Futile Devices Scans

Outside the imperial palace walls of the Hua Dynasty.

All was silent beneath the sparse stars and cold moonlight, the stillness eerie in its tranquility. The late autumn night wind cut to the bone, making the tall moon-white figure standing atop the city wall appear gentle yet strangely out of place.

“Who goes there?” A guard keeping watch upon the wall suddenly spotted that unusual streak of moon-white and barked sharply.

On the wall, the man dressed in white acted as though he heard nothing, continuing to walk calmly along the edge of the battlements. Receiving no response for so long, the guard grew anxious and immediately raised the flaming bow beside him, preparing to loose an arrow at the pale figure.

“Stop!”

Before the attendants could even announce his arrival, a deep and imposing male voice rang out from behind them, filled with overwhelming inner force and imperial authority. The soldier hurriedly lowered his bow and turned around in shock.

The sound of chaotic galloping hooves rose all around them. Once the guards discerned that striking flash of imperial yellow in the darkness, realization hit instantly. They promptly dropped to their knees with practiced efficiency, lowering their eyes respectfully.

A troop of riders thundered forward. Only when they drew near did the panting attendant behind the lead rider loudly announce:

“His Majesty has arrived!”

The current emperor of the Hua Dynasty, Feng Xuanyi, dismounted alongside a group of imperial guards. Everyone immediately knelt to receive him, heads lowered and fists clasped respectfully.

“Long live Your Majesty! Long live the Emperor!”

Everyone except one person.

Atop the city wall, the moon-white figure appeared increasingly thin and fragile beneath the oppressive night, as though even the gentlest breeze could scatter him apart.

At that moment, Feng Xuanyi paid no attention whatsoever to the grand display around him. His gaze locked tightly onto that precarious figure, not daring to relax for even an instant. Gathering qi into his dantian and channeling it into his feet, he rushed toward the high wall by way of the winding stone staircase to the left.

The generals below stood stunned and confused. Without orders, none dared rise in defiance of imperial command, though curiosity could not be suppressed as they cautiously lifted their eyes to watch their usually composed emperor lose control of himself.

“What are you all still standing around for?! Hurry up there and protect His Majesty!” Mo Yan, who had long served faithfully at Feng Xuanyi’s side, came running after them while shouting breathlessly.

Only then did the generals finally dare turn openly to follow the direction Mo Yan pointed. Seeing the moon-white figure standing opposite the imperial yellow robes in the distance, one of them gasped:

“That’s His Majesty the Empress!”

At those words, everyone shuddered violently. Forgetting all decorum, they scrambled frantically up the stone staircase toward the wall.

Watching the two opposing figures from afar—one clothed in imperial yellow, the other in moon-white—Mo Yan felt countless emotions welling within him.

He had entered the palace young and grown up alongside his master. He had witnessed Feng Xuanyi rise from an overlooked prince to the supreme ruler of the empire. He had watched his once-innocent master emerge bloodied and hardened from battlefields filled with blades and schemes.

He had endured every hardship, conspiracy, and dangerous twist by his side.

But he was only a servant.

Nothing more than a servant fortunate enough to follow a worthy master.

No matter how great the storms he survived alongside him, a master would always remain a master, and a servant would always remain a servant. Life had taught him clearly that no matter how favored or powerful a servant became, he was still merely someone to be commanded.

All he could do was watch.

Just like his name—Mo Yan, “speak little.” Only by remaining cautious and restrained could one survive long.

So all he could do was stand there and pray.

No matter the joy or sorrow, he was destined to remain only an observer.

Meanwhile atop the wall, the man in white looked calmly at the furious Feng Xuanyi rushing toward him. Even the veins bulging violently at the emperor’s temples could be seen clearly.

The man merely smiled faintly.

Against the moonlight, his pale robes looked heartbreakingly beautiful and resolute. His elegant features were outlined with a silver glow, making him appear even more fragile, as though he might shatter at any moment.

The instant Feng Xuanyi attempted to step forward, the man immediately shifted backward in response.

One step forward.

One step back.

But for the man already standing at the edge of the wall, that single backward step meant a fifty-foot drop into the abyss between life and death.

Seeing this, Feng Xuanyi halted immediately. Beneath the moonlight, his expression grew darker and more unreadable.

“Get back here!”

As the others finally arrived behind him, Feng Xuanyi’s voice sounded restrained, almost as though suppressing countless emotions. His words revealed neither anger nor joy, yet were filled with unquestionable imperial authority.

But the man standing ten paces away remained utterly unmoved.

Tilting his head upward, he gazed at the cold moon hanging in the heavens as though admiring its beauty. Yet unlike his plain moon-white robes, his dark eyes were filled entirely with unwillingness and hatred, tinged with exhausted self-mockery.

That sharp gaze resembled countless blades intent on slicing Feng Xuanyi into pieces.

Seeing the man remain unmoved, Feng Xuanyi spoke again, fury now unmistakable.

“I command you to return at once! This is an imperial decree!”

“An imperial decree?”

At those words, the silent man suddenly burst into wild laughter. He withdrew his gaze from the moon and looked directly at Feng Xuanyi, as though examining something strange one final time.

The moment he turned back, his ethereal beauty eclipsed heaven and earth itself.

This was the extraordinary man who, within merely three years, had created countless miracles, stirred the imperial harem into chaos, and caused the emperor to repeatedly break precedent merely to win a smile from his beloved.

This was also the man who had helped Feng Xuanyi establish glorious achievements, accompanying him through countless rises and falls until finally ascending beside him as empress.

With one smile alone, all creation lost its color.

“‘I’?” he murmured absentmindedly before his tone abruptly shifted. “Feng Xuanyi, your imperial decrees extend far beyond this one, don’t they? Extermination of entire clans… exile to the frontier… offering me up to others in exchange for power…”

He stared thoughtfully at the cold moon overhead, covering his lips lightly with one hand. His elegant features somehow carried endless seductive charm—bewitching without vulgarity, alluring without seeming forced. His unique grace resembled that of an immortal descended from heaven itself.

“Thank you for Your Majesty’s gracious favor.”

As he spoke, the long black hair that had blended seamlessly into the night suddenly became glaringly visible beneath the moonlight. Strand by strand, his dark hair rapidly turned white before everyone’s eyes.

Feng Xuanyi shouted sharply:

“What are you doing?! Come back here immediately!”

“Young Master!”

A man arrived hurriedly through the crowd, panting heavily. His magnificent crimson robes and embroidered sash accentuated both his graceful figure and noble status. Yet despite rushing all this way, his clothing remained impeccably neat—as though palace fabrics themselves were somehow superior.

The man in white showed no surprise whatsoever at his arrival. He merely glanced once before turning away unwilling to look further, complicated emotions clouding his eyes.

“So this is the path you chose?”

The richly dressed man trembled. His expression shifted several times before disappearing back into darkness. After a brief pause, anxiety once again filled his eyes.

“I know exactly what I’m doing. I also know what I want… Young Master, please come back first. If this continues, no one will end well…”

At those words, the man in white slowly lifted a hand to stroke the snow-white strands at his temple. His smile carried endless bitterness, whether nostalgic or merely whispering to himself.

When he looked back at Feng Xuanyi again, his eyes had completely lost focus, as though gazing through him into a distant past… or perhaps toward an unreachable future…

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