Chapter 53: You Want Me to Beg the Emperor? On What Grounds? Do I Owe You?

Guo Zhenwei suffered a major rebuke at the palace gate and was met with jeers from numerous military officers.

Thinking it pointless to keep waiting there, he returned to the Grand General’s residence.

When Guo Poyun heard the news, his heart grew restless.

As the head of the military, he indeed had the right to request an audience with Li Chen—but the problem was he was under house arrest; if he left now, Li Chen’s temper would surely extend his confinement.

The emperor already disliked him for disregarding imperial orders; how could he possibly be given another chance?

If the emperor truly granted it, how would other ministers view it?

After pacing back and forth in the courtyard for a long while, Guo Poyun said to Guo Zhenwei: “Go to the Chancellor’s residence at once.”

Guo Zhenwei frowned: “Why go to the Chancellor’s? We’re not close to him at all.”

“Ah, you don’t understand—right now, the only man who can see His Majesty and make him listen is him.”

“I understand, Father. I’ll go right away.”

Guo Zhenwei acted like a mere tool, running errands everywhere.

At this moment, inside the imperial study.

Pang Jin, Director of the Ministry of Justice, and Zhang Ancang, Vice Censor-in-Chief, knelt before Li Chen.

These two had been summoned by Li Chen and thus had the privilege to appear in the imperial study.

Of the two, the one most terrified was none other than Pang Jin, now effectively the Minister of Justice.

Pang Jin stood tall, with a sharp, capable demeanor and a face as resolute as iron, his brow radiating an indomitable martial spirit.

His aura was steady and powerful, unmoving like a mountain—anyone who looked at him knew he was no ordinary man, but a true master of extraordinary skill.

Since arriving at the imperial study, he had spoken little, but answered every question Li Chen posed with precision.

Whatever Li Chen asked, he answered directly and thoroughly, which pleased Li Chen immensely.

In his view, such a man was capable of steady, practical work.

Feng Huai, whom he had killed, was nothing but a corrupt bureaucrat.

He spoke nothing but empty official jargon—sounding lofty and impressive, yet utterly useless, never offering a single meaningful word.

“Work closely together, and see this matter through to the truth. If you encounter any obstacles, come straight to me.”

Li Chen felt little emotion toward the Crown Prince, but the investigation still had to be carried out.

It was also an opportunity to test Pang Jin’s abilities.

“Your Majesty, this minister Zhang Ancang accepts your decree with gratitude.”

“Your Majesty, rest assured—this minister Pang Jin will spare no effort, exhaust every means, to uncover the truth behind the Crown Prince’s death and not betray Your Majesty’s trust.”

After the two ministers finished speaking, Li Chen waved them away.

They were among the few ministers who could leave Li Chen’s imperial study normally.

Many ministers feared this place; some had even been carried out by imperial guards.

On their way back, Pang Jin and Zhang Ancang exchanged pleasantries, discussing how to cooperate moving forward.

Zhang Ancang was a court official who had witnessed the morning’s events; his mind held no strong opinions, only a desire to know how the Crown Prince had died.

Pang Jin was different—he had been at work in the Ministry of Justice that morning and had seen palace eunuchs arrive, wondering what had happened.

Then he heard the eunuchs say that his superior, Minister Feng Huai, had repeatedly defied His Majesty and was slain on the spot, and that he himself had been recommended by Chancellor Zhao Wenyuan as the new Minister of Justice.

It was sudden—he barely had time to react.

After years of service, Pang Jin never imagined he’d rise to Minister so quickly.

In officialdom, if you refuse to pick a side and lack outstanding achievements, you’ll never rise.

He was glad to be promoted, but this case was truly a nightmare.

When the Crown Prince died, the late emperor had flown into a rage; back then, Minister Feng Huai had personally led the investigation.

Pang Jin was an excellent judge and had been on-site, but when he arrived, the scene had been meticulously cleaned by professionals—no trace remained.

At the time, Pang Jin suspected the culprit was an insider within the Ministry of Justice.

Only someone who had spent many years in the Ministry could precisely know its investigative methods and directions.

He could then erase every clue the Ministry would seek, leaving them with nothing to follow.

Pang Jin deduced it couldn’t have been Feng Huai or the other senior officials—they had followed the late emperor since youth and were his loyal confidants; they had no motive to kill the Crown Prince, as it served them no benefit.

The insider was likely one of the several capable mid-level officials at his own rank.

The Crown Prince’s case was over half a year old; the scene held no clues left.

Once the insider was found, the truth would naturally emerge.

Previously, Pang Jin lacked the power to investigate, and he wasn’t foolish—he knew if he accused others, the mid-level officials might unite against him, leaving him in a precarious position.

But now he was Minister of Justice; his authority had surged instantly.

And with the new emperor’s backing, wasn’t this the very opportunity the new emperor had given him to prove himself?

!

Pang Jin knew investigating this case would make enemies—but so be it.

Who in the Ministry of Justice hasn’t made enemies?

Who dares work here if they fear death?

Besides, the Ministry of Justice already held immense power.

Pang Jin believed this case concerned the empire’s fate; if he caught one, he’d catch more.

On the day he uncovered the truth, the capital would run red with blood!

But before that, Pang Jin had to see one person: Chancellor Zhao Wenyuan.

His promotion to Minister of Justice owed not only to his own ability but also to the Chancellor’s recommendation.

At this moment, inside the Chancellor’s residence.

Zhao Wenyuan was sipping his ordinary tea; though plain, he found it refreshingly delicious.

Before him stood a young general.

“Young” was relative—he was already past thirty.

The Tian Ce Dynasty rarely had generals under twenty; by comparison, he was young.

Guo Zhenwei relayed his father’s request, pleading earnestly for Zhao Wenyuan to petition His Majesty to lift the house arrest and allow his father to lead the northern campaign.

He even spoke of “dying without regret” and “my father has never begged anyone in his life.”

Zhao Wenyuan set down his teacup and murmured: “Go tell your father to reflect on how he earned his house arrest.”

Zhao Wenyuan was refined—he didn’t even bother to curse.

You want me to beg His Majesty? On what grounds? Do I owe you?

Is it because of your mouth?

Or do you think we’re close?

His Majesty sends whom he wishes—why do you think my words carry weight?

Whether it’s the northern campaign or the appointment of Minister of Justice, I speak only when His Majesty asks me to—would I dare speak without his permission? Do you think I have that kind of nerve?

Your father was placed under house arrest because he thought himself above all else.

Besides, preparing for a northern campaign isn’t something accomplished in a day or two; by the time preparations are complete, your father’s house arrest will have been lifted. If he’s not afraid of death, let him petition in court himself.

Guo Poyun is the head of the military—how many generals would dare challenge him then?

I truly don’t understand how you soldiers think—just hear the word “war” and you lose your heads.

Much of this was treasonous, but Zhao Wenyuan had no patience to lecture; he offered only this hint—whether Guo Poyun understood it was none of his concern.

In a sense, Chancellor Zhao Wenyuan had begun to understand Li Chen’s habits and thoughts.

To Zhao Wenyuan, Li Chen favored ministers who excelled at their duties, spoke little nonsense, and could offer strategies—or even solve problems—when trouble arose.

Zhao Wenyuan thought: That’s exactly me!

(End of Chapter)