Futile Devices Scans

The Imperial Capital, Thirty-Three, of the Empire of Yunxi:

Within the dungeons of the Celestial Dynasty, several jailers sat around a rough wooden table, gulping wine and tearing at roasted meat. Before the prisoner lay only a bowl of thin vegetable broth and two mold-flecked buns—untouched for two days.

When he had first arrived, his complexion had been rosy and full of life. Now his lips were cracked, his eyes sunken, his face drawn with exhaustion.

The prisoner was Mu Xueshi, son of the Grand Tutor. Accused of patricide, he had been held for two days. By law, execution should have been immediate—yet for reasons unknown, the sentence had been delayed.

The case was overseen personally by the Third Prince—an unprecedented matter, for never before had an imperial prince presided over a criminal trial. At first, the jailers stood rigid and solemn, daring not to err. But today, an edict arrived: the location of interrogation had changed, and officers would soon escort the prisoner away. The jailers finally breathed in relief.

“Your Highness, the prisoner has been brought.”

The Third Prince’s hand, which had been cradling a blue-and-white porcelain teacup, paused midair. His gaze swept briefly over the eunuch at his side. Without expression, he murmured assent.

Silence flooded the chamber.

He blew lightly upon the steaming tea, took a measured sip, then lowered his eyes to the scroll resting upon his knee, brows faintly furrowed as he continued reading.

The Third Prince was aloof by nature, holding himself apart from his brothers. Though his mother was not especially favored, he himself was deeply cherished by the Emperor. Gifted since childhood, he never flaunted his brilliance. No matter the upheaval, his face remained calm, untouched by emotion.

He cherished absolute quiet. He spoke rarely—almost never of his own accord. Even the Emperor, should he wish to converse, had to initiate the exchange and content himself with sparse replies.

The stillness in the chamber was so complete that the fall of a needle would have rung clear. Nearly an hour passed before the Third Prince finally set aside his scroll and cast a subtle glance at the waiting eunuch.

The eunuch understood at once. With quick, silent steps, he exited.

Moments later, Mu Xueshi was brought inside. At a gesture from the Third Prince, all others withdrew. The door closed without a sound. In an instant, only the two of them remained.

The Third Prince lowered his gaze and studied the kneeling figure.

Taking up the indictment, he read in an even tone:

“The sages of old proclaimed: Of all virtues, filial piety stands foremost. A father is as heaven itself. To slay one’s father is akin to regicide. The crime warrants death. Do you submit to the charge?”

Mu Xueshi parted his pale lips.

“I submit.”

A cold smile curved the Third Prince’s mouth.

Rising from his seat, he crossed the few steps between them. With two slender fingers, he gripped Mu Xueshi’s chin and tugged lightly. A thin layer of false skin peeled away.

Beneath it emerged a face capable of stealing breath.

Though he had subsisted on husks these past days, his skin remained smooth and luminous, untouched by hardship.

From beginning to end, Mu Xueshi was tranquil—his gaze cool as water, unruffled by even the faintest ripple.

The Third Prince gave a soft laugh and, with one hand, helped him to his feet. Mu Xueshi showed neither gratitude nor resistance. He obeyed every instruction without comment.

Only now did the Third Prince fully appraise him.

Even clad in prison garb, the man exuded a clean, drifting elegance, as though he did not belong to mortal dust. Such beauty would remain hidden all his life—unseen by the world, even in death. The Third Prince sighed inwardly, yet felt a flicker of fortune.

Five years ago, at Jingyun Lake, he had glimpsed this very man laughing amidst splashing water. For a moment he had thought an immortal had fallen among mortals—one smile enough to astonish passersby.

But after days of searching, he learned the truth. The youth who veiled his face daily was none other than the son of the Grand Tutor—his family’s sworn enemy.

The Third Prince was not one to be bewitched by beauty. However breathtaking Mu Xueshi might be, it could never outweigh his hatred for the Grand Preceptor’s manor.

He had intended to torment the man thoroughly. Yet Mu Xueshi was colder than frost. No matter what stratagems he employed, he could not provoke even the smallest change of expression.

It was the first time the Third Prince had encountered someone more distant than himself.

Mu Xueshi was like a block of ice—bloodless, fleshless—regarding the world with the stillness of a corpse.

“Serve as my favored companion for one day,” the Third Prince murmured near his ear, “and I shall spare your life.”

“Unnecessary,” came the indifferent reply.

The Third Prince had expected nothing less.

It mattered little.

Days were long. Human resolve was not inexhaustible. If he denied Mu Xueshi even the mercy of death, then endless torment would grind him down. And once he yielded—there would be yet more suffering to follow.

Mu Xueshi… Your father’s decision years ago has condemned you to bear his sins for a lifetime.

Slender fingers dipped in vermilion pressed upon the indictment, leaving layered prints. The Third Prince lifted Mu Xueshi’s hand and gently wiped away the ink staining his fingertips.

“Exile to the frontier. Enjoy the remainder of your life.”

Mu Xueshi did not answer.

The Third Prince personally brought him a bowl of nourishing broth.

To let you starve on the journey would be too merciful, he thought.

He watched as Mu Xueshi drank mechanically. Then, with his own hands, he altered the man’s appearance once more. That peerless face twisted into something grotesque and unrecognizable.

A faint smile surfaced at the Third Prince’s eyes.

“Mu Xueshi… our game has only just begun.”

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