Chapter Seven: Await Your Doom

Li Zhi wore a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He couldn’t help sighing, “The wheel of fortune turns for everyone—who can escape Heaven’s judgment?” Back in his school days, he’d always feared his teachers. But thinking back, wasn’t that simply because he’d been ignorant then? If he knew more than the teacher, the situation would be utterly different!

Empress Zhangsun looked at her youngest son, her heart brimming with affection. She couldn’t restrain her laughter. “Hahaha...”

Li Chengqian frowned and said, “Mother, is it really necessary to be so delighted just because little Zhi is putting on airs? You always tell us to smile without showing our teeth, but now you...” Realizing her lapse, Empress Zhangsun hastily composed herself. “Ahem... You must all learn from Zhi. Don’t make me worry any further!”

The three elder siblings scoffed in unison. To have them learn from a three-year-old was simply a joke.

The next day, it was time for lessons once more. Everyone appeared listless—except for Li Zhi, who was brimming with excitement. He had just received a mission from the system: within three days, he was to swap the roles between himself and his teacher. In other words, he was to have Fang Xuanling call him “teacher!”

Li Zhi found the idea hilarious just thinking about it.

“Mother, can I go study in the Imperial Library with little Zhi?” Li Lizhi was very curious as to why Li Zhi wasn’t afraid of their teacher. Could it be that old Fang Xuanling was particularly kind and gentle?

“That’s not for me to decide,” the Empress replied.

“Father adores me the most. Once we’re in the Imperial Library, I’ll talk to him!” Li Lizhi grabbed Li Zhi’s hand and darted off.

In the Imperial Library, Emperor Taizong had just finished court and was discussing the teaching plan with Fang Xuanling. “Fang, after much thought, I’ve decided to accelerate Zhi’s education. If he already knows so much, let’s teach him what he hasn’t learned! I asked the Empress, and she said he hasn’t studied poetry before you. So, teach him poetry!”

Fang Xuanling still felt uneasy. “Your Majesty... I fear I may not teach His Highness well.”

Taizong replied sternly, “Are you afraid of your own student?”

Fang Xuanling explained, “It’s just that there seems nothing left to teach the young prince—I fear I’ll only be holding him back.”

“Nonsense. He may be a rare gem, but he’s only three—how much could he possibly know? There’s still much you can teach him. Don’t let what happened with ‘Heaven Beyond Heaven’ yesterday hinder the progress!”

Bolstered by the Emperor’s encouragement, Fang Xuanling resolved to continue instructing Li Zhi. Determined not to embarrass himself again, he decided to skip over the Records of the Grand Historian, which Li Zhi was already familiar with, and teach him poetry instead. If Li Zhi were present, he would surely have laughed aloud: “Teaching me poetry? Are you sure?”

Fang Xuanling gathered his confidence. “Very well, Your Majesty. I am willing to try!”

“Good. Off you go, then.”

“I obey!” Taking advantage of Li Zhi’s absence, he hurried to the classroom to prepare.

Meanwhile, Li Zhi and Li Lizhi had just left the inner palace and were walking along the palace wall towards the Imperial Library, accompanied by four Imperial Guards tasked with their safety.

“Is Teacher Fang Xuanling strict, little Zhi?” Li Lizhi asked. “Will he make us copy out the Records of the Grand Historian? I’ve already copied it so many times—I really don’t want to keep doing it!”

“He won’t.”

“That’s a relief!”

Li Zhi glanced at her, then smiled as he took her hand. “Sister Lizhi, from now on, you should stick with me! Don’t go to Confucius’ Hall anymore—with me, you’ll eat well and live well!”

“Really?” Li Lizhi giggled. “I’ll check out the Imperial Library first. If it’s good, I’ll stay; if not, I’ll obediently return.”

Li Zhi chuckled. She was certainly a sly one.

As they briskly walked forward, a sudden whistling of arrows cut through the air behind them. Li Zhi’s hearing was keen; he instantly pulled Li Lizhi down with him to the ground.

Thud! Thud!

“Your Highness, look out—ah!” “Assassins!”

Two of the Imperial Guards were struck and killed instantly. The remaining two rushed to shield the children.

But the assassins were relentless, launching wave after wave of hidden projectiles.

Li Zhi scanned the surroundings. Not far behind stood a section of the palace wall, beside which grew a thick, leafy tree—no doubt the assassins were concealed there. Unfortunately, he was utterly powerless to fight back, and with only two guards left, there was little hope of holding out until reinforcements arrived.

“Your Highnesses, it’s dangerous here—hurry to the Imperial Library!” urged one guard.

“Let’s go, little Zhi!” Li Lizhi cried.

“Don’t rush!” Li Zhi pressed her down, keeping her head low. Now was not the time to expose themselves—they would become sitting ducks. Any stray arrow could end their lives in an instant. He was far too cautious for that.

“Hold on just a little longer—reinforcements will be here soon,” Li Zhi whispered to the guards.

Suddenly, an arrow struck one guard square in the chest, blood spraying everywhere in a gruesome scene—he died instantly.

Li Lizhi screamed in terror, and even Li Zhi couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath.

The Imperial Guards had been prepared to sacrifice themselves for the royal family. The last surviving guard, though witnessing his comrades’ deaths, did not flee. He steadfastly shielded Li Zhi with his own body.

But the assassins continued their barrage from the shadows. The guard could only endure, unable to retaliate. At this rate, he would be killed within minutes.

To hold out until help arrived, Li Zhi decided to use the “Infinite Healing” ability the system had granted him—to test, at this perilous moment, whether it truly worked.

The final guard was struck, collapsing over Li Zhi. “Your Highness... Run!”

“I won’t let you die,” Li Zhi replied calmly and, before the man’s life faded, activated Infinite Healing to treat his wounds.

The assassins, lurking in the distance, charged forward, closing in to within ten meters of Li Zhi.

Suddenly, the guard’s eyes snapped open. He clutched at his chest—though the arrow was still lodged inside and the pain was intense, he didn’t feel as weak as before. He could still fight.

“Die!” he shouted, grabbing his saber and charging the assassins.

The assassins hesitated, stunned. They had clearly shot him through the heart—how could he still stand?

“Hmph! He’s gravely wounded—what’s there to fear? All of you, finish off that brat!” The assassins regrouped, surrounded the guard, and soon killed him.

Because of the distance, Li Zhi could no longer use the system to heal the guard’s wounds.

The assassins pressed closer. Li Zhi drew a dagger from his sleeve, determined that, if he was to die, he would at least take one down with him.

That was his only thought.

Li Lizhi trembled and sobbed beside him.

He whispered, “Don’t be afraid, sister—I’m here.”

Comfort from a three-year-old?

Li Lizhi only wept harder, feeling utterly unsafe.

All that awaited them was death.