MTLNOVEL Chapter 179: The Villainous Crown Prince
The flap of the command tent fell closed behind them, muffling the stunned silence within. Zhu Mingyu didn't look back. His steps were slow, deliberate, as if each movement carried the weight of something final.
Xinying followed, blood crusting down the side of her cheek and across her sleeves, her face unreadable.
The Red Demon camp was too quiet. The soldiers stationed nearby glanced at her, then at their Crown Prince, and quickly looked away. No one saluted. No one bowed. No one dared to even speak.
Mingyu's gaze swept across the horizon, toward the northern treeline where just days ago, there was a festive atmosphere and the smell of blood from the hunt.
Now, a completely different hunt was going to start, and he wasn't upset about that at all.
He waited a heartbeat before opening his mouth. Then, in a low and calm voice, he spoke without turning.
"Anyone found on that list…" he announced like he was deciding what flowers to plant in the back courtyard of his manor, "is to die painfully."
There was no echo. The night swallowed the words, and yet every soldier within earshot heard them clearly.
"Spread the names to everyone. Leave no one standing who is so eager to hand our country over to others for a little profit."
He didn't need to raise his voice. Orders from the Crown Prince didn't require volume—only conviction.
And Zhu Mingyu was done waiting. Done being patient. The moment that his wife had been taken, whether she went willingly or not, the mask had slipped.
Since Yuyan was so sure about what his fate was to be, he wasn't going to fight it anymore. The Villainous Crown Prince had arrived.
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Zhu Deming stood at the edge of the western barracks, the scroll still in his hand. He had already memorized the names. His gloves were off.
The general before him was an older man, eyes narrowed, lips pulled tight in a forced smile. "Your Highness," the man said carefully, "there must be some mistake—"
Deming didn't reply.
He crossed the distance between them in three strides and drove his sword clean through the man's chest.
The general gasped, blood flooding his mouth.
"I don't make mistakes," Deming said quietly, twisting the blade. "You tried to take power that wasn't yours to begin with. You betrayed every man who had ever died under your banner. You don't deserve to live."
He pulled the weapon free.
Behind him, his guards moved like shadows, ransacking the tent, dragging out letters sealed with northern crests. One soldier reached for the fire basin. Deming stopped him.
"No," he said. "We hang them on the walls. Let everyone see what betrayal looks like."
The soldier nodded grimly.
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Shi Yaozu didn't knock.
He moved through the shadows like smoke, slipping into the map tent where one of the listed men—Minister Shen—was reviewing troop placements. A shrewd man, well-connected, smug to the end.
He didn't even glance up. "You're late."
Yaozu's blade cut through the man's achilles tendon before he finished the sentence.
The scream was sharp and high, cut short as Yaozu pressed a gloved hand over the man's mouth.
He dragged the body down to the floor with casual strength, binding his limbs with cord. Then, without ceremony, he shoved a scroll into the man's mouth—his own handwriting, a list of recommendations for replacing the Crown Princess after the "unfortunate accident."
Yaozu leaned down, voice a breath.
"You should've killed me first. I was the only line between you and her."
He didn't slit his throat.
He cut deeper, slower, making sure the last thing the man saw was the red wax seal melting into his tongue.
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The command storehouse was full of weapons—more than the Red Demons had accounted for. Hidden caches. Smuggled steel. The work of traitors.
Sun Longzi found the quartermaster sitting with a ledger and a glass of wine, humming softly.
"I thought we were friends," the man said, a bit drunkenly, when he saw the general step in.
"We were," Longzi answered, drawing his sword.
"But—wait—surely you don't think—"
"You rerouted supplies meant for my men," Longzi said, his voice calm. "Three died last week for lack of boots. Twelve froze guarding the outer wall."
His blade swept upward, slicing through the man's wrist.
The man shrieked, stumbling backward, blood spraying across the floor.
"You deserve worse," Longzi murmured, eyes sharp. "But I've run out of patience."
He left the man gurgling in a pool of his own blood and lit the entire storage on fire.
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The brothel's upper chambers were warm and scented with perfume. Music played softly in the background. Sun Yizhen sat across from the merchant responsible for leaking troop movements to the North. They were drinking tea. Or at least, the merchant thought they were.
Yizhen swirled his cup slowly, fingers tapping against the porcelain.
"You know," he said, "when I was younger, I used to think war was fought with blades. But you… you taught me something important."
The man blinked, nervous. "Wh-what's that?"
Yizhen smiled, slow and poisonous.
"That information," he said, setting the teacup down, "cuts deeper than steel."
Then, without standing, he flicked a small silver pin across the table. It embedded cleanly into the man's neck.
Poison.
The merchant spasmed, knocking over the tea set.
Yizhen sipped from his own cup and leaned back.
"Thank you for the lesson."
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The heads arrived at the center pavilion before sunrise.
Neatly boxed. Carefully labeled.
Each one marked with the seal of the man who had executed the sentence.
Deming. Yaozu. Longzi. Yizhen.
Mingyu stood beneath the open canopy, gazing at the crates without blinking. He didn't smile. Didn't frown.
He simply nodded.
Xinying stood beside him, her robes cleaned but blood still staining her cuffs. She glanced down at one of the boxes as it was opened—just enough to reveal the face of a former court official.
She raised a brow. "He screamed like a pig at the banquet."
"I remember," Mingyu murmured.
"I liked that about him. The squealing. You should've sent me."
"You've done enough," he said, but his voice was fond.
She didn't argue.
Another soldier approached, bowing low. "The northern envoy is waiting. Princess Yuyan is in the carriage, as you ordered."
"Is she conscious?" Xinying asked flatly.
"Barely, Your Grace. But breathing."
Mingyu turned his gaze to the horizon again.
"Good. Let her crawl back to her books and dreams. Let her tell them what she saw."
He stepped forward, his voice rising as the wind picked up.
"This is not a warning," he said, loud enough for the watching soldiers to hear. "This is a promise."
He met every eye in the camp.
"The Crown Prince will not be challenged again. And if you even think of harming what is mine—"
His gaze slid to the crates of heads.
"—remember this night."
He turned, offering his hand to Xinying.
She took it without hesitation.
Together, they walked toward the waiting throne tent as the sun broke over the scorched horizon behind them.