Chapter 11: A Person

Wherever Li Chen went, people surrounded him, making it impossible for Lin Yue’e to get close.

She could only silently watch his retreating figure, her heart a tangle of emotions.

At that moment, a fellow young lady beside her looked at her with regret and said, “Yue’e, why didn’t you seize the opportunity? I heard our new emperor just ascended the throne and hasn’t taken any concubines yet.”

She meant to urge Lin Yue’e to approach Li Chen—perhaps she could rise from obscurity to become a phoenix.

These words stunned Lin Yue’e, after which she said seriously, “Don’t talk like that. The emperor only happened to meet me while incognito, helped me solve a problem, improved our cultivation environment, and raised the academy’s benefits. What we should do isn’t spend our days dreaming of climbing onto his coat-tails, but work hard in cultivation and contribute our share to the TianCe Dynasty—that’s how we honor the emperor’s investment in us.”

Lin Yue’e’s words were honest; she knew she had some beauty, but not enough to bewitch anyone.

A person’s worth lies in self-awareness.

Too much fantasy leads to obsession.

If Lin Yue’e couldn’t grasp this, she wouldn’t have reached her current cultivation level.

Most importantly, Li Chen’s gaze at her was utterly clear—whether he liked her or not was obvious at a glance.

“Uh, then why are you just standing there like a fool?”

“I’m just thinking—I can never repay the emperor’s kindness.”

“.”

Tonight, for many, might be a day of universal joy.

The new emperor Li Chen resolved the long-standing problems of the Combat Academy: no more trouble from second-generation elites, and even more resources would flow in.

The academy regained its former vitality, and his name would spread by word of mouth among its students.

Many elite students already regarded him as the ultimate goal to follow in life.

But Li Chen himself now wanted to curse.

“What? You don’t count this as completing my quest?”

Back in his chambers, Li Chen discovered his quest hadn’t been completed.

He had acted twice; whether Chen Rong of the Ritual Ministry’s Protocol Office had any cultivation base, Li Chen didn’t know.

But Chen Jie, the second-generation scion, had at least trained at the Combat Academy—even if he was useless, he should have some cultivation.

【INSPECTION COMPLETE: The two individuals defeated by the host had cultivation bases of Condensation Core Peak and No Cultivation. The host did not defeat a Mid-Stage Open-Meridian cultivator, so the quest cannot be settled.】

Li Chen: “.”

Condensation Core is one full realm higher than Open-Meridian.

Seriously, you insist I defeat a Mid-Stage Open-Meridian cultivator? Even a higher one doesn’t count?

You’re not afraid I’ll kill a Mid-Stage Open-Meridian cultivator?

At Li Chen’s current level, finding strong opponents is easy; finding weak ones is genuinely hard.

But since the remaining time was still long, Li Chen could only spare a trip to Chengdong.

He was now wondering if his method was wrong.

Initially, Li Chen thought: since he was already an Emperor of the Saint Realm, traveling with two subordinates, he could just find some troublemaker and beat him up to finish the quest.

He didn’t bother hiding his identity—so long as it was legitimate.

If the system judged him as newly transmigrated and assigned him a tutorial, then “at that time,” he should have had no subordinates and low status.

So is the system telling me to go alone—and hide my identity?

But what’s the point of this? Just to complete a quest?

Or does the system want me to gain something—something that would help “me” at that time?

Next morning, court.

Li Chen still looked listless.

But the officials below were energized, especially Minister of Rites Yan Hai, who wore a look of triumph—as if his family had some great joy. Yet today’s court session had a significant change.

Grand General Guo Po was ordered to reflect at home for three days; Empress Dowager, citing illness, did not attend court as usual.

Chancellor Zhao Wenyuan remained as composed as ever; no one knew what he was thinking.

Compared to yesterday’s clamor, today felt unusually solemn and dignified.

Everyone’s attention focused on the new emperor, Li Chen—every move of his had to be interpreted.

At the start of court, Minister of Rites Yan Hai submitted a list.

These were the charges he had thoroughly investigated against the Ritual Ministry’s officials, written in excruciating detail—even uncovering that Chen Rong of the Protocol Office had stolen a neighbor’s chicken at age seven.

Li Chen didn’t know how he’d found that out.

As for punishment, it was simple: Li Chen ordered Yan Hai to enforce the law strictly.

Yan Hai understood Li Chen’s intent: these officials, who previously would have merely been imprisoned for abusing power, were now to be exiled to mine coal.

!

Next, other court officials began earnestly reporting their duties.

For example: palace eaves needed repair, imperial roads outside the city required maintenance, and reports from regional government offices were submitted.

For the first time, Li Chen felt like he was in prison.

Why did emperors have so many duties? Just listening to reports took hours.

And there were still memorials waiting for him to review in the Imperial Study.

This made Li Chen’s head ache—he couldn’t understand why other imperial princes were so eager to become emperor.

He’d only been emperor for two days, and he was already tired of it.

But Li Chen had his own method.

He let officials handle minor matters; for major ones, he consulted Chancellor Zhao Wenyuan.

These matters followed established regulations—they’d served for years and knew them well.

They only needed the emperor’s approval to proceed.

Midway through court, the Minister of War stepped forward.

“Your Majesty, I’ve received urgent border reports: His Imperial Highness, the Third Prince, has treacherous intentions at the frontier. Two days ago, he raised rebellion, and his army is marching toward the capital. The situation is dire—Your Majesty must decide swiftly.”

The Minister of War’s voice echoed through the hall, each word like a hammer striking the hearts of the ministers.

The hall fell instantly silent, broken only by the Minister’s heavy, rapid breathing.

The ministers exchanged glances, their eyes filled with shock and unease.

They weren’t shocked that the Third Prince had rebelled—they were shocked he dared to rebel.

If this were an ordinary emperor, rebellion might be possible—but this emperor is of the Saint Realm.

What’s the difference between the Third Prince’s rebellion and suicide?

Because this world had no radio, intelligence transmission had delays—the Third Prince had already withdrawn his rebellion, but news of his retreat hadn’t reached the capital yet.

Now the entire court erupted in discussion: the Second Prince had caused trouble too, but he only insulted people in court, never acted.

Besides, Li Chen didn’t even care about him; no one needed to bring him up again.

But the Third Prince was different—he’d withdrawn troops from the border defenses; that was unforgivable.

Chancellor Zhao Wenyuan said nothing, but he knew: the Minister of War was the Empress Dowager’s man.

The Empress Dowager didn’t attend court today—she was clearly pulling strings from behind the scenes.

Could she be trying to make the emperor and the Third Prince fight each other first?

(End of Chapter)