Chapter 854: The Zhao Li Case

An enraged emperor is extremely dangerous, and Zhang Dejun knew this well, seizing the opportunity to take his leave. As he exited the palace, Sun Yanxi was standing quietly in the corridor, clearly waiting for him, flashing a grin at Zhang Dejun: "Director Zhang is truly a model for us all. This time you've exposed a great villain for the court and eliminated a scourge — it will surely be a great merit. His Majesty will certainly reward you handsomely. This lowly one offers his congratulations in advance!"

As he spoke, Sun Yanxi even clasped his hands in salute. Seeing this, Zhang Dejun appeared quite reserved, holding his head slightly high and looking at Sun Yanxi from the corner of his eye, replying: "I am but His Majesty's servant. To exert myself for His Majesty and handle affairs for the court is my bounden duty — how could I seek reward?"

"Director Zhang's loyalty to His Majesty is something this lowly one admires, and it is worth learning from!" Sun Yanxi smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Being able to attend to His Majesty properly is no small feat for you either." Zhang Dejun narrowed his eyes slightly: "This is no place for conversation. When His Majesty gives orders, one must carry them out promptly. Any delay could cost one his head..."

Hearing this, Sun Yanxi's rather handsome brows twitched involuntarily, and he clasped his hands in a bow, saying: "I must thank the Director for the reminder! This lowly one will take his leave now!"

Watching Sun Yanxi's retreating figure from behind, a shadow of gloom crept across Zhang Dejun's brow. As the saying goes, rivals in the same trade envy each other — the man's attitude left him quite displeased, and even somewhat wary.

However, he soon regained his composure. The Palace City Office dealt mainly with internal matters and focused especially on the palace precincts. If Sun Yanxi made any suspicious move, he had plenty of ways to deal with him. But after all, the man was someone close to His Majesty — fortunately, Emperor Liu was not an easy one to fool.

His mindset steadied once more. Thinking of the report he had just made to the emperor, a smile unconsciously curled at the corners of Zhang Dejun's mouth. The emperor was wise and clear-sighted at present, so of course he dared not conceal or hold back anything — Zhao Li truly bore guilt for his crimes.

And what made him feel proud was that through this affair, he had finally "vindicated the name" of the Palace City Office. Zhao Li was the highest-ranking minister the Palace City Office had ever handled since its establishment. From now on, the hundred officials and high ministers of the court would no longer dare to look down on them.

In recent years, the Wude Office's arrogance had gradually diminished. Under Li Chongju's leadership, it had become very low-key, handling matters strictly by the book. While this had reduced the ministers' hostility and vigilance, it had also weakened the influence that a secret service agency ought to wield.

The establishment of the Palace City Office was not only meant to serve as a counterbalance, but also to fill the gaps that the Wude Office could not cover. Zhang Dejun understood this, and so under such circumstances, he needed to proactively take on that portion of influence and function.

For Zhang Dejun, the Zhao Li case was merely a new beginning — a beginning of catching up to the Wude Office.

In Wansui Hall, Liu Chengyou was still seething with anger, unable to let it go. Liu Chengyou was not unaware of the principle that water too clear has no fish; nor was he incapable of tolerating corrupt officials — as long as they had talent and were useful to him.

Take Zhao Pu, for instance. Liu Chengyou had known from the start that the man would take a little here and there in his daily affairs, but that did not prevent Liu Chengyou from valuing him, keeping him at his side to advise on military and state matters. When Meng Chang surrendered and a candidate was needed for Chengdu, he was the first choice.

But tolerance did not mean indulgence, and one also had to consider the person in question. Who was Zhao Li? The man had left no particular fame in the official histories. One could say that Liu Chengyou had personally discovered him with his own eyes and entrusted him with great responsibility.

Over the years, Zhao Li had been held up by Liu Chengyou as a model of incorruptible officialdom, entrusted with heavy responsibilities, given high positions, and showered with praise. Liu Chengyou had held great expectations for him — yet even such a "model" talent personally promoted by him had fallen.

It was practically a slap in the face! As the head of the Censorate, he held great power and influence at court, and Liu Chengyou had even intended to elevate him into the Hall of State Affairs as a chancellor. And now the highest-ranking official in charge of the supervisory system, who had risen through his merits in oversight, had himself fallen into serious trouble — what a tremendous irony.

In the end, he had ultimately disappointed him.

Of course, the primary reason for Liu Chengyou's anger was still that feeling of being deceived. And also — did this prove that his judgment was flawed? If Zhao Li was like this, then what about the others?

"Go to the Wude Office and summon Li Chongju for me!" Calling over a guard, Liu Chengyou ordered.

Summoning Li Chongju was, of course, to see whether the Wude Office had any information. He did not believe that the Wude Office could have heard not even a whisper about something the Palace City Office had managed to investigate thoroughly.

Soon, Li Chongju came for an audience. Facing the emperor's direct question, Li Chongju appeared very ill at ease, giving an answer that did not satisfy Liu Chengyou: "Censor-in-Chief Zhao is a weighty minister at court. Without solid evidence in hand, this minister dared not rashly submit a report, lest it cause adverse repercussions at court!"

"Adverse repercussions! Is that something for you to worry about?" Liu Chengyou could not help but rebuke.

Hearing this, Li Chongju's body tensed, and he immediately replied: "This minister is guilty!"

Of course, Liu Chengyou had only spoken in a moment of anger. Seeing the man's perpetually deferential manner, he gave a light sigh and instructed: "Enough! I have already ordered Zhao Li imprisoned for interrogation. Whatever investigation and evidence the Wude Office has gathered, hand it all over to the relevant authorities to cooperate with the investigation of this case!"

"Yes!"

After Li Chongju withdrew, a hint of dark cunning flashed in Liu Chengyou's eyes as he began to think. Li Chongju had clearly discovered something — why had he not directly reported it? What was there to fear? Were there other ministers whose surveillance results had not been reported? If so, then what was his intention in holding them back?

Li Chongju, who had risen from Liu Chengyou's personal guard, had always been trusted for his character. Even in his position at the Wude Office, he enjoyed a good reputation at court. Logically speaking, Liu Chengyou had no reason to suspect him — but sometimes, doubts still crept unbidden into his heart...

"Have I been too lax in governing officialdom these past two years?" His thoughts drifting back, a cold gleam flickered in Liu Chengyou's eyes as he murmured to himself.

When Sun Yanxi arrived at the Censorate offices with the Inner Palace guards, Zhao Li was sitting in the main hall, receiving reports from the censors under his command. When Sun Yanxi read out the imperial edict, the man collapsed on the spot, and in front of a crowd of censors exchanging bewildered glances, he was dragged away by the guards and thrown directly into the imperial prison.

As Left Censor-in-Chief, Zhao Li had wielded considerable power and was envied for the emperor's trust in him. His sudden imprisonment naturally touched off a massive political storm. Throughout the court and beyond, tongues wagged everywhere — even as people enjoyed the spectacle, they could not help but feel a sense of peril for themselves.

After all, Zhao Li counted as a major figure of one faction at court. If he fell, the repercussions would inevitably be enormous. Many of his protégés and former subordinates feared being implicated, especially those with guilty consciences. And as head of the Censorate, Zhao Li might well be holding dirt on anyone — if he abandoned all restraint and started exposing and falsely accusing others, the problem would become even more serious.

Therefore, after the case broke, almost everyone's attention turned to the Court of Judicial Review — to that trial of Zhao Li.

Cui Zhoudou, the presiding judge, had originally approached the matter with the utmost seriousness and rigor. However, once the trial actually began, he found that the case was progressing with extraordinary speed.

He barely needed to exert his mind at all — the Palace City Office and the Wude Office, with remarkable efficiency, had already transferred all the implicated persons and evidence to him.

All Cui Zhoudou needed to do was verify and organize the witnesses and evidence. And as for the crimes alleged against him, Zhao Li confessed to everything without reservation.

Just as many officials had feared, once Zhao Li fell, countless others were inevitably dragged in. A large number of officials were exposed — among those in the capital alone, there were twenty-eight officials of various ranks, with the Censorate naturally being the hardest-hit area.

Toward these people, Liu Chengyou, still in his fury, showed not the slightest mercy, issuing an edict that regardless of who they were or what office they held, all were to be arrested.

The other implicated persons still awaited arrest, interrogation, and sentencing, but for Zhao Li, the principal offender, his crimes were fully adjudicated within a mere two days. And at the fastest possible speed, the confession bearing his fingerprint and the full record of the case were presented to Liu Chengyou's imperial desk.

After reviewing it, his anger was no longer so severe — but in its place came deep disappointment. If it had merely been a lapse in moral conduct, or doing favors for others, that would have been one thing. But the exchange of power and money, dereliction of duty and bending of the law, harboring corruption, and even involvement in callous disregard for human life — that was what Liu Chengyou could least accept.

A watchdog stealing what it guards, an enforcer of the law breaking the law — in any era, such conduct is utterly abhorrent.