Yan Jing stumbled back in fright and fell to the ground.
In desperation, he blurted out the truth: "Someone switched the letters at the beginning!"
The sword's tip stopped just two inches from Yan Jing's throat, needing only to move a little closer to seal his throat and send him off to meet King Yan.
Jie Chen's tall figure cast layers of shadows.
Under the moonlight, his thin eyes were as black and cold as an abyss.
"Switched the letters?"
Yan Jing, head covered in cold sweat, nodded with difficulty: "Yes... It was a letter sent by Princess Consort Zhuang, stating that she could handle the situation on her own and did not need Prince Wang's help, the handwriting exactly like Princess Consort Zhuang's."
