Chapter 11601 — To the Crowd's Eyes, Wei Baizhan's Image Began to Drift Toward That of a Devil God

Against an opponent like Wei Baizhan, who was plainly a cut above them, even the Twelve Palaces of the Guard combined could only achieve so much.

Hou Chuang said gravely, "They are the Night Central Palace's hidden trump. If they could be broken so easily, I would long ago have seized the Night Central Palace for Your Majesty—why would I have waited until now?"

The Son of Heaven nodded again and again. "The Grand Preceptor speaks wisely. It is I who was too impatient."

Hou Chuang, wholly confident, said, "Whether Wei Baizhan survives is still uncertain. As for Wei Zhao—does Your Majesty have thoughts of preserving him?"

"Him?"

The Son of Heaven paused, then said with some hesitation, "He does retain a certain value, but I fear he will not know better and will harbor resentment."

This time, when the Night Central Palace had swallowed the Rule Design Institute, he, as Son of Heaven, had given his nod as well.

Such things could never be hidden from the observant; Wei Zhao would surely ferret it out afterward, and by any ordinary reckoning, he would inevitably bear some grudge.

The Son of Heaven, after all, felt somewhat in the wrong.

Hou Chuang laughed. "Your Majesty is indeed a kindhearted, honest man. He is Your Majesty's subject; thunder and rain alike are the grace of the sovereign. Even if Wei Zhao were to give up his own life, it would be no more than his due."

"If he should resent such a matter, that would only show he was never a loyal minister to begin with—and all the more prove that Your Majesty's earlier decision was correct."

"As Son of Heaven, Your Majesty worries overmuch."

The Son of Heaven's eyes lit up. "Yes, yes, the Grand Preceptor speaks wisely! Then for the sake of that little value he still holds, when the critical moment comes, we shall pull him back once more."

Hou Chuang nodded with a light laugh. "Your Majesty is wise."

At the same time, the seven great princes' estates and all the various powers—the Prince of Qin's estate among them—were watching this disturbance at the Night Central Palace with close attention.

After all, this was Wei Zhao's first new move in a year, and his opponent was a colossus like the Night Central Palace. What the two sides might strike out of one another was a matter no power could afford to ignore.

Should some unforeseen turn occur, it might well prove to be an event great enough to reshape the entire landscape of the Inner Royal Court!

On the field, Wei Zhao still showed no intention of making a move.

Wei Baizhan alone was bearing the Twelve Palaces of the Guard head-on.

As the twelve palaces unfolded their layered net of encirclement, at least on the surface the initiative had fallen wholly into their hands.

The terror of the Twelve Palaces lay in their combined strength.

The Night Central Palace's people breathed a collective, involuntary sigh of relief.

Wang Lai swallowed his lingering dread and sneered, "Lucky for us this fellow's head isn't right, letting the Twelve Palaces take formation. If he'd thrown caution to the winds and charged, forcing a trade for a few of them right off the bat, the situation might truly have been hard to call."

In his eyes, that was the optimal solution for breaking the Twelve Palaces of the Guard.

Once matters had developed to this point, in his view and in the view of the Night Central Palace's people, their side was already sitting pretty.

Weakness is no obstacle to survival—arrogance is.

Fortunately for them, the opponent they faced was thoroughly arrogant.

Then they saw Wei Baizhan suddenly leap up; the Moustache Constellation, core commander of the Twelve Palaces, was caught completely off guard and seized by the throat.

That was not all—Wei Baizhan abruptly exerted his strength, pinning Moustache to the ground with one hand and dragging him forward, cackling all the while.

Over a mere ten meters, the back of Moustache's head and his spine were ground bloody and mangled against the floor.

Before anyone else could react, Wei Baizhan hoisted Moustache up with one hand.

Then, with a gentle twist.

With a crack, Moustache's head lolled limply to the side, and the light in his eyes went out forever.

His aura swiftly dissipated, and even his primordial spirit perished with him, leaving not the slightest trace behind.

A deathly silence fell over the hall.

The rest of the Twelve Palaces stood frozen in unison, and the councilors of the Night Central Palace froze along with them.

Wang Lai rubbed his eyes in disbelief, but the cruel reality showed that this was no illusion.

The Moustache Constellation, foremost of the Twelve Palaces, had been effortlessly butchered by Wei Baizhan!

Tossing Moustache's corpse carelessly aside, Wei Baizhan turned to look at the others.

The remaining members of the Twelve Palaces involuntarily took a step back in unison, and in the glances they exchanged, none could hide their terror.

In terms of individual strength, Moustache was, if not the strongest among them, at least a first-rate existence within the top three.

If even Moustache had met such an end, the rest of them would fare no better—only worse.

Nor were those present the only ones shocked; the various magnates watching from the sidelines were equally stunned.

That the Twelve Palaces would suffer casualties in dealing with Wei Baizhan.

That much had been within their expectations.

But that the casualties would come so quickly, and in such an offhand manner, was far beyond what any of the magnates had anticipated.

And this was only the beginning.

The rate at which the Twelve Palaces fell far exceeded everyone's estimates.

In the span of a mere quarter-hour, the famed Twelve Palaces of the Palace Guard were slaughtered clean by Wei Baizhan.

Gazing at the corpses strewn across the ground before them, Wang Lai and the others felt their scalps prickle, and not one dared utter a sound.

Only at this moment did they finally grasp what Ren Xuande's disastrous worst-fortune draw had truly meant.

The twelve palaces of the Palace Guard had been wiped out to the last man.

Even if matters ended here and now, the blow to the Night Central Palace was already near-catastrophic.

All the more so since Wei Zhao had given no order to halt, showing not the slightest inclination to quit while he was ahead.

Wei Baizhan's murderous gaze fell upon Wang Lai, and he bared his teeth in a savage grin. "So you're the one who swallowed up our leader's holdings?"

"..."

Wang Lai's mind went utterly blank. His mouth opened, yet not a single word would come out; pinned beneath Wei Baizhan's stare, the very blood in his veins ran cold.

"Playing dumb, are we?"

Wei Baizhan promptly thrust one hand into his pocket and came swaggering toward the man with the gait of one who bowed to no one in this world.

Faced with such an undisguised, in-your-face provocation, the men of the Night Central Palace could not muster the slightest courage to resist; instead they all fell back in unison, leaving the bewildered Wang Lai exposed before him.

By the time Wang Lai came to his senses, Wei Baizhan was already looming right in his face.

And at his side stood not a single soul.

With no time even to curse under his breath, Wang Lai's instinct was to flee.

Yet beneath Wei Baizhan's glowering eyes, his legs simply would not obey him, and he could only stand there dumbly, rooted to the spot.

Then Wei Baizhan seized him by the throat with one hand and hoisted him into the air.

To be fair, Wang Lai's own strength, while hardly outstanding, could not be called weak either.

Under normal circumstances, he might not have claimed he could hold his own, but at the very least he should have been able to make a run for it.

But now, caught in Wei Baizhan's grip, he was no more than a duck clamped by the neck, capable of nothing beyond the most instinctive and futile thrashing, utterly unable to offer any semblance of resistance.