground with a dazed look on his face.

The blade was merciless, and the cold metal cut through the barriers of cloth and texture, leaving a shocking gash on Song's chest.

Her eyes widened due to the sudden severe pain, and her pupils reflected a complex emotion of disbelief and pain.

Blood gushed out of the wound like an out-of-control river, quickly soaking her cotton gown. The originally soft fabric was instantly stained a glaring red.

The blood dripped onto the ground, gathering into trickles and eventually forming a small but horrific pool of blood beneath her.

Song instinctively covered the wound with her hands, trying to stop the continuous outflow of the fountain of life, but blood still overflowed through her fingers, staining her hands red.

Her face gradually turned pale, her lips slightly opened, but she could only let out weak gasps, and every breath was accompanied by intense pain.

The air around her seemed to freeze, leaving only her rapid and weak breathing and the gradually spreading bloodstains, silently witnessing the passing of her life.

"Yue, Yue Ran, you, you promised me!" Song looked straight at Yue Ran with her dying eyes and spoke with all her might.

"Spare... my son's life, and spare...their lives!"

Yue Ran lowered his eyes and looked at Song. When a man is about to die, his words are kind.

She really didn't expect that Song, who had been dreaming of wealth and glory year after year, would instinctively stand in front of Yue Zihuan when the black-clothed man's long knife came at her.

If Song hadn't stepped forward to block the attack, Yue Zihuan would have been the one to die.

Yue Ran glanced coldly at Yue Zihuan, whose soul was still in the sky, then looked at Song who refused to die, and nodded gently:

"As long as Yue Zihuan is willing to stop, I won't kill him."

"If Yue Ziyu hadn't followed Yue Zihuan's path, I wouldn't have touched him."

She looked at Song's gradually distracted eyes with a serious look and made a promise.

Song's body twitched, she could no longer hold on, but she turned to look at Yue Zihuan, and grabbed his wrist fiercely with strength from nowhere:

“Zi...Huan! Listen to Yue Ran! Listen to Yue Ran!!”

Her eyeballs bulged outwards, and she could only breathe out but not in. However, she refused to close her eyes and kept staring at Yue Zihuan.

Yue Zihuan finally came back to his senses. His wrist was pinched so hard by his mother that it hurt. His mother's eyes were right in front of him, her pupils gradually dilated, and she was holding his hand and refused to let go.

"I..." Yue Zihuan opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

Song stared at her son, the last glimmer of light in her eyes gone.

Her hands fell limply, her eyes were wide open, and she was still looking at Yue Zihuan until her death.

Yue Zihuan knelt on the ground, and with trembling hands he gently picked up the gradually cooling body.

Tears and blood were mixed on his face, sliding silently down his cheeks, dripping onto his mother's clothes, and blending with the gradually solidifying bloodstains.

His eyes were empty and blank, filled with pain deep into his bones.

His body was shaking, not only because of the chill in the air, but also because of the huge waves surging in his heart, each wave was full of despair, each wave was full of anger.

"Yue Ran! It was you who killed my mother!"

Yue Zihuan held Song's body and slowly looked up at Yue Ran, his eyes filled with hatred.

When Yue Ran heard this extremely absurd conclusion, she was stunned at first, then the corners of her mouth twitched unconsciously and she laughed out loud.

Her laughter was low and short, like a sudden cold breeze on a winter night, with a hint of sharpness and sarcasm.

Yue Zihuan's face was filled with tears and hatred, and he glared at her fiercely:

"Evil woman! How can you still laugh after all this?"

"You can be proud of yourself, but someone will come to take your life tomorrow!"

Yue Ran took a step forward and slapped Yue Zihuan hard on the face, causing his face to tilt to the side.

"idiot!"

Yue Ran spoke coldly:

"Your mother risked her life to give you a glimmer of hope, but I never expected that the most important people in your eyes are Chu Hantian and Feng Xiaolou."

"Open your stupid eyes and take a good look. Who was the knife that chopped your mother originally aimed at? Who is behind this knife?"

Yue Zihuan's eyes wandered away evasively. He hugged Song's body tightly, as if to cheer himself up.

"Don't try to quibble!" He growled with his neck stiff.

"If you hadn't suddenly appeared, I could have taken my mother away and she wouldn't have died!"

Yue Ran closed his eyes and took a long breath, then waved his hand hard and hit Yue Zihuan on the back of his neck, watching him faint on the ground.

Since Song’s death could not make him turn back, this person must not be let go.

"Someone, carry Song back to the palace."

"Take Yue Zihuan to the dungeon!"

On the second day, the news that Princess Song of Dingbei Palace had been assassinated spread throughout the capital.

Dali Temple Minister Zhou Wenzhen had been very irritated these past two days, and his headache was even worse after hearing about this.

"Why do these things never end?"

Madam Luo straightened his clothes and spoke casually:

"I feel that the person behind this is deliberately targeting the Dingbei Palace. Master, His Majesty may wake up. You should think carefully about it."

Zhou Wenzhen nodded worriedly.

If he had any choice, he would not want to be trapped in this vortex, but he has no choice in the officialdom.

Today he will summon King Dingbei to the hall for questioning, and he really doesn't know how to start the conversation when the time comes.

"Master! Master! There's chaos outside!"

The servant ran over in a hurry, shouting breathlessly.

Zhou Wenzheng's face darkened, and he was about to reprimand him when he heard the servant continue:

"There are people distributing a confession everywhere on the streets of the capital, saying that it was written by Princess Song of Dingbei Palace before her death."

"She admitted that she and the eldest son of Dingbei Palace bribed the two deceased doctors in the past five years and put chronic poison in Dingbei King's medicine and food."

"Her financial dealings with the two imperial doctors over the years were all recorded in the account books."

"General Yue Ran brought Princess Song's confession account book, the bound Yue Zihuan, and a few assassins from last night to the Dali Temple, and is waiting for you to arrive!"