Chapter 270: Little Glutton, Beware Gong Moran
Nan Xun said, “Although I’m a hardcore looks enthusiast, a man who’s all surface and no substance isn’t worth it.”
Little Eight clicked his tongue. “Tsk, what do you know? The Witch Clan lived in isolation—simple-minded and inexperienced. Back then, the Emperor of Great Zhou was not only handsome and charming, he was also exceptionally good at sweet talk. Aren’t women most easily swayed by honeyed words? Even the Witch Clan’s Saintess couldn’t escape that. She fell for him completely and later abandoned the Witch Clan to enter the palace as his consort. According to legend, anyone who wanted to overthrow Great Zhou first had to eliminate this Witch Saintess. And so…”
Nan Xun let out a cold laugh. “No need to continue. Your tone already tells me how it ended.”
“Aiyo, don’t be like that. Let me finish,” Little Eight said. “The Saintess truly loved the Emperor. But though she was as beautiful as an immortal, her personality was obsessive and strange. She didn’t stay favored for long. Later, every woman the Emperor slept with died suddenly of illness. On the surface, he treated the Saintess with even greater favor and respect, but deep down, he was terrified.”
“After that, one of the Emperor’s trusted aides—who later became the founding emperor of Southern Yun—used that fear to incite him into killing the Saintess. That idiot Emperor actually listened. He ordered the entire palace sealed shut and then set it on fire. That day was unimaginably tragic—every maid and servant inside was burned alive.”
Nan Xun said flatly, “A classic move—killing with a borrowed blade. Using the Emperor’s hand to eliminate the Witch Saintess they feared most.”
Little Eight continued, “It didn’t end there. Under that man’s instigation, the Emperor sent him personally to the Witch Clan’s territory and wiped out over twenty thousand people. Nearly a thousand of them shared the same ancestral bloodline as the Saintess.”
Nan Xun’s gaze darkened. “Don’t tell me the Saintess didn’t die in the fire, escaped instead, and was already pregnant with the Emperor’s child—Gong Moran.”
Little Eight gasped. “Holy crap, you guessed it all? Respect, my Xun!”
Nan Xun pressed her lips together, an inexplicable anger rising in her chest—whether for the wronged Saintess, the Emperor, or that so-called heroic founding emperor of Southern Yun whom she found utterly despicable.
Little Eight went on, “Without the Witch Saintess, Great Zhou collapsed quickly. The founding emperor of Southern Yun was the first to crown himself king. The leaders of the other three states followed suit. For hundreds of years, the four nations maintained surface-level diplomacy but fought small wars constantly. That balance is about to break, though—because Heaven has sent down a heaven-blessed chosen one, destined to unify the world.”
Nan Xun wasn’t interested in tales of chosen ones conquering the world. She only cared about Gong Moran.
Gong Moran was a devil crawled out of hell—born for revenge.
What she didn’t understand was why he became Southern Yun’s National Preceptor. How did that help his revenge?
The founding emperor who orchestrated everything was long dead. For the big boss to “repay hatred with virtue” and assist his enemy’s descendants—just thinking about it made Nan Xun uneasy.
Because she knew damn well: this was absolutely not something the big boss would do out of goodwill.
What exactly was Gong Moran plotting?
Nan Xun sighed and suddenly smacked her own forehead.
Little Eight asked, “Why’re you hitting yourself? Don’t you know your brain gets worse the more you hit it?”
Nan Xun: “…”
“Little Eight, I feel like I’ve forgotten something important,” Nan Xun said suddenly.
“That’s normal. You’ve always been forgetful,” Little Eight replied dismissively.
Nan Xun thought for a moment, then remembered. Yesterday, the Empress and Princess Yao had schemed against her. Both she and Gong Moran knew it—but from last night until this morning, neither of them had mentioned it. She’d forgotten, sure, but Gong Moran?
She didn’t believe he had.
“Little Eight, can you livestream the big boss’s situation for me?” Nan Xun asked.
“Whoa, don’t push it,” Little Eight said. “That world before was high-level—I could use whatever artifacts I wanted. This is only mid-level. Minor tricks are fine, but livestreaming? Dream on.”
Nan Xun compromised. “Then at least observe the big boss’s movements in the palace.”
Little Eight agreed. Soon he reported back: “The National Preceptor ran into Princess Yao halfway… holy crap, that woman dismissed all the servants and tried to throw herself at him! But the big boss dodged her. Didn’t even look at her and just walked away. She then threatened that you, that ‘cheap woman,’ would die horribly—said if she can’t have him, neither can you…”
Nan Xun said, “When you say ‘cheap woman,’ could you maybe not grit your teeth so hard?”
“I’m just recreating her tone. Only managed about twenty percent,” Little Eight replied.
Nan Xun snorted. “Hates me that much—maybe she already knows she indirectly helped me and the National Preceptor get together?”
“Nope,” Little Eight said. “She’s been smearing you nonstop, saying you seduce men everywhere—even the Fifth Prince has fallen at your feet.”
Nan Xun: “…”
“A boring and pitiful woman,” Nan Xun said lightly. “The more she behaves like this, the more disgusting she becomes.”
“It’s weird,” Little Eight added. “She cursed you that badly, yet the big boss didn’t deal with her at all. If it were me, I’d have slapped her on the spot.”
Nan Xun curled her lips. “If someone’s going to deal with her, it should be done in the shadows. Slapping her in public is my job. If my lord did it, it’d be beneath him.”
Little Eight shuddered. “That ‘my lord’ nearly gave me goosebumps.”
After learning that the big boss stayed in the royal study discussing affairs with the king—boring as hell—Nan Xun told Little Eight to stop monitoring him.
Just as she was wondering what to do next, Nan Xun suddenly noticed something and burst out laughing.
She crouched down and looked toward the crack in the door. A small yellow paper figurine was squeezing through the narrow gap with great effort. Once fully inside, it stood up, wiggled its paper arms and legs, and ran toward her.
Nan Xun held out her hand. The little paper figure flipped onto her palm, turned around, and revealed a line of tiny writing on its back:
“Little glutton, beware Gong Moran.”
