Xuanjiu

His father was an iron-blooded emperor who had conquered the Xiongnu and carved his name into history. His mother was a princess of the grasslands whose kingdom had fallen. That night, in Xingqing Palace, Xiao Shuo saw his father holding a knife, its blade soaked in his mother’s blood. From then on, he became an unrecognized legitimate son with no title.

The palace was treacherous, every step like walking on thin ice. To survive, and for the fixation in his heart, Xiao Shuo left the imperial palace that year, when the locust trees were in bloom, and entered the currents of power. In the end, even Xiao Shuo could no longer tell whether he was the one pulling the strings or merely a piece on the board.

[A slow-paced story, no System, no female lead. Readers looking for instant gratification, stay away.]