Chapter 12

Xue Jin’an was a spirit born just a few days ago. To be precise, before inhabiting this body, he had never truly interacted with ordinary humans. All his knowledge about humans came from the data left behind by the reclusive Dragon Aotian whenever he used his phone, including his understanding of Dragon Aotian himself.

In Xue Jin’an’s view, the world was unlike any other world, and humans were not all the same. The narrative in this book’s world had a clear main storyline; fate revolved around this main plotline, and those touched by fate received certain attribute enhancements.

For example, his original owner was a mere cannon fodder, so the body he inherited was in tatters. Even something as simple as replacing the battery was an arduous task, and whenever he carefully chose the right time and place, someone would inevitably interfere.

The novel "I Wish to Become Emperor" was a story of succession struggles. The main storyline revolved around the fight for the throne, so the princes and princesses qualified for succession—whether they were supporting characters or antagonists—gained the favor of fate.

Of course, nothing was absolute. As long as the main storyline remained intact, the protagonist could be replaced—that was precisely Xue Jin’an’s goal. It was not something achieved overnight but required long-term planning.

Before he could act officially, the world’s plot would unfold as in the original story.

In summary, Xue Jin’an sincerely believed that a mere stab wound to the heart couldn’t possibly kill the Fourth Prince, who was protected by fate.

Impossible. Absolutely impossible. With an expressionless face, Xue Jin’an gripped the knife steadily and pressed down hard.

Yet, Xue Jin’an was proven wrong.

An alert blared in his mind. The health monitoring interface running in the background popped up, showing all the Fourth Prince’s data wildly fluctuating—blood pressure soaring, rapid heartbeat, difficulty breathing... even the battery’s health quietly dropped by 1%.

The battery health dropped by 1%.

Xue Jin’an’s hand froze. He tilted his head in confusion. “Why?”

He would rather suspect the original owner’s cannon fodder fate had activated and caused failure than believe the Fourth Prince could not withstand this blade.

Frowning, Xue Jin’an began to reconsider whether the battery replacement should be postponed until after he had transformed the cannon fodder fate into a supporting role fate.

But batteries had a limited lifespan; the longer they were used, the more they wore down, and health would inevitably decline. Besides, hadn’t humans often said, “You’ve come this far”?

For the first time, Xue Jin’an faced a dilemma, and thus failed to notice the subtle movement behind him.

“Don’t kill on my turf. Don’t involve me.” The Fifth Prince descended from the wall with a swift, silent landing, reaching out through a handkerchief to pinch Xue Jin’an’s knife.

The Fifth Prince hadn’t expected Xiao Qi to actually make a move. He had only kicked the Fourth Brother down to declare his stance, thinking Xiao Qi was simply desperate and trying to scare someone with a knife. Even when the Fourth Brother’s robe was torn to reveal his chest, he didn’t believe the knife would truly be driven in.

Seeing the blood, the Fifth Prince was momentarily stunned. After a blank moment, his first reaction was: absolutely no one must die here.

The Fifth Prince didn’t care about the Fourth Brother’s survival—after all, even among full brothers from the same mother, relations were poor, let alone with this hot-tempered Fourth Brother. He simply knew that if someone died here, he would be implicated.

If the Emperor found out, the Fifth Prince would face the same or even harsher punishment than Xiao Qi, who had drawn the blade but had acted out of desperation.

Xiao Qi’s strike was an act of retaliation after being pushed to the limit; the Fifth Prince had pushed his brother into danger—though the Fifth Prince suspected that Xiao Qi had planned to put someone in mortal peril.

Regardless, his thoughts were irrelevant; what mattered was what the Emperor would think.

“I have a heart condition; I cannot bear to see blood,” the Fifth Prince said with a darkened expression, pausing briefly before adding, “I won’t tell anyone.”

“I—I won’t either, I promise, I swear!” The Fourth Prince, lying stiffly, quickly echoed.

Xue Jin’an said nothing.

When the knife was gripped, the system firewall activated, doubling his grip strength—but he still couldn’t break free from the Fifth Prince’s hold.

The Fifth Prince appeared to hold the knife casually, yet it didn’t move an inch. The two locked eyes in silent confrontation.

“F-Fifth Brother…” The Fourth Prince’s trembling voice broke the stalemate. “Can you please move the knife? I-I’m so scared, boohoo—”

The Fourth Prince froze, unable to move, staring at the knife pressed against his chest, unable to hold back his sobs.

The voltage in the humanoid component storage was unstable, forcibly removing parts had a high chance of damage, and vigilant security personnel lurked nearby... Xue Jin’an had already calculated the best solution the moment the knife was gripped. Yet, for some unknown reason, he hadn’t immediately let go, instead locking eyes with the Fifth Prince in a deadlock.

Perhaps his brain’s memory was insufficient and stalled. Xue Jin’an launched a small rocket, releasing 998 meters worth of emotional garbage.

He then relaxed his grip.

The Fifth Prince immediately tossed the knife toward the artificial rock with a loud clatter, exhaling in relief as he balled up the dirtied handkerchief in his palm.

The Fourth Brother’s life was spared; no more trouble for him.

The Fifth Prince’s imposing aura receded, leaving him languid. Seeing the scene, his mischievous instincts surged, tempting him to stir trouble with a sarcastic remark.

However, before he could speak, the Fourth Brother scrambled over, clutching his leg and bursting into loud sobs.

Quick-witted, the Fifth Prince grabbed his belt. Covered in the Fourth Brother’s tears and snot, the fastidious Fifth Prince’s face darkened instantly, nearly dropping the handkerchief ball.

The Fifth Prince kicked his leg. “Stop crying.”

The Fourth Brother thought he was being comforted and, overwhelmed with grievance, cried even louder.

The usually quiet and solitary Fifth Prince was struck by this filthy noise at close range; his fragile ears instantly rang.

“Shut up!” The Fifth Prince raised his voice.

Lost in his immense sorrow, the Fourth Brother howled, oblivious to external sounds.

Black energy swirled around the Fifth Prince. Clenching his fists uncontrollably, he yearned to give the sobbing fool before him a passionate, vigorous encounter—one that might make his brains leap with joy.

Xue Jin’an also felt the need to reduce the noise. His Bluetooth was still on, and without thinking, he connected to the other’s device, intending to drown out the sound.

“Fourth Brother, you’re so noisy.”

The Fourth Brother, completely absorbed in his crying, was jolted by Xue Jin’an’s flat, emotionless voice ringing in his mind. He shuddered, as if muted, and abruptly stopped crying.

Before making any move, Xue Jin’an saw the volume icon vanish in a flash and disconnected the Bluetooth.

The world fell silent again, broken only by the Fourth Brother’s occasional sniffles—an uncontrollable physiological reaction after a good cry.

The Fourth Brother clung tightly to the Fifth Prince’s leg, curling up as if trying to hide.

“Fourth Brother, you’re so useless,” the Fifth Prince said deliberately, trying to free his leg. His usual sarcasm failed; the Fourth Brother only gripped tighter.

Xue Jin’an fully agreed with the Fifth Prince, nodding: “The knife barely pierced in and he’s nearly dead—so weak.”

The Fourth Brother looked aggrieved, pouting and sniffling, too shy to speak.

The Fifth Prince, who had had every one of his pet peeves triggered, was speechless. Don’t ask him; he deeply regretted it.

Why not just stay in the academy and watch the boring daily antics? Why pretend to be sick and come out? Now, he was nearly sick from the stress.

In the end, the Fifth Prince lost patience and forcefully tore the Fourth Brother away, leaving a mark on the back of his neck without restraint.

“The wound needs treatment.” Tossing the Fourth Brother aside, the Fifth Prince strode toward the artificial rock, fumbled with something, and soon held two bottles of medicine.

The Fourth Brother obediently followed and let the Fifth Prince apply the medicine, curiously peeking at where the medication had come from but seeing nothing remarkable.

Xue Jin’an could identify the secret cavity within the artificial rock by the sound of airflow, knew its size intimately, and was aware it contained not only these medicines but also several oddly shaped bladed weapons.

With limited auditory information, he couldn’t form a complete model. The data-hungry system immediately flooded his mind with emotions named “curiosity.”

Unfortunately, the phone wasn’t a security scanner—its infrared sensor couldn’t penetrate the rock to reveal its contents.

Xue Jin’an thought for a moment and skillfully launched a small rocket.

The Fourth Brother wasn’t interested in what was inside the rock but was fascinated by its mechanism. He wanted to ask the Fifth Prince but, seeing the medicine in his hand, his question faded.

“You have a heart condition and usually skip martial arts classes, so why do you keep these wound medicines on hand?”

The Imperial Academy was comprehensive—music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, wine, flowers, tea, rites, music, archery, horsemanship, literature, and mathematics—the seven refined arts and six skills all taught. The Crown Prince received additional lessons in imperial politics personally from the Emperor.

The Fifth Prince clearly did not want to explain and brusquely silenced him with two words: “Shut up.”

The Fourth Brother, who was always the rebellious sort, was about to press further but was suddenly choked by the strange smell of powdered medicine, coughing and sputtering. “Cough, cough! This hemostatic powder is awful—ugh! It burns when applied to the wound!”

“What exactly did they put in this? Quack! Quack! Fifth Brother, tell me who gave you this medicine. This stuff is a fake; the more you use it, the worse the pain. That damned quack—I will make him pay! Ouch, be gentle, be gentle, Fifth Brother, this is my chest, not a wooden plank...”

The Fourth Brother rambling on for a while, then said, “Hu Yuanzheng is best at treating injuries; his medicines are top-notch. I’ll get you some bottles later.”

Finally, he muttered, “You’re so strong, can you be a little gentler?”

The Fifth Prince couldn’t be bothered to reply and just rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you—” The Fourth Brother mischievously raised a hand to retaliate but was frozen in place by Xue Jin’an’s sudden voice interrupting, the chattering parrot nearly stiffening into a motionless quail.

“Lips, complexion, and finger colors are all normal.”

This was the second time Xue Jin’an had heard the phrase “heart condition.” The original story never explicitly mentioned that the Fifth Prince suffered from heart disease; it was only once during the Emperor’s commentary at the Longevity Festival banquet that the Emperor noted the Fifth Prince was born prematurely and had been frail and frequently ill as a child, causing the Emperor great concern several times.

“Later, a fortune teller said your birth chart was too light, and evil yin entered your body. A noble blessed you, and the Emperor, out of love, took you to the Qianyuan Palace for nearly half a year, after which you never fell ill like that again.” The Fifth Prince’s biological mother, Consort Rong, smiled softly behind her handkerchief, gazing tenderly at the Emperor as if joking, “Our little one was also raised on the imperial bed.”