The Empress’s Revenge

Chapter 2: Prey Must Move First to Survive

Her heart clenched, and she instinctively took half a step back. "I heard," Chu Lingxian continued as if unaware of her wariness, her tone flat, "that if a fire breaks out in the Cold Palace, or if a building collapses, as long as it cannot be proven to be arson or sabotage, the chief eunuch would at most face a salary deduction and a few reprimands?" Mama Wang’s heart leaped into her throat. Her hand clutching the rag tightened instantly, her knuckles turning white. She stared at Chu Lingxian with uncertainty, her voice lowered to a near-whisper, words squeezed through gritted teeth: "Your Majesty... why do you ask? That may be the rule on paper, but it’s just dead words! In the palace, who would dare let a building collapse? If something really happens, the living will always find a way to pin it on those of us with no connections, or some dead unfortunate soul! That would be a capital offense!" "I’ve noted it," Chu Lingxian replied faintly, the chill in her eyes deepening. She turned and whispered to Xiao Chan, who had been anxiously hovering nearby, her voice cold as ice: "Go, find a young eunuch outside who can deliver a message to Zhao Dequan. Tell him I received a dream from the late emperor last night." Xiao Chan’s face turned pale with fear, her lips trembling: "Your... Your Majesty... dreaming of the late emperor is a grave disrespect..." Chu Lingxian shot her a cold glance, and the look in her eyes silenced Xiao Chan instantly.

"Just say that the late emperor told me in the dream that my fate is not yet sealed, and that a 'divine punishment' is imminent in the Cold Palace to punish those treacherous villains who deceive their superiors and harm the imperial heirs. If Eunuch Zhao doesn’t believe it, he can come to the side hall tonight to witness what divine punishment looks like." "Will... will he believe it?" Xiao Chan’s voice was tearful; she thought her mistress had gone completely mad. A cold, mocking smile curled at the corner of Chu Lingxian’s lips: "Whether he believes the dream or not is unimportant. What matters is luring his greedy, suspicious heart to deliver itself to our doorstep. Now go."

When Zhao Dequan heard the young eunuch’s report, he was holding a small silver spoon, scraping the foam off a tribute tea with delicate fingers. At first, he scoffed, dismissing it as the ravings of a madwoman. But after setting down his teacup, those words pricked his heart like a thorn. "Divine punishment? Punishing treachery?" He narrowed his eyes. Recently, the empress, influenced by someone’s whispers, had begun to suspect him of embezzling palace funds and had warned him twice in subtle ways. He had been desperate for an opportunity to prove his loyalty and assert his authority. A mad, deposed consort was the perfect excuse delivered to his doorstep. If a madwoman was pretending to commune with spirits in the Cold Palace, he could "take the trouble" to personally "investigate the anomaly" late at night, suppress the matter, and then report to the empress that he had promptly handled the situation, preventing the madwoman from spreading delusions and disturbing the palace.

This would not only demonstrate his loyalty but also highlight his competence. As for the so-called "divine punishment," he simply took it as a trick by Chu Lingxian to scare people in her madness. He wanted to see for himself—and perhaps have some "fun" while he was at it, teaching her who the true king of hell was in the Cold Palace.

The night was as dark as ink, and a cold wind howled, making the withered trees outside the hall wail like ghosts. Zhao Dequan did not bring anyone with him. Carrying only a dim lantern, he stepped alone into the eerie side hall. Everything had long been prepared.

The night before, while everyone was sound asleep, she had used a shard of broken porcelain she had found to spend two full hours grinding away at the already rotten beam in an unnoticed corner, finally supporting it with two weak hemp ropes. She had also secretly collected stove ash during the day, mixed it with water, and thinly sprinkled it over the spot where Zhao Dequan was most likely to stand. The damp ash would glow faintly in the night—from a distance, it would look exactly like the legendary "ghost fire." In her hand, she tightly gripped a heavy iron chain. She had torn it from under the broken bed board, and the other end of the chain was tied with an ingeniously crafted slipknot to the precarious beam.

Footsteps approached from afar, heavy and deliberate. Zhao Dequan pushed open the slightly ajar door, and the lantern light pierced the darkness, illuminating the faint, shimmering glow on the ground. "Playing tricks with ghosts and gods!" he cursed under his breath, lifting his foot to stomp on the "ghost fire," intending to crush it. The moment his right foot landed, there was a sharp crack! The rotten floorboard, which Chu Lingxian had pried loose and loosely replaced, snapped under his weight.

Caught off guard, Zhao Dequan’s body suddenly sank. A sickening creak followed. He looked up in horror to see, at the far end of the lantern’s glow, the massive beam collapsing with tremendous force, bringing down a cloud of dust and debris.

Boom—! An ear-splitting crash reverberated, shaking the entire side hall. The rotten beam landed precisely on Zhao Dequan’s waist and abdomen, the dull sound of shattering bones masked by the deafening noise.

"Ah—!" The next moment, a heart-wrenching, inhuman scream tore through the dead silence of the Cold Palace night. As the dust slowly settled, Zhao Dequan’s lower half was pinned mercilessly under the broken beam. Blood spread rapidly beneath him, and he convulsed in agony, his face twisted grotesquely.

In the darkness, a slender figure slowly rose. Clank... clank... The sound of the heavy iron chain dragging across the ground was more terrifying to Zhao Dequan than any ghost coming to claim his life.

Terrified, he watched as Chu Lingxian stepped closer. Her breathtakingly beautiful face showed no expression, only those frighteningly bright eyes coldly looking down at him. Chu Lingxian crouched down. The icy iron chain in her hand looped once, then again, around his neck, which was gasping in pain and fear. She tightened it slowly until the chain dug into his flesh, pressing against his windpipe. Then, in an eerily calm tone, she whispered: "Eunuch Zhao, tell me... does this beam falling from the sky count as divine punishment, or man-made disaster?"

Her voice was soft, yet it felt like a blade dipped in ice, slicing apart all his arrogance and dignity, leaving onlySheer terror (raw, naked fear). Zhao Dequan, choked by the iron chain and crushed by the broken beam, was overwhelmed by agony and suffocation. His vision blurred, and cold sweat drenched his clothes. He stared fixedly at the woman before him. In his pupils, her image transformed from a mad plaything into a vengeful asura returned from hell.