After the system set its sights on the dragon throne, the princess started courting death every day.

"Has Master Xuanqing ever eaten from an antique hot pot?"

Ling Xiaozi asked casually, and Xuanqing Daoist's tightly closed eyelids trembled almost imperceptibly, "When the snow is falling heavily, set up a steaming antique pot in the pavilion by the lake, and set out more than ten dishes on the table. Enjoy the snow while eating the pot. It's simply peaceful and delightful."

"However, I don't like chicken, duck, fish, or meat, nor do I like vegetables and radishes. I only like to lead a live sheep and watch the butcher slaughter it with one knife, quickly skin it, remove the tendons and internal organs, and put it on the table as soon as it's hot. Then I slowly slice it into pieces and put it in the pot to cook, so I can eat it fresh and hot."

Master Xuanqing kept his eyes closed the whole time, his mouth opening and closing slightly. If someone knowledgeable were to listen closely, they would know that he was chanting the Heart-Cleansing Mantra, and that it was getting faster and faster. His hands, which were tied behind his back and were trembling uncontrollably, betrayed his inner unease.

The scene before her eyes filled Xiang An with mixed feelings, but she was powerless to do anything about it. The endless confusion was like a snowstorm, with snowflakes rising high and engulfing her.

As Ling Xiaozi approached Yuan Kong with a faint smile and a sword in hand, Xiang Antou fled without daring to look back.

Timidity, cowardice, and fear vanished at this moment; all that remained in his heart was resistance, resistance.

She finally accepted the fact that she couldn't help; ten years was enough time for her to understand the entire capital.

Clenching his fist, Xiang An looked up at the sky with a wry smile: "The thing I wanted to accomplish after transmigrating but couldn't, I'm going to accomplish in one go now."

A white wanted poster with a few strokes of black ink depicting Fu Qingbai's portrait was posted all over the capital city.

The gates of the capital were tightly closed. Eunuchs and guards swarmed out of the palace like ants leaving their nests, searching for people from house to house. On the streets, thousands of imperial guards questioned people one by one every day. The people in the city kept their doors tightly shut and hid at home, trembling with fear.

On a street in the city, there is a tiny, narrow house at the end of a narrow alley. From time to time, coughs can be heard from inside the house, and occasionally the laughter of a baby can be heard.

At the alley entrance, an old man laboriously pushed a cart slowly along. A straw mat covered the pile of goods on the cart. The crudely made wooden wheels looked like they might fall apart at any moment. Every time the cart turned around under the snow, it made a grating creaking sound. Finally, the cart stopped in front of the house.

The old man pushing the cart let out a heavy sigh, put down the handle, and as he looked up, he reached out to adjust the straw hat that wouldn't fall off his head. The wrinkles on his face unfolded with a smile, and he called out loudly, "Old woman—"

With a single sound, the low coughing inside the house ceased, and the dilapidated wooden door creaked open. An old woman with faded white hair and a hunched back stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe: "Did you manage to buy it?"

The old man chuckled, patted the straw mat, and silently conveyed the answer. The old woman's cloudy eyes immediately filled with anticipation, and she rushed forward: "Quickly, move the next bag..."

The old man slapped her hand away and whispered, "Wait for your son to come back."

"Can……"

The old woman hesitated and looked back at her grandson lying on the bed, too weak to even cry from hunger. The old woman glared at him with her round eyes and said, "You want your son to die? He hasn't eaten for so many days. He won't die if he eats a little slower."

Don't be fooled by the fact that there are only the two of them outside; there are countless eyes lurking in the shadows.

Now the city gates of the capital are tightly closed, and no one in the city dares to open their shops. The family's food supply is not enough to feed the five of them. Their son works in the government office doing the dangerous job of arresting people. The government office is poor, but they still give out some food from time to time. Some time ago, they even gave out padded jackets. Otherwise, the whole family would have frozen to death at home long ago.

After much hesitation, the old woman had no choice but to nod and hunch her back to help her husband push the cart into the half-broken house. Before they had gone halfway, a person suddenly appeared out of nowhere and kicked the cart.

The old cart finally gave way and collapsed with a crash, scattering the white rice all over the ground. The old man and woman reacted quickly, throwing themselves to the ground to shield the hard-won food, but the starving people pounced on them like ravenous wolves—

"Food! Food!! Get out! It's all my food!"

"Mine! Mine! Don't step on me!"

The heavy snow gradually stopped, the looting crowd dispersed, and the alley returned to silence. Two unrecognizable corpses lay on the messy snow, and the whimpers of a sick baby inside the house gradually faded away with the sound of falling snowflakes.

After an incense stick had burned, the burly man in coarse official robes returned home in a gust of wind, his wails echoing throughout the heavens and earth.

As soon as Xiang An stepped out of the palace gate, she looked into the alley following the sound and saw a man holding an infant, kneeling on the snow and crying her heart out. Xiang An felt as if her heart was being ripped out by a giant hand, but she ultimately looked away and did not enter the alley.

Poor?

Pitiful.

Is it miserable?

awful.

There was nothing we could do.

Xiang An's gaze fell on the streets of the capital, where impoverished people in tattered clothes were so cold that they dared not even stretch their necks. They huddled motionless against the walls, curled up like shrimp, either dead or too cold to move before dying.

Those who could move had already secured good spots to squat on the steps in front of the once feared grand mansions and the residences of high-ranking officials, who had been without food for many days. They were waiting at the door for the occasional act of kindness from their hosts.

There are so many pitiful people and so many people dying every day. Xiang An has gone from being completely devastated to being calm now. She can't save herself, nor can she save others.

Recently, black smoke has been billowing in the capital, making people's eyes water. A small portion of it comes from the burning corpses in the city, and more than half comes from the imperial palace. The pungent smell permeates the entire capital.

On the street, the cold wind chilled to the bone. The vermilion gate of the Prime Minister's mansion creaked open, and a whole squad of guards wielding broadswords escorted out a large pot of thin porridge.

The people who were waiting at the door suddenly rose up. The guards drew their swords without expression and beheaded five people in a row. The red blood shocked everyone. No one dared to rush forward, and no one left.

After the guards shouted sternly several times, the crowd that had been blocking the way finally made way. The guards carried the porridge forward, followed by one guard after another wielding large knives, protecting Ren Xueqing, who was wearing a bright red jacket with a white collar and holding a whip.

Two tables were set up in a shed not far away. Guards carried the porridge pot over, and the people followed the pot.

Under the threat of force, the people had no choice but to form two long lines. Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the pot lid was slowly opened, revealing a bowl of thin porridge sprinkled with yellow soil.

Immediately, the restless crowd began to discuss the matter. Seeing that the situation was not right, several guards drew their swords and beheaded three more people. The crowd was terrified, and the horrific scene of hundreds of people being killed in one go when the Prime Minister's mansion first distributed porridge a few days ago involuntarily surfaced in their minds.

The guards, who had been keeping the people in check, picked up a bowl in one hand and a large ladle in the other. They scooped out a spoonful of hot porridge, let it cool slightly in the cold wind, and then served it to Ren Xueqing, who was standing behind them.