Chapter 367: I, the King, Have a Matter Here That Concerns Great Zhou

Yuwen Yan walked out amid a cluster of inner court attendants, the trailing folds of his Dragon Robe swaying with his steps, lightly brushing the golden bricks and emitting an almost inaudible rustle.

The twelve‑chant pattern embroidered at the collar was extremely dense, the interwoven threads and colored flames flickering alternately in the light, making his neck line appear even more slender.

When he reached the Dragon Throne, his fingertips paused on the icy handrail before he turned and sat down.

Immediately behind him appeared a figure clad in a dark‑purple four‑clawed python robe, encasing an upright stature.

Yuwen Hu walked to the imperial seat beneath the Dragon Throne, did not rush to sit, but lifted his gaze to scan the throne, his eyes as deep as a pool.

He then slowly sat, hands resting on the armrest, his knuckles distinct, the hem of his four‑clawed python robe draping to the floor and overlapping the throne's shadow.

The lingering echo of the inner attendants' chant had not faded when the hall erupted in a roar of worship like a mountain‑shouting tide.

"May the Emperor live ten thousand years, ten thousand ten thousand years!"

"Grand Minister, may you live a thousand years, a thousand ten thousand years!"

All officials in the hall knelt together, the folds of their court robes spreading across the golden bricks in a patchwork of light and dark hues.

Yuwen Yan cleared his throat, gestured, and said, "All ministers, stand."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

The ministers slowly rose, hanging their hands as they stood in attendance.

Though the fox fur spread on the throne was warm, it could not ward off the morning drowsiness.

"Another boring morning court..."

Yuwen Yan's eyelids involuntarily drooped, his throat tightened, and he couldn't hold back, letting out a shallow "hm" yawn.

He hurriedly tucked the sleeve of his Dragon Robe over his mouth, a slight physiological moisture gathering at the corner of his eye, his mind having already counted the morning meeting eight hundred times as a session he could only observe, not decide.

He was idly swinging his leg, his gaze aimlessly scanning the steps below, when it suddenly fixed: "Chen… Wei… Duke of Wei?!"

The violet figure at the front row was strikingly conspicuous, his Purple Robe cascading like a waterfall, his face handsome and his posture upright, bearing an extraordinary bearing—if not Chen Yan, then who?

"Isn't he dead?!"

"How is he standing there all of a sudden?!"

Yuwen Yan's whole body tensed, the drowsiness that had just settled vanished in an instant of shock, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

He stared fixedly at that figure, his fingers gripping the chair's arm tightly, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"Could it be that my eyes have deceived me?!"

Yuwen Yan suspected either his own eyes were playing tricks or it was a hallucination from extreme fatigue, and he hurriedly rubbed his eyes hard.

In doing so, he wiped away most of the moisture at the corner of his eye.

When he opened his eyes again, that upright figure still stood firmly there.

It even seemed aware, turning its face slightly, its gaze crossing a short distance and, as if half‑present, flicking toward the Dragon Throne.

"He… is he really Chen Yan?!"

"What on earth is this?!"

Yuwen Yan's heartbeat thudded against his chest, nearly leaping out of his throat, leaving him utterly astonished.

He had asked the imperial physicians summoned to the Duke's residence for treatment...

All said Chen Yan would not survive more than half a day!

So how could Yuwen Heng, his right‑hand man with the sharpest blade, be standing there alive in front of him?!

And with such a flushed complexion?!

"The young emperor is watching this kid A Yan…"

The front‑row official Yu Jie noticed Yuwen Yan's gaze and unease, a teasing smile curling his mouth, and thought to himself, "He seems rather shocked!"

The inner attendant raised his voice again in chant, the trailing note long and trembling: "If there is business, report; if not…"

The words "dismissed" still hung on his tongue when a deep sound suddenly resonated from the imperial seat.

Grand Minister Yuwen Hu, at some point, had already risen.

The dark‑purple four‑clawed python robe unfolded with his movement, like a suddenly blooming ink cloud, instantly seizing everyone's gaze in the hall.

Yuwen Hu's gaze slowly swept the steps below, from the bowed officials to the slightly stunned young emperor on the throne, finally resting on the vacant seat, a deep, unreadable turbulence swirling in his eyes.

He stepped forward, his expression solemn and weighty, and declared gravely, "I, the king, have a matter here that concerns the survival of Great Zhou!"

Speaking, he raised his hand to smooth the front of his python robe; the four‑clawed python pattern seemed to come alive in the morning light, exuding a chilling aura.

As soon as his words ended, the barely perceptible stir in the hall rippled outward like water waves.

"Concerned with Great Zhou's survival?"

"Is it that serious?"

Standing in the middle row, Yin Shou subconsciously tightened his neck, a thin layer of sweat already beading on his back beneath his cotton robe; he furtively glanced up, quickly scanning the Grand Minister on the throne, then hurriedly lowered his head, muttering to himself.

Since the dynastic transition and the Grand Minister's rule, it was his first time seeing this powerful minister raise such a lofty tone...

Yuwen Yan stared at the upright figure on the throne, his brows subtly furrowing.

The wave stirred earlier by Chen Yan had not yet settled, and now the words "Great Zhou's survival" slammed him into dizziness.

He lightly brushed his fingertips over the fox fur, his inner muttering louder than the officials below: "What trick is Yuwen Hu up to this time?"

The young emperor could not comprehend at all what game this Grand Minister cousin was planning...

Su Rang's fingers unconsciously traced the pattern along the edge of his tablet, his mind's doubts gathering like the fog outside the hall: "Has Chang'an not been unusually peaceful lately?"

"Qi State has not invaded either!"

"It's undeniable that Chang'an has always had hidden currents, but when has it ever not?"

"And yet there have been no major upheavals..."

"Moreover, the Qi State to the east is far more restrained than when Taizu served as Former Yan Grand Chancellor."

"One must recall the Five Battles of the past; those were truly matters of life and death!"

Many mid‑level officials in the hall, sharing Su Rang's thoughts, felt a vague confusion in their hearts.

"The Grand Chancellor is pointing at—could it be…?!"

Some clever people have already realized something.

Everyone cast their gaze toward the vacant spots at the front row…

Yuwen Hu, while the ministers were speculating, suddenly raised his hand, and the wide sleeves of his python robe traced a solemn arc in the morning light.

His fingertip hovered in the air, slowly descending, finally pointing at the glaring vacancy in the front row. His voice, now a bit more teasing, said: "I suppose everyone has already noticed that today Dugu Zhao, Zhao Qian, Yan Zhi Tui, Yang Qin and the others did not come to court, right?"

All eyes in the hall involuntarily followed his fingertip.

"Indeed!" Yin Shou, Su Rang and other officials couldn't help but nod.

At the same time, the same speculation rose in their minds: "The Grand Chancellor's words concern matters of life and death; they're probably eight or nine parts related to them…"

These people could not possibly be absent without reason!

Something significant must have happened among them!

A barely perceptible curve lifted Yuwen Hu's mouth corner, but there was no hint of mirth in his eyes, only an unfathomable depth.

"These people will never be able to come again!" he finally spoke, his voice low yet carrying a settled certainty.

Every line between the words was laden with meaning.

Yuwen Yan shivered all over; the panic he had just suppressed burst through like a broken dam.

His fingers gripping the dragon robe tightened abruptly, the knuckles digging painfully into his palm, yet he remained oblivious.

"Will never be able to come again" — those words pierced the heart like sharp iron spikes, sending a chill down the spine.

In an instant, a bad premonition surged like a tide, nearly drowning the young emperor.

The youth could not conceal his emotions; his voice trembled subtly, yet he strained to keep imperial dignity: "Grand Chancellor, what does this mean!"

Yuwen Hu flicked the wide sleeve of his python robe by his side; the dark‑purple silk traced a sharp arc in the air, the four‑claw python pattern seeming to spring to life, exuding a chilling murderous aura. He declared loudly: "Last night, Zhao Qian, Yang Qin, Yan Zhi Tui and others conspired in the Duke of Chu's mansion to plot a palace coup, intending to cause chaos during today's morning court…"

"They intend to seize my head, then force the palace and usurp the throne!"

The words fell like a heavy hammer; a gasp of cold air rippled through the hall, and an official's legs went weak, nearly collapsing on the spot.

The young emperor's pupils contracted sharply, a buzzing sound filling his ears—rebellion? Could Zhao Qian have such audacity? Dare to defy the heavens?

Before he could digest the shocking news, Yuwen Hu's tone abruptly shifted, his gaze, like a sharp sword, snapping toward the violet young figure in the front row:

"However, thanks to the late emperor's and Your Majesty's great blessings, Chief Supervisor Chen had foreseen the plot and, leading the Bright Mirror Office, captured them all alive!"

With those words, all eyes swished and converged on Chen Yan.

The violet figure remained upright; his face beneath the hat's wing was hidden in shadow, his expression indistinct.

Only at the moment of being mentioned did he give a slight nod, as if accepting this "credit".

Yuwen Yan stared at the familiar yet unfamiliar figure on the steps below, his heart roiling even more—Chen Yan not only survived, but became, in Yuwen Hu's words, a meritorious official who quelled the rebellion?

Grand Minister of Justice plotting treason?

A subordinate of the Qiu Official Office, upon hearing, furrowed his brows and murmured: "This is just too …"

But before he could finish, a subordinate of the Summer Office interjected: "Too what?"

"Zhao Qian harbors ill intent; that's hardly surprising!"

"Don't forget the verse passed down from the Buddha through Master Hui Neng's mouth!"

Those words caused the surrounding officials to feel a sudden enlightenment…

"Indeed!"

Deng Xiaoru, upon hearing, immediately proclaimed loudly: "Also, the inscription on the One‑Eyed Stone Statue—Heaven had already foretold that the Zhao traitor harbors disloyalty!"

"Exactly!"

An official nodded emphatically, adding: "If one stands upright and acts righteously, how could the Zhao traitor murder Master Hui Neng to silence him, and also destroy the One‑Eyed Stone Statue?"

"It's just a guilty conscience!"

Aside from the guilty conscience mentioned, is there any other reasonable explanation?

They had long seen the traitorous side of Zhao Qian!

"Fortunately, Chief Supervisor Chen commands the Bright Mirror Office!"

An official's white hair at the temples quivered, the court tablet in his hand nearly warmed by his body heat, his voice tinged with post‑calamity relief: "Only then could we, before the Zhao traitor gained momentum, suppress these rebel factions at their budding stage…"

That voice, like a stone tossed into a lake, instantly rippled outward.

The subordinate of the Winter Office beside him nodded repeatedly, his lingering panic still evident, his tone reverent: "In critical moments, we still must rely on Chief Supervisor Chen!"

"If the Zhao traitor truly succeeds, the world will be drenched in suffering!"

The officials in the middle and rear rows now cast a more solemn gaze toward Chen Yan.

"What?!"

"Both Grand Pillars of State have fallen?!"

Yuwen Yan's complexion on the Dragon Throne darkened inch by inch, the earlier panic replaced by a deeper chill.

The gratitude and praises for Chen Yan from the hall's officials reached his ears like dull knives, slowly cutting at his heart.

The young emperor stared fixedly at the dark‑purple figure on the throne; Yuwen Hu, eyes lowered, idly brushed his fingertip over the Jade Ring.

He seemed indifferent to the surrounding discussion, yet the sense of control in his posture was like a dense net, enveloping the entire hall.

"Then, is there truly no one left in the court to balance Yuwen Hu, making it his one‑voice hall?!" Yuwen Yan felt the Dragon Throne chillingly cold; the fox fur beneath him could not warm a single bit of the chill.

Without the two Grand Pillars of State to contend with…

From now on, who on this throne can stand against Yuwen Hu?

Who dares to utter even a single "no" to him?

What shall be done from now on?

Wei Jianshen stepped forward and asked: "Grand Chancellor, what about Dugu Lao Zhuguo?"

"Dugu Zhao, because his deeds were exposed, has already taken his own life out of fear of punishment!"

"The rest were captured alive!"

"These are the ten crimes the two have committed!"

Yuwen Hu seemed unaware of the young emperor's oddness, and slowly drew a bright‑yellow memorial from his sleeve.

The scroll's edge was frayed with an aged, fuzzy border, clearly having been prepared long ago.

He lifted his hand to hand it over, and the eunuch standing on the steps below hurriedly bowed and stepped forward; when his hands received it, the pads of his fingers brushed the raised characters on the scroll and actually quivered slightly.

"Recite!" Yuwen Hu spat out a single word, his voice even yet bearing an imperious authority that allowed no reply.