Turns Out, I’m In A Villain Clan! Chapter 575 The First Night of Chaos

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Previously on Turns Out, I’m In A Villain Clan!...

Qin Lingxiao, disguised as an attendant, finds herself under Bai Zihan's unusual scrutiny. Pondering his gaze, she wonders if he prefers simplicity over beauty. Meanwhile, Bai Tianheng, having recently reached the Immortal Realm, openly mocks Li Jianhong and Zhao Wutian for their current cultivation levels. He then issues a veiled threat, warning them against opposing the Bai Clan's dominance in the upcoming succession.

The funeral rites concluded, and an illusion of normalcy descended upon the Imperial Capital.

Daily life gradually resumed its familiar cadence, with white banners still adorning the city and the aura of mourning lingering, yet beneath this veneer, existence carried on.

This fragile peace was shattered barely a day later by earth-shattering news that ignited the capital and spread like wildfire across the Empire.

"The Eleventh Prince... has been ruthlessly assassinated!"

A wave of shock coursed through the city and beyond. The announcement was sudden and stark: the Eleventh Prince was no more.

He was discovered within his own chambers, a scene devoid of any struggle, forced entry, or discernible clues.

Only his lifeless form remained.

It was reported that a maid, arriving with his daily meal, entered his room to find him deceased.

Before this shocking revelation could even be fully processed, another grim announcement followed:

"The Thirteenth Princess has also met the same fate!"

Two members of the royal family, dead within a single day following the Emperor's funeral! Even those who had anticipated unrest were taken aback by the swiftness and brutality of the unfolding events.

A collective gulp echoed through the city. Those unacquainted with the intense struggles for power had not anticipated such immediate and savage violence on the path to the throne.

Were the bonds of siblinghood non-existent among royals?

The pursuit of the throne, it seemed, rendered familial ties utterly irrelevant.

The brutal reality became undeniably clear: this was the true battle for the crown.

Yet, a single question burned in everyone's mind:

Who was responsible?

The answer seemed deceptively simple: any of the remaining princes or princesses.

Each possessed the motive and, no doubt, the capability.

As for official investigations?

While the Imperial authorities would undoubtedly feign diligence due to the victims' status, their efforts would remain strictly superficial.

The true perpetrator might be unknown, but the circle of suspects – the remaining royal contenders – was obvious.

These individuals held power far beyond the reach of ordinary officials, whose overzealousness could easily spell their doom.

Thus, the investigation would be a mere pretense, its true depth severely limited.

"Sigh! I never imagined that the lives of princes and princesses would one day be worth less than my own," Kong Zhanhong murmured, his voice heavy with a somber acceptance of the grim reality.

There was no hint of sarcasm, only a profound sense of the current state of affairs.

Indeed, the lives of royal heirs, once held in awe and beyond reproach, had become tragically precarious.

Disposable.

Another prince. Another princess. Their demise barely caused a ripple.

Bai Zihan stood beside him, his expression serene. He offered no rebuttal, for the truth of Kong Zhanhong's words was undeniable.

To be born into the Royal Family—a destiny coveted by countless, promising power, status, and authority—now appeared tragically ironic.

Bai Zihan's gaze shifted subtly, his thoughts resolute.

The situation was cruel, yet undeniably inevitable.

They had chosen this path themselves.

From the moment they harbored ambitions for the throne, they had entered a perilous arena.

A battlefield from which retreat was impossible, and where the only outcomes were ultimate triumph or certain death.

Several princes and princesses had already opted out of the succession struggle, renouncing any claim to the throne.

Bai Zihan mused that the late Emperor bore some responsibility for the current chaos.

Had he diligently groomed a successor and decisively quelled the ambitions of others, this calamitous aftermath might have been averted.

What transpired now was simply the consequence of his inaction.

Bai Zihan let out a gentle exhale, his attention then returning to Kong Zhanhong.

"So, have you uncovered the identity of the killer?"

Kong Zhanhong responded with a slight shake of his head. "Young Master, it is difficult to ascertain the truth with certainty at this juncture."

After all, less than a day had passed since the news broke, and even with their extensive network, definitive answers remained elusive.

"However, based on the targets of these assassinations, a few primary suspects emerge."

Bai Zihan's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Oh?"

Kong Zhanhong lowered his voice further.

"The First Prince and the Second Prince."

A flicker of comprehension dawned in Bai Zihan's eyes.

Kong Zhanhong elaborated:

"Both the Eleventh Prince and the Thirteenth Princess derived their influence primarily from the Imperial Court and the Capital city."

"These are precisely the domains where the First and Second Princes possess their strongest footholds."

With the elimination of these two rivals, who stood to gain the most significant advantage?

The consolidation of power for the First and Second Princes within the court would undoubtedly increase.

Therefore, Kong Zhanhong concluded that the responsibility must lie with them.

As for which of them dispatched the assassins, the answer could be either one, or perhaps even both.

It was plausible that one prince orchestrated the demise of the Eleventh Prince, while the other targeted the Thirteenth Princess.

was designated as the perpetrator behind the Thirteenth Princess's demise.

It's plausible they are even collaborating to eliminate their competitors before ultimately turning on each other.

***

The dawn of the following day did not bring tranquility to the Empire.

Instead, it heralded a sense of urgency.

The assassinations that claimed the lives of the Eleventh Prince and the Thirteenth Princess accomplished more than just removing two individuals from the succession race.

They had effectively eroded any remaining hesitation.

What had once been a clandestine and measured struggle had now transformed into a desperate scramble.

A race against impending doom.

This was because a single, stark realization dawned upon everyone-

Delay meant becoming the next target.

Throughout the vast expanse of the Desolate Heaven Empire, immediate action commenced.

Princes and princesses who had previously maintained an air of dignity and kept their distance now moved with unreserved decisiveness.

Envoys were dispatched with haste.

Symbolic tokens were exchanged.

Urgent meetings were convened.

Some operated in the open.

Others dissolved into the shadows, yet their common objective remained singular.

To secure the allegiance of more clans and sects.

To augment their own strength.

Power was an absolute necessity. And it was needed without delay.

First-rate clans!

Second-rate clans!

Major sects.

Minor sects.

No entity was beyond the reach of their fervent appeals.

An unending stream of invitations was issued, each imploring the recipient to lend their support.

Some requests were couched in profound respect, while others were delivered with an unyielding force.

On the surface, accepting an invitation appeared to be a golden opportunity.

The chance to stand alongside a future Emperor.

To ascend with them.

To gain coveted influence, substantial authority, and benefits beyond imagining.

However, this represented only one facet of the precarious situation.

The reverse side of the coin held a far more terrifying prospect.

Should they make the incorrect choice-

If the prince or princess whose favor they sought ultimately faltered-

Then their entire existence, their hard-won legacy, risked complete annihilation by the rival faction.

For the truly influential powers, the option to decline was still available, even when the summons came from someone as prominent as the First Prince.

Top-tier clans and premier sects.

Colossal entities such as the Bai, Li, and Zhao clans—they possessed the liberty to refuse.

They could maintain a stance of neutrality, for their inherent strength afforded them such a privilege.

No prince or princess would dare to press them too severely.

But for those in less dominant positions?

Second-rate clans!

Up-and-coming sects!

Newly established powers...

Such a luxury was nonexistent. Refusal was not a viable strategy. To refuse meant inviting their own destruction.

Faced with the choice between uncertain obliteration and guaranteed ruin, the decision was starkly clear.

For some, direct intervention wasn't even necessary.

A vital trade route could crumble overnight. Allied clans might precipitously withdraw their backing.

Or, in a more direct and brutal turn of events—they could face outright extermination.

Previously, actions of this nature would have been utterly inconceivable.

The Emperor stood as the ultimate arbiter.

The one who upheld order. The supreme authority who kept every faction in check.

Regardless of a prince or princess's might, they would never dare to breach certain established boundaries.

At the very least, not in a direct confrontation.

Transgression would result in the Emperor's merciless retribution.

In some instances, the punishment extended to being dispatched to the perilous front lines at the borders.

And for those princes and princesses, survival was an exceptionally rare outcome.

Whether through insidious plots or sheer incompetence... they invariably failed to return.

Consequently, no one dared to deviate from the established protocols in the past.

But now, the Emperor was no more.

No supreme authority remained to enforce those boundaries.

No one existed to restrain their ambitions.

Therefore, those lines that once defined limits had vanished entirely.

***

Far removed from the bustling Imperial Capital, nestled within a sprawling territory that had endured for centuries, a First-Rate Clan confronted its inevitable trial.

The Xue Clan!

A venerable lineage that had weathered countless wars, periods of profound upheaval, and innumerable shifts in the balance of power.

Their imposing structures still stood defiantly.

Their defensive formations were intricate and layered with complexity.

Their influence permeated numerous regions.

For generations spanning successive epochs... they had proudly maintained their independence and refused any formal alliances.

And just yesterday, their defiance had been absolute as they rejected his overture.

At the imposing entrance to the Xue Clan's ancestral grounds, the atmosphere was thick with palpable tension.

The grand gates stood ajar.

Yet, not as an invitation, but as a statement.

Guards were positioned along both sides, their expressions grim, their hands gripping their weapons with unwavering resolve.

The esteemed Elders had assembled.