Special Agent’s Rebirth: The Almighty Goddess of Quick Transmigration - Chapter 208

Speaking of the Seventh Prince, he was a legendary figure in the imperial court.

By age three, he could compose poetry; by seven, he mastered martial arts. By ten, no minister in the court could out-debate him.

His mother, the Emperor’s most beloved consort, passed away due to illness shortly after his birth. The Emperor poured all his affection into the Seventh Prince, even giving him a unique name unlike the single-character names of his brothers.

Yuwen Yunshi.

“Sitting and watching the clouds rise.”

The name alone revealed the Emperor’s immense expectations for him. By thirteen, the Seventh Prince had earned the respect of the entire court.

Yet, he was an eccentric. By fourteen, no scholar or artist in the capital dared challenge him, so he left for the jianghu—the martial world—declaring he had no interest in the throne. The Emperor was so furious he ignored him for days.

Despite this, before the Seventh Prince departed, the Emperor granted him the idle title of Xian Wang (“Leisurely Prince”). This gave the other princes a chance to compete for succession. Everyone knew that had the Seventh Prince stayed, even if Yuwen Jing and all the other princes combined their efforts, the throne would have been his alone.

But no one expected the Seventh Prince to remain in the jianghu for only two years. On his sixteenth birthday, the Emperor summoned him back with twelve urgent edicts. He stayed in the palace for less than a month before even the imperial guards grew terrified of his skills, forcing the Emperor to reluctantly let him leave again.

The Seventh Prince was breathtakingly handsome. During his time in the capital, no other prince could overshadow him, and he became the object of admiration for every noble maiden—including Qu Huashang.

Qu Huashang had only glimpsed him once from afar on his sixteenth birthday, struck by his celestial beauty. She never saw him again.

For three years, she refused to marry, partly because of Yuwen Jing but also because she secretly hoped the Seventh Prince would return.

And now, he had.

No one knew what identity he held in the jianghu, but no one dared underestimate him. If he ever sought rebellion, countless court officials would support him.

After the recent events in the palace, everyone knew: The Seventh Prince had returned.

Distracted by his arrival, Qu Huashang paid no attention to Ye Shaohua. Even her conversations with Yuwen Jing grew absentminded. Yuwen Jing, too, was preoccupied with the Seventh Prince’s return and failed to notice her distraction.

Yuwen Jing had to admit—even now, standing at the pinnacle of power—he wasn’t confident he could gain any advantage against Yuwen Yunshi.

He feared Yuwen Yunshi might follow his own example and seize the throne. If that happened, Yuwen Jing would be powerless to stop him.

Having taken the throne from the Crown Prince, Yuwen Jing had already lost some support. Many neutral elder ministers remained in court, and he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t side with Yuwen Yunshi if he returned.

It wasn’t until the arrival of the frontier prince, Amur, that the palace’s attention shifted, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, in the Cold Palace…

An inconspicuous bamboo tube fell silently into the grass. Ye Shaohua picked it up without a flicker of surprise. Inside was a slip of paper.

This had happened frequently over the past few days. Shuangyue, who had been shocked the first time, was now unfazed.

She had no idea when her mistress had befriended such a formidable figure—someone capable of gathering intelligence and infiltrating the palace undetected.

Ye Shaohua offered no explanation. A few nights prior, she had used her qinggong to slip out, investigating leads and sending letters to her father and brother.

The martial artist aiding Qu Huashang was scarcely mentioned in the original plot, so Ye Shaohua had to rely on memory and hired informants to track him down.

This slip of paper contained the intelligence she sought.

In the original storyline, her life had ended with a single strike—a deadly ice-metal dart.

The fact that it had struck her vitals meant the assassin was exceptionally skilled. By cross-referencing martial artists known for using such darts, she narrowed it down to one person:

The second-ranked assassin of the Zhai Xing Lou.

A master of dart techniques, though no one knew how he had ties to Qu Huashang.

No wonder Qu Huashang had never seen Ye Shaohua as a threat—with a top-tier assassin guarding her, Ye Shaohua, despite her martial prowess, stood no chance against a true jianghu expert.

Ye Shaohua smirked coldly. “The second-ranked assassin, huh?”

She lit a match and slowly burned the paper to ashes.

Just then, a shrill voice echoed outside:

“Consort Ye!”

The chief eunuch stood at the Cold Palace gates, offering a perfunctory bow before presenting an ornate gown.

“His Majesty is hosting a banquet for Prince Amur tonight. All palace members are to attend. The prince has heard of your reputation and wishes to witness the grace of our dynasty’s noblewomen.”

Ye Shaohua eyed the lavish dress with a mocking smile. “A deposed consort like me… surely isn’t suitable?”

The frontier kingdom was a land of barbarians, a persistent thorn in the late Emperor’s—and now Yuwen Jing’s—side. Prince Amur was a notorious womanizer.

Yuwen Jing’s intentions were clear:

1. Tarnish Ye Shaohua’s virtue to justify further punishment.

2. Gain leverage over Prince Amur for future control.

It was an underhanded scheme, but with the court’s weakened military, sacrificing a condemned woman like Ye Shaohua was a convenient two-birds-one-stone solution.

Had this been the original Ye Shaohua, she might have been fooled by the eunuch’s flattery, oblivious to the trap.

But the current Ye Shaohua saw through everything. From the moment Yuwen Jing made his decision, every move he made had been within her expectations.

The woman he thought was firmly under his control was no longer the same person.

The chief eunuch stared at her, his gaze devoid of respect—only the cold detachment one reserves for the dead.

“His Majesty’s decree stands. Do you dare defy an imperial order, Consort?”