The Youngest Son of the Nanyang Jin Family - Chapter 16

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Youngest Son of the Nakhyang Jin Family – Chapter 77

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People called the Current Emperor the Iron-Blooded Emperor.
The twelfth son, with no connection to the imperial throne or its lineage.
Moreover, born from a courtesan whose family held no ties to any powerful faction whatsoever.
Raised not by the imperial household but by courtesans, his childhood was spent running through the Red Light District, doing nothing more than following the courtesans around like a street urchin.
The situation began to change mysteriously when he turned fifteen.
His brothers started dying one by one.
Some fell to illness, others were struck down by blades during secret missions, one drowned in a latrine, and another was consumed by fire.
Despite the situation unfolding as if someone were systematically eliminating rivals, no one suspected the twelfth son.
After all, it was absurd to think someone who had never even entered the Imperial Palace could orchestrate such schemes.
Everything was revealed when he turned twenty.
On the day the sickly Emperor’s death drew near, he launched an assault through a secret passage leading to the Imperial Palace, accompanied by two hundred subordinates.
No one had anticipated such a thing.
The Imperial Palace transformed into a hellscape, drenched in blood in mere moments.
With the overwhelming power he had secretly accumulated, he seized the palace in an instant, executed all remaining brothers, and appeared before the dying Emperor covered in blood, his bearing utterly composed.
No one knows what words passed between him and the Emperor as he lay dying.
Only that this moment marked the changing of the throne’s master.
Those who witnessed these events were most shocked by one thing: the Emperor’s closest confidants and most trusted ministers all followed him.
Though no one could discern their reasons, it became clear in hindsight that these very men had orchestrated the silent assassinations of his brothers, and by redirecting suspicion away from the twelfth son, they had erased all doubt.
The problem came after.
Upon ascending the throne and inheriting imperial authority, he had all the ministers who had invested in him executed, their heads displayed on pikes, and their entire families exterminated.
His reasoning was simple: those who betray once will betray again.
The blade he wielded to solidify his power never ceased its work, and Beijing became a place where only the silent screams of the dead remained.
Thus, people did not hesitate to call him the Iron-Blooded Emperor.
His obsession with power, authority, and life itself was so consuming that he had allegedly tried everything for immortality, and despite approaching a hundred years of age, he still clung to the throne without relinquishing it.
The symbol of absolute power.
That was the Iron-Blooded Emperor.
Yet such power inevitably created victims.
Namely, the Current Emperor’s eldest son and Crown Prince.
Despite approaching fifty years of age, he still held the position of Crown Prince.
It was unprecedented in history.
“It must be miserable.”
I thought of the Crown Prince and lifted the corners of my mouth in a smile.
Had I been in his position, I would have gnashed my teeth in hatred.
It would have been better not to be Crown Prince at all.
Yet it wasn’t as though he lacked ability.
Rumors spread that he was incomparably superior to his brothers, and his character was so virtuous that people spoke of him becoming a benevolent ruler devoted to his people.
Yet it remained impossible.
As long as the Current Emperor lived, the throne belonged to him.
So a rebellion broke out.
For the Crown Prince, his last hope was the Emperor—wasting away, languishing toward death.
Since no physician could do anything to stop his deterioration and ruin, he must have believed without doubt that the throne would soon be his.
But it was Chaeseoha who cleanly shattered that belief.
A single Spirit Elixir I had given her.
That, combined with Chaeseoha’s medical skill, brought the dying Emperor back to life.
The officials who had nearly fractured reunited in loyalty to the Emperor, and the Crown Prince’s foundation inevitably crumbled and weakened once more.
Because of this, the Crown Prince had no choice but to act.
In the end, he launched a rebellion, seized the Imperial Palace, slaughtered all officials loyal to the Current Emperor, and beheaded Chaeseoha—the root cause of it all—displaying her head as a warning.
Yet he could not bring himself to kill his own father, so he confined him to a locked chamber, cut off all food and drink, and let him languish until death claimed him.
From the Iron-Blooded Emperor’s ambition, another Iron-Blooded Emperor was born.
The reason I found this situation intriguing and investigated it was simple curiosity about how the Crown Prince’s meager forces could have succeeded in rebellion.
It is speculation, but I believe the decisive factor was the Imperial Guard the Emperor had assigned to the Crown Prince.
Chungho.
Though now the Crown Prince’s bodyguard, he was once the senior disciple positioned to inherit the next leadership of the Wudang Sect.
I judged that by leveraging his connections, Wudang Sect disciples and inner disciples concealed their identities while aiding the Crown Prince—a decisive factor.
The reason I am certain of this is first, that support for Wudang increased dramatically after the Crown Prince took the throne, and second, that most of his assembled guards have connections to Wudang.
“Either way, if I can use them, that’s something to be grateful for.”
I chuckled softly and adjusted my bamboo hat.
Here, where I walked after escaping Dowon Village.
None other than the Red Light District of Beijing.
Despite the late hour, crimson lanterns brightly illuminated the streets, and countless courtesans and men wandered about in drunken revelry.
I surveyed my surroundings while taking in the sights visible between the brim of my hat.
Among countless establishments, I searched for a single name.

Hongya Pavilion.

Just before the rebellion erupted.
A gathering place where those who had joined forces with the Crown Prince convened.
People had come to call this meeting the Hongya Assembly.
And so, fortunately, a suitable location appeared not far away.
Among the countless pleasure houses in Beijing, it was an unremarkable, modest establishment that didn’t appear particularly distinctive or lavishly decorated.
But there was no doubt—it was the Hongya Pavilion.
It was a high-class establishment that could only be used by renting out the entire pleasure house, and the courtesans who worked there were said to be brought in from the most renowned names in the Red Light District of Beijing, exclusively for those who had reserved the place.
For a wealthy Crown Prince, it was an ideal location to drink alone.
As expected, the perimeter was heavily guarded.
While they weren’t openly dressed in Imperial Palace uniforms, their bearing was distinctly different from those guarding other establishments.
Among those sealing off the pleasure house, there were about a dozen visible to the eye, and if I counted those hidden as well, it seemed there would be around thirty.
I smiled as I confirmed this.
I was intensely curious about what this new Iron-Blooded Emperor looked like.

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This was undoubtedly a pleasure house, yet there was not even the faintest scent of a woman’s perfume in the room.
Only scattered wine bottles and the gazes of those standing watch.
And a single figure sitting there, gulping down alcohol.
He paid no mind to the others’ stares, simply drinking the wine before him.
Judging by how much he’d consumed, the number of empty bottles scattered about was considerable.
Yet even that wasn’t enough—each time a bottle emptied, a fresh one was brought in.
“Your Highness, any more would be unwise.”
“Ha, are you trying to stop me?”
“…I speak only out of concern for grave consequences.”
“Grave consequences… grave consequences… ha, I wish I could simply drink myself to death.”
“Your Highness!”
“Chungho, your shouting is giving me a headache. Don’t raise your voice.”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t say such things.”
At Chungho’s words, the man gave a bitter smile and raised the wine bottle to his lips again. After gulping down a long draught, he lowered it and gazed once more at Chungho, whose eyes were filled with worry.
“Have you seen her?”
“Seen whom… Your Highness?”
“The masked woman beside His Majesty. Do you know who she is?”
“I do not.”
“Ha, they say she’s a descendant of Uiseon.”
“…!”
“His Majesty’s complexion seems to have improved considerably, wouldn’t you say? His gait has grown more vigorous as well.”
At those words, Chungho’s pupils trembled.
But he quickly composed himself and regained his expression.
“You are mistaken. The Chae clan has long since fallen.”
“Whether it’s a misunderstanding or not, the problem is that His Majesty’s condition has improved as a result.”
The Crown Prince raised his wine bottle toward the Imperial Palace visible through the window.
It was as if he were toasting with his father who resided there, but soon a sneer played at the corners of his mouth as he leaned his back against the wall and sprawled out.
“Chungho, do you know? In all of history, there has never been a Crown Prince who failed to ascend the throne by this age.”
“….”
“His Majesty made me Crown Prince at an age younger than I am now. Yet I cannot make my own son the Crown Prince. Hahaha.”
Crack—!
The Crown Prince’s grip tightened as he wore a bitter smile.
Screech—!
As the wine bottle in his hand made a sound as if it might shatter, Chungho, startled, quickly reached out and snatched it away.
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
“You prevent me from doing anything.”
The Crown Prince steadied his breathing and grasped a fresh wine bottle beside him.
He then took another long drink to soothe his heart, and gazing out the window where the full moon hung, his eyes narrowed into a drowsy gaze.
“If it comes to this, perhaps….”
“Your Highness!”
“Hahaha, I jest, merely jest. I know well enough that he is not even a match for me. Any attempt would result in instant death.”
Considering the power and authority the Emperor possessed, what the Crown Prince held was nothing more than a firefly before the full moon, like striking a rock with an egg.
Even if he could completely neutralize the three great powers protecting the Imperial House, or avoid confronting them altogether, matters would proceed more smoothly.
But the leaders of those three great powers were ones who offered absolute loyalty to the Emperor.
That was not easily accomplished.
And that was not all.
He could trust no one.
Those he had trusted immediately changed their stance and began clinging to the Emperor’s side once His Majesty recovered his faculties.
Considering such matters, he could not discern who was trustworthy and who was not.
Perhaps among those who remained by his side, there were those the Emperor had planted.
To ascend the throne, he needed a means to sweep away even such men.
But with the power he currently possessed, there was nothing he could do.
As he pondered for a moment and brought the wine bottle to his lips once more, it happened.
A voice flowing in from somewhere burrowed into his ears.
“Shall I tell you? A somewhat easier and more certain method.”
Chungho, startled, widened his eyes, drew his sword, and launched his body forward.
Considering the instantaneous nature of what unfolded, one could readily understand why he had been the Daoist sect’s foremost disciple.
He then thrust his blade toward the window.
“Who are you!”
The sword pierced through the wall as if cutting tofu, and with an explosive burst of force, shattered it. Simultaneously, the figure of a Masked Man appeared before Chungho’s eyes.
The blade flew toward his throat with precision.
A perfect move that allowed not even a hair’s breadth of error.
And yet.
Ssshhh—
The man retreated backward as though he had anticipated this very moment. He leaped onto the rooftop of the opposite building and lifted his head stiffly, his gaze fixed upon Chungho.
Chungho’s blade had not made contact.
In an instant so brief it hardly deserved the name, the exchange unfolded, yet I realized his garments remained untouched—not even a thread had been grazed. My eyes narrowed.
“Your Highness! He is a Powerful Expert. It would be wise to evade.”
“Do not be so hasty. He does not appear to harbor any malice, at least.”
At that moment, the Crown Prince rose from his seat and gazed outward through the gaping hole in the wall.
There stood a man.
He stood motionless at the highest point of the opposite rooftop.
With the full moon at his back, its light illuminated him like a halo.
The scene unfolded as though painted upon silk.
Was this intentional?
The Crown Prince let out a hollow laugh and observed him quietly.
The moonlight at his back made it difficult to discern his features clearly.
From what I could dimly perceive, he wore elaborate silk robes, and his face was wrapped tightly in cloth—what appeared to be a mask was visible in the gaps.
In any case, he clearly wished to conceal his face.
Yet what troubled me more was something else entirely.
His gaze was strangely unsettling.
It did not take long to discern the reason.
The Iron-Blooded Emperor.
Yes, those eyes were precisely like the Emperor’s gaze upon me.
The eyes of one who grasps overwhelming power and authority, who stands at the highest pinnacle and can gaze down upon all below with noble indifference.
The Crown Prince furrowed his brow and asked.
“Who is this man?”
My curiosity about this figure would not easily dissipate.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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