Cold Palace Blade: The Night the Dark Moonlight Stabbed the Tyrant, the Whole City...

The instant a sharp blade lifted the red bridal veil, blood seeped into the handkerchief between Su Ruoqing's fingertips.

The discarded princess of Great Wei had barely entered the city gates in her wedding carriage when the Rouran Emperor's iron cavalry trampled the red silk strewn across the ground.

Baili Mo held his curved saber to her throat. “Su Ruoqing, either come with me to the northern desert and be my empress, or watch your betrothed...” He glanced sidelong at Murong Yuxuan, who had fallen from his horse. “...die in a pool of blood at today's wedding feast.”

By the time the red candles burned out, she had become a princess sent away for a political marriage. Three years later, in the cold palace of Northern Wei, she gnawed on sour, cold congee between the blue bricks, listening to the palace servants sneer outside: “So this is the woman who once forced Emperor Taiwu to marry her? Now she's not even as important as a maid!”

But that night, Tuoba Jinghong stumbled drunkenly into the cold palace, his imperial robes still scented with Su Wanyou's peonies.

He gripped her chin and forced her to look up, his eyes churning with a light colder than a frozen pool. “Su Ruoqing, you made me marry that useless woman with a thorn in my heart. And now you come here pretending to be pitiful?”

Her gaze fell on the jade pendant at his waist, identical to her own. Three years ago, disguised as a caravan guard, he had pressed it into her palm when she was abducted.

Moonlight in the cold palace was like a blade, slicing through every disguise.

When the “savior” of the past became the “harbinger of doom” of the present, and the entanglement between an abandoned princess and a cold-blooded emperor revealed layer upon layer of conspiracy, she finally realized: from the moment she transmigrated into this world, she had already fallen into a web woven from love, hatred, power, and fate...