Chen Chang’an slept soundly that night.

For the first time in years, he did not have to grovel before the inhabitants of the Huainan Manor, nor did he have to spend every waking breath walking on eggshells. The sense of liberation was intoxicating.

He slept well past dawn the following morning. With the Severance Agreement folded neatly into his inner robes, he set off for the residence with a light, rhythmic stride.

As he neared the grand gates, he spotted a stooped, gray-haired figure stepping out into the street. At the sight of the old man, the stagnant pool of Chen Chang’an’s heart finally stirred with genuine emotion.

“Uncle Hu.”

Uncle Hu was the head butler of the manor and the sole soul who had ever shown him a shred of human warmth. When his sisters had subjected him to cold and hunger, Uncle Hu was the one who secretly slipped him padded garments. When the old man saw Chen Chang’an forced to eat like a stray dog, he would turn away into the shadows to weep in silence.

Yet good souls rarely fared well. In Chen Chang’an’s previous life, after Chen Fusheng consolidated power, he had the old butler drowned in a pit of filth. The villain’s only motive had been sheer malice—Uncle Hu had once dared to intercede while Chen Fusheng was tormenting the boy by the latrines, pleading with him not to let a cruel prank turn into a murder.

Uncle Hu’s withered face crumpled with anxiety the moment he spotted Chen Chang’an.

“Ninth Young Master! Where were you last night? You worried this old servant half to death!” He thrust a hand into his tunic and produced a toasted flatbread, still warm from his body heat. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Quick, take this! His Highness has returned. Just go inside, drop to your knees, and ask for forgiveness. Everything will be fine.”

Uncle Hu was a lifelong servant with nothing of value to offer, yet holding the warm bread, Chen Chang’an felt a sharp pang in his chest. He forced a firm shake of his head.

“I will not beg for forgiveness.”

“Young Master—”

“Uncle Hu, listen to me,” Chen Chang’an interrupted, his tone laced with absolute finality. “If you can, leave the State of Chu. Find a quiet village deep in the mountains and live out the rest of your days. Right now, I can barely protect myself, let alone take you with me.”

Uncle Hu stared at him, bewildered. Sold into the Huainan Manor as a child, he had served three generations of the Chen family. How could leaving be so simple?

“Young Master, what nonsense are you spewing? His Highness sent me out specifically to bring you back!”

Chen Chang’an shook his head silently. Words meant nothing without the strength to enforce them. Turning, he guided Uncle Hu back through the iron gates. As they approached the main hall, Chu Yanran’s voice drifted out through the lattice windows.

“Your Highness, that is the whole truth! That unfilial wretch grows more unruly by the day. When I asked if he broke the Snowflake Steed’s leg, he refused to utter a single word. When our precious Fusheng knelt to plead on his behalf, the lunatic actually struck him! Then he had the audacity to stay out all night. Heaven knows what foul vices he was indulging in!”

Chen Zhan sat within the hall. At forty-five, the Prince of Huainan possessed a formidable presence, his square, dignified visage framed by sharp brows and eyes that glinted like cold stars. Beneath the high bridge of his nose, his lips were drawn into a thin, merciless line, looking perpetually ready to order an execution. He radiated an oppressive, blood-drenched aura that commanded absolute obedience.

Chen Chang’an let out a soft, mocking laugh as he stepped over the threshold. “Princess Consort, where would a wretch like me even find the coin to ‘indulge in foul vices’?”

Chen Zhan, clad in dark military robes, looked up sharply. Chu Yanran, Chen Chunhua, and the others snapped their heads toward the entrance, their lips curling into sneers of disdain. They had known the fool wouldn’t actually run away. Here he was, crawling back right on schedule.

Uncle Hu hurried forward to smooth things over. “Young Master, the Madam was simply worried for your safety—”

Chen Chang’an cut him off with a faint smile. “Uncle Hu, the Princess Consort is a woman of exalted stature. Why would she ever waste her concern on the life or death of a piece of trash?”

*Princess Consort!*

He had addressed her by her formal title twice now.

*Bang!*

Chen Zhan slammed his palm onto the tea table, his martial aura erupting like a tidal wave. “Chen Chang’an! On your knees!”

To everyone’s surprise, Chen Chang’an complied without resistance. He dropped to his knees before the Prince of Huainan with flawless, stoic decorum.

“This commoner, Chen Chang’an, pays his respects to the Prince of Huainan. May Your Highness live for a thousand years.”

Chen Zhan’s face darkened instantly, his tiger-like eyes blazing with rage. “Is your skin itching for a beating? Do I need to tenderize you myself?”

Chen Chang’an assumed an air of frightened innocence. “Your Highness, though I am but a commoner, I have broken no law. Why must you speak to me with such ferocity?”

Chen Zhan’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening over the hilt of his waist-sword. “I am a father disciplining his son! Does a father need a crime to punish his child? And why do you keep addressing her as 'Princess Consort'? Is she unfit to be called your mother? From this moment on, you will call me 'Father,' not 'Your Highness'!”

Chen Chang’an’s expression remained deadpan. He withdrew the two copies of the Severance Agreement from his robes and held them high above his head with both hands.

“Your Highness is perhaps unaware. The Princess Consort informed me yesterday that upon your return, we would sign this Severance Agreement and sever all ties. I am no longer your son. Were I to address you familiarly now, would that not be a gross breach of etiquette?”

Chen Zhan’s pupils contracted. Before he could react, Chen Chang’an pressed on.

“I have drawn up the contract. I ask only that Your Highness sign it, so that we may part ways in peace.”

Chen Zhan’s face turned ash-gray with fury. Chen Qiuyue, standing nearby, curled her lip in contempt. She glided forward, snatched the documents from his hands, and scoffed, “I’d love to see how an illiterate fool who can barely write his own name managed to draft a Severance Agreement.”

She unrolled the parchment—and froze. A series of exquisite, flowing characters leapt off the paper, sharp as iron and elegant as drifted snow.

*“…A petition to the Heavens above, a cry to the Underworld below… Henceforth as strangers, never to cross paths… Names struck from the lineage, never to share the wheel of reincarnation.”*

Chen Qiuyue stared at Chen Chang’an in absolute shock. Disregarding the severe contents, the calligraphy alone was so masterful, the prose so hauntingly evocative, that reading it felt like drinking a cold draught of mountain spring. Could this fool truly have written this? It defied belief.

Though the document was brief, its opening invocations sent a chill through Chen Zhan. As a commander who had led armies through rivers of blood, he feared the retribution of the Heavens above all else. Chen Chang’an had struck him precisely where his superstitions ran deepest.

“Butler Hu! Fetch the discipline rod!” Chen Zhan roared, his chest heaving. “If I don’t beat this unfilial beast to death today, I am unfit to bear the title of Prince of Huainan!”

Uncle Hu trembled violently, paralyzed with horror. Chen Qiuyue, however, snapped out of her stupor and smiled brightly. “Father, I will fetch it!”

Chen Chang’an tilted his head up, his face a mask of bewildered innocence. “Over a mere horse, the Princess Consort already had me beaten within an inch of my life yesterday. She swore that the Prince would sign the agreement upon his return. Why must Your Highness execute family law upon me now? Have I committed a crime? Have I broken the imperial code? Is the Prince of Huainan a tyrant who abuses his station, or is the Princess Consort a liar who goes back on her word?”

Chen Zhan ground his teeth so hard they nearly shattered. The boy had backed him into a corner! Logically, Chen Chang’an was in the right, but Chen Zhan was a warlord—a man who ruled by the blade. When a scholar argued logic with a general, brute force was the only answer.

“You wretched beast!”

Unable to wait for Chen Qiuyue to bring the rod, Chen Zhan reached out, grabbed his scathed broadsword, and swung it directly at Chen Chang’an’s head.

Though the blade remained sheathed, the wind whistled with lethal intent. Chen Chang’an could have dodged, but he did not move a muscle. Instead, he stretched his neck forward, meeting the blow head-on.

Chen Zhan was a decorated martial grandmaster of the State of Chu. How could a flesh-and-blood mortal withstand the full force of his strike?

*Thwack!*

A violent crack echoed through the hall. The blunt force smashed Chen Chang’an’s vision into a blur of spinning stars. Blood erupted from his forehead, splattering across the polished scabbard.

Chen Zhan froze, his arm mid-air. Chu Yanran and Chen Chunhua gasped, watching in utter disbelief. Why hadn't the fool dodged?

“Ninth Young Master!” Uncle Hu cried out, rushing forward as if the blow had struck his own heart. “Your Highness, spare him! I will fetch the imperial physician right now—”

“Stop!”

Chen Chang’an was reeling, on the verge of blackout, but his voice cut through the air, raspy and iron-hard. “I am merely a commoner, my life as cheap as roadside weeds. There is no need to trouble your grand physician. Prince of Huainan, the Princess Consort shed much blood giving birth to me. Consider today’s blood my full repayment to you both.”

He pressed a hand over the gash, crimson liquid oozing through his fingers and dripping down his jaw. “Furthermore, calculated at a Young Master’s allowance of five taels of silver a month, my keep over the last six years totals three hundred and sixty taels. Within six months, I will repay you five hundred taels, principal and interest combined. I beg Your Highness to sign the Severance Agreement. From this second onward, I have nothing to do with the Huainan Manor!”

The house physician had already been summoned by a maid, but as he stepped into the room, Uncle Hu pleaded desperately, “Young Master, stop talking! Let the doctor dress your wound!”

“I said no!” Chen Chang’an shoved the physician’s hand away, his bloodstained face illuminated by a terrifying, unyielding light. “If you feel this blood is not enough to clear the debt, then convert the rest to silver and I will work myself to the bone to pay it! And if even silver is not enough, then I shall follow the path of Nezha of old!”

He met the stunned gazes of his family, his eyes ice-cold and devoid of a single drop of warmth.

“I will slice away my flesh for my father, and carve out my bones for my mother! I will give you back everything—so long as you let me leave this house!”