MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 167: There is only one variable left

Chapter 167: There is only one variable left

The flickering candle cast twisting shadows along the damp stone walls of the hidden chamber, the weak flame struggling to push back the overwhelming darkness.

It was a room built for secrecy—far removed from the bustling corridors of the palace, hidden behind layers of twisting passageways that only a select few knew existed.

Here, deep within the underbelly of the empire, the seeds of treason were being sown.

A hooded man sat at a wooden table, his fingers tapping lightly against the surface, the rhythmic sound filling the silence.

Before him stood a soldier, clad in dark armor, his posture rigid and disciplined.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then—

"How did it go?" the hooded man asked.

The soldier exhaled slowly, a cruel smirk forming on his lips.

"Perfectly."

The hooded man’s fingers stopped tapping.

"The poison?"

The soldier nodded once, his expression gleaming with satisfaction.

"Administered exactly as instructed. The Emperor’s body is weakening by the hour. Soon, he won’t even have the strength to sit up in bed, let alone issue commands."

A pleased chuckle escaped the hooded man’s lips.

"And no one suspects?"

The soldier shook his head.

"None. The imperial physicians are scrambling for answers. They assume it is merely a sudden decline due to age and stress."

He scoffed, a note of mocking amusement in his voice.

"They run around the palace, debating remedies that will never work. The poison is slow but lethal. It mimics illness, draining him of strength day by day."

The hooded man let out a low hum, clearly pleased.

For months, they had been carefully orchestrating this plan, waiting for the right moment.

And now—it was unfolding perfectly.

"And the coup?"

The soldier straightened his back, his voice turning sharp and confident.

"All stations are ready. We have infiltrated every corner of the palace. The outer gates will be locked before dawn. The patrol guards have been bought, and those who remain loyal to Zhao Yan will be eliminated first."

A pause.

Then, in a low, satisfied voice—

"The army is in position. The moment the Emperor breathes his last, the entire palace will be under our control."

The hooded man’s lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile.

"Perfect."

The soldier hesitated briefly before speaking again, his voice quieter this time.

"There is only one variable left, My Lord."

The wooden man’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Zhao Yan, the Crown Prince?"

The soldier nodded. "Yes, My Lord."

A long silence stretched between them, the only sound in the dimly lit chamber being the distant drip of water from the damp stone ceiling. The hooded man’s fingers, which had been idly tapping against the wooden table, stilled completely.

"And?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft.

The soldier straightened his back. "Zhao Yan has moved the Emperor."

The hooded man’s expression did not change, but the flicker in his sharp eyes betrayed his sudden intrigue.

"Moved?" he echoed, his tone laced with mild amusement. "To where?"

The soldier exhaled. "A secluded place. Only he and a select few guards know of its location."

A slow hum left the hooded man’s lips as he leaned back in his chair, fingers interlocking. His gaze darkened, shadows from the flickering candlelight casting ominous patterns over his face.

"Has he found out something?"

There was something dangerous in his voice now—something laced with the first hints of unease. It was not fear, not yet, but it was a calculated wariness.

Because if Zhao Yan knew... everything would change.

The soldier shook his head quickly. "I doubt it, My Lord."

The hooded man’s fingers tightened slightly.

"He only thinks the Emperor is sick and in need of secluded treatment," the soldier continued. "Nothing more."

The hooded man let out a slow breath and closed his eyes for a moment. Then, he shook his head.

"No."

The soldier stiffened.

"I know that man very well," the hooded figure murmured, voice dangerously low. "There is no way he does not know what happened to the Emperor."

His eyes flashed open, cold and calculating.

"He definitely suspects something."

A tense silence followed.

The soldier hesitated, then asked cautiously, "Then... how do we proceed from here, My Lord?"

The hooded man took his time answering, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke.

"We move cautiously."

His fingers resumed their slow, methodical tapping against the wood. "I am afraid little Zhao Yan is not so little anymore."

The soldier’s expression tightened at the words. There was a warning in them, a deep-rooted acknowledgment of the Crown Prince’s growth—not just in strength, but in intelligence.

"If we act rashly," the hooded man continued, "we risk exposing everything. And if he is already preparing..."

A pause. Then, a slow exhale. "...Then he might be ready for what’s to come."

The soldier remained silent, absorbing the words with a furrowed brow.

Then, as if brushing away the tension in the air, the hooded man asked, "Did you find the identity of the woman who saved the prince last time?"

The soldier blinked at the abrupt change in topic. "The woman?"

The hooded man’s lips pressed into a thin line.

Yes.

The woman—the unknown variable.

The only unexpected factor in their perfectly laid plan.

Who was she?

Where was she?

She had appeared out of nowhere. And in that moment, she had undone everything.

The soldier hesitated before replying. "No, My Lord. We have not found anything."

The hooded man’s expression darkened. "Tch."

Useless.

The soldier shifted, then added, "But there is something strange."

The hooded man’s gaze flicked up sharply. "What is it?"

A brief pause. Then—

"The only woman who was with the prince at that time was definitely the Seventh Consort."

The air in the room seemed to still.

"...There was no other woman who appeared before the prince."

Silence.

The hooded man did not move, did not speak.

Then, in a voice almost too soft—"Do you think..."

A sharp pause.

The soldier met his gaze, finishing the thought for him.

"...She is the woman?"