Loved By The Emperor (MPREG)

The emperor rode well in front of his hunting party; his sharp phoenix eyes caught the flash of movement through the trees. A magnificent stag bounded through the undergrowth, his antlers glinting in the light. A rare smirk tugged at the emperor's lips. Impressive.

He spurred his black stallion forward, signalling his guards to stay behind. "Do not follow," he commanded. "Zhen will handle this prey alone.

The guards exchanged a dubious look, yet knew better than to trifle with him. With that, the emperor vanished into the forest, his dark robes merging with the shadows.

The stag bucked into the forest, but rounding a bend, the animal was gone. The sudden silence made his steed paw at the ground uneasily. The emperor drew tighter on the reins, his phoenix eyes scanning the trees.

And then they appeared.

No less than twenty figures sprang out from darkness garbed in dark unmarked attire that was the near-cousin of this very forest. Precession-perfect and practised stances saw their movement assure the circle with blades gleaming in an unrelenting formation.

The Emperor flowed off, his hand on his already clearswords, and coolly gauged those who meant his blood.

Twenty to one?" he said, his voice cold and mocking. "Zhen expected more."

The first assassin did not say a word, charging with his blade aimed for the emperor's throat. The emperor sidestepped him with ease; his sword flashed once, and the man fell, cut down in a single stroke. Blood sprayed across the forest floor as the assassin crumpled.

The others hesitated only for a moment before surging forward. Chaos erupted in the forest, as assassins attacked on all sides. The emperor moved like a shadow; his sword was an extension of his will. Every swing was precise; every step, calculated. Parrying a flurry of strikes, his body twisted to avoid the blade aimed at his side, then a fatal counterstrike was delivered.

Two assassins attacked him at once, their movements in concert. The emperor ducked low, his sword slicing upward in a deadly arc that left one man clutching his throat while the other fell with a pierced heart.

A blade nicked his arm, drawing a thin line of blood. The emperor barely reacted, his focus unshaken. His movements quickened, became brutal, as if each strike was a message to his attackers: You are not enough to stop me.

Still, the sheer number of attackers began to press him. For every one he cut down, another two seemed to take their place. His robes were spattered with blood, his movements as sharp and deadly as a storm. He was surrounded but unyielding, his eyes burning with the same deadly determination that had won him countless battles since he first took up arms at fourteen.

The sound of thundering hooves broke through the chaos as the emperor's guards finally arrived. They charged into the clearing, their swords flashing as they engaged the remaining assassins. The tide turned swiftly, the assassins no match for the emperor's reinforcements.

One of the guards dismounted, rushing to the emperor's side. "Your Majesty, you're injured—"

"It's nothing," the emperor said curtly, though blood seeped through his robes. "Ensure no one escapes. Zhen wants them alive for questioning."

The guard bowed deeply before issuing commands. The remaining assassins were subdued, their weapons stripped from them as the forest fell silent once more. The emperor looked around the clearing, his face unreadable. Blood dripped from the edge of his sword, and his shoulder throbbed where an enemy's blade had grazed him. Yet his phoenix eyes shone with a quiet intensity.

"Your Majesty," Wang Xun said as he came forward in a cautious, obsequious bow. "Should this servant summon the imperial physician?"

The emperor sheathed his sword with a violent motion. "Later. First, secure the area and find out who sent them."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Wang Xun replied, bowing to the waist.

The gaze of the emperor stayed a little longer on the bloodstained clearing. His thoughts turned inward, his mind already working through the implications of the ambush.

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Jiang Wuyi had a disciplined and ambitious life. As the second son of a minor general, Jiang did not have the means and connection to a nobility that would place him upward bound easily in the military rankings. However, his natural talent and will brought him a decent name among his co-attendants. Being sent to the capital as a junior officer, he served under high-ranking generals, including those loyal to the imperial family.

Xue Sun Taizhen was, however, the bright star of the noble house of Sun-a wealthy, well-connected aristocratic house. Taizhen spent her life confined to aristocratic exclusiveness, mostly in their manorial mansion, rarely going beyond her occasional excursions into town, though at festivals and on visits, privately, to exclusive social gatherings.

It was on one of these occasions-a temple fair in the capital-that Jiang Wuyi and Sun Taizhen met for the first time. He had been assigned to manage security for the event, which he took very seriously. Taizhen, accompanied by her attendants, had been attracted by the noisy stalls and entertainers and had passed by, heads turning wherever she went.

Fate brought them together when Taizhen's maid accidentally dropped a package she was carrying. Nearby, Wuyi retrieved and returned it to her, their eyes meeting briefly—a banal, passing moment—which was enough to fire an unnamed something in them both.

After that first meeting, their meetings became more deliberate. Taizhen, drawn to the quiet strength and steadfast demeanor of Wuyi, made it a point to pass by the gardens whenever she knew he would be on station there. Wuyi, on his part, was captivated by her warmth and grace, so different from the inflexible structure of his life.

Their love grew in secret. They exchanged letters through trusted intermediaries, met under the cover of night in secluded corners of the city, and built a connection that transcended the boundaries of their vastly different worlds. They both knew the risks-her family would never approve of a match with a member of the opposing faction, and his position made their affair perilous.

But for a time, their love was enough.

It was when the emperor launched his campaign for the throne that the fateful decision of the Sun family was made to support a rival prince. Their loyalty to the wrong side sealed their fate. When the emperor emerged victorious, the Sun family was declared traitors and its estates razed.

Wuyi, stationed at the capital during the purge, could only stand and watch as the Sun family was destroyed. He never saw Taizhen again. Her death was confirmed by a mutual acquaintance—a servant who had escaped the massacre and later sought refuge in the city. The servant's account haunted Wuyi: Taizhen, unarmed and defenceless, had been executed alongside her family.

Her last letter, which she managed to smuggle out before the purge started, was the most important possession Wuyi would carry with him. In that letter, she said her love for him, her fears of the future, and urged him to live even when she couldn't. The letter became both his solace and his curse.

Jiang Wuyi's grief for Sun Taizhen had long festered into a single consuming desire: to see the emperor fall. But Jiang Wuyi was no fool; he knew that vengeance required more than just anger. It required patience, precision, and the perfect scapegoat.

The royal hunt presented such an opportunity, and Han Changxu provided the ideal pawn.