Chapter 128

In the deep night, the Jin imperial palace shone like a brilliant pearl set in the darkness, gleaming brilliantly. Moonlight spilled over the golden rooftops, rippling in silver waves, as if adding a touch of mystery to the tranquil night.

In the night, lanterns within the palace gradually lit up, illuminating the towering palaces and exquisitely crafted pavilions and terraces. Interwoven shadows and light made the palace outlines flicker in and out, like a flowing scroll telling of the Jin’s glory and splendor.

A light breeze brushed past, carrying the faint fragrance of flowers from distant gardens, mingling with the palace’s own scent to form a unique atmosphere. Though the midnight palace lacked the daytime bustle, it gained a quiet depth that made one irresistibly enchanted.

In this tranquil night, the Jin imperial palace seemed a dreamlike world, captivating all who beheld it. It was not merely a symbol of power, but a treasure of Jin culture, bearing witness to countless historical shifts and legacies.

Yet living at the heart of this political vortex, every step must be taken as if walking on thin ice, every word spoken with utmost caution. Eunuchs and maidservants, if they uttered a single misstep, would meet a gruesome end by beating; their lives were as fragile as dust in the game of power. Consorts walked even more precariously—any careless word could send them to the cold palace, alone and forsaken, while their families suffered ruin by association.

This was a place that devoured men without leaving bones—plots and schemes intertwined, life and honor hanging by a thread. Yet in this labyrinthine court, the true master was but one: the Emperor of Jin, Wanyan Jing.

Wanyan Jing, the sixth emperor of the Jin dynasty, was not only a sovereign but also a gifted literary figure and calligrapher. Under his reign, Jin’s cultural and artistic achievements reached an unprecedented peak, later hailed as the glorious era of “Mingchang Governance.”

Wanyan Jing was naturally brilliant and deeply passionate about learning. He revered scholarly elegance and cherished the beauty of literature. His court became a gathering place for renowned scholars, governance was clear and upright, and civil culture flourished. He inherited the splendor of the Datong golden age, deepened bureaucratic reforms, and established many new institutions to meet the demands of the times and the state. In legal construction, he also achieved remarkable success—measures vital to consolidating power, stabilizing social order, promoting economic development, and safeguarding the ruling class’s interests. Under his careful rule, the Jin economy thrived, population grew steadily, the treasury overflowed, and the entire realm enjoyed a harmonious scene of “domestic prosperity.”

Yet as his reign lengthened, Wanyan Jing grew addicted to drinking and poetry, neglecting state affairs. Meanwhile, the Jin dynasty faced a series of severe natural disasters—including catastrophic Yellow River floods—that devastated the economy and left it in ruins. Moreover, Wanyan Jing doted excessively on Li Shier (later enfeoffed as Yuanfei), trusted her extended family unwisely, and even appointed the low-born Xu Chiguo to manage court affairs. These two ministers conspired together, gradually corrupting the court’s integrity in the later years of Wanyan Jing’s reign.

Wanyan Jing appeared blind to all this.

It was clear how deeply he loved this woman—had it not been for fierce opposition from senior ministers, he would have made Li Shier empress.

Out of love for her, he doted excessively on her son, Wanyan Honglie.

Yet this very son, his most beloved, had committed such a disgraceful act.

Meanwhile, as the Great Jin Empire remained lost in thought, the tribes of the Mongolian steppes united like wildfire, forming a formidable force. Ambitious and sharpening their blades, they soon turned their spears toward the Jin’s vassal state, Western Xia. Western Xia, once a prosperous realm, proved powerless against the Mongol cavalry’s ferocious assault. Within just two months, its capital fell beneath Mongol hooves, its fate hanging by a thread.

At the same time, the Southern Song dynasty did not stand idle. Fueled by the aggressive agitation of the pro-war faction under Han Tuozhou, it stirred with restless intent.

This was truly a time of turmoil.

At this moment, time had etched deep lines upon his face; the youthful vigor of his earlier years had long faded. Yet despite his aging body, he stubbornly prepared an army of four hundred thousand, determined to march against the Mongols.

He knew well that the Southern Song had long been watching in secret, restless and ready to strike. Thus, he must not only mobilize his army for campaign, but also dispatch elite troops to closely monitor Song movements.

After completing a full day of heavy state affairs, he trudged wearily back to the deep palace. Exhaustion washed over him like a tide; he felt utterly drained, utterly indifferent to matters of love and lust. His only desire now was to lie upon a soft bed and let his weary body sink into complete rest.

Lying upon the soft bed, he gradually drifted into sweet sleep. Yet in the latter half of the night, a deafening clamor of battle cries exploded through the palace like thunder, jolting him awake. The noise surged like a storm, as if it would overturn the entire palace. He shot upright, a nameless dread and unease surging within him; he gripped his quilt tightly.

“Someone! What is happening outside? Where is this shouting coming from?” Wanyan Jing shouted furiously toward the door.

A palace attendant rushed in, trembling: “Your Majesty, disaster! Prince Six leads a large force into the palace! Our guards cannot hold them—they’re almost upon us!”

As the attendant opened his mouth to speak further, an arrow pierced his throat without warning. Instantly, the air grew cold and silent. Then, clear, heavy footsteps approached—like iron hooves striking stone, resolute and unmistakable. Soon, a nobleman clad in ornate armor entered: it was his son, Wanyan Honglie.

Wanyan Jing flew into a rage. He had poured endless love and expectation into Wanyan Honglie since childhood—yet how had this once-favored son repaid his favor?

He had committed such a disgraceful act, shaming the family and breaking his father’s heart. Worse still, Wanyan Honglie showed not a shred of remorse—and now dared to rebel. This was a double betrayal: of him as sovereign, and as father.